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evanchantingpeters · 5 months

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How I met Evan Peters (Fanfic - Part 2)

Pairings ─ Evan Peters x Y/N (fem reader)

Genre ─ Smut/fluff, Romance

Summary ─ Y/N is fresh in East Hollywood, LA. After a major life overhaul, she’s ready to dive into a new chapter. So, when she hits the town for a night out with friends, she unexpectedly crosses paths with none other than actor Evan Peters. Y/N tries to keep her cool and act all nonchalant, but damn, Evan’s interest throws her for a loop. Their first meeting? Total tension and flirtation, hinting at an evening full of surprises.

Warnings ─ Obscene language, semi-public, dry humping, oral (both receiving), fingering, overstimulation, nipple teasing, spanking, vaginal sex, rough sex, extra smutty—you guys know the drill ;)

Read Part 1 here.

Word count ─ 4K

18+ This is ADULT content. I’m not your mummy to supervise your net access. If you’re a minor, do NOT read!

If you were told ten minutes ago that you’d be straddling Evan Peters, skin-on-skin in the driver’s seat of his car, grinding your soaked pussy against his solid rock hard-on while your tongues explore each other like it’s a competition until your lips get swollen, you’d be like, “Yeah, right, when pigs fly.”

But here you are, parked in some dark, secluded spot near the club you’ve just met. Your moans bounce off his car windows as he hungrily fondles handfuls of your body. You do love you some manhandling, truth be told.

You have your friends’ blessings about leaving with someone. Though, the chances of them believing you’ve pulled and bagged Evan Peters as your sneaky link for the night are slim to none, especially after you lecture Adria on the celebrities-normies combo being far-fetched. But it’s fair to say you didn’t choose the night with Evan Peters; the night with Evan Peters chose you.

His veiny hands on you and his gravelly voice against your ear trigger a muscle memory, recalling the heat you felt—but never vocalised—during Murphy’s close-ups on Evan’s hands in the Dahmer series and his viral ‘Relax, I just wanna take some pictures’ line. His baritone in that unsettling scene still gives you chills.

“Damn, miss...you’re something else,” he rasps out with a sly smile. You become his Roman Empire as he worships the sight of all of you on top of him, eyes devouring your entire body as you move gracefully, biting your bottom lip.

He groans deeply as his hands knead your tits and waist all the way down your thighs. With a cheeky squeeze of your ass, he draws you closer, a little squeal escaping you as his raging erection rubs harsher against your wet centre.

“I’m dying to fuck you,” he huffs after your lips meet again, his eyes imploring as he buckles his hips against yours. The friction sends your arousal flying. You just know he’s the type who promises to rail you until your guts rearrange and actually delivers. Better hold on tight.

With a coy grin, you reach down and caress his bulge straining under his jeans. “I can tell,” you whisper, your hot breath making him shudder as you mischievously trace his upper lip with your tongue.

Evan sucks in a sharp breath and bucks against your touch with a choked grunt. You can feel his length convulsing beneath you, your wetness still squishing against him.

“No...for real, Y/N. You’re insanely hot...and while I wanna bang your brains out right now, I don’t wanna objectify you. I respect you an—”

You cut him off mid-sentence with another steamy kiss. The urge to sit him in front of a mirror as he unravels his feminist, anti-alpha male stance, all while you jerk him off before riding the shit out of him, is stronger than ever.

“Aren’t you a sweetheart, Evan? So virtuous with your strong values and morals,” you praise his ‘golden-retriever’ and ‘husband material’ nature, delicately caressing his cheek. “But let’s cut to the chase—I’m here to hook up.”

With newfound energy, you attack his neck with eager kisses as you roll your hips against him more vigorously. Your fingertips roam over his sculpted Greek-God chest, travelling down to the contours of his divinely marbled abs.

Body is damn bodying.

You go on full “pick-me girl” mode as you purr, “I’m thirsty” and playfully toy with the buckle of his belt, hinting at your intentions. You can’t let that mound on his jeans go unnoticed; it’s practically screaming for your attention and attentive care.

He lets out a dark chuckle against the crook of your neck as he nibbles his way up to your jawline. “How can I quench your thirst?” he murmurs, now nipping at your pouty lips.

“You’re the best refreshment around,” you hush before swiftly shifting to the passenger seat and bending over, knees near your head and ass pointed skywards in a tantalising display he can’t resist.

You begin to pepper mouth-watering kisses along his chest, sliding down to his boner. Your tongue stumbles over the ridges of his abs as you venture lower, your moaning mouth leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

He cocks his head to the side with a knowing smirk, admiring the view that the curve of your ass provides, smacking it along the way.

With practised ease, you undo his jeans, palming the damp patch of pre-cum on his boxers. Glancing up at him with a crooked smile, you coo, “Eager, are we?” before sliding down his boxers.

His head lolls back, muffled moans escaping him as you swipe your tongue along the underside ridge of his hard, red-tipped cock. His breath rushes out in laboured, choppy huffs like his life depends on you. The way you take him deeper, double-fisting him, becomes his lifeline.

“Holy shit, Y/N,” he manages to utter under his breath as he tenses in your grasp. You mewl softly around his cock, sending vibrations rippling through his body like shockwaves.

You’re insatiable, sucking him up from taint to balls, coating him in your saliva as you pump him harder in your mouth. Your swollen cunt is aching for him as you feel his head harden and twitch in your mouth with building pressure, forcing gagging moans out of you.

Gripping your hair in a messy ponytail, he watches intently as he fucks your mouth with increasing intensity. His free hand brushes along your clothed slit, his sturdy fingers running up and down your soaked panties. You gasp at the stimulus, clinging to the door handle for support.

“E-Evan,” you slur out as he applies more pressure on your throbbing heat, your words faltering as ragged breaths escape you.

“Yes?” He whispers, feigning innocence, though his arched brow and smirk betray his true intentions. He knows he can edge you with minimal effort, making you cum in his hands on the spot.

“Don’t stop,” you plead through your desire, your hips swaying in harmony with his rhythmic in-out motion.

“Keep sucking, baby girl. You drive me nuts, but I wanna see you multitask,” he challenges, no pun intended with his nuts reference.

As he tucks aside your lacy panties, he begins to circle your arousal, teasing your slopping folds. A low grunt slips off him as he feels how wet and ready you are for him. “Jeez, I need to take a dive in those Niagara Falls,” he chuckles and keeps fiddling around your throbbing clit.

Before you know it, he plunges two fingers in your begging entrance, eliciting a whimper from your lips that’s louder than you expect. The way he expertly curls his fingers inside you, hitting all the right spots, sends bolts of pleasure through your core.

Soon, the sound of your moans blends with the wet squelching of your pussy, echoing throughout the car.

The faster his fingers pop in and out, the louder you moan in delight as you suck his dick relentlessly. When his thumb joins in, smoothly rubbing against your clit with no mercy, your thighs begin to wobble.

His fingering inevitably loses momentum as he tightens his grip on your hair. You giggle quietly as you realise he’s about to hit his climax, his head striking against the back of your throat, causing your eyes to well up with tears.

“Fuuuck, I’m gonna burst, Y/N,” he growls, delivering a sharp slap to your ass. His fingers dig into the sensitive flesh of your thighs, leaving faint red marks on them. He lets out the cutest, most contrasting sounds—something between a low groan and a high-pitched whimper—as his hips thrust harder each time.

With a wicked grin, you intensify your suction on his tip, sending him over the edge with a primal groan. His hot cum spurts into your mouth, filling it with its salty sweetness, before trickling down your chin. You eagerly lick his shaft clean and swallow his juices with greedy gulps, savouring his taste with a satisfied hum.

“Told you, you’ve freshened me up,” you chirp, playfully wiping him off your face. “You’re okay?” you ask with a bashful smile, reaching out to brush back the sweaty curls that have clung to his forehead.

He throws his head back, his chest still heaving with shallow pants as he stares at you with hooded eyes. “Damn, you’re good...I’m wrecked,” he breathes out.

Grinning lazily at you, he buries your face in his hands and grazes your cheeks with his thumbs.

“If you need a dopamine boost, I’ve got just the cure for you,” you coo and lean in close, twirling a strand of hair around your finger.

“Oh, yeah? What’s the prescription, doc?” he teases, his eyes dark with lust as he bites his lip, his hands massaging your ass cheeks. It’s a silent prompt for you to climb back over him as his mouth desperately fumbles your skin.

You peer into his lustrous eyes with a sly smirk. “Sure, I can give you a ride, sir,” you purr, your fingers tracing tantalising patterns through his locks.

His grin widens as your sex alights on his crotch that’s twitching eagerly at the prospect. “I’m all for it,” he murmurs, pulling you close for another heated kiss.

His arms envelop you as you bend together towards the compartment by the passenger’s seat with shared anticipation. Your hands remain entwined around the back of his neck as you sprinkle kisses across his flushed face.

He delves into the container, rifling through its contents. “Shit,” he hisses, clicking his tongue in annoyance.

“Houston, we have a problem?” you ask, your voice deep with desire.

“Mission abort...out of condoms,” he admits, his eyes meeting yours with regret.

“Consider it solved, let’s head to mine.”

You fling open the door to your apartment, ushering Evan inside with a goofy grin. “Come on in and behold the fortress of fun!” you announce, gesturing grandly to the vibrant interior.

He giggles and steps inside, taking in the cosy yet funky vibe of your place. “Dang, this place’s dope,” he compliments, nodding approvingly at the eclectic mix of pop art and rococo décor.

You beam proudly. “Thanks! Gotta give props to my housemate, Mayra. She’s the mastermind behind all this coolness,” you explain as you lead him down the hall towards the living room, giving him a quick peek into your room.

“Ah, gotcha. She’s got skills,” Evan comments appreciatively as you both shuffle back to the living room, clearly digging the ambiance.

He scans the space more thoroughly this time before turning back to you. “Is your housemate around?” he inquires casually, hands in pockets.

You shake your head, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Nah, she’s living it up in NYC for work. Won’t be back for a while,” you reply with a shrug, not missing the mischievous shine in Evan’s eyes as he looks you up and down.

His gaze darkens slightly as he inches closer with a smug smile that grows with every step, pinning you against the wall next to a small table stand. “Just you and me, then, huh?” he murmurs, his voice coarse and velvety just like it turns you on.

You affirm him with a smirk. Your fingers tangle in the soft strands of his hair as he closes the distance between you with a soft kiss that rapidly turns into a full-blown makeout session. What begins as sensual brushstrokes—your lips caressing softly—soon morphs into a heated exchange, your tongues kicking off a seductive twirl.

With a breathy moan, you shed his jacket and tug at his shirt, balling it up with a scrunch as you press his chiselled body firmer against yours.

“I like your lips,” he rasps out between kisses, a broad smile etched on his lips.

“My horizontal or vertical lips?” you toss out nonchalantly with a smirk, seemingly unfazed by any potential consequences. As if that isn’t daring enough, your gaze pierces into his eyes, radiating a sexual intensity that tips him off the edge.

He reciprocates your challenge with a devilish grin, as it’s his turn to strip you off your jacket and dress. His gaze is hungry as he takes you in. “Let me do an audit down there first, assess the vertical ones, and I’ll come back to you,” he mumbles as he drags sensual kisses down your boobs.

You moan softly as he latches onto your perky nipples, giving them a tantalising pull that only worsens your wetness down there.

His mouth trails down your body and sucks onto your hip bones until it finally presses against the fabric of your thong, right on your clit. You instinctively arch your back and grip the edges of the table as he kisses and inhales against you with a hum of delight.

“Where’s my boy dinner?” he teases, staring up at you. He stretches your panties down and leaves a kiss on the peak of the mound between your legs, causing you to squirm in his firm hold.

You shoot him a sultry grin, your voice tinged with desire. “Where do you want it served?”

With a swift movement, he flips you over, offering deliciously tingling love bites on your ass cheeks. As he rises to his full height, his lips shower your neck with fervent kisses.

You instinctively rest your head onto his shoulders, granting him easier access, and you can’t help but moan lightly as you feel the firm press of his hardness against your lower back.

“You see that couch over there?” he coos. You’re quick to grab onto his belt and tug him over there without breaking the kiss. You both let out muffled moans and smile-kiss as Evan finds his leg ensnared in the folds of a blanket, miserably fighting to wiggle himself free.

You slump down on the couch together, him on top, and instantly dive into a deeper kiss. His groans fill your mouth, assaulting your senses. You playfully suck on the tip of his tongue as you feel his stiff cock on your stomach, eager to set free.

“I’ll lick my plate clean, I promise. I just want you to feed me,” he begs, flashing you an imploring look.

“How do you want it?”

“On my face...only for me to feast,” he grins, pulling you in for another sloppy kiss while groping around your thighs all the way up your tits.

Lying on your back, you watch as he stands beside you and slowly chucks your thong away. His eyes fixate on your slick sex with a mix of awe and hunger, his fingers itching to dig in and explore.

You spread your thighs wider, inviting him closer between your legs, hands on his chest. He positions his head under you, his warm breath tingling your skin. His mouth brushes along your inner thighs, leaving tender kisses as he moves closer to where you want him to be.

And then, without warning, he savagely stretches apart your dripping pussy and licks a long stripe along your slick folds, making you squeak with pleasure. Groaning with delight at your taste and the slimy texture, his lips begin to suck on your clit.

You gasp and instinctively clutch his biceps as his tongue starts to glide against your slit, forcing choked whines from deep within you.

“Fuck, I could eat you out all day long,” he moans against you, his hands gripping your ass tightly as his licking becomes harsher and more aggressive. Damn, even his voice alone can make you squirt in an instant. There’s nothing about him that can give you the ick.

Your mind goes all foggy as his nose lightly nuzzles your clit. His tongue tirelessly laps back and forth against your sobbing red pussy, twirling along your gummy walls. He lifts you up by the hips, his tongue sinking deeper each time as he pulls you down onto his face. You drop your head back, a string of moans spilling from your lips.

Your toxic trait is believing that this is just a hook-up, and you won’t catch any feelings. Even when you’re riding Evan Peters’ face, receiving head so good your coochie can explode.

Well, why toxic? E v a n P e t e r s has you seeing stars as he works his magic on your clit and jams his tongue inside you like there’s no tomorrow. And there may not be a tomorrow, so why not just enjoy him on you, next to you, under you, or in you while it lasts? He makes you feel like the hottest and luckiest chick on earth (sorry, fandom), that’s just straight facts.

Reconsidering, you set off a swirling dance on his face to keep up with his pace, your legs getting all quivery. The knot in your stomach stiffens as your high builds, hitting you like a train wreck.

“Evan, fucking hell... I’m finishiiing,” you almost scream shakily as you fight for breath, your vision getting hazy. Your legs involuntarily tense around his head, and your knees tremble, while small, punchy sobs slip off your lips.

You catch him staring at you, a triumphant smile spreading on his lips as you writhe and wriggle back and forth under him, the throes of your orgasm in full glory.

He draws comforting circles on your stomach and plants sweet pecks on your thighs, giving you space to catch your breath. Your hand cradles his face as your vagina keeps throbbing, making you giggle from the tingly sensation.

“I want more,” he cries out, his lips curving downwards in a mock frown as he presses a few more gentle kisses on your heat before you climb off his face, your steps unsteady.

“Then, make sure you tone down your clit game. Most men act like it doesn’t even exist,” you scoff as you throw shade, shooting him a teasing grin as you clean his chin from your juices and his saliva.

“How can you take away the tomato from tomato juice? Same goes for Evan and a woman’s climax when I eat pussy,” he retorts, flexing his muscles with an arrogant smirk.

You playfully roll your eyes, ready for a comeback. “Sorry to humble you, but for us ladies, it’s mostly a mental process. Too many tricks won’t cut it,” you counter, picking up your underwear from the floor.

He raises a sceptical brow and narrows his eyes at you, his tongue sliding against his side teeth. “Oh, really? Care to see my tactic and put that theory to the test?”

“Be my guest,” you smirk with a provocative flair, motioning towards your bedroom with a sweep of your arm.

He seizes your arm, pulling you close, and melds his lips with yours in a fiery kiss. As his tongue enters your mouth, you can still taste yourself on him, making your cunt pulsate for him tenfold. You’re so turned on that you’d fold no matter what he asks you to do.

“Challenge accepted, you’ve been warned,” he quips, wagging a finger at you before scooping you up his arms and carrying you to the bedroom.

There you are, sprawled out in the middle of your bed, all bare and irresistible, sensually touching your body as your eyes lock onto his.

His imposing figure looms over you as he unzips his jeans, instantly giving you heart palpitations. With a lustful half-smile, he tilts his head and lets his eyes linger at your legs, testing his rizz.

Realising he’s only zeroing in your glistening cunt, you deliberately part your legs, granting him a sneak peak into your “inner world” up to his appetite. “Here it is, baby Ev, all yours and ready,” you grumble, a bright grin stretching across his face as he observes your marvellous pussy.

Talk about a man who sticks to his promises! He said he’d take on your “inside work” while chatting you up at the bar, and here he comes, offering in-house service.

With ease, he sheaths himself in a condom, his gaze never leaving yours as he crouches down on you, propped up on his toned forearms (veins popping all over, goodness me). Pressed flush against you, he peppers eager kisses along your face, neck, and tits, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine.

“I wanna take good care of you,” he whispers, his hands travelling on your body.

Wrapping your legs around him, you let out a needy moan in a desperate attempt to get him inside. Your tongue pushes feverishly into his warm mouth, and he sucks on it gently, eliciting more soft whines from you.

He pulls away, tut-tutting softly against your lips. “Not yet, baby girl. First, tell me how much you want it.”

“Like mad,” you reply with a fervent nod. “And give it to me hard.”

With his throbbing length poised at your drenched entrance, a shared gasp brings smiles to your faces before turning into exhilarating groans. His eye contact never wavers, and from that missionary angle, he looks so Lana Del Rey “West Coast” coded, goddammit.

Your bodies mesh and merge together quicker than a click. Each thrust is a slow and agonising burn, as if he does it on purpose for you to beg him for more. You ache to explore every inch of him, but he just prolongs his torture by leaving only his tip nested inside you.

That’s until his gaze sears into your soul, and you feel him plunge back deep in with a force that sends you reeling, flooding you with ecstasy.

Your body jolts at the abrupt fullness, a raw wail of satisfaction ripping out of your lips as you dig your nails into his shoulder blades.

Taking the reins, he captures your hands above your head, lacing your fingers with his as he sets a relentless pace. He shoves his tongue into your mouth, and before you know it, the room reverberates the sound of skin slapping mingled with your mutual moans.

He releases one of your hands, fingers tracing patterns of comfort on your wrist as he slams in you faster and rougher. “Fuck, you feel amazing, Y/N,” he grunts hoarsely as he watches his cock disappearing into your dripping heat, a satisfied grin plastered on his lips.

Your body responds eagerly to his rough ministrations, hips rising to meet his with a desperate need to go harder. The rush of your pleasure overwhelms you as you yelp his name.

He meets your gaze with a cocky smile as his hand brushes along your lips, his hot breath a tempting tease on your face. Driven by your unhinged horny ass, you delicately snatch his ring finger into your mouth, licking and sucking on it as he grumbles joyfully, driving deeper into me.

“Evan...” you whimper, momentarily squeezing your eyes shut to handle his magnitude.

“You like it rough, baby girl?” he asks in a raspy tone, and his throaty chuckle rings in your ear, sending bolts of electricity down your spine.

“I do,” you gasp chokingly as you look up at him with imploring eyes. “Just right there.”

With a gleam in his eyes, he lifts your legs, draping them loose over his shoulders to penetrate even deeper. The slimy walls of your cunt grip onto his dick like they’re about to devour it, throwing him to the edge.

Your foreheads press together in a feverish intimacy as he pushes you closer to release. His hungry eyes fixate on the jingle of your boobs, his groans of delight mixing with the frantic rhythm of your heartbeats.

“Let me cum inside, Y/N, please. I need to feel you around me,” he begs, his voice strained with desire. His words hang heavy in the air, laden with raw desire as he gazes at you with an intensity that makes your heart race. Your lips meet in a fiery kiss, your tongues moving in sync.

Just as you’re about to cave, a sudden loud crash echoes from the hallway and shatters the air, causing both of you to freeze in place.

His eyes widen with alarm, mirroring your dread, and you instinctively cling to his arm for support.

Wide-eyed and tense, you exchange worried glances, his typically zen demeanour replaced by a flicker of uncertainty. “What was that?” he whispers, his voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

“I-I... I don’t know,” you stutter as you smooth out your hair.

A second loud thud breaks out, and it’s louder than the last, making your shrill in terror. Sensing your tremor and the urgency of the situation, Evan scoots closer to you and muffles any incoming outcry by gently covering your mouth with his hand.

“Shh.. easy... I’m with you, Y/N,” he mumbles, kissing the crown of your head. “Okay, let me throw on my clothes and go check. You stay here,” he instructs in a hushed tone, giving you a soft peck as he scrambles near him to pick up his scattered shirt and boxers.

Still nestled in his embrace, your grip tightens on his arm as he makes a move to stand up. “No, Evan,” you protest whisper-shouting. “Let’s go together.”

He hesitates and sighs in exasperation at your refusal to stay in safely. But, ultimately, he nods, his jaw set with determination.

You hastily slip into your satin robe, ready to face whatever danger lurks in the shadows. Hand in hand, you both venture cautiously into the dimly lit corridor as you stand behind him, your senses heightened in anticipation of what you might find.

The tension is palpable as you switch on more lights, illuminating your path as you dive deeper into the unknown.

After scouring every room, you return to the living room, puzzled. “There’s no one in, so we can rule out a break-in or th—” Evan’s words are cut short by a series of loud bangs resounding from the balcony, forcibly pulling your focus to the final frontier in your quest for answers.

“Promise me you’ll stay in. I got this,” he mumbles with a determined gaze. You nod silently with a bated breath, unable to utter a single syllable.

With resolve, he steps outside, the night air is thick with suspense as you watch him while biting your cuticles. Meanwhile, you pace nervously, your mind spiralling through disaster scenarios.

Suddenly, his voice pierces the silence as he calls out your name, giving you the jump scare.

“Evaaan?” you howl frantically as you sprint to the balcony, your heart racing and your hair whipping in the wind.

Relief washes over you as you spot him pointing to a twisted chunk of neon metal lying on the ground, bathed in the moon’s glow. The gusty wind continues to slam the panel against the sliding door, confirming your suspicions.

You lean over the balcony, verifying that the fallen piece has flown from the drugstore sign banner next to your apartment—just a harmless casualty of the night. “I’ll drop it off for repairs tomorrow,” you mindlessly assure Evan as you share a chuckle that mixes nerves with relief.

His grip tightens around your waist as he suggests heading back inside. You both retreat indoors, leaving the metal piece by the balcony door.

“Water?” you offer, and he accepts with a grateful nod, his gaze softening in appreciation.

As you saunter to the kitchen together, you catch him checking you out as you bend over the counter and reach up on your tippy toes to grab a glass.

Just as you’re about to stride out of the room, your cleavage skimming his chest a bit too long, he swiftly corners you against the glass kitchen door.

“Where you think you’re sneaking off to?” he whispers, a smirk playing on his lips as his hands wander over your upper half.

Your eyes flicker across his face as you struggle to draw a breath, your heart pounding with anticipation. “Out?” you manage to squeak.

He inches closer, his voice dripping with suggestion, “We’ve got some unfinished business, don’t we?” he murmurs as his stubble grazes against your jaw, intensifying the pool between your thighs.

“Remind me?” you tease, your lips curving mischievously. You’re in your villain era; if not Evan Peters fucking you, why even bother?

He slides a hand under your loose robe and tenderly tweaks your nipples, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger. A gasp escapes you at the sensation as his fingers find their way to your clit, setting off a relentless rub that brings a buzzing on your sensitive bundle of nerves. It’s like with each stroke, he’s hitting the pleasure jackpot.

Panting, you sway your hips to match his rhythm, lost in sensation. The play of his thumb on your clit drives you wild, leaving you craving more.

“Bring me a condom, and I’ll give you a reminder,” he chuckles, and in an erratic heartbeat, his lips crash onto yours, warm and demanding. You melt into the kiss as the room spins around you. He kisses you harshly, nearly biting you with a reckless passion, desire raging like a tempest.

With this move, things accelerate viciously. Gone is the playful banter; now it’s all primal need, Evan turning animalistic towards you. In a blur of motion, your body ends up pressed into the cold surface of the glass door; his hands firmly cupping your breasts from behind; his cock throbbing and pounding inside your slippery centre; raw horniness bursting forth through loud moans and grunts.

He’s so damn big, stretching your pussy to the point it stings. He doesn’t give you much time to adjust before he pulls out and jams back in you with primitive force. The door lock rattles incessantly as he pounds into you hard, his lips embellishing your soft skin with red, soon-to-be purple marks, his hot breath making you shiver.

He clings to you, his stomach against your lower back, hips still snapping into your soaked cunt. Together, you set a rhythm, rocking in and out with a measured tempo and sensual grace.

The pain blends divinely with euphoria in your body, leaving your mind foggy and dizzy as he continues to jab in and out of you despite your whimpers. His balls slap against your clit, making your climax hurtle towards you like a tidal wave. Salty tears of pleasure prickle at the corners of your eyes. “I’m close, Evan,” you yelp, your knees beginning to fail you.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he praises out of breath as he smacks your ass, kneading all the way down your clit. “Let go, give it to me,” he urges, punctuating his last word with a particularly deep thrust, jerking inside you and causing your screams to spill out.

Pleasure shoots you like an electric shock, and soon, liquid dribbles down your legs. As the tension in your lower belly finally cracks, you feel him buckle as well, his hips stuttering. Letting out a guttural groan, he gushes out inside of you, followed by small whines of your name.

You urgently ask him to peel the condom away and spill his cum all over your ass and back. Soon, white, sticky cum from both of you mingles and trickles around you until you become a leaky, sticky mess.

His arms band around your waist, your fingers intertwined, his smiling eyes drowning in yours.

“Fuck, what did you do to me, Y/N?” he sighs, and you both giggle, your sweaty lips meeting again in a passionate kiss.

After a mutual clean-up, you slide into a fresh nightgown and return to your room, only to find Evan rummaging under your bed, his firm backside an enticing sight.

“What are you looking for?” you ask, enjoying the view as you lean against the doorframe.

“My car keys,” he growls, his brows furrowed in concentration as he takes a glimpse behind the curtains. “Must’ve fallen out when I took my pants off,” he infers with a low and husky voice as he glances back at you.

You nod sympathetically, folding your bed throw neatly on the corner armchair. His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer before he resumes his search, the tension between you growing thicker by the second.

“It’s late already. You can crash here tonight, and we’ll track down your stuff in the morning,” you suggest, settling onto the bed.

He looks up, relief sets on his handsome features as he creeps back towards you. “You sure?” he murmurs, his arms encircling your waist, his touch igniting sparks of arousal.

“Never been surer,” you breathe, leaning in for a kiss, unable to resist the pull between you.

But just as your lips meet, the jingle of keys shatter the moment, and you feel something sharp lightly nudging your lower waist. Pulling back, you shoot Evan a knowing smirk, your pulse racing with excitement.

With a nonchalant shrug and a wink, he tosses the keys onto the bedside table before pulling you under the covers and into a heated kiss.

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Taglist: sillysillygyal, junkie4weezer, frankiesweird, divinerulerz, nickrhodeslittledarling

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me-and-your-husband · 1 year

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widow's bite (1) || e. williams

summary: "...the dangerous Black Widow is to be approached with caution, as the Black Widow's bite can cause death. she encases her victims with silk, then kills with poison from her fangs."

you're a black widow. you're sent to kill Spider-Woman. something inside of you just can't do it.

warnings: smut in future chapters, ellie is 18 and reader is 19, dreykov being gross which is canon, mentions of suicide attempt, canon death (sarah), swearing maybe? probs more, not proofread cause i'm lazy

word count: 4k

a/n: soooo i got this request and although it took FOREVER for me to write it, i was so excited that i just had to make it a series...i SWEARRR i'll try to update regularly but going back to uni is kicking my ass a little. also, ellie is basically mcu!peter. some of the avengers may make appearances. tony isn't dead.

You stood tall in front of the massive screen in his office. Videos of a girl in a red and black suit swinging through New York City illuminated your solemn features. At the top of the screen, there were only a few words: Spider-Woman: TERMINATE.

“She keeps coming so close to discovering our New York base,” Dreykov’s accent spread through the dark room. “I can’t have her getting in the way of my work. This is important.”

You nodded, eyes never leaving the screen.

“You will bring her body back to me. She seems to have some sort of abilities, abilities I can use to make you stronger. Better.” His thick hand slithered up your shoulder. “Do you copy?”

“I copy.”

His lips twisted into a sinister smile, his gross breath hot on your cheek. “Always so obedient.” He licked his lips.

He smiled, “You take off…” he glanced at his watch, “right now. I don’t want to see you again until she's dead,” he spat in your ear.

“Yes, sir.”

"Hey! Come back, mister criminal!”

Faint thwips filled the air as Ellie swung past corporate building after corporate building, chasing some burglar who happened to try robbing Delmar’s when she was ordering sandwiches for her and Joel. He would have to wait. She was just lucky she had her suit under her clothes.

He booked it down the sidewalk, cash flying out of the duffle bag, throwing pedestrians to the side as he tried escaping Spider-Woman.

She grunted as she dodged semi-trucks and cars, bikers and typical New York tourists. She almost lost sight of him when he turned a corner, but she could still hear his laboured breathing.

She could sense that he had stopped, under the impression that he had thrown her off his trail. He was resting in an alley up against an apartment building. Climbing to the roof, she perched herself on top as she looked down at him, hands on his knees as he panted.

“Hey, man, I think you forgot this!” She yelled as she dropped next to him. Before he could react, she cocooned him in webbing and left him stuck against the wall.

“You got a pen by any chance?” She asked, to which she had to dodge a ball of spit directed at her head. “Should've guessed.”

She pulled her calculus notebook out of her backpack with one of her good pens and scribbled a note on it:

“This is the one that robbed the bodega. I think you should cut old Delmar a tax break for his troubles.

Love,

Spider-Woman”

She called it into the station and webbed the note to the criminal, webbing his mouth shut too while she was at it.

As she walked out of the alley muttering “all in a day’s work”, she heard the faint pleas of a small child. Letting her heightened senses guide her, she swung until she found the source coming from an open window in a different apartment complex.

She slid the window open far enough to get inside, putting her hands out in front of her when the child noticed her and was frightened.

“No no no! Just your friendly neighbourhood Spider-Woman, not gonna hurt you! I promise,” she said, getting to the little girl's level. The girl’s eyes softened and she seemed to trust Ellie.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, lip trembling. “My sister…please help.”

“Okay, where is she now?”

The little girl pointed outside of her door, “The kitchen.”

Ellie took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m going to go help her. You stay right here, okay? Don’t move.”

Something inside of her told her that something was wrong. She brushes it off as someone else being in danger.

As she creeps out of the child’s room, she surveys her surroundings. It looked like a regular New York apartment, a little messy, but nothing her and Joel’s place hadn't seen. Everything was fine.

Until it wasn't.

She suddenly had difficulty breathing when you jumped from somewhere above and wrapped your legs around her neck, squeezing. You elbowed her head repeatedly.

She grabbed you by your hips and threw you off of her, gasping for breath. Her naivety still told her that you needed help.

Was it her naivety?

“Calm down, lady! I’m trying to help you!” she said, still gasping. She watched the girl scurry past her and over to you. “I thought I said—”

She stopped talking when she saw you hand the girl a twenty, eyes still trained on Spider-Woman.

Once you knew the child was a safe distance away, you attacked. His voice rang in the back of your head. No casualties. No witnesses.

You lunged at her, hands finding her throat.

“Woah, at least take me on a date first,” she remarked as she easily slid out of your grasp, jumping up to the ceiling and latching on. She webbed your left arm to the wall. You let out a grunt of dissatisfaction as you squeezed your fist, a blade coming out of your cuff and slicing through the web. It was installed in all of the Widows’ suits in case of capture.

“Oh. That's pretty cool, honestly,” she said as she dodged a bullet from your pistol, flipping down from the roof. You charged her again, this time taking out her legs and pinning to the ground. You threw a hook right at her jaw, to which she exclaimed “Ow!”, catching the next one with ease. Your eyes widened as she flipped the two of you over, pinning you underneath her.

“Look, I don't want to—”

Before she could finish, you had sent electric currents through your suit, effectively tazing her.

In her incapacitation, you were able to flip over again and pressure your knee against her neck. While she struggled for air, her legs flailed underneath her. She managed to knee you in the stomach, opening up an opportunity to throw you off her. You both stood up, ready to go at it again, both slightly out of breath.

“Are you gonna say something?” Silence. “Can you even talk?”

She lunged forward in an attempt to pull down the mask that covered half of your face, a piece of fabric resting atop the bridge of your nose. Before she could grab it, you grabbed her wrists, locating her web cartridges. You released another electric current, frying them.

She stepped back, trying to shoot webs, but to no avail. That's when she saw the text on the bicep of your suit: WIDOW-893. “Shit!”

You threw a swift kick into her abdomen while she was caught off guard and knocked her down to her knees. Her eyes widened as you threw punches at her face, too dazed to think of blocking. When she finally grabbed your fist, she could feel the blood from her nose leaking through her mask and could taste metal.

“You’re a Widow? Like Nat?”

You struggled to get your hand out of her grasp. Instead, you pushed all your weight forward and landed on top of her chest, pinning her arms.

You reached forward and slid your fingers under the fabric of her mask. She struggled underneath you, but you had her pinned and she wasn't going anywhere.

You basked in her struggle, slowly sliding the mask off her face.

“I was sent to kill you.”

“So you do talk. Wait—”

“And that's what I’m going to do.”

“Please don't take my mask off. Please. Please don't kill me. Oh god, I have so much to live for, please—!”

You slipped her mask off completely to be met with her perfectly curved and soft lips, her delicate green eyes, and her pretty freckles, her auburn hair messy from having it under the mask. Her brows furrowed and she squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for it to happen. When it didn't, she slowly opened one eye, and then the other. She was met with you admiring her face, gaze raking over her features.

Your eyes were wide and seemed slightly glassy, and she couldn't help but wonder why they looked so distant. Why it looked like you were trapped behind them.

She realized you weren't pinning her down anymore. She loosened an arm slowly from underneath you and brought it up to the fabric around your face, gently beginning to tug the mask down.

Your cold grasp on her wrist stopped her. “Don't.”

“Why not?” She whispered.

You tore your gaze away from her, standing up. You turned your back to her.

Looking back at her once more, you said, “Because it will end badly."

You moved to leave through the window, but a thought stopped you briefly

The truth is, you didn't know what to do. It's like you had just gained free will, like she had broken some spell. You had thought you were operating on your own terms until now.

You'd been sent to take out powerful men, some women, usually old, usually established, usually somewhat corrupt. But when you saw the fear in the eyes of a girl your age, your body shocked you back into free will.

Your back still to the girl, you just shook your head and jumped.

She coughed as she pushed herself up off the ground and shoved the mask back down over her face, wondering if she'd ever see you again. If she'd ever find out who you really are.

“This is WIDOW-893,” you said into your comm-link, talking to an obscure agent you'd probably never meet. “I need an extraction. I’m sending you my location now.”

Static sounded in your ear before a harsh male voice began, “Has the mission been completed?”

You elected to ignore the question.

“Has the target been eliminated?”

More silence as you hunted for a place to lay low for a bit.

“Widow, has the target been eliminated?!” The agent’s frustration was palpable in his voice.

You swallowed. “Negative.”

“What do you mean, negative? This mission was of utmost— Sorry? Yes, sir.” Some keyboard clicks. “She can hear you now.”

“893, why wasn't your mission completed?” Dreykov’s invigorated voice droned through the comm. You searched for an excuse that wouldn't get you terminated. Or worse.

“The target seems to have heightened senses. She was able to get the jump on me before I was in position. My identity was almost discovered so I was forced to retreat.”

Dreykov let out a pained sigh. Slowly, he said, “I’m only going to tell you this once, agent, so listen very carefully. You are disposable. The mission must proceed, regardless of your comfort. We can easily terminate you and move on to the next Widow. Copy?”

“I copy.”

“Now, if this happens again, I will have you terminated. You get a pass this time because you're one of the…finer specimens we have. You will not be sent an extraction. You will complete this mission in terminating Spider-Woman. Do not make contact until then,” he said, and you could almost feel his hands slithering up your back and around your neck. “And don't think you're not being watched.”

With that, the connection was severed.

Ellie threw the soggy McDonald’s bag down on the kitchen table as Joel stood at the sink washing dishes.

“Couldn't get sandwiches from Delmar’s. Poor guy got robbed again,” she said as she began digging in the bag for her fries.

Joel turned around to give her a shocked look. “Someone’s gotta look out for the people in this city. Lord knows the cops ain’t doin' much,” he said, shaking his head.

“Well…Spider-Woman looks out for people,” Ellie said, tearing the waters. Joel never really sided with J. Jonah Jameson from that stupid news station, but he was never really for the “vigilante” either.

He sighed. “Look, Ellie…I know you think Spider-Woman is cool and all, and I think it's good that she looks out for the normal people of New York, but I think it's irresponsible. I mean, I’m sure she's got people in her life that love her and she’s puttin’ her life at risk seven days a week,” he said as he dried the dishes and put them away.

“Yeah but,” Ellie said through a mouthful of fries, “If you had that power, wouldn't you be responsible for using it for good?”

“Yes, I suppose. But with great power comes great responsibility, Ellie. And with responsibility comes an immense need for balance. Remember that,” he said, turning to look at her.

Ellie swallowed the last few fries as she took a moment to digest what Joel had said. She gave him a meaningful smile before he turned back around to put the last few dishes away.

She couldn't help but think about your “power”. Was it given to you, or forced on you? How did you become so skilled? You were her age, or at least not far off. She’d never met someone so close to her age who held such a huge responsibility. But was it really a responsibility if you were being forced into it?

She knew she'd probably never come across you again, so there wasn't really a reason to overthink it. Right now, she just wanted to finish her Physics homework and watch The Empire Strikes Back with Jesse.

Weeks had gone by and every moment plagued your mind with thoughts of Ellie. Or rather, if you had it in yourself to kill her.

Your immense training in Covert Ops was indeed handy for situations like these. You shadowed Ellie almost 24/7. You followed her on her commute to her high school, which you noted to be Midtown. You surveilled her through the cameras you'd planted in all of her classes. You followed her after school to the alley where she'd leave her school stuff and switch to her second life. You climbed from building to building as you followed her web-slinging as closely as possible without being seen. You searched and searched for something to justify it, something to prove she's a bad person and deserves to be terminated. But nothing. Nothing when she helped old ladies carry their groceries inside, or rescue little girls' cats from trees, or stop lecherous men from harassing women on the street. Especially nothing when you spied through her living room window and saw her laughing with her dad every Sunday morning.

Three weeks after your first attempt at termination, you had stumbled across the perfect moment to investigate your target’s bedroom. She was at a field trip to the Museum of Modern Art with her class, and her dad was at work.

Around noon, you whistled as you climbed the stairs to the apartment, smiling softly as you find the right one. You knock for good measure, and when nobody answers you slide two bobby pins out from your hair when to pick the lock. Classic, but it always works.

When you open the door you lock it again from the inside so nothing would seem astray. You feel an uncomfortable, throbbing pain in your chest as you look around at the framed portraits of your target and her dad, lots from when she was young. One of her holding a medal in a soccer jersey. One of them at a planetarium together. One of them with a model dinosaur in the background, a hat atop its head, both of them grinning.

You creep through the hallway, looking for one room in particular. Opening the first door, you enter an office space. You decide it might be useful in gathering intel on her family.

You slide open a drawer of the filing cabinet labelled “records”. There seemed to be two sections, one for her father’s business, and one for their personal records. The latter had significantly less material. You slid out the folders and placed them on the desk, taking a seat in the chair.

The first folder read: ADOPTION RECORDS

You skimmed the papers and deduced that about five years ago, a man named Joel Miller (presumably the target’s father) and a woman named adopted a girl named Ellie Williams, but had fostered her long before that with a woman named Theresa Servopoulos, the word “deceased” in brackets next to her name. Anna Williams, her single mother, died shortly after childbirth and a woman named Marlene took her in. However, Marlene gave her up to a foster home once she hit school age.

Another folder read: MEDICAL RECORDS

Ellie had a long history of optometry visits prior to about two years ago, then they just suddenly stopped. There was nothing else really interesting in her file.

Joel, however, was a different story. Medical records that yellowed and flaked at the edges sat in his file from over 20 years ago. He was admitted for a self inflicted GSW to the head shortly after the death of his daughter, Sarah Miller. He was admitted to a psychiatric ward by request of his brother, Tommy Miller, shortly after.

Another file read: ELLIE’S SCHOOL RECORDS

It was evident that Ellie had excelled in school ever since she had settled in with Joel, specifically in the math and science areas. Her transcripts highlighted a bright 4.0 gpa. She had a bright future.

Now with a name for your target, you decided to search her room to gain some more personal intel. Tucking the files away and closing the drawers, you stalked out of the office and down the hall to what was Ellie’s room (the words “Ellie’s Room!” scrawled on a banner on the door making it painfully easy).

The door creaked slightly when you pushed it open. You were immediately hit with the vague sent of pine and mahogany. Dirty flannels and socks were piled in a corner or sometimes littered around the room. An empty ramen cup sat on her nightstand. Notebooks and textbooks filled with complex calculations sat open on her book. Her blankets were peeled back, revealing astronaut bedsheets. “Cute,” you thought.

The cracked open window let in a nice breeze. The light blue walls were littered in posters, photos, and banners. Next to a lesbian flag above her bed were photos of her and the two friends she was always with. Plastered around her room were covers of comics, something called Savage Starlight. There were silly math reference posters, Star Wars posters, and just about everything you would never expect from a crime fighting vigilante.

Her laptop was left open, and a few clicks and an easy password guess later, the screen unlocked to Ellie’s web browser. Her search history made your brows furrow. You expected to find “How to buy weed NYC” or “porn” at the very least.

Search: Is there more than one Black Widow?

Search: Natasha Romanoff history

Search: The Red Room

Search: Dreykov The Red Room

Search: Dreykov Russia

Search: Black Widow Assassins

Search: Natasha Romanoff Phone Number

She had been researching you. Hell, she hadn't done a very good job by the looks of it. And did she really think The Black Widow’s phone number was public information?

You grabbed a figurine from Ellie’s desk and toyed with it as you took a moment to think. Was it really worth taking the life of an innocent girl just for the sustenance of your organization? Was it even your organization? It's not like you could remember how you got there. It's not like you remembered your family, or your friends, or what it was like to have them… It wasn't so bad if you didn't really have anything to compare it to, right?

A soft pressure around your ankles made you look down. Silky webbing coated your boots.

“Sit down,” her voice came from near the window. You turned as much of your body as you could and watched as Ellie gestured to her desk chair. With no choice but to oblige, you sat. She webbed your arms to the armrests, not taking any chances.

She spun the chair to face her direction and then leaned back against the window.

“What do you want with me?” She inquired, green eyes searing into yours.

“I told you. My mission is to-”

“No. If you were going to kill me, I’d be dead already.” Good point.

You broke eye contact and looked around her room dramatically. “Cute room. I like the flag.”

“Tell me what you want with me,” she said, stalking closer to your chair. “I’m not asking this time.”

“What happened to the ‘friendly neighbourhood Spider-Woman’ I met? Do you rest all your guests like this?” You quipped.

“Yeah? Well, forgive me if I’m not so friendly to the one who tried to kill me, has been stalking me for weeks, and broke into my apartment.”

You roll your eyes.

Her large hand wraps around your jaw, forcing you to look in her eyes.

“Roll your eyes one more time and see what happens,” she growls. “Now tell me.”

You jerk your jaw away and kick her in the stomach, enough time for you to effectively sever the webs around your wrists and ankles.

“Fuck, I forgot about those,” Ellie says under her breath as she webs her bedroom door completely shut and stands in front of the window to block your exit.

“Move,” you demand.

“Nope.”

“Move. Or this won't end well for either of us.”

“Nah, I think I’ll just stay right here ‘till you tell me what you want with me.”

You charged her, attempting to throw her to the side and leap through the window she entered through, but she's stronger. She's like brick as she pushes you back.

“Just let me go. I’ve made up my mind anyways. I’m done with you.”

“No can do. I’m not in the habit of letting pretty girls who try to kill me go so easily,” she said, and you felt your cheeks heating up. She webbed the window shut and sat down in her bed, gesturing to her desk chair again. “Come on. I just want to know what your people want with me. Then you can go, I promise.”

You knew it wouldn't hurt to tell her. You'd have to go on the run from Dreykov anyways. Rip your tracker out and all. So you sat and watched as she reached into a drawer in her nightstand and pulled out a pack of peanut M&Ms.

“Want some?” She asked as she peeled it open. You shook your head and she shrugged. “More for me, then.”

“What do you want to know?” You asked.

“Start from the beginning.”

You cleared your throat. “I was given the mission to find you and-”

“No. I get that part, I’m not stupid. I want to know how this happened to you. And how I can help you out of it."

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elliesbelle · 1 year

Text

nobody compares to you

chapter 8

pairing: ellie x reader

synopsis: you're in your junior year of college and at a party, you run into the girl who broke your heart: ellie williams. despite the time it took to reset your life, will you risk a broken heart again for her?

content warnings: modern college au, cursing, angst, lesbian flirtationship?, mentions of kissing, mentions of a weapon (it's just ellie's switchblade), descriptions of injuries and bruising, abby is hot and cocky (duh), minors do not interact

word count: 4k

chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen

series masterlist

my masterlist

i have a ko-fi if you like my work so much that you feel compelled to tip me ♡︎

the "nobody compares to you" spotify playlist

You’d spent the last few days texting back and forth with Abby. She hadn’t changed much since your freshman year, still confident and charismatic and charming as always.

It was nice, taking a step outside of your comfort zone. It had been a while since you’d regularly socialized with someone other than your usual group of friends. The older you got, it seemed harder to feel comfortable getting close to new people.

But Abby made it easy, keeping things casual and light. She’d ask about your day, talk about hers, and inquire what you were up to. She’d flirt every now and again, and you’d cautiously flirt right back, but she never pushed much further than that.

You hadn’t told anyone yet about reconnecting with Abby. The girls from the Wilson Crew would no doubt be incredibly supportive, having partly seen you going through some of the disastrous aftermath with Ellie. But as loving and encouraging as they were, having six girls simultaneously asking you questions and being loud & abrasive about your love/sex life was too overwhelming a thought.

You considered disclosing your secret to Dina. But though you loved her deeply and she was the closest thing you’ve ever had to a sister, Dina was just a tad bit judgy. She wouldn’t say anything, but after a few years of knowing her and her mannerisms, you’d recognized her pursed lips and her one raised eyebrow as her judgy face. And right now, the last thing you needed was to be evaluated when you’re trying to break from behind the walls you’ve built the past couple of years.

After musing over it for a while, you kick yourself for not realizing right away who it was that you could confide in.

Jesse.

Jesse was an easygoing person, effortless to chat with and always cracking jokes. But when it came down to it, he cared about you and knew how to listen, judgment-free. You used to have long talks with him back in freshman year, separate from Dina and Ellie, while you watched old movies or played video games together. After Rafael died, he made sure constantly that you stayed stable and took care of yourself. He’s never failed to be a great friend to you.

Thursday morning, you make the decision to text Jesse as you get ready to leave for your first morning class.

You let out an audible “uhhh” as you remember that Jesse shared an apartment with Ellie. Jesse seems to suddenly remember as well a few seconds later.

You chuckle as you read Jesse’s last text before putting your phone in your pocket and walking out the front door of your apartment.

“So, you free tomorrow night?” Abby asks.

“Mm, that depends.”

“On?”

“On why you’re asking.” You reply cheekily.

Abby chuckles.

You were making your way to your Race and Sexuality in Popular Culture class and Abby, who supposedly had some time to kill, was walking you over.

“Oh, just curious.” Abby says.

“Uh-huh, just curious.” You reply, rolling your eyes playfully.

You stroll down the brick path holding a large textbook to your chest that you couldn’t stuff into your backpack with the rest of your things. Abby’d offered to carry it for you, but you insisted that you were a “strong and independent woman who didn’t need anyone to carry their books for them,” to which Abby laughed.

“Oh, I’m just fucking around,” Abby continues. “Wanted to see if you wanted to maybe come to this bar with me and my friends. It’s pretty close by.”

“Wow, getting drunk? On a weekday, Miss Anderson?” You joke.

“Friday night counts as a weekend, you weirdo.” Abby chuckles.

“Which bar is it?”

“The Bow and Arrow on Waverly Street.”

You purse your lips at this.

The Bow and Arrow was a lesbian bar that was near the university’s campus. It was a pretty small place with a nice set-up: friendly and welcoming bartenders, TVs that played a variety of movies or that were connected to old consoles for patrons to play retro games on, and a spacious dance floor on the rooftop.

Last year when you were still freshly heartbroken, you’d gone to the Bow and Arrow with a few friends from the Wilson Crew. Somehow, you ended up making out with a random girl in a dark corner who’d been eyeing you all evening. But after they’d asked if you wanted to go home with them, you chickened out and muttered a quick apology before rejoining your friends.

Before then, you’d gone a few times during your freshman year. But after one fateful December night that involved a random stranger, the dance floor, and Ellie, you didn’t frequent it much afterwards.

Abby doesn’t notice your hesitation, which allows you a second to come up with a calculated response.

“Do you mind if I think about it? Tomorrow’s kind of a long day for me. Might be too exhausted after all my classes.” You say.

“Sure, that’s totally fine.” Abby replies. “No pressure at all. If you wanna have a chill night, you could also come over and we can watch a movie or something instead.”

You smile at her thoughtfulness.

“You’re sweet,” You say. “But it’s okay, don’t change your plans ‘cause of me. You should go anyway and have fun with your friends.”

“Still trying to avoid hanging out alone with me, huh?” Abby jokes.

You roll your eyes and smile.

“Yes, that’s exactly why I’m letting you walk me to class today.” You reply sarcastically. “Definitely trying to avoid being around you right now, Anderson.”

“Oh, you’re ‘letting me’ walk you to class, are you?”

“Yup,” You say. “Now leave me, I no longer require your services, Miss Anderson.” You joke, gesturing for her to leave the opposite direction.

“Bossy.” Abby chuckles but continues to walk alongside you.

It’s a slightly chillier day today as October begins to slowly approach November. You’d opted for an oversized sweater that used to belong to your cousin Rafael (it had his alma mater stitched onto the front and your uncle had gifted it to you sometime after his passing), a beanie, and a pair of thick leggings. When you’d met up with Abby, you pretended not to notice her eyeing your ass in your leggings for half a second when she first spotted you.

“Alright,” Abby continues. “How about tonight? You busy?”

“Can’t tonight, sorry.” You say. “Meeting up with a friend.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, just having dinner with my friend Jesse.”

“Oh, Jesse Chang, right?”

You blink at Abby’s recognition.

“Yeah, you know him?”

“Just seen him around and all.” Abby explains. “He’s at the gym sometimes when I’m there. He lives with that friend of yours, Ellie, right? They’re both there together a lot.”

Your face drops at the mention of Ellie, but Abby has her eyes straight ahead and doesn’t catch it.

“Oh, and I see him sometimes playing guitar on the quad.” Abby continues. “He’s pretty good.”

You quickly compose yourself.

“Y-yeah. He’s known to play since he was a kid. A, uh, a family friend taught him growing up.” You say.

You feel a pang in your heart. Joel taught Jesse how to play the guitar when he was younger. Jesse and Ellie.

That summer that you’d spent in Jackson, Ellie’d told Joel during a Miller/Williams dinner night about how you were musically inclined. You’d felt embarrassed but you remember thinking that it was sweet how excited he got. Joel then proceeded to gush all about how he taught Ellie and Jesse how to play the guitar when they were just teenagers.

Jesse’d already known how to play piano from lessons he’d been taking and was curious to branch out (Ellie made a comment that he just wanted to learn because playing guitar looked so much cooler to girls). According to Joel, he had been a good, attentive student. When Ellie found out Joel was teaching Jesse, she competitively insisted on being taught too.

You remember chuckling when Joel’d told you how much of an impatient and temperamental student Ellie turned out to be. She’d easily get frustrated when she forgot a chord and curse herself out when her fingers would slip to play discordantly. But along with her hotheadedness came passion, and Ellie ended up teaching herself quickly into mastering the instrument anyway.

Something inside ached when the memories of Jesse and Ellie casually strumming on their guitars flooded back. You’d watched in admiration as they fucked around and even occasionally wrote songs together. Sometimes you’d sing along to whatever they’d be playing, and they would joke about how they should start a band (to which you’d tease that Ellie didn’t play nice with others to handle being in an organized group).

“That’s nice.” Abby says, interrupting your trance. “You’re pretty close to him?”

“Oh yeah,” You reply. “I’d say he’s one of my closest friends here.”

You quickly feel guilty saying that out loud, knowing that you’d pulled away from both him and Dina the past year.

“That’s pretty sweet,” Abby smiles. “He seems like a really chill guy.”

“He’s the best.” You say, smiling back.

“Well, I won’t get in the way of some bestie bonding then,” Abby says. “But at least consider coming out with us tomorrow night?”

You’re approaching the building of your next class now with just a couple of minutes to spare. You grip your textbook to your chest tightly, almost like it's a source of stress relief. Going out and actually being in public with Abby was a nerve-wracking concept. But you don’t want to disappoint her either.

“I will,” You say. “I promise.”

“Good.” Abby smiles.

“Now, go and get out of here,” You tell her. “You’re gonna be late for your next class.”

“Why are you always so eager to get rid of me?” Abby teases.

You roll your eyes, amused.

“You’re just so sickenly nice to me that I can’t stand to be around you.”

“Get used to it then.” Abby replies.

“Mm,” You muse. “We’ll see.”

Abby chuckles.

“Alright, well, I’ll text you.” She says, waving as she walks off. “See you, pretty girl.”

You feel blood rushing to your cheeks at this flirty comment as you wave her off. Your grip on your textbook loosens before you turn and proceed into the building.

“Another strawberry milkshake? Really?” You ask as the server walks away.

“What?! I’m having a craving!”

You chuckle before taking a sip of your water.

Ever the responsible and reliable friend, Jesse was ten minutes early to the diner for your meet-up. He’d pulled you into one of his classic bear hugs when you came in, and your heart jolted and your eyes teared up. You’ve really missed being around him.

“So, how’ve you been, kid?” He asks, leaning back into his chair and crossing his arms.

“Mm, short or long answer?”

“Long,” He smiles. “I wanna know everything.”

You return his smile uncertainly.

“Don’t really know how to start, Jess.”

“How ‘bout telling me how classes have been going for you?”

You go on for a while about how you’d been handling your schoolwork, Jesse occasionally chiming in about his own classes. He laughed at your anecdotes and asked all the right questions at all the right times. Your orders were placed in front of you as you were complaining about your Women in Classical Antiquity professor who you swore has a vendetta against you.

“Then she looks at me like I’m crazy!” You complain before stuffing your face with a slice of chocolate chip pancake.

“Yeah, a buddy of mine had her last year, and apparently half the shit she was teaching made no sense.” Jesse replies, licking whipped cream off the top of his milkshake.

“It doesn’t!” You exclaim. “Like, I’m sorry that I corrected you in front of the rest of your students, but like? Do your job right the first time then, bitch!”

Jesse guffaws as you pour more maple syrup over your pancakes.

“Dude, she’s gonna fail you for sure if you keep it up.”

“Fail me for knowing more about Greek mythology than she does,” You grumble. “Get me up on that podium, and we’ll all learn something for a change.”

You continue your tirade for a couple of minutes until the conversation shifts from your classes to your friends.

“It’s so cute that they’ve been together since freshman year,” You say, discussing your friends Tara and Astrid who were celebrating their two-year anniversary in a couple of months. “Although I guess to you and D, two years is nothing.”

“Hey, still an impressive feat. And I definitely agree that they’re real cute together.” Jesse replies.

“Nice to know love is real after all.” You joke.

Jesse smiles at this but then suddenly looks thoughtful before speaking.

“How about you, dude?”

“What about me?” You ask, finishing off the last of your pancakes and attacking your side of grits.

“How’s your love life been going?”

You pause. This is exactly why you’d invited Jesse out, to confide in him. And yet somehow, you feel your mouth go dry and your heartbeat rapidly increase.

Jesse notices your hesitation and puts his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his hands.

“We don’t have to talk about it, bud. But I’m here if you need someone. Judgment-free zone.”

You give him a soft smile. Jesse was so perceptive sometimes.

“Well, umm,” You start. “I’m sort of… seeing someone? Or trying to see someone, I guess. Not sure what to call it yet.”

“Oh, yeah? What does ‘trying’ to see someone mean exactly?”

“It means…” You sigh. “…it means I don’t really know what I’m doing or what’s going on or if I want to go further.”

Jesse chuckles.

“Well, what do you want?” He asks.

“I’m not really sure,” You reply honestly. “I guess, I’m a little tired of feeling lonely, and she’s so nice to me. She makes me feel good about myself. I don’t know. I just haven’t actually dated anyone in such a long time.”

“That’s okay. It’s been a rough couple of years for you. I don’t blame you at all.” Jesse says.

You look at him sadly before popping a spoonful of grits into your mouth.

“Well, I don’t think you should completely force yourself into something you’re unsure about,” Jesse says after taking a sip from his milkshake. “But I also think that you deserve to be happy. And unfortunately, that means putting yourself out there.”

You scowl at his sage advice.

“Do I have to?”

“Sorry, kid.” Jesse chuckles and you grimace.

“I just want to see you be yourself again,” Jesse continues. “Whether that’s because you start going out with someone new or because you just leave your apartment more often, it doesn’t matter. Do you think this girl could be good for you?”

You contemplate his question seriously for a few moments.

“Maybe?” You reply, unsure. “She could be. I don’t know.”

“Well, you don’t have to know now,” Jesse says. “Just do what makes you happy, okay? That’s really all I want.”

You feel something warm growing instantaneously in your chest. Gratitude is too small of a word for what you felt towards Jesse, and you make a note to yourself to start hanging out with him more.

“Thanks, Jess. You really are the best.” You say.

“Hey, that almost rhymed.” He jokes.

“Oh my god,” You laugh, rolling your eyes. “You’re so annoying.”

“You’re a poet and you don’t even know it!” He cackles.

You take one of your used, syrup-y paper napkins, ball it up, and toss it at his face. He catches it easily, chortling to himself.

“God, you’re a fucking dork!” You say.

“Don’t be a hater!” He says, holding his hands up defensively.

You giggle.

“I missed you, Jess.” You say.

“Missed you too, kid,” Jesse replies, eyes softening. “You’ve got to come over sometime. I haven’t beaten your ass at Smash in forever!”

You give him a hesitant smile, which he notices.

“Just come over when she’s not there.” He says, accurately assuming the reason behind your reluctance.

“Dude, I don’t know…”

“We’ll do it sometime when she’s not home. It’ll be fine, I promise.” Jesse reassures. “Plus, we haven’t had a jam sesh in forever. I miss my jamming partner.”

You smile, remembering the times when Jesse would convince you to teach him something new on his guitar or have you sing along to a song he’d been learning. He almost roped you into performing at an open mic with him back in freshman year, but you ended up chickening out.

“Don’t you have Ellie for that?” You ask timidly. You find that her name hurts to say out loud.

“She judges me too much for my exquisite and refined music taste,” Jesse complains. “She nearly threw her knife at me for trying to get her to duet a Taylor Swift song with me.”

You laugh, despite yourself.

“Yeah, well, that’s what you get.” You tease.

“Hey! This is a judgment-free zone. No judging my Swiftie habits.”

You roll your eyes playfully.

“Hey, by the way,” Jesse suddenly says. “Who’s the lucky lady?”

“What?”

“The girl that you’re ‘trying’ to see or whatever.”

“Oh. Right.” You say, biting the inside of your cheek. “It’s umm… Abby Anderson.”

You look up to see Jesse with an expression on his face that you don’t fully recognize. His eyebrows are furrowed and it looks as if he was trying to connect the dots about something you weren’t privy to. After several moments, you see what seems like a sudden realization reach his eyes.

“Oh shit, umm.” He starts. “Yeah, she’s pretty cool.”

“What is it, Jesse?” You ask skeptically.

“No, nothing. Just processing.” He replies unconvincingly.

“Jesse,” You press. “What is it?”

“Seriously, it’s nothing.”

“Dude, come on. Don’t bullshit me.” You assert. Jesse sighs.

“That just…That just explains a couple of things, that’s all.”

“What things?”

“I—” Jesse starts but his eyes suddenly wander away from you and towards the front door of the diner. “Oh, fuck.”

You follow the direction of his gaze. You feel your throat close up and your stomach lurch as you recognize the figures of Dina and Ellie entering the restaurant. The instinct you’d developed the past year to suddenly look elsewhere whenever Ellie entered the room vanished completely when your eyes fell on her face.

Ellie was sporting a black eye with a dark gash right underneath. The bruising didn’t look fresh, but you can easily tell it happened recently. Your eyes trail down and see that her right hand is also bandaged.

“Shit.” You hear Jesse mumble, breaking you out of your wildly unravelling thoughts. You turn to face him.

“I’m so sorry, man. I had no idea that they were gonna pass by—” Jesse immediately starts to apologize.

“I-it’s okay, Jess.” You stutter. “I just—”

You fall silent as you glance back towards the pair, your eyes inadvertently meeting Ellie’s ocean green ones. Your faces make the same panicked expression before you both break eye contact to hiss at your respective friends.

“You didn’t tell Dina where we were meeting?” You whisper fervently.

“I told her that we were gonna hang out, but I completely forgot to mention where.” He says apologetically.

“Jesse…” You whine.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, bud. Do you, uh, want me to go over there and—” His sentence is cut short as Dina approaches your table.

“Hi, babe.” She says, directed at Jesse. “So, what the fuck?”

“Why are you here?” You and Jesse demand simultaneously.

“We ordered takeout and we came to pick it up so we didn’t have to pay delivery fees.” Dina explains. “Jess, why didn’t you tell me—”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t think you were coming out with El!” He says defensively.

“Fucking hell,” Dina says before turning to you. “I’m sorry, honey. Are you okay?”

“I, umm,” You start, your eyes unwittingly wandering back to Ellie. She was standing awkwardly by the host’s podium, bouncing back and forth between her feet and twiddling her fingers. She seems determined to look at nothing else but at her Chuck Taylor sneakers. You shift your gaze back to Dina.

“Y-yeah. I’m okay.” You say weakly.

She smiles sympathetically, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Is…” You begin timidly. “Is that a black eye? O-on Ellie?”

Dina and Jesse share a worried look.

“Did you tell her anything?” She asks him.

“No, not yet.” He replies.

Dina sighs.

“Tell me what?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing.

Dina’s hand squeezes your shoulder lightly.

“It’s—” She begins. “It’s kind of… private.”

“Oh” is all you say in response. You feel a little rebuffed and excluded, but you decide not to press further. You knew it wasn’t your business. And after all, you were no longer a foursome.

“We’re just gonna grab our food and go, okay?” Dina assures. “I’ll text you later, hun.” She says to you.

“O-okay…” You reply meekly and watch as Dina makes her way back to Ellie.

Neither you nor Jesse says anything. From your peripheral vision, you see Dina and Ellie seemingly argue about something for a few moments before the hostess arrives with a plastic bag of food, which Ellie grabs with her good hand. They leave without another glance back at you.

“Jess, I’m…” You say after a second or two of silence. “I’m gonna go use the bathroom real quick, okay?”

Jesse responds with a simple “okay.” His eyes meet yours with an acknowledgement that you merely need a second to yourself. You nod, silently thanking him for his understanding before making your way to the diner’s bathrooms.

As you shut the door behind you, you lean against it and weep silently.

Why? Why am I here again?

You realize that it hasn’t even been a week since you were in this same, empty diner bathroom, breaking down and crying tears of frustration.

Am I not allowed to catch a fucking break?

You spend a couple of minutes breathing deeply the way your old therapist taught you before you can wrench yourself off from the door and look at yourself in the mirror.

Please, just… please.

Your right hand unwittingly comes up to touch your face, right where Ellie’s injury had been on hers.

What the hell did she get herself into?

Ellie wasn’t inherently a violent person, but she didn’t shy away from it either. She was reckless and impulsive, something about her that you used to love but also dread. A memory starts forming in your head, of you and Ellie and that December night at the Bow and Arrow.

Your reminiscence is suddenly interrupted by your phone buzzing in your pocket. You take it out to see you got a text.

Abby?

You unlock your phone, giggling when you read her message.

She really is so nice to me.

Your heart starts to feel warm before it stops completely upon reading her follow-up texts.

O-oh. Oh, okay.

You gulp and feel a chill going down your spine. You almost feel the need to look around and make sure nobody is watching you, only to remember you were alone in the bathroom. Your phone buzzes with another message.

You chuckle nervously at Abby’s last message.

She’s bold, I’ll give her that.

You chew on your lip for a few moments while one hand grips your phone tightly and the other taps nervously on the bathroom counter. You take a deep breath.

Fuck it.

Remembering Jesse’s advice, you make the decision to put yourself out there again.

Hastily putting your phone back in your pocket before Abby can text back, you feel every nerve in your body tremble. Your heart hammers rapidly in your chest, but you stare at your reflection resolutely.

Abby likes you, okay? I think. And I think I can like her too. This is a chance to be part of something healthy for once.

You stand in front of the mirror, conducting your breathing exercises and attempting to convince yourself.

Back at your table while waiting for your return, Jesse is hastily questioning Dina through text if Abby Anderson was the reason that Frat Guy Adam was nearly beaten to a bloody pulp by the hands of Ellie.

author’s notes:

omg a million years later and i finally update? gasp. now everyone clap for belle (pls clap)

tbh i was too lazy to do all the phone texting parts with the format i did in the past chapters cause i hate having to mess around with the html format for the customized grey text, so my lazy ass just did screenshots of the texts instead, sorry slfkjsddsf

if you recognize the lesbian bar that i loosely based the bow and arrow on, no you didn’t

i’ve been replaying tlou2 lately and i know many of y’all headcanon jesse as a himbo which i honestly love, i’m obsessed with himbo!jesse, but i personally didn’t wanna ignore the fact that jesse’s actually a very intelligent and level-headed guy who’s extremely organized and who’s a natural leader and etc. let’s acknowledge this jesse more!

also jesse’s last name is merely inspired by the last name of the actor who plays him (stephen chang)

also jesse is a musician because i say so. i’m also hcing him as having taken piano lessons as a kid cause which of us asian kids weren’t forced to take piano lessons or whatever when we were kids, let’s be real (i took them briefly but they were boring and i’d already known and i also mostly taught myself anyway)

the part about reader's professor not knowing how to teach her own class is just me being still bitter over a mythology professor who kept trying to fail me cause i knew more about greek mythology than she did (she couldn't cause i was literally correct all the time). the bitch even tried to accuse me of plagiarism! i'm still mad.

i added in the part about ellie not inherently being a violent person as a passive-aggressive reference to craig mazin, the creator of the hbo show, who says that ellie has a violent heart when she does NOT, he does not understand our girl at all

the image i used as abby's selfie is of the body model that they based abby's character on, colleen fotsch!

wow i added waaaay too much in the author’s notes lol sorry belle has adhd everyone

anyway thank you for bearing with me as i take time uploading. replies and reblogs and messages are fuel to new chapters, so pretty please! indulge me!

taglist: @lonelyfooryouonly, @elliesinterlude, @sawaagyapong, @peppesgirl, @iconsoft, @maybeidohaveadhd, @ellieswifee, @valiantllamapersonpony-blog, @nil-eena, @echostinn, @uraesthete, @softbunlvr, @cherriesxinthespring, @amitycat, @thefishymissy, @yevheniiaaaa, @machetegirl109, @bertandfearnie, @ximtiredx, @efam, @elliesnumber1gf, @digit4lslut, @tayyyystan, @emothurman, @livvy-2000, @abigaillovestoread, @gold-dustwomxn, @liabadoobee, @yuckyfucky, @qtefolleunpez, @libr4sonsa, @17luv, @robinismywifee, @villainousbear, @ashlynnnnnnnn15, @scarlettadore, @vianna99, @g0n3girls, @totheblood, @embermdk, @awyunh, @kenz-ee, @marvelwomen-simp, @eleactric, @simpforellie, @omgidksblog, @anxiouso, @nyrastar, @lillysbigwilly, @hopeless-y, @elliesbabygirl, @alexpritch, @thestarsanctuary, @aethelwyneleigh27

#nobody compares to you series #ellie williams #dealer!ellie #ellie x reader #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #the last of us #tlou #the last of us part 2 #tlou2 #ellie fanfiction #belle speaks #belle writes

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peachesofteal · 2 years

Text

First Sight / Chapter 2

Chapter 2 of 2. Part five of the Sassy series. First chapter here.

Simon Riley/female reader - soft dad Simon Riley 4k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI, PTSD, PPD, mentions of blood and violence, reader is a new mom, tenderness, fluff, complicated feelings, mentions of Percocet (no addiction or abuse), feelings of fear and anxiety, emotional hurt/comfort. Simon is here. Theo is here. There is nothing to fear.

The house is quiet. Practically silent, except for the ebb and flow of Simon snoring, the broad expanse of his chest combined with the crook of his elbow making a very comfortable sleeping spot for Theo apparently. It’s like white noise, you guess. You've heard of babies being lulled to sleep by the sound of the ocean, or rain, or even a vacuum cleaner, but you didn’t have to resort to any of those, the crackle coming from Simon’s nose more than enough.

Which is great, because you’re exhausted. Or at least, you think you are. It’s hard to tell right now. Your abdomen is still sore, giant incision finally starting to close after six long weeks, and your brain never turns off, the darkness pulling at the edge your mind dragging you through hell almost every day, the bright spots few and infrequent. You feel haunted. You feel like a husk.

Ten fingers, ten toes, ten pounds. You stare at Theo in awe, his little face perfectly serene while he sleeps in your arms, and you lower your own to the crown of his head, skimming your nose across his tiny tuft of hair. You hold him close, pointer finger tracing as lightly as possible across the apple of his cheek, back and forth. It’s hard to believe he’s even real. Or that he’s here. That the two of you made it through, and that he now has a birthday, a name, ten fingers, and ten toes.

This, whatever it is, is the strongest concentration of love you’ve ever felt in your life, that you’re sure of. Things that mattered before, don’t anymore. Things you were worried about in the past, don’t exist. The only thing that’s real is this baby in your arms, your baby, Simon’s baby, and you blink rapidly to hold back tears at the realization.

“What do you think, mom? You ready for some pain relief so you can get some sleep?” The nurse asks, and Simon nods but doesn’t speak. You know he wants you to get some painkillers, that he’s having a hard time watching you wince and bite your lip to the point where you draw blood, but he also wouldn’t dare speak for you, even though you’re sure he wants to take over, take charge and make sure you get what you need.

You did just have major surgery, and the other drugs have worn off, leaving you with searing pain in your stomach and cramps in your legs.

But the idea of taking a Percocet makes you nervous, lights some uneasy fire in the back of your mind, and irrational but completely real fear buzzes in your nervous system. If you’re drugged, you’ll be loopy, and it makes you want to say no. The amount of pain your body is in fights against the resistance, and you glance at Simon hesitantly. Like he’s reading your mind, he reaches out to place a gentle hand on your thigh.

“Nothing is going to happen if you take a pain pill. I promise.” He says encouragingly and you relent with a sigh.

“Okay, yeah.”

“Sass?” It’s Simon, standing in the doorway, Theo in the sling that is his giant forearm. He sits comfortably there, perfectly snuggled against his dad, and it makes your heart clench. Simon is looking at you warily, like he doesn’t recognize you. Which is fair. You don’t even recognize yourself. “What’re you doin’ out here?” Where? You blink, processing the question. Here? Your toes wiggle, in grass, and you look around. Why are you in the backyard? At night?

“Oh. I don’t know.” He’s holding his hand out to you, large fingers reaching for yours.

“Come inside.” He presses his thumb to your wrist, eyes closing before speaking again. “I think you should call the shrink.”

“No.”

“Sass. There’s nothing wrong with it, if you need to talk to someone.” You laugh weakly.

“That’s rich, coming from you.” You spit, tone edged in an eagerness to fight, and he tenses. Fuck. “I’m sorry.” Your shoulders slump. Stop being such a bitch. He’s doing practically everything for you right now. “I’m sorry. Really. I’m just… out of it.” You step closer, leaning your forehead into his chest, blinking down at the wriggling baby in his arm. Your son. You feel Simon’s nose in your hair, and then a heavy palm rests at the small of your back.

He inhales deeply.

“I know.”

Ten fingers, ten toes, ten pounds. You repeat it over and over for assurance, even though your son is sleeping comfortably in your arms, safe and healthy. Ten fingers, ten toes, ten pounds. It’s hard to believe you’re a mom now, someone who has a tiny, defenseless little human depending on you for everything.

Well, not just you.

You eye Simon, asleep in the chair less than a foot from the bed, head tilted back, mouth open. There’s a large white spot of baby vomit on the front of his black sweatshirt, and he’s sporting some serious undereye circles from being up with Theo as much as possible. He doesn’t let you lift a finger, which is fine considering you can’t even really get out of the bed without help, your giant incision still wrapped up and body still exhausted from surgery, two days later.

On top of everything, something felt off. There was this feeling, a dark, lonely thing pulling at your limbs, trying to wring you out over and over, dragging you down into the dark of the deepest waters. You were frightened of it, the cycle of thoughts spiraling through your mind every time you closed your eyes, the inky blackness of dark feelings overtaking you from every direction. Were you going to be a good mom? Would you be able to take care of Theo? What if Simon wasn’t here? What if something bad happens? What if you die? What if Theo doesn’t love you? What if Simon leaves? What if you don’t like your own baby? What if you can’t bond with him? What if you suck at this?

Theo gurgles, a small noise, and you try to shift to alleviate some of the pressure on your back. Pain zings through you, the sting of your muscles seizing, and you gasp, loud enough that Simon is jerking awake, eyes scanning the room until they land on you and your hopeless form.

“Need help?” You nod miserably, and he lifts Theo away from your body while you try to get situated. You watch him rock the baby easily, settling into a natural rhythm like it’s nothing, and try not to feel irritated. He’s a natural. How is possible that Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley is so good at this and you’re a failure? Tears prick along your waterline, and you slam your eyes shut, but not before one escapes down your cheek. “Hey, what is it? What’s wrong?” A big, warm hand envelopes yours, and your emotions surge inside of you, sadness and love and anxiety swirling in your heart until you’re sniffling.

“I’m sorry.” You sob and he looks stricken.

“Sorry for what?”

“For being such a mess.”

“You just had a baby, Sass. And you have a huge wound in your stomach. You’re gonna be a mess for a bit.”

“Yeah, b-but I can’t even take care of my… my own baby,” The words are slurred, pieced together through tears, and you try to catch your breath. He folds his hand around the back of your neck and leans forward, bringing Theo between your two bodies while your face nestles into him. “and you’re being so nice to me.” You cry aloud.

“Shhh. It’s alright, sweet girl. You’re okay.” TWO babies. There are two babies in this stupid hospital room. You take a deep breath through your nose while Simon rubs your back, Theo blinking up at the two of you silently. “Did you get any sleep this morning?”

“N- no.” He sighs as he pulls away, lips dragging across your temple gently and then up to your forehead to press a kiss there, soft and slow, lingering as long as he can.

“I think you should try to get some sleep,” you shrug and wipe your eyes. “I’ll turn out the lights.”

“Wait.” Your hand shoots out to latch onto his in a panic. “Si. I- don’t go anywhere. Please?”

“We’ll both be right here.” He assures you, folding your hand back into your lap with a squeeze before moving to flick the light off. “We’re right here, okay? Close your eyes.” He slides the reclining chair another half a foot closer to the bed, easing down into it with Theo secure in one arm, holding your hand with the other. He traces a thumb over the skin of your knuckles, and your eyes slip closed.

You’re home. You’re not in danger. Simon is here. Theo is here. There is nothing to fear. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, the straggly ends of your hair, the rise and fall of your chest beneath Simon’s t shirt. You’re home. You’re not in danger. Simon is here. Theo is here. There is nothing to fear. Your head is pounding, a headache ripping across the front of your brain, your stomach churning like you’re going to vomit up the breakfast you ate this morning. Your legs feel weak, or maybe it’s your body that feels heavy, but either way, you can hardly stand, leaning against the bathroom countertop for support. You focus on your breath, in and out, counting inhales and exhales, but there’s a buzzing sound in your ear, and the room suddenly feels dark, like your vision is cloudy.

When you close your eyes, you see a teenager walking towards you, a bomb wired to the vest he’s wearing.

You see Soap’s blood on your palms, you feel it slicking your skin up your forearms, you hear his grunts of pain as you pack his wound.

You see Simon outside the tent after you left, staring up at the helicopter as it took you away. You remember the unadulterated rage that coursed through your veins, the overwhelming feeling of anger that consumed your entire existence.

You see the faces of the first infantry troop you deployed with in the desert. The fresh-faced lieutenant, begging you to make sure his wife and kids get his death benefits while he dies in front of you, torso blown open, organs shredded by bullets. The private, from Louisiana, whose parents were long dead, but he told you about how sweet his baby sister was while the two of waited for a field medic that would be way too late.

You see your dad, the last time you ever saw his face, putting you on a plane to a country you knew nothing about while you screamed, your mother crying in his arms. The silver of the cross around his neck glinting in the afternoon sun.

You’re home. You’re not in danger. Simon is here. Theo is here. There is nothing to fear.

There’s a knock on the door and you snap to attention.

“Sass?” You fix your face in the mirror as well as you can before answering.

“Yeah, coming.”

It’s the familiar ring of a facetime call that wakes you, your head foggy with the cotton of deep sleep. You squint at the caller ID, Johnny’s name popping up across the screen accompanied by the soap emoji.

“Hi.” You answer, voice still a little groggy. Simon is already lifting Theo from the bassinet, depositing him on your chest gently, and giving your shoulder a squeeze before he slumps back in the chair.

“Sassafras, look at ‘im.” Theo’s just visible in the screen, and Johnny is grinning, hand partially covering his face because his eyes are suspiciously wet. “You did a grand job lass.” You smile at him in thanks, and Simon grunts from the chair right next to the bed. “Where’s the big guy?”

“He's here.” You angle the camera, and Simon cracks a small smile under the mask.

“Hey Johnny.”

“Ghost! Yer a lucky man, LT.” Simon looks to you, something soft shining in his eyes before it disappears.

“Yeah.” He reaches over, hand laying gently over top yours where it rests on Theo's back.

“He’s ready to meet Uncle Soap, whenever you get leave next. Feel free to come over this way.” You chime. “We, uh actually wanted to talk to you about being his godfather...”

“No, we don’t.” Simon barks but you shake your head, moving the camera back to you.

“Yes, we do. Ignore him. It was his idea, Johnny.” You shoot him a look.

“Ah you two, I’m honored.” There’s a noise in the background, something loud, and Johnny looks away quickly, before returning to the screen. “Gotta run. Miss ya Sassy, and the grumpy bastard.”

“Bye, Soap. Be safe, stay frosty.” Theo cries just as Johnny hangs up, and you pat his back slowly, murmuring above his ear.

“What is it?” You soothe. “Hungry?” You bounce him slightly, all you can do from the bed, before looking up at Simon imploringly. “Si…”

“C’mere” He pulls the baby from your arms, tilting him onto his back at a good angle for the bottle, before settling down next to you on the bed. “Like a champ.” He says proudly, and you can’t help the grin that tugs at your lips.

“He’s got a good appetite.” You push your finger into his tiny fist, and he grabs onto it reflexively. “Like his dad I guess.” You tease and Simon smirks, leaning down to plant a kiss across your cheek.

Theo is screaming on the monitor. Both of you jolt awake, and Simon is out of bed before you can even say anything, hall light flicking on and floorboards creaking under his feet.

You glance at the clock. 3:32 AM. Well, at least he made it three hours. There’s a beeping sound inside your ear, and you cringe, shaking it away as you fully wake. Anxiety immediately blooms in your mind, and you take deep breaths to calm your heart. You’re home. You’re not in danger. Simon is here. Theo is here. There is nothing to fear. You sit up slowly, shifting your hips until you’re fully upright, and Simon comes back.

“Hungry, I think.” He’s got Theo against his chest, blanket over his shoulder. His hair is all a mess, like the baby’s, and the sight of them together nearly makes you start crying. Your boys.

“Here.” You clear your throat. “I’ll take him, you grab the bottle?” He rubs his face sleepily and you rock Theo, trying to get his cries to calm down while you wait for the formula. “Shhh.” You make the hushing noise near his ear, to no avail.

The song comes easily. It’s not a lullaby, and you’re a shit singer, but since he was born, singing works better than humming, though you’re not sure why. You rock him in time with the beat you’re conjuring in your head, closing your eyes and imagining your voice is not terribly off key.

“I am not the only traveler, who has not repaid his debt. I’ve been searching for a trail to follow, again. Take me back to the night we met.” Theo cries, but more softly, a little hiccup shaking his chest. “And then I can tell myself, what the hell I’m supposed to do. And then I can tell myself, not to ride along with you.” You press a kiss to his forehead, stroking across the baby soft skin of his cheek. “I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you. Take me back to the night we met.” He’s gone silent, just looking up at you with big wide eyes now, and you smile down at him in the dim light of your bedside lamp. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, haunted by the ghost you. Take me back to the night we met.”

When you look up, Simon’s standing in the doorway again, bottle in one hand, burp cloth in the other, frozen to the spot, staring at you.

“Hey.” He startles, like he was off somewhere else, and takes big strides until he’s sitting at your side, handing the bottle over. “Thanks.”

“Y-yeah.” He stutters, and you frown.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just tired.”

“I can put him back in the crib, if you want to lay down.” You gesture to his side of your bed, but he shakes his head.

“No, no. ’s fine.”

“You sure?” Theo sucks the bottle down with ease, and you prop him on your shoulder over the burp cloth. Simon leans forward, and presses his lips to your brow, hand resting on Theo’s back. He holds himself there, for a second, then two, and three, until he pulls away to touch his forehead to yours.

“I’m sure.”

The woman says your name, nodding at you from where she sits to the left of your bed.

“I’m Dr. Moreno. I’m a resident psychologist here, but I also do work for the VA.” You fight the urge to tell her to get the fuck out and choose to smile politely instead. “I understand you have some concerns about postpartum depression.”

“Yeah.” Suddenly, you wished you hadn’t been so painfully honest on the questionnaire your OB gave you.

“Are you currently receiving any treatment for your PTSD?”

“No.”

“Are you interested in receiving treatment for PTSD?”

“Not really, I’ve done therapy before.” She nods thoughtfully.

“Did your doctor go over everything with you about C-section recovery?”

“Yeah, she did.” Somewhere, in the very back of your mind, something tells you to be more forthcoming, to be more open with this shrink, but it gets shut down before it can become a full thought.

“Okay. I am going to give you my card. It has my office number on it and my email. You can reach out to me anytime you need to.” You give her another polite, lackluster look. She sighs. “Being a new mom can be hard, even for those who don’t have histories of trauma. There is no shame in needing help.”

“I know. Thank you.” You hold the card up like its proof that you’re listening, like you can be trusted to call if you think you’re in trouble. She gives you a sympathetic smile as she makes to leave, reiterating that she wants you to call her if you need to.

A heavy knock sounds on the door, and then Simon is standing in the room, medical mask on his face, sleeping baby cuddled against him. Just the sight of him holding Theo cleaves your heart in two, and you hold your arms out to them both, anxious to be near them. He gives the doctor a look when she passes, and then raises an eyebrow at you.

“You alright?” Theo cries and you motion with your hands so you can hold him.

“Yeah. Just usual shrink stuff.”

“Alright, come off it. It’s not that funny.” Simon’s jaw flexes as you try to hold back the laughter and fail. It hurts your stomach, but at the same time, it feels great. It feels real.

“Oh my god. I’m so- sorry. For laughing, it’s just-“ you stare down at the mess of burnt food in the pan, eyebrows creasing in sympathy when you look back up at him. “You’re so sweet. Thank you.” He scowls.

“I’ll order takeout.”

“No, no you don’t have to. We can make something else.”

“No.” He turns to stalk away, and you’re hit with a wave of emotion out of nowhere, so strong that it nearly knocks you off balance, almost steals your breath. It feels familiar. It feels like Belize, and every second afterwards until he sent you away, it feels like waking up in the hospital to his face hovering over yours, it feels like watching him press his ear to your belly when Theo was still inside you. It feels like that night when the two of you sat on the roof of the safehouse in Belarus, after the botched extraction mission, the one that left him with twenty stitches in his thigh and you got that really bad burn on your arm. The roof where the two of you traded secrets, where he told you about his dad and you told him about yours. It feels like the night in Uruguay, when you and Johnny and him all went out and found a bar, when you got drunk and he pressed you against the brick wall in the alley, your legs wrapped around his waist, his face buried in your neck, whispering words you couldn’t quite hear under his breath. It feels like watching him cry in the operating room when he saw the baby for the first time, watching him become a dad, watching him beat the vicious cycle of trauma and abuse right before your eyes.

You wrap yourself around his waist before he can get too far away, molding your body to his back, and his hand comes down to where yours rests on his stomach.

“Sass?”

“Don’t. Just, stay here. Like this. For a minute.” He shifts, turning while keeping you pressed against him, until you’re resting your cheek on his chest, and he’s rubbing your back.

“You alright?” His voice is gentle, he’s always gentle with you now, and the realization makes the feeling grow even stronger.

“Yeah. I’m… Simon. I-“

Theo cries on the baby monitor. Insistent. Bossy, as Simon enjoys telling you, like his mum.

You step away with a sigh.

“I’ll get him.” He kisses your forehead before heading up the stairs.

When he makes it back down, you’re scrubbing the pan out, charred food already deposited in the garbage can.

“There she is.” Simon says from behind you, and you turn to see Theo blinking in your direction, eyes wide and making little garbled cooing noises.

“Hi baby.” Simon shuffles him into your arms, and you sway side to side slowly. “You’re hungry.” You deduce, and he agrees with you, making an impatient crying sound, tiny fist swinging into the air. “I know, I know. Hang on.” You soothe. You settle yourself on the couch with a bottle, brushing against his cheek lightly to trigger the rooting reflex before plopping it in his mouth. He drinks greedily, eyes trying to slip shut once he’s had his fill, and Simon laughs from where he sits next to you.

“You’re good at this.” He says quietly. You balance Theo on your shoulder while you burp him, and then look at Simon like he’s off his rocker.

“Me?”

“Yeah, Sass.” He pauses. “And ya look good, holding my baby.” Your cheeks heat, and something clenches in your stomach. You shoot him a look and he grins like a fool, real happiness stretching across his face in spades. It’s beautiful, he’s beautiful, and you- “I know you’re struggling right now,” he pulls you out of your train of thought, eyes pensive, grin morphing into something bittersweet. “and it’s been hard, but… I’m here. For you. For Theo. I want us…” he trails off when Theo burps and you shift, cradling him back into a sleeping position. “I don’t know… what will happen, in the future, and I know I still got a lot, of making up to do. But I want this. With you. I want us to… be a family.” You study his knuckles, fingers bunched together with tension, the height of his shoulders under his ears. You expect to feel the unraveling force of your anger, the swell of rage towards him that has been lurking under the surface for so long, but it never comes. It simmers in the distance, cool and unprovoked, sitting silently and uneager. You wonder if it's temporary, if you’ll ever feel it again, the way you used to.

Instead, when you look at him, all you see is Simon. Theo’s dad. All you have is that feeling, the strong emotion that makes your head spin, and while you can’t get your mouth to form those three words, you feel the full force it when you look up at him with softness in your gaze and say,

“I think we already are, Si.”

#sassy series #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #reader was pregnant #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod mwii #cod mw22 fanfiction #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #ghost cod #tw pregnancy #soft dad simon riley #reader is referred to as mom #simon x sass #ghost x reader #peaches writes

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sailor-aviator · 9 months

Text

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Ten

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Your best friend, Bob Floyd, had insisted you join him for the summer at his family's home along the Carolina coasts. You had been hesitant at first, but ultimately agreed to his request. Now, here you were in a new town with strange locals who spoke in hushed whispers and cryptic retellings about glistening scales, glowing eyes, and haunting songs that echoed from the sea. You didn't believe them at first, but when you wake up on the beach one morning after having fallen overboard the night before, you can't help but think that maybe you hadn't imagine the strong arms and deep, green eyes of the man that had saved you.

Trigger warnings: Mentions of death, Language, Talk of mating rituals, Talk of potentially life threatening situations, Smut (oral, f receiving), Dirty talk, Confrontations. I think that's it, but please let me know if I've missed anything!

Word Count: 4k

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

The rain was more of a mist in the following days, setting the mood that had fallen over the rest of the town. Seagulls cried off in the distance and the waves crashed almost dully against the drab beaches of North Island. It was like the life had been sucked out of the little town in a matter of seconds.

Had anyone liked Mandy? Not particularly, but the idea of someone you’ve known your entire life meeting such a violent and unexpected end was sure to make people feel some type of way. Maybe not overwhelming sadness, but perhaps a mixture of shock and fear. That could have been anyone after all.

You watched waves crash into the shore from your perch on some of the rocks outside the Floyd home. They had departed earlier that morning, dressed in all black and looking worn.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” Susan asked you, her eyes rimmed red from the tears she had been shedding nonstop over the past couple of days. You had given her a tight-lipped smile.

“I’m sure, Susan,” you murmured, nodding slightly. “It wouldn’t make sense for me to go, anyway.”

There was no love lost between you and Mandy. In truth, she despised you, and you couldn’t say that you didn’t feel something similar towards her.

Still, the thought of her lifeless body laying there on the beach had tears springing to your eyes.

You had sobbed into Bob’s chest, shoulders shaking and fingers becoming stiff from clutching him so hard. It wasn’t until a pair of gentle hands rested on your arms that you opened your eyes, revealing concerned, familiar green staring back at you. You flung yourself into Jake’s arms, your tears and sobs starting anew as he held you tightly, stroking a hand over your hair as he murmured assurances into your ear.

You felt ridiculous for it, really. You hadn’t even known Mandy all that well, and there you had been, in hysterics as if you had while everyone else stayed strong for you. So, no. It didn’t feel right to attend her funeral, so you stayed behind, allowing those who knew her the chance to mourn her properly.

The mist clung to you, seeping down into your bones until a chill settled over you and you could no longer keep the shaking at bay. You trudged up the wooden stairs to the back of the house, the grey light casting a gloomy glow throughout the different rooms as you made your way up the stairs to change.

You had promised Nat that you would swing by Mrs. Cambroni’s shop to pick up the masks for the Moonlight Masquerade that weekend.

“I would go,” she had murmured, her face drawn and a distant look in her eyes as she spoke, “but I have to be there.”

“I understand, Nat,” you had assured her. “Don’t worry about it. I’m happy to help in any way that I can.”

So now you found yourself walking down the nearly empty streets toward the boardwalk. Most people were tucked away in their houses or in the various businesses that didn’t require one to be outside in the rain, and in some ways, you envied them.

You had expected this summer to be uneventful at best, spending time with Bob and his childhood friends while swimming and winning prizes on the boardwalk. It was supposed to be a fun, but overall underwhelming time spent with new and old friends before you went on to continue your studies with Bob.

Instead, you found yourself in the middle of a nightmarish fairytale filled with mermaids and murder. It chilled you to think of how many times you had been dragged beneath the waves and the one time you had. But, you wondered if all would be well now, as horrible as it seemed. After all, it was Mandy that had tried to kill you that morning by luring you into the water. Would it really be that big of a stretch to assume that she was behind the other murders as well? You supposed not, considering that seemed to be the line of thinking everyone had adopted. They tried to steer clear of that conversation for the most part, but you had overheard Nat and Bradley talking in hushed tones the day before about delayed claiming. They had stopped when you walked into the room, and before you could question them further, they had directed you out the door with the promise of ice cream.

They should have known by now that you wouldn’t drop it.

The bell above the door chimed to signal your entrance, and you shuddered as a wave of air-conditioned air washed over your still damp form. Why you thought changing would help, you weren’t sure, but it never failed to hope. The static laced pop song from the radio that sat on the counter filtered throughout the shop, feeling almost suffocatingly normal to you now.

You immediately headed for the display table near the front. An array of masks sparkled in the fluorescent lighting of the shop, and one in particular stood out to you. It was an off-white fabric that was embroidered with baby blue and pink flowers, different colored pearls embellishing the fabric. It amazed you how perfectly it matched the dress Nat had picked out for you, as if someone had known you’d need it.

“I was wondering when you’d stop by.”

You whirled around to meet the green eyes of Cole. He smiled as you placed a hand over your heart, willing the muscle to calm down.

“You startled me,” you groused half-heartedly, offering him a smile. He peered around, frowning when he saw you were all alone.

“You by yourself today?” He asked, brows pinching in concern. You shrugged, turning back to the mask and picking it up from the table.

“Everyone else is at the funeral.”

“Right,” he murmured, walking over to stand by you. “My aunt went to pay her respects.”

“You didn’t want to?” You questioned, earning a sigh from the older man.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to,” he hesitated, “but it wasn’t like Mandy was well liked, was she? I certainly wasn’t her biggest fan.”

“You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead,” you replied, voice almost a whisper as the gruesome scene that plagued your thoughts once again flashed in your mind’s eye.

“The dead aren’t here to listen,” he snorted, shoving his hands in his pocket. Your eyes flickered over to him before turning your attention back to the mask in your hand. The two of you stood in silence for a brief moment as you ran your fingers over the mask.

“Has anyone told you yet why we throw on the Moonlight Masquerade every year?” He asked, turning to face you.

“Isn’t it just another excuse for everyone to get dressed up and wasted?” You countered with a snort. Cole grinned, plucking the mask from your hands.

“We celebrate it,” he began, hovering the mask over his face, “to remind us that the sea people walk amongst us undetected. That they could be anyone, and we would never know unless they revealed themselves to us.”

“I suppose it’s great for the local businesses to make some money too,” you chuckled. Cole smirked, handing the mask back to you before turning and heading towards an accessory display a few shelves over.

“You know,” he drawled, casually running his fingers over the different necklaces before grabbing one off the line, “it would be a shame if your look was marred by that mark on your neck. Why don’t you wear this too?”

“The mark?” You balked, your hand flying up to reflexively touch the mark in question. It tingled underneath your fingers, and you couldn’t suppress the shudder that ran up your spine.

“Yeah,” he smirked, walking back towards you. “It actually reminds me of the claiming marks in the legends.”

“Does it?” You hummed. “You know, I’ve been hearing a lot about it, but no one has told me anything about it.”

The two of you stood in silence once again as Cole studied you, his face neutral and not giving anything away.

“What is it you want to know?”

“How does it work?” You asked, feeling excitement coil in your belly at the prospect of finally having your questions answered.

“Well,” Cole drawled, “let me see. You’ve heard the stories about the intention bites?”

You nodded.

“Good,” he continued with a nod, “well, the claiming bite is the next stage, the permanent stage. The sea people don’t give it without being completely sure about who they’re giving it to. People don’t accept it without being completely sure it’s what they want.”

“And why is that?” You breathed, leaning in closer, practically vibrating with anticipation. Cole smirked at you.

“Because it could kill you.”

You jerked back, eyes wide. “What?”

“The process can kill you,” Cole said as if he were talking about the weather.

“How?” You frowned, clutching the mask in your hand a little tighter.

“Well, it’s the whole process of it all, really,” he sighed, letting his eyes drift closed for a moment. “In order for a sea person to claim their chosen mate, they have to drag their partner down, down, down beneath the waves, cutting them off from air until they’re to the point of death. Then, they breathe life back into them, bringing their partner to the surface where the bond is sealed with a physical act followed by the claiming bite.”

You stood in shocked silence, processing what he was telling you. How had the others not told you any of this? Were they just going to let you walk into this blind?

“Are you okay, Skipper?” Cole asked, concern laced in his features as he watched you. You took a shaky breath before offering him a small smile.

“Yes,” you nodded. “Yes, Cole. Thank you. I should get going though. I promised Nat that I’d meet her later.”

“Don’t forget your masks,” he smiled, gesturing towards the table. You let out a laugh that was much too high pitched, wincing internally at how freaked out you sounded.

“Right,” you sighed, picking out a mask that you thought would match Nat’s dress, quickly scurrying after Cole towards the counter.

“I’ll see you around then, Skipper,” he smirked, handing you the paper bag once you had finished paying. You gave him a small wave before turning and all but fleeing the store, the bell chiming ominously after you.

Cole’s words lingered in your mind as you walked along the boardwalk with Jake a few days later, his arm wrapped securely around your waist as you tucked yourself into his side. The sun hovered below the horizon, casting the last little bit of light onto the beach before the darkness of night took hold.

“Are you cold?” Jake asked, leaning down so that his breath brushed against the shell of your ear. A small shiver ran up your spine at the sensation, and you pressed yourself a little closer to him with a shake of your head.

“No,” you hummed, a content smile on your face as the two of you continued to walk. “‘m perfect, actually.”

“Yeah,” he smirked, green eyes sparkling as the two of you neared his home. “You are.”

You let out a rather unladylike snort as you trotted up the stairs and onto his porch. Jake grinned at you, trapping you between himself and the porch railing as he leaned in, arching an eyebrow at you.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you giggled. “You’re just really fucking corny, sometimes.”

Jake’s mouth dropped open in fake outrage, sending you into a round of giggles as he pressed into you further, his knee slotting in between your thighs as he did so. Your giggles cut off into a small gasp, eyes growing wide as he leaned in close enough that his nose brushed yours.

“You think I’m corny?” He challenged, a devilish smirk finding its way onto his lips. You let out a shaky breath, unable to tear your eyes away from his as you nodded slightly.

“Yeah,” you replied, cursing yourself for losing composure so quickly. You shifted, unwittingly brushing your clothed core against his thigh and letting out a moan at the pressure against your clit.

The change in Jake was instantaneous. His green eyes began to glow as he let out a low growl, hands gripping your hips slightly harder as he deliberately rolled them back down onto him. You cried out, hands flying to find purchase in his shirt.

“That feel good, sweetheart?” He asked, the smirk once again finding a home on his face. “You like when I rub you right there?”

“Jake,” you whispered, eyes hooded with lust as you attempted to move against him. He tsked at you, holding you firmly in place as he gave you an admonishing look.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tutted, leaning in to hover his lips above yours, his breath washing over you in hot waves as you let out a needy whine. “Good girls don’t take without asking.”

His lips pressed against yours then, slightly chapped but firm against your own. His tongue slid along your bottom lip, and you immediately granted him entrance, groaning as his tongue licked into you, stroking against your own. After a moment, Jake pulled back, nipping at your bottom lip before looking at you expectantly. It took you a moment before you realized what it was that he wanted.

You leaned up, capturing his lips with yours for a moment before leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses from his lips, down to his jaw, and down the length of his neck.

“Please, Jake,” you whimpered. “Please make me feel good.”

“I don’t know,” he hummed, teasingly. “It doesn’t sound like you really want it.”

You let out a frustrated grunt as you once again attempted to roll your hips down against him, only to have him stop you. You nipped at the base of his neck, soothing over the bite with your tongue. Jake stiffened against you, and before you could ask what was wrong, his hands slid to grasp the underside of your thighs, hauling you up and through the screen door, lips moving eagerly against yours as he did so.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, and you let out a gasp as you felt his length press against your thigh. Jake made a beeline for the stairs, and looking back later, you were impressed with how easily he managed to get the two of you up the stairs without incident. Jake maneuvered the two of you into the room you had slept in just two weeks before, and you realized in that moment that it was his room.

Jake sat you on the bed, pulling away with short pants of breath as he looked at you with hooded eyes.

“I promised I’d take it slow,” he murmured, gaze searching yours, letting you make the next move. You reached for him, pulling him towards you by his shirt.

“I don’t care,” you said firmly, shaking your head as you pulled back to look at him once more. “I don’t care. Need you.”

Jake’s lips connected with yours once more as he laid you down on the sheets, running a hand up your side and underneath your shirt to lay just below your breast. His lips left yours, mimicking your actions from earlier and trailing his lips down from your jaw to your neck where his mark lay. He ran his tongue gently over the mark, earning a keening cry from you as you arched into him.

Jake quickly pulled your shirt up above your head and making quick work of your braw before latching on to your right nipple. His other hand came up to tweak the other, sending rivers of pleasure straight to your core as you writhed and moaned beneath him.

“Jake!” You cried out as he scraped his teeth over the pebbled nub before switching his attention to the other. Your hands flew to his hair, fingers curling in the soft, blond strands as his hand moved down to unbutton your shorts, helping you slide them down your legs and onto the floor.

He peeled himself away from your breasts, trailing his tongue down the expanse of your stomach as he settled in between your thighs, eyes trained on your clothed core where you could feel the wet spot on your panties. Feeling heat pool in your cheeks at his hungry gaze, you attempted to close your legs, but Jake caught each knee in one hand, prying them back apart and leveling you with a glare.

“Don’t hide from me,” he growled, leaning forward to run his nose along your covered slit, inhaling deeply. He let out a strangled groan as you let out another gasp at the action, chest heaving with anticipation. His nose pressed into you, nudging your clit and sending you arching into his touch. You were sure it hurt with how tightly your fingers held onto his hair, but Jake was too lost in the bliss of you, mouthing at your center and reaching a hand down to push your panties to the side.

“This all for me?” He asked huskily, glancing up at you with hooded eyes. You swallowed thickly, only able to manage a nod. You let out a yelp as Jake frowned, turning towards your right thigh and biting down just hard enough to leave an imprint.

“I asked you a question, sweet girl,” he warned, soothing over the bite with his tongue as he gave you another glare from the corner of his eye.

“Yes!” you cried out. “Yes, it’s all for you.”

“I made you this wet, huh? Did I make my pretty girl feel good?” He prompted, peeling your panties down your legs.”

“Yes,” you sobbed, arching into him, desperate for some type of relief, but Jake was firm, holding you down as he toyed with you.

He hummed, darting his tongue out to give an experimental lick at your dripping slit. You let out a strangled cry, pressing your face into the sheets as he repeated the action.

Jake let out a low growl as he dove in, tongue fucking you as his nose repeatedly bumped against your clit, his strong hands keeping you open and on display for him. Your breaths came out in pinched cries as he drove you closer to your high, the coil inside your belly pulling tight. You nearly sobbed as he added a finger, plunging it into your depths, seeking out that spot inside of you.

“So tight,” he whispered, almost reverently as he focused his attention on your clit, adding a second finger and hooking them until you let out a wail. You felt him smirk against you, and if he wasn’t making you see stars, you’d have smacked.

“Did I find that sweet spot, pretty girl?” He chuckled, honing in on that spongy spot deep inside of you. Your release was quickly approaching, and your hips rocked up to meet his thrusts your hands moving to find purchase on his shoulders, nails digging into the skin.

Jake let out a low groan as your walls fluttered around his fingers, the sting of your fingernails driving him mad as he chased your release almost more eagerly than you did.

“Need you to come for me, angel,” he murmured, sucking your clit back between his lips and adding a third finger. The stretch of his fingers had you keening, and he sped his thrusts up. “Look so pretty like this, all strung out for me. Can’t wait to have you wrapped around my cock, this pretty little pussy milking me dry. I’m never going to get enough of you, I swear it. I’m gonna keep you nice and full, and you’ll feel me for days. Now come for me, sweetheart. Come all over my fingers.”

And with a brush of his teeth against your clit, you were sent careening over the edge with a high-pitched cry, your eyes scrunching closed as the coil in your belly finally snapped. Jake lapped up your release eagerly, tongue licking up everything you had to offer. You trembled in his grip, thighs shaking from excursion and aftershocks as the blond licked you clean. You let out a shaking breath as he pulled his fingers from you, licking your juices off with a hum.

“So sweet,” he murmured, eyeing you up and down with a small smirk. You fought to catch your breath, reaching out clumsily for him. He leaned into your touch, allowing you to pull him into a lazy, lust-filled kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, moaning at the flavor and reaching a hand down in between the two of you to grip his length. Jake let out a moan before pulling back abruptly, pupils blown as he looked at you.

“No,” he said, shaking his head, and you frowned up at him.

“What?”

“No, I-” he paused. “I don’t want our first time to be like this. I want to do it right.”

You watched him for a moment, your mind still reeling from the orgasm he had just pulled from you. Slowly, you nodded, pulling him down into another kiss, your fingers lacing through his hair to massage his scalp.

“Okay,” you nodded against his lips.

Jake smiled down at you, repositioning the two of you so that your heads were up by the headboard, facing each other as he traced his fingers absentmindedly over your skin. The two of you stayed like that for a while, just basking in each other's presence. You allowed your mind to wander, and it inevitably drifted to what Cole had told you the other day.

“It could kill you.”

“Jake?” You whispered, peering up at him from where you were nuzzled into his neck. He hummed, one eye slinking open to look at you.

“Is it true that the mating bite could kill me?” You asked, and Jake’s eyes shot open. He sat straight up, leaving you scrambling to follow.

“Where did you hear that?” He demanded, brow furrowed as he watched you wearily. You frowned up at him, your own brow pinching together as you regarded him.

“So, it’s true,” you muttered. Jake shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he let out a heavy sigh.

“It’s true that the mating bite comes with its risks,” he conceded, chewing on his bottom lip. You waited patiently for him to continue, curling your knees up to your chest as you watched him. “It’s rare for it to kill someone though.”

“But it does happen?” You prodded, lips pursed. Jake glanced at you before looking down at his lap.

“Very, very rarely,” he admitted. “The process becomes more dangerous the longer someone goes without taking a mate.”

“Like you?”

Jake looked at you fully, a look of hurt mixed with desperation painted on his pretty features. He reached for you, and you allowed him to cup your face in his hands, his thumb running gently over the apple of your cheek.

“I would never do anything to hurt you,” he murmured, eyes pleading as they darted over your face. “Don’t for a second believe that I wouldn’t kill for you, Skipper. You are everything to me.”

You studied him silently, eyes tracing over the hard lines of him. Jake had never given you a reason to not trust him. Quite the opposite, in fact. The desperation in his voice had a part of you regretting even bringing up the topic in the first place. You smiled up at him softly, running your fingers over his jawline, his day old stubble rubbing against the pads. You leaned up to place a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, laughing lightly as he tried to chase your lips with his.

“I trust you,” you whispered.

A/N: Friendly reminder that I am in the process of redoing my tag lists. If you have not signed up for the new one, please do so by clicking the link at the top of the post! Please be sure to have your age/age range and blog filled out or I will not tag you and more than likely block you. As always, please comment and reblog to show your support! Updates are also posted on my AO3 account under sailor_aviator. If you enjoy my work, consider leaving me a tip!

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#mmats #meet me at the sea #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman fanfiction #hangman top gun #top gun hangman

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stxrvel · 2 years

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welcome home (1)

series summary: you woke up from a long coma with no memory of a part of your life only to be told by your teammates that you're married to the man you hated seven years ago. even though that seemed to be the only problem, as time goes on you're realizing there's a lot more history and mystery behind the accident that left you in medical care for months. blackouts, more memory loss, mistrust and a strange man who seems to be connected to everything. every day it gets harder to trust anyone around you, but you won't stop until you can finally uncover the truth behind the accident.

chapter summary: when an accident makes you forget the last seven years of your life, you're lucky to have someone like Bucky to support you in your recovery. except he's not the Bucky you remember.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

words: +4k

warnings: angst. that's all.

note: this wasn't planned. at all. i had the day off and wanted to write something but nothing was coming to me enough to write another part of the outbreak or how to break a routine in one year, so i was just browsing tumblr until i saw something related to memory loss and this popped into my head. i thought i wasn't going to finish writing it but it came out more than i expected. and clearly this gives for a part two and even more, but at the moment i don't know when that will happen. also, i suck with titles, i think i'll change it later. meanwhile, i hope you enjoy it! feedback is always appreciated, thank u for the support! 💜

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Bucky was right to be scared. He was right to feel his soul leaving his body and his heart bursting with pain. He was completely right to be frightened, unsure of the future and the opportunities it had taken with it. Bucky was right to feel that his world was crumbling, that he was left with half a heart to survive for the rest of his life.

But he was also right in deciding not to show how scared he was. He could have his nerves frozen inside his body and feel his blood boiling inside his veins, his whole insides churning and messing up without any compassion, but he couldn't let that rule his life. He knew that the only solution was to cope rationally and objectively, even if he wanted to burst into tears every ten minutes.

“Okay, everything looks good for now,” Bucky heard the doctor, along with the others who were in the room.

He had been standing in the corner of the room the whole time, not moving a millimeter barely to breathe. The mood was so bleak and melancholy that he feared the sadness would rub off on him if he blinked any faster.

“So, can you discharge her now?” Tony Stark asked, his body closer to the door than any other.

“Yes, she can leave after you sign some paperwork. I'm going to need her to come back for some monthly checkups and let me know if she comes to remember anything.”

“Of course,” Steve Rogers stated.

Bucky wandered his gaze over the other two men in the room and the two women behind them, Natasha Romanoff and Carol Danvers. They all looked wary, not taking their gazes off your figure lying on the gurney after the doctor finished checking something in your eyes. He didn't like the way their bodies moved, anxious to talk, anxious to ask questions. He didn't like how Steve constantly opened and closed his hands; how Tony crossed and uncrossed his arms over his chest; how Natasha suspiciously watched the doctor every time he approached you and asked what he was doing; how Carol glared at the man every time he told them there was no news or progress. They had overwhelmed you before with so many gestures and words that the orderlies had to take them all out almost by force.

In a way, Bucky understood them. He too had been terrified at the beginning, still was to some degree, but it had been a while before they began to regulate their behavior. Bucky understood that the situation was difficult for them, as it was for him, but they also had to think about what it was like for you.

You were on the brink of death and awoke to find that about seven years of memories had been erased from your head.

Bucky had not taken it well at first. He was in a constant panic and searched the internet for all possible solutions that could make up for the mistake that was made. He was anxiously talking to Wanda trying to convince her to find something to do. He had gone to Strange almost begging him for some spell that could fix everything. He had asked the doctor a hundred times on the verge of insanity if it was possible to fix it with another surgery. It had simply been the worst news he had ever been given in his life.

Until, by some divine miracle, the rational part of his brain took control of his thoughts and emotions. That's when his “there's nothing we can do” thought came. The rest of the team was surprised when they saw him calmly walking around the Complex and going on missions, when Bucky had finally understood that he couldn't stop his life for something he couldn't fix. He had to learn to live with that and he hoped the others would too.

But no, it seemed that moment of enlightenment hadn't come to anyone but him.

They returned to the Complex after signing papers and picking up medications with the orders the doctor had given them, some pills for the eventual migraines and muscle relaxants if needed.

The trip was tense. Everyone sent you wary glances and purposely averted their gazes when they saw you watching them. Bucky could tell you were starting to get nervous. Even more, anxious.

Lacking knowledge of your family's whereabouts and that your current address was the Complex, that was where you would spend the rest of the days of your recovery -although Bucky had other options in mind-. The doctor had put his buts in, believing that being in such a tense, busy and overwhelming environment as the main Avengers facility was could hinder your process of getting better, but Tony was very specific and quick to tell him that there was a part of the Complex, a wing, that they had almost completely isolated to keep you in a safe place and away from the stress of the job. The mechanic spoke confidently about how you would be totally at ease as if the decision was entirely up to the doctor, while giving Bucky a helpless look. Finally, to please Tony, the doctor agreed to let you go spend your recovery at the Complex.

Of course, it had nothing to do with the fact that Bucky was your husband.

The doctor who treated you for almost a year, from the time you arrived injured and near death, to your subsequent surgeries and recovery, always knew that the final decision was out of his hands. It was funny to watch Tony argue his points to influence his decisions, but in the end that was not something he had any power in. His gazes always turned to Bucky, waiting for a nod or a shake.

Tony knew that too. You had invited him to the wedding because you were closer to him than Bucky, plus they had to see each other constantly for work. They weren't best buddies, but they maintained a relationship that was professional and affectionate and friendly enough to keep you satisfied. That is, until the accident. Since that day, Tony had taken a completely different stance towards Bucky and he really didn't find it strange. He hadn't even been able to speak to him since the day he had almost apologized with his knees to the floor when they had to tell Bucky that you almost died because of a mistake.

Over time, Bucky had let go of the anger along with his realization that he couldn't do anything to change the past, but it seemed to him that Tony still felt guilty about what had happened.

Bucky looked away from the road when he saw you stir in your seat as they were about to arrive at the Complex. The team tried to make small talk after several minutes of traveling in awkward silence, but it resulted in a much more tense atmosphere with everyone turning their heads to look at anything but you like fish out of water.

Bucky watched you from his position in the back of the van as you moved forward to view the Complex facilities in delight. He couldn't help but smile after spending months in constant stress, realizing that you had done the same thing the first time you had gone over ten years ago.

Carol and Natasha took it upon themselves to guide you through the isolated wing of the Complex to the room you would be staying in. Bucky stayed a few floors down along with Steve and Tony in the living room.

“How are you feeling?” Bucky heard Steve ask next to him, as Tony quietly approached the bay window.

“Fine.”

“Buck, you don't have to-”

“Really, I'm fine,” Bucky nodded, noticing Steve's incredulous look. He had to fight not to roll his eyes in disgust.

One thing the team had taken to doing constantly was treating him like a child, like someone who didn't know what he was feeling and didn't know how to control his emotions. That had been happening since the moment he accepted that he couldn't fix something that was out of his control. That you'd had an accident, you'd lost your memory, you'd forgotten him, and there was nothing he could do about it. He had tried everything, and there was nothing.

But the team thought his attitude was that he was trying to hide his feelings and, well, in part he was. He didn't deny that it still made him scared and angry to think of all the opportunities and moments that were gone along with your memory, but he was aware that showing himself that way in front of you wouldn't bring you any good. Unlike him and completely unaware of the truth, the team believed he was in denial. They believed that Bucky had been trying for months to avoid dealing with his feelings and that at any moment he would break down and suffer fighting the horrible reality.

Bucky had only responded to their unconscious attacks and questions with the truth, but it seemed the team was in more denial than he was.

“The doctor said the chances of her regaining her memory were high. Don't worry.” Steve patted Bucky on the shoulder to accompany his words, a sympathetic smile on his face.

“Steve, I'm not wor-”

“And she'll adjust well to the routine in this place. You know we'll be constantly keeping an eye on her and making sure she's okay, right?”

“I'd rather you stay away,” Bucky mumbled, his teeth grazing at the discomfort.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

Bucky kept his distance at first. He wanted to first meet and see how you were adjusting to your new home and how you related to others. Besides, he was also a little nervous about talking to you. You had done it before, yes, at the hospital. You had introduced yourselves and asked him a few questions when he was around. But when Bucky finally confessed to you that he was your husband, it was as if something had disturbed the gravity around the both of you. Clearly Bucky was quick to notice that change in your behavior and began to pull away trying to give you your space and not overwhelm you, unlike others.

You had some memories with him, Bucky was sure. You had lost the memory of about seven years, and you had come to the team ten years ago. That would have been good for him and your relationship, except that in the beginning neither of you could stand the other.

That's right. You two hated each other's guts. And Bucky eternally regretted waiting until the fifth year of meeting you to make his feelings known to you. Because, at that point, all you remembered about him were his stinging comments and his cold, calculating stares. When he remembered the things he had said to you to hurt you on purpose, he would cringe and his body would tremble in rejection.

Before confessing, he had thought about the possibility of keeping everything hidden, maybe try to win your trust again and suddenly have what you had before. And maybe the Bucky of six years ago would have done that, wouldn't have hesitated to keep the truth hidden just to guide you down the path he wanted to walk. But the Bucky who was there, in year ten, couldn't look you in the eye and try to keep something in the dark. He knew it wasn't right and that lies usually backfired on the person telling them. Besides, ever since you had decided to try to have a relationship, you had made him promise never to keep anything from you, no matter how stupid or horrible it was. You had been in such a toxic relationship with him before that you only wanted to look out for each other's welfare. A relationship based on trust and communication was a good relationship.

And Bucky wanted to keep his promise, even if you couldn't remember it.

So he was keeping his space, but he was always aware of what you were doing. And that's why he noticed every time you would give him a questioning look and then pull back and focus your attention on something else when you noticed he was looking at you.

Bucky wasn't sure if it was a good or bad idea what he was doing. He could just walk up and talk to you, maybe you were willing to do that. Or you might think he was crazy for watching you from afar like he was an eagle and didn't want you near him under any circumstances. Bucky didn't know what to do, and asking the team wasn't in his options, so he just decided to do what he thought best.

One day, a couple of weeks after you returned to the Complex, Bucky met you casually. Really, casually.

He had spent a whole week in constant stress so he hadn't even been able to get near the side of the Complex where you were staying. He had been assigned an undercover mission and it had turned out to be a little more complicated than it seemed at first. There were too many fights involved in the end, but he had achieved his goal.

The day he arrived at the Complex he took a long shower and a long nap. It was the least he deserved. After waking up, he went to the kitchen to make himself a coffee because it was just getting light, when he saw you leaning on the kitchen counter.

You froze at the same time he did. Bucky wasn't expecting the first person he would meet to be you, he didn't even know you were already freely leaving your safe place, but life is full of surprises, apparently. Bucky noticed your wary gaze on him, how the cup you held in your hands had been halfway to its destination and how your body moved only to breathe.

He moved, continuing with what he had gone to do, despite feeling that captivating electricity coursing through his body and asking him to move closer to you. Moving his eyes away from yours felt like a sin and his body was almost reluctant to follow the directions in his head.

Bucky finally approached the coffee pot to notice the steaming liquid coming out of it. So, it was coffee that was in your cup.

He was a little hesitant to drink from the coffee you had made because he didn't know how you would react to his intrusion, so he decided to move to the other side of the kitchen where the drawers were and grab the first cereal to be found.

“You can have some of that coffee,” you spoke to him suddenly, resuming your movements and he could barely turn to look at you over his shoulder. “Clint did it.”

Bucky followed your eyes moving all over the instance, anywhere but on his, and even though he felt he'd had a year to prepare for this, it seemed completely insufficient: nothing would have prepared him to ever again hear your nonchalant voice directed at him the way you spoke to him before you decided to become a couple. Bucky thought that those years had been buried in the back of his head, that the situation you were going through wouldn't bring back memories he preferred to keep hidden, but thinking about doing it was easier than actually doing it.

He moved his body almost groaningly until he was back in front of the coffee pot next to you. Hearing you talking to him like that had knocked his mood to the floor. He wasn't too high either, that mission was both physically and mentally exhausting, but he was more relieved to be back at the Complex.

“I didn't see you this week,” you spoke again as Bucky thought you were about to leave the kitchen. He moved his head to look at you, his expression indescribable, you could barely describe him as dumbfounded and bewildered.

Bucky mumbled a few words before responding. “I was on a mission. Far away.”

“Mhm,” you hummed in response, and Bucky nearly melted at the sound. Even though he recognized your demeanor, because that was how you acted before when you wanted to get information out of him or when talking to someone you suspected was hiding something from you, he couldn't help but rejoice at finding little gestures that made him reminisce about the good times he had with you.

With more encouragement, Bucky poured his black coffee under the umbrella of your expectant indifference.

“How have the others been?”

He moved to stand in front of you with the cup in his hands, and could notice how subtly your shoulders slumped a little. He couldn't define whether in calm or ennui.

“It's been… complicated.”

“Are they very insistent?”

You turned your head to look at him, and Bucky nearly choked on the sip of coffee he'd taken. He thought you'd keep visually ignoring him and not turn to look at him like he was a life preserver in the middle of the ocean.

“They're horrible,” you barely whispered, your head bobbing closer in complicity. Far gone was your mask of coldness the moment you found someone to complain to about how terrifying those weeks at the Complex had been. “I feel like I can't move my hair without having someone behind me asking me if I want my hair combed for me or if I was moving it because I had a headache. Anything I do is over-analyzed and that's so…ugh, so frustrating.”

Bucky definitely didn't expect you to spew all those words in front of him, but he did understand how overwhelmed you must be and mentally berated himself for agreeing to you having visitors from the moment you arrived. His idea was that you would have time to clear your thoughts and to adjust to that new place on your own, but somehow the team managed to convince him to let them in from time to time to greet you because being alone too much all of a sudden wasn't good for your sanity.

He should have known better knowing how clingy and pushy his teammates were.

When he was around you, they behaved, but they seemed to pretty much take advantage of the times when he wasn't around to behave as they pleased.

“I hate being treated like I'm a piece of glass. I understand well what happened and its aftermath and that it affected them too much, but I can still live peacefully without needing them to do things for me. I'm not incapacitated or anything like that.”

“I understand.”

Wow, Bucky, couldn't you have said something much more interesting?

“I'm fine,” you continued speaking as Bucky noticed how your eyes were lost in the distance in the kitchen. “I really feel fine. But they're always on me like trying to convince me otherwise and talking about my memories every other time.”

Bucky furrowed his brow and suddenly felt the sting in his chest from anger. There was only so much Bucky had in life to control his temper and that was you. With anything else, Bucky was nothing but walking indifference. He didn't care about the fights the others on the team had, he didn't care about the decisions that had to be made, he didn't care about what the majority chose, he didn't care about the discussions about the rooms when they had to stay in hotels. But when it came to you, there was no stormo chaser that could withstand his tempestuous attitude.

The limit was that the others could get angry, fight and argue about whatever they felt like, but the moment that started to affect you, Bucky didn't hesitate to step up and shut them all up. That was one of the reasons he was the leader of the mission most of the time. It was easy to recognize his leadership ability, even if he tried to hide it through that window of indifference. He was very objective when it came to making tough decisions and was very capable of organizing whatever chaos had been created around him.

And, at that moment, Bucky felt he had reached his limit. He had let himself be convinced by the team to bring you here to carry out your recovery contrary to what he had thought of leaving you in the city with one of your closest friends that you remembered very well; and then he had let himself be convinced to let them invade your space when it was clear that they were not going to know how to behave around you and would overwhelm you just like they did in the hospital.

Bucky couldn't understand how he could have made such bad decisions about you. He felt he had completely failed you as your husband by not giving you a truly safe place in which to heal.

“I'll tell them not to come back,” Bucky told you after a few seconds in silence and your blank stare focused on his suddenly elated face.

“What?”

Bucky met your gaze. “This wasn't the way I wanted you to spend your recovery, and it's certainly not the way you should spend it. You should be calm, but I don't see that happening. I'm sorry.”

You watched his face, transfixed. Bucky looked quizzical for a few seconds at your dumbfounded stare and no response. His eyes moved around your face trying to figure out if he had said something wrong… until it all clicked in his head.

You didn't remember.

Yes, it seemed stupid because he'd been living with that thought all last year, but apparently he had to remind himself. For a moment, he had gotten so lost, not only in the familiarity of your ramblings and gestures, but also in the annoyance and self-reproach, that he had forgotten for a few measly minutes that you didn't remember. You didn't remember that protective side of him. You didn't remember how much he loved to sit and listen to you talk about others, good things or bad things. You didn't remember how much it made him angry when other people made you the least bit uncomfortable or angry. You didn't remember the way he showed that appreciation, that love for you.

That attitude Bucky was giving you was completely new to you. Surely it was like seeing a different person. Bucky mentally cringed at the thought that you must be thinking of him as a jerk who acted like a teenager and said hurtful things just for the fun of it.

At that moment, he would have liked to take more time when you were in the hospital to talk to you, so he could get to know you and you could see that he was different and not the same person he was six years ago. But at that time he felt so scared. Just the memory of your face contorting when he had told you he was your husband still sent shivers down his spine.

One thing he couldn't deny was that he had lived constantly, even up to that moment, in fear of rejection. When you had reacted that way that time at the hospital, Bucky had at first turned away in fear. But then he had tried to be nice to you, as if nothing had happened. However, he could tell that it was much more strange for you to see the flowers on the table in the room or to have him bring you lunch because the hospital food was so simple. It seemed that no matter what he did, that reluctant expression on your face would not go away.

Then, he stopped trying. He would only show up in your room when you were sleeping, in the daytime or at night, and when everyone gathered for the doctor's checkup. Bucky didn't know how to get back into your life and the very idea was driving him to the brink of panic again. So he tried to have that moment of enlightenment again, but all he got in response was that maybe he should continue to keep his distance.

At that point, Bucky didn't know what to do. It wasn't your fault to react that way because it wasn't what you remembered about him, that wasn't wrong. He felt again that incessant need to pull away and go back to watching over you from a distance, because the look you had given him was so similar to the others that it was scary. Too scary. The possibility that he could never get back even half of what you two had before danced around him like a taunt. The ring on his ring finger too heavy to bear.

“Thank you…? I think,” you replied at last, but without changing the quizzical look on your face.

“I'll talk to Steve,” Bucky announced, a little more impassively than he had planned, and took the cup tightly in his hands with the thought in his head to get out of the kitchen so he wouldn't keep invading your space.

He felt your gaze follow him until he was near the living room.

“Hey, wait.”

He heard your footsteps following him and planted his feet on the floor. He gave you a questioning look over his shoulder, waiting for you to say something. Bucky watched you move from side to side, shifting your weight on your legs, a clear sign of your nervousness. When you looked directly at the contents of your cup instead of his eyes as you spoke, he couldn't help a small smile.

“I'm sorry about that. It's just… This is too weird for me. I wish I could get close and talk to you because that's what my body wants, but my head keeps me alert and defensive when you're around. What I remember about you is not…”

You cocked your head and twisted your lips. Bucky thought that had been the kindest way to describe it.

“You don't have to apologize.”

“But I do have to!” you exclaimed, scowling at him. “It's been a year and you've been nothing but kind to me. You've given me space and time, unlike others-”

Bucky nodded strongly at your words.

“-but I've given you nothing in return.”

He relaxed his features, letting the tension dissipate away from his body. He momentarily pushed away his worries and negative possibilities because you stood there in front of him with such a contrite expression on your face that it caused him physical pain.

“You don't owe me anything, Y/N, okay? What I do I do because I want to, not because I'm expecting anything in return from you. If you feel like you need another week before you talk to me, that's fine, take it. If you feel it's a month, six months, a year, it doesn't matter. Take as much time as you need. Either way, anytime, you know where to find me. I'm not going anywhere.”

Bucky hadn't missed the journey of emotions that roared across your face and he was genuinely happy about it. It had been a while since he had seen you feel not only comfortable but joyful around him, that he had begun to think that those moments would only live on in his memory from now on. But, perhaps, that might not have been the case…

“Thank you, Bucky,” you murmured after sighing, and if Bucky hadn't been so attentive to you he surely would have missed it. Along with the small smile you gave him that would be enough to keep his sanity afloat for the rest of the month.

You saw him give you a small nod and then begin to walk away, leaving as the sun's rays began to appear through the living room window. A strange feeling settled in your chest, and it seemed like a turf battle was taking place between your reluctance to accept that Bucky had changed and that you two had taken your relationship four levels higher than expected, and this new feeling that was akin to hope. You could barely recognize it.

You didn't know how you were going to begin to deal with the reality that you were married to Bucky, but you suddenly felt a little less afraid to know the history of the decisions that had brought you to this point.

You remembered the wedding ring that was tucked away in your nightstand drawer and how it shone just as brightly as the one you saw on Bucky's finger. Maybe you felt a little closer to being ready to start dealing with it.

#bucky imagine #bucky fic #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #bucky x reader #bucky angst #bucky barnes x fluff #avengers #bucky fluff #bucky x you #marvel #calmly remember

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rojacatmisa · 5 months

Text

Chapitre 4 ➺ Hell Clasico

Starting over In Madrid

Misa Rodriguez x Reader (Nicky/first person)

After moving to Madrid as the new Real Madrid photographer, Nicky's eyes can't look away from the pretty face of Misa Rodriguez. But how is she going to handle her growing desire for the Canarian goalkeeper when her working contract's strictly forbidding her to date players?

Chapter 1 ➺ A harder job than I thought Chapter 2 ➺ Clearly on a bad slope Chapter 3 ➺ Calmly panicking

4K words

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

"You don’t come after training because we’re still grounded ?"

Misa’s text made my heart lifted. With the Clasico and games abroad coming, I had a huge amount of work that was keeping me out of the stadium. I had shut myself in my office for three days now, importing, retouching photos, thinking about the next games’s visuals… Due to the fact that resisting the goalkeeper was becoming more and more difficult, I had to admit I was relieved to be able to avoid her.

I thought a moment about what to answer. As soon as she had stood up from that bench on the evening at the park, Misa had been her funny self again. She had joked happily. We had said goodbye at the entrance of the parking. Like friends do. If she had been disappointed, she had been hiding it well.

And now she was texting about me for not coming to our photo meeting in a casual yet flirty way again…

"Feels like I’m the grounded one… work is having me trapped in my office!" I texted back.

"👉🤓"

"🫠👋"

She started typing and stopped. Her text bubble didn’t reappeared. I sighted. I hated having to be distant with her. I sighted again and buried myself back into work.

Fifteen minutes later, loud erratic knocks boomed against the door of my office. "What…?". Without waiting, Misa, Hayley and Sofie burst into the room. "Here she is ! You believed to could get rid of us that easy Nicky?" Hayley asked while the three girls came around my desk. Misa had bring a ball and severals biscuits with her. "What are doing here?!" I said already annoyed. I had a feeling they weren’t here to help me…

"We’re checking if you’re still Nicky and not a robot." Misa dropped the biscuits on my desk and started to play with her ball, making it rebound between her foot and thigh. Sofie was leaning toward my computer’s screen. "Do you have new photos of me?". Hayley was observing my cameras under every angles. "I’ve never seen this one, would you recommend it Nicky?" The dull sound of the ball rebounding rhythmically was constantly filling the room. I wasn’t believing how fast they had created such a mess.

"Guys, a girl needs to focus right now!" I said, eyes closed, a hand on my forehead. "Oh, you can keep working, don’t mind us." Hayley had taken a camera and was back at taking pictures. Sofie joined Misa and they went passing each other the ball. There was no way I was going to be able to concentrate in this chaos.

Edit just ten more photos tonight. I said to myself. I grabbed back my pencil and graphic tab, opened a photo of Olga striking, and started to erase an unwanted grass twigs on one of her socks.

On the corner of my eye, I saw Misa’s face approaching the screen while chewing a mouthful of biscuits. "What’s this? Are you drawing?" She pointed at my tablet. The sound of the ball was still resounding, Sofie had taken over. A few crumbles fell off the goalkeeper’s mouth. "Misa! The keyboard !" I blowed hard on it to make them go away. "Perdòn!" She stood back and tried to swallow her snack. She gestured to me to explain again.

That girl can be such a pain !

"No, I can’t draw, I’m just correcting details. A pen is more precise that a mouse". I said to her.

"Oh vale ! Can I try It ?" I glared at her. "I mean not now! When you have the time. And… I can teach you football in exchange". She ended up showing an innocent smile.

That girl will drive me mad!

"Misa! Leave Nicky alone and come to my IG Live, the fans wants to see you !" Sofie called from the farthest corner.

"Coming! Nicky, take a biscuit, son muy buenos!"

They kept going like this until they were forced to leave with me. I had painfully managed to do half the work I wanted to be over. Tomorrow is another day, they say.

***

Alas, next day was just the same. They came after their practice and occupied themselves more loudly than ever until my boss finally came to have them go away. With all of that, it was miracle I had finished everything at a rather early time on the eve of the Clasico. That meant I could attend the motivation speech that followed today’s training session.

Sitting in the stands, the speech wasn’t captivating after all. Maybe I hadn’t enough knowledge of football to really get it but I found it lasting forever. The players weren't into it either. Olga’s legs were showing signs of impatience. Linda was slowly drifting. But despite my tiredness, I wanted to check on Misa and Hayley, so I kept waiting.

I caught them at the building exit. I could sensed their nervousness behind the frank smiles they both gave me as a greeting.

"Hey Nicky, great speech eh..?" Hayley hugged me, she was so tensed. "Thanks for waiting but I need go home. I’m off, girls, see you tomorrow !" Misa patted her shoulder as she left and she roughly brushed her hair in return.

I turned to the goalkeeper. "How are you coping?" I asked her gently. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other. "Estoy bien…", she answered peering down, her foot kicking at the floor vainly. She obviously wasn’t.

"Do you want to walk ?" I said without any back thoughts. I just wanted to help my friend to feel a bit better. She nodded.

We went touring the sport campus. We tried to talked about anything but the Clasico. At first, Misa was jumping in place every now and then to get rid of her stress. She relaxed when we started to tease each other.

"Misa, you can’t be with a ball without showing off! That’s insane!".

She smirked. "I’m athlete Nicky! Football is my life, of course I play with my ball all the time". She side glance at me, her mischievous tone and satisfied smile back. "I did 65 rebounds yesterday."

I giggled "Is that much ?". Misa’s both disappointed and irritated air had me laughing out loud.

She slapped me on the arm "Jajaja, muy divertido! Enhorabuena Nicky! I don’t care about what a girl who work al Real Madrid and knows nothing about football thinks!"

It was my turn to faint annoyance. "I see trainer Misa is long gone before she even started… you are a very reliable person." She opened her mouth but was out of answer. I had had her sulking again. Grumpy Misa was one of my favorite.

I took a pleading look. "All right, you are the best Misa! Now, when do we start training ?" I was sure the training part would lift her spirit.

She side-eyed me again, still vexed. "Have you at least ever play football ?".

I pretended to search my mind. "It happened... twice maybe. First was at school, and second on the alley in front of my parent’s house".

She snorted. "No es posible…" She shook her head and continued, her voice suddenly curious. "For real, why did you want to work for a football club?" Her mocking tone gone had me really wonder how much I wanted to tell.

"I needed a change in my life. Anything was… not going well. I had a rough break up and was really unhappy in my previous job…"

"I’m sorry to hear that" she said with a concerned look.

I half laughed half sighted. "It’s ok now. I’m glad to be here. I really like Madrid". We were reaching the exit of the building again.

"Bueno… and do you like your new job too ?"

"Yes, I’m quite found of it… and of my new exasperating friends" I went back teasing her a little as we headed to the parking.

"I’m happy you’re good with us", she said, not reacting on the teasing part this time.

We arrived in the middle of the car park. I didn’t know if we were going in the same direction so I gestured on the right "I’m parked this way".

"I’m parked over here but I’ll go with you to your car, I can do with walking a bit more " she replied although she sounded far less stressed now.

We reached my vehicle and faced each other to say goodbye. "Thanks Nicky" Misa softy spoke. Her features were less drawn. The walk had soothed her a little.

"You’re looking better. Are you sure you’re ready to go home ?" I inquired one last time.

She opened her mouth but nothing came out. Instead she simply smiled and looked away. "Misa?" I frowned not knowing how to help her anymore.

Her head turned back to me. She bit her lip and her eyes stopped on mine. Then she slowly moved forward. My brows went up, having me frozen in a surprised look as she took my hands in hers, and I knew that that was it, that there’s was no escaping this time, and that I didn’t gave a fuck.

I half closed my eyes, my head slightly bowed while she leant over. My gaze stayed on her quivering mouth as she approached mine. At last, she pressed her lips. I let out a short breath. I was surprise by the tenderness of her kiss. Her mouth was soft, its movements slow.

I kissed her back. Letting relief fill me up. Completely abandoning myself as her taste and scent washed over me. Our noses brushed against each other. The grip of our hands tighten as we went on kissing, softly still, slowly still.

Finally, she withdrew her lips from mine, a soft smile lingering on them, having me missing their contact immediately. My eyes couldn’t leave hers.

"I’m ready now" she whispered. I exhale and shyly smiled and she released my hands. "Good night Nicky ». She stepped back and turned over. My gaze followed her until she disappeared behind the birch trees growing between the parking spaces.

***

Aitana Bonmati was running fast, dribbling everyone coming for her. She armed her strike and shoot between Ivana and Olga toward the penalty area. The ball landed right on Salma precise foot who immediately kicked hard at the upper left corner of the goal. Misa jumped with all her strength and the tip of gloves deflated the ball, preventing Barcelona to strike once again.

The match had been hard and demanding from the very beginning. Barça team had been pressing Real Madrid players, having them constantly cornered near their penalty area. Misa had already saved five goals but as Mariona Caldentey had outpasted all the defenders for the third time and send a particularly well aimed kick to Caroline Graham Hansen, the goalkeeper had gone on the wrong direction and the ball had rolled easily in the cage. Misa had sweared, gotten up, and send a long clearance skillfully recovered by Hayley. Hayley was a fast runner too. She had passed the ball to Athenea, who had dribble passed Irene Paredes and used the one second of disorganization to find Linda. The kick from Linda’s head had miraculously flied through the expert gloves of Cata Coll, and crashed on the net behind her, filling the stadium with unexpected joy.

Returning from the halftime, Barça had pressed harder and harder without succeeding at scoring yet an other goal. After a clever discussion in locker room during the break, the real Madrid was holding well against them for the first time, Misa’s many saves putting and end to theirs brilliant sequences of passes. And the unbelievable had happened at de 78th min. Naomie had succeeded at loosing Alexia Putellas’marker to get the ball from Oihane’s throw-in. Her quick arched shot had found Olga on the left side, who had managed a shot worthy of the World Cup. She had stricken from her rather distant position straight at the right upper corner, giving Cata Coll an impossible job. The stadium had burst screaming, echoing Madrid players all hugging together to celebrate their first time ever leading Barcelona.

It was extra time when Misa’s body crashed on the grass again from saving Salma’s strike. The Madrid player were back at having a hard time. I could see they were physically drained, their feet barely touching the ball anymore.

They all took position, ready for the corner, Misa giving directions to her teammates as she prepared herself for the upcoming action. Salma struck. She crossed the ball back from the goal line. The ball descended on Alexia in a perfect neat curve before she sent it crashing to the net. Barcelona had come up to the score, victory slipping through the Madrid girls'fingers at the 95th minute. Now, the match was going extra time. I saw Misa down in her attempt to save to ball, kicking the grass with her fists in frustration. As well trained as they were, the team was exhausted. With Barça clearly dominating, the extra time was going to be a living hell.

Misa passed by me as she exit the tunnel to ran toward her goal after the short break. I took a shot of her face, a mix of deep concentration and extreme fatigue. My heart sank. I had been covering the match with other photographers from the start, trying hard to focus on my job rather than on the ongoing actions and the increasing pressure on Misa.

The game resumed. Madrid team formed two compact lines in front of the goal. They had received new guidelines: keep on defending and don’t take another goal at all cost. Their strategy, and Ivana’s agile foot prevented a new shot on target finding the net. The only two more attempts of Madrid met Cata’s gloves, her clearance sending the ball back on their half pitch again. But, they hold on again and again the entire the first half of extra time.

During the second, fouls and cramps multiplied on each sides, chopping the play in numerous sloppy actions and hardening the footballer’s job by giving them unnecessary minor injuries. Misa’s attempt to grab a shot by Mariona sent her rolling on ground and her knee hit the goal-post. The ball luckily found the cross-bar and was quickly cleared by Kathellen. But Misa was still down, grasping her knee between the puffy fingers of her gloves. I shuddered. No please! Let not it be a serious injury! I silently prayed. The medical staff came over after the referee had blown the whistle. With several of her teammates surrounding, I could barely see what was going on.

I waited, trying to breathe properly, not looking at the last picture I took of Misa, curled up on the grass, her features distorted by pain. After what was feeling like an hour, the med staff went away and the small crowd scattered, revealing Misa standing on her feet again, though she was breathing hard and slightly limping. I relaxed a little.

The goalkeeper settled back in front of her caged but she gave the ball to Ivana for her to do a long clearance. She clearly hadn’t the strength anymore. The ball was back in her penalty area in a heartbeat but the match had Madrid finally find the key to put up a very strong defence. When the whistle blew again, it was to put an end to the game at last.

The penalty shoot out would decide the winner of the Copa de la Reina. More than ever, the outcome of the match was now resting mostly on Misa’s shoulders.

The goalkeeper and the rest of the team gathered around the trainer near the bench. I crossed eyes with Misa and I smiled, my fist clenched up in the air to show her my support. She didn’t seemed to see me. Nothing exists apart from the game when she was playing.

Madrid opened the shoot out with Olga. She shot, scored. Cheers burst.

Misa jumped on her line. Caroline Graham Hansen scored as well.

Claudia kicked hard on her right but Cata had understand where she was aiming. Her body blocked the ball, having Barça yelling in triumph.

Aitana scored.

Athenea scored.

Mariona scored.

Hayley scored.

Last ball. All was resting on Misa. If she failed the ball, everything was over.

Alexia armed her leg. Kicked. The ball flew on the opposite of the goalkeeper.

It was it. Madrid had lost. I forgot to take pictures, focusing on the limp body of Misa still laying on her back, her gloves on her face. As the Barcelona players hugged together in victory, the sturdy figure of Alexia was crouched at Misa side, muttering to her words I could not hear. She heaved Misa to her feet, helped her taking off her gloves. I could see her face wet with tears, her eyes puffed and closed as she was still sobbing. They leaved the pitch, Alexia’s arm over Misa’s shoulders. One of other photograph was shooting restlessly at them while they headed toward the tunnel. I couldn’t suppress a surge of anger.

I got up, quickly took the steps that separated me from the man with the camera.

"Give her a rest ok ?!" I shouted in his direction. The man stared blankly at me, astonished. In addition to my strange behavior, he probably wasn’t speaking English.

Noticing my action, Misa and Alexia had stopped. When she saw me close, Misa lowered her head as if she couldn’t bear to look at me. Alexia stared kindly at me, guilt still her eyes as she knew she had partly caused the sadness of her friend.

"I can take her to the locker room if you want" I said, instantly shocked by my own words when I couldn’t leave my job.

Misa lifted her face again. Alexia looked at the goalkeeper to see if she was ok with that. Misa nodded and I took over Alexia to guide her through the tunnel.

I made Misa sat on the farthest bench of the locker room. Everything was quiet here, the screeches of the celebration only a distant echo. The goalkeeper had stopped crying. Her board shoulders and muscular body seemed so fragile somehow. I took a seat beside her, not knowing what to do now it was up to me to comfort her.

"I’m sorry" I simply said.

"We were so close!" she cried. "Let’s just go! I don’t want to be there, I don’t want the puta silver medal again!" She blown her nose hard and rubbed her red eyes with a towel laying by. Exhaustion was oosing from her at every levels.

"No Misa you can’t go" I responded and caught a surprised side eye, as surprise as she could be in her current state. "You can’t go because everything’s not about wining or being better or best ! You can’t go because football doesn’t have to be that. It’s not about the score, the cup or whatever. Football is an emotion, a battle, a shared experience. And first and foremost it’s a spectacle and you put on one hell of a show as a team and as a player tonight! If you go, nothing remain, it would mean nothing. You have to go back Misa."

Silence settled between us. I felt exposed and embarrassed by the words I had just spoken. It was ridiculous, saying obvious things like that to a seasoned footballer when I was barely discovering the sport.

The goalkeeper exalted deeply. "You lied to me" she said, gotten me confused. She chuckled softy "You acted like you didn’t know a thing about football". She painfully stood up and waved me to do the same. "But you do" she said smiling as we faced each other. The tall woman pulled me into a hug, her head resting on my shoulder and I hold her tight against me. I gently stroked her back, her jersey was wet and she was clearly stinking of sweat but I didn’t care. I just wanted us to stay like this, clump together.

After a minute or so, we parted and smiled softy at each other. In spite of her weariness, Misa was looking less drained. She was waiting for... something while expectantly looking at me. Her dimples back with her grin enlighten her tired face. I kept smiling, my mind racing to figure out what I should do, what I could do… what I wanted do to. When she thought I wouldn’t do anything, Misa’s smile faded a little and she started to turn around.

"Misa, wait…" I grabbed her arm and pulled her back against me. I only took a glimpse of her surprised yet eager face before I kissed her.

I grasped her face, pressed her mouth harder against mine. Misa let out a whine, the sound of it had my body set afire. I slowly made her step back until she hit the lockers room’s door. She gasped at the contact, put one of her hand in my hair, the other gripping the fabric of the bottom of my shirt. She opened her lips, her taste filled me up entirely and had me moan with want.

Our heated kiss had enlighten all my senses and turned my body into white iron. I felt my hand acting on her own as it went under Misa’s jersey and up her abs. She wimped again, her own fingers going under my shirt and touching the skin of my waist. Her soft and full lips were enveloping my mouth, our breathings had become jerky.

Fevered by my desire of her, I led my hand down her stomach to the strap of her shorts. She groaned and froze. "Wow! Nicky wait…" I stopped neat. She took her hands off my back and gently seized my face. "I have to go back" she said, a burning gaze on me. I breathed, trying to tame the flames devouring my insides. I smiled and repeated, "You have to go back". She placed a last kiss on my lips and got off the room.

Right now, Hell Clasico was finishing on a heavenly note.

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

Chapter 5 ➺ Valleys and peaks

#woso #misa rodriguez #espwnt #fanfic #futbolista #real madrid femenino #spain wnt #misa rodriguez x reader #misa rodriguez fanfic #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #womens football #hayley raso #fanfic art #woso blurbs #woso x reader

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ssuperficialspacecadett · 1 year

Text

Pollen and Plottin'

Chapter Five of the Through the Scope series | Chapter Six

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4K

Chapter Overview: You have a morning out of hell and all signs point to Frankie to bail you out.

Notes: I fucking knew i would be back this week LMAOOO,, finals next week and then i'll finally be free from the shackles of uni !! this gif was playing on repeat in my brain while i was writing and lorddd it made it so hard to concentrate,, i updated the tag list so i hope i added everyone that was kind enough to ask to be on it ((: as usual .. my asks are always open & happy reading <3

*no use of y/n & female presenting reader*

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You must have done something truly heinous in your past life to warrant this series of unfortunate events this Tuesday morning. The first issue makes itself known to you when your alarm doesn’t go off this morning. Your body must have known that you were getting a suspicious amount of sleep because thankfully it wakes you up with an hour to get ready. Issue number two comes in the form of empty bottles. You jump out of the shower in record breaking time. Body wrapped in a towel, skin still littered in water droplets, you scour your bathroom counter for your hair products. A frustrated sigh leaves you when you notice that your products are in the trash can. You knew that you should have left yourself a note to go pick up more the second you ran out.

“Bright side. Bright side. There's always a bright side.” You repeat your new mantra down the hall to the kitchen.

As you wait for your coffee to brew, you try to change your way of thinking. Yes, you woke up late, but at least you had an hour to get ready. Yes, you didn’t have any hair products, but at least you got to shower. See? Not so bad looking now, huh? When the coffee is done you remove the pot from its stand and set it on your counter. You make your way to the fridge to pull out your creamer and then your cabinets to retrieve your favorite mug. Unfortunately, your depth perception is off because as you bring your mug and creamer to the counter you knock the coffee pot into the sink. It must have been right on the edge and you just didn’t realize it. Tears prick your eyes as you watch the third issue of the morning disappear down the drain. You don’t think there is a bright side to this problem. With time not acting as your friend, breakfast will have to take a backseat. Before you head out the door you grab your keys and your tote and pray that whatever higher power is fucking with you has had its fill. But that would be too easy, wouldn’t it?

You hop in your car and start it up. No. And start it up. Oh God no. Third time's the charm and…

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” You wail.

The panic is setting in now. You can feel bile gurgling in your stomach and trying to claw its way up into your throat. This sort of thing usually wouldn’t bother you this much, but coupled with all the bullshit from this morning, you were at your wits end. Before anxiety completely envelops you, you pull out your phone to call Benny and explain the situation.

“Oh shit, are you alright?”

“Physically? Yes. Mentally? Ask me tomorrow.”

“At least your sense of humor is still intact,” He offers. “Don’t worry about coming in today. I had to learn how to hold it down before I hired you so I’m not worried about that. Just take today to figure out what’s wrong with your car and keep me posted. Maybe you can give Catfish a ring? He works at an auto body shop that shouldn’t be too far from you.”

“I can’t thank you enough, Benny. Yeah, he mentioned that. I’ll call him and then let you know what happens. Talk to you later!”

You toss your phone into your passenger seat and rest your head on your steering wheel. The panic you were feeling has subsided now due to a solution presenting itself, but nervousness began to blossom in its place when that solution turned out to be Frankie. The first time you called him isn’t supposed to be like this. You aren’t really sure how you wanted the first time to go, but you definitely wanted to have a better reason to talk than your fucked up car. A buzzing sound next to you announces the arrival of a text. You take a deep, centering breath and lift your head up before grabbing your phone. It’s Benny sending you the address of Frankie’s shop. You click the link and it takes you to your phone's map. It really isn’t too far from you; only 10 minutes down the road.

You pull up Frankie’s contact, but hesitate before you press it. A small twinge of guilt rolls through you as you surrender to the idea of calling another man for help with a job that has always been done by your father. The one thing he loved more than looking at cars was fixing them up. He had made you watch him work all through your childhood, so you knew how to change your tire, your oil, and both your head and tail lights. This felt like a betrayal when, in reality, it wasn’t. There wasn’t anything he could do in his current situation to help you. And telling him what was going on would only hurt him as he would inevitably come to the same conclusion you did. With your guilt temporarily satiated, you call Frankie.

He must have been concerned when he saw that it was you calling because he answers on the second ring and his voice is higher pitched than normal. “Hello?”

“Hey, Frankie it's me. Well obviously you know it's me. I’m sure you have caller ID. I’m sorry, I’m rambling, but I think I need to cash in on that car help you offered earlier.”

“Are you safe? What happened?” His tone is panicky.

“Yes. I’m completely safe.” You hear him sigh quietly on the other end of the phone. “My car just won’t start and I can’t figure out what's wrong with it. I didn’t leave any lights on last night, my gas tank is half full, and, for once in my life, my check engine light isn’t on.”

“I like your little run down, but it's going to be hard for me to figure out what's wrong with it until I actually see the vehicle in person. Tell you what, I’ll drive out to see you right now and have one of my guys bring out a tow truck to pick it up.”

“Wait no you don’t have to do that! I don’t want to make you leave work over something silly like this. I can just wait until the tow truck gets here and takes me to the shop.”

“And I don’t want you to have to deal with this alone, silly or not, got it?”

“Got it.”

You’re sitting on the curb to the left of your car when you see Frankie pull into the parking lot with his white pickup. He waves at you through his windshield as he parks in the open spot to the right of your car. You figure that it's now or never and dust yourself off as you walk over to his driver's side.

“So, are you going to be able to fix him?”

“Him?” He says skeptically, stepping out of his truck.

“My car? He’s a boy?”

“You know most people refer to vehicles as women, but you know what, to each their own.” He looks over the hood of his truck at your car. “My apologies sir. I’ll do everything in my power to get you up and running again.”

Frankie has you pop your hood while he goes back and pops his own and grabs jumper cables from the backseat. Although you offer to help him, he insists that you relax while does it himself. The way he says it makes you feel cared for rather than pushed to the side because he doesn’t believe that you’re capable. He is able to jumpstart your car, but each time the engine dies after idling for a few minutes. When he realizes that no matter how many times he tries to jump it the engine won’t stay on he unhooks the cables and puts them away.

“See anything?”

He’s taking a closer look at everything that's under your hood. The gray shirt he's wearing is doing a beautiful job of showing off how defined his arms really are. The cotton material stretches over his bicep as he moves his arm to reach something. It dawns on you that he rarely wears shirts, or clothes in general, that allow his body to be visible. Your heart aches when you think about him feeling insecure as he stands next to the other men. Even though you haven’t seen them without their clothes off, Benny excluded, you can tell how toned each of them are. You wish you could tell him that it doesn’t matter to you. You wish you could tell him that the way his stomach is currently peeking out from under his shirt is incredibly sexy to you. There’s nothing you would change about him because if you did there would be less of him for you to look at.

“Everything looks good up here.” He sighs tiredly and shuts your hood. “The issue must be your undercarriage.”

“My what?”

“Your car’s undercarriage!” He couldn’t have spit those words out faster. “I’m sure there isn’t anything wrong w-with your undercarriage.”

“Frankie, I’m just messing with you.” Your hand comes to rest on his arm as you laugh. “I knew what you meant.”

The Florida sun did a good job of blurring the line between him blushing and him standing out in the heat for too long.

“Hey, do you want some water? It’s the least I could do since you’re helping me out so much.”

“It’s really no big deal.” He reassures you. “But water would be great.”

You turn and start heading to the staircase that leads to the second floor of your apartment complex. You make it up about three steps before you realize that Frankie isn’t following you.

“I thought you wanted water?” You ask turning to face him.

“In your apartment?”

“Last I checked, that's where I keep it? Come on, Frankie, I’m not gonna bite you.”

With a small smile from him, you face back around and continue to make your way up the stairs. When you reach your door you suddenly become self conscious about the way your apartment is set up. You haven’t had the time to decorate since you got here and the lack of personal touches in your apartment made that painfully obvious.

“Sorry my place is a little bland.” You open the door and lead him inside to the kitchen. “I want to get some art for my walls so the place can really be brought together. It’s a little dumb though since I’m only here temporarily.”

“I don’t think it’s dumb, but I like the way it feels in here.”

“Oh yeah?” You pull the brita out of your fridge and set it down on the counter. “What does it feel like?”

He sees you reaching out for the cabinet that's next to him. He turns around to open it and hands you two cups without missing a beat in the conversation. “It’s kinda hard to explain. Maybe the best word I can use to describe it is…homey? I know you said you wanted more things in here, but I don’t really think items make a place feel like a home.”

“That’s way existential, Frankie.” You look up at him while filling each of y’alls glasses. “But, that does mean a lot since you’re my first guest.”

“Fuck off, no I’m not.” He says grabbing his drink.

You nod in confirmation while you take a sip of your water.

“What about your dad?”

“I actually go visit him. He’s in a retirement home, his own choice, but he had a stroke a little less than a month ago. It was bad enough to have him start physical therapy so he could retrain the muscles in his legs.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“Fortunately, he’s doing better. He’s a stubborn old bastard that's for sure.”

“That’s good,” He holds out his glass to you. “Cheers to your dad and cheers for me being your first house guest.”

As you clink your glasses together you realize how much better the place feels with Frankie’s presence. The walls don’t look as bare. The sink's constant drip isn’t as loud. And the sunlight shines a little brighter through your perpetually cloudy glass windows.

“The place isn’t all bland.” He motions to the vase full of white lilies sitting on your small kitchen table. “Those are nice.”

“They didn’t have my favorite ones at the store when I went a few days ago,” you say as you walk over to smell them. “But aren’t these just beautiful?”

“Yes. Absolutely beautiful.”

Soft brown eyes meet yours when you shift your body to face him again. You can’t help but feel flustered under his intoxicating gaze.

“What?” There was no sun to explain away the heat radiating off your cheeks now.

“You have some pollen on your nose.” He takes his finger and points to his own. “Just there.”

“Aw fuck.” You rub off your nose as quickly as you can. Embarrassment courses through your veins as Frankie stays quiet and simply watches you. “Did I get it all?”

Pink lips part into a smile as he shakes his head at you. “It might be easier if I get it for you. Is that okay?”

“Y-yes.”

He sets his cup down on the counter behind him and starts walking the few feet over to you. As he closes the gap between y'all, he rubs his hands down the sides of his jeans. He looks so much taller when he’s this close. You try to focus on controlling your breathing as he raises his hand and lets it hover over your nose. As soon as he brushes the skin, your eyes flutter close at the sensation. His calloused hands caress you so delicately that you feel as if you are made of the finest of china. You only open them when you feel his touch leave your body. He’s staring down at you with pupils blown out.

“Is it-is it all gone?” You don’t know why you're whispering when he's standing right in front of you.

“You’re pollen free.” He whispers back.

Neither of you make a move to escape the close proximity. You watch his eyes slowly travel from your own eyes to your lip and back up again. You hope he can see by the way you’re looking at him that you’re begging for him to touch you, to kiss you. He takes a half step closer. His hand brushes against yours down at your side.

Honk! Honk! Honk!

Frankie closes his eyes like he's in agonizing pain and steps back from you. “I think your car’s ride is here.”

“Well umm,” You clear your throat. “I guess we shouldn’t keep your coworker waiting, huh?”

***

“So we got some bad news and we got some good news. The bad news is that it looks like one of your cylinders misfired and it’s going to be out of commission until it can be fixed. The good news is that we are having a slow day today so it should be fixed by this afternoon.”

“I really wish you would have led with the good news.”

“Where's the suspense in that?”

“Thank you again for helping me with this, Frankie.” The two of you exit the shop and stand in front of his truck. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“Probably would have called some other loser who works in an auto body shop.” He shrugs.

“You’re not a loser.” You wrap your arms around your body. “At least not to me.”

“I uhh-thank you for saying that.”

You return his shrug with a soft smile.

“Did you want me too-umm-drop you off at the gym?” He checks his watch. “You’ve only missed about an hour and a half of your day.”

“No, don’t worry about it. Benny said I could take the day when I talked to him about what was going on this morning. I’ll probably uber home and find something to occupy myself with until my car is ready.”

Your stomach choses now to loudly make its presence known.

Frankie raises one of his eyebrows at you. “Have you eaten today?”

“I was planning on it, but then the universe decided that it wasn’t in the cards for me.”

“Want to go get breakfast? With me? I could eat.”

“As lovely as that sounds, I’ve already taken up so much of your time already! I don’t want to get you in trouble at work!”

“Oh, come on. Playing hooky isn’t fun when you do it by yourself. Plus, I’ve got some vacation time racked up that I can use for today

You knew your answer even before you spoke it. The opportunity to spend more time with him is one you would have to be crazy to pass up. It may not be a date, but it was a start. And everything has to start somewhere.

“Fine, but you’re driving.”

***

“Please tell me you didn’t call us here to help you close up, Benny.”

It was unusually quiet in the gym today. It wasn’t the lack of grunting from the weight lifters, or the obnoxious sounds coming from the washing machine, or even the chatter of patrons in between their boxing rounds. It was the lack of you. Benny thought that he could handle it just like before, but he was wrong. He found himself wandering up to the front desk to share each and every miniscule thought that popped into his head only to find it empty time and time again. You had completely enmeshed yourself into his daily routine and he didn’t notice until now. It seemed that even the guests noticed your absence. He found himself getting asked where you were or when you would be coming back. You did so much around the gym that he didn’t even realize and he cursed himself for taking you for granted. The next time you had car trouble he swore he would pick you up himself because he could do this alone. He couldn’t do this without his friend. But, that isn’t why he called them in.

“Yeah, what gives?” Pope adds to Will’s previous statement. “And where’s our girl?”

“Number one: no I didn’t call y’all to help me close. Number two: I gave her the day off because she was having car trouble and wouldn’t be able to make it in.”

It takes him assuring his friends multiple times and showing them your update texts for them to stop worrying about you.

“Alright that explains her, but where's Catfish?” Will presses.

Benny sighs deeply and walks around to sit in your empty chair. He closes his eyes and leans his head back before he answers his brother.

“He’s actually the reason why I called y’all over. I found out that he’s been talking to Rochelle again.”

“As much as we don’t fuckin’ like it, we knew that she texted him about getting back together.”

“You were there that night. This is old news.” Pope sounds annoyed, but Benny can’t track if it's aimed at him specifically or at the contents of the conversation.

“He’s been talking on the phone with her. I feel like thats a bit more serious than a fuckin’ text, Pope.”

Benny’s quick retort is enough to silence him, but Will starts panicking. An emotion that is just as foreign for him to feel as it is to see him display.

“No fuckin’ way, man. No fuckin’ way he would do that.”

“That’s what I thought too, but she overheard him talking with Rochelle when she saw him out a few weeks back. Why would she lie about that? She had no knowledge of Rochelle before then.”

“Fuck! FUCK!”

Will fists his hands behind his head and starts pacing around the gym lobby. The two other men can only stare as they watch him slowly unravel before their eyes. Pope was, and still is, Frankie’s best friend, but Will was the most affected by what happened. It’s his job to scrape vets off the street when they come back after tours, legal or not, and get them the help they need. What kind of man, what kind of friend is he that he let one of his own slip through his fingers? When the metaphorical shoe finally dropped and Frankie got busted, as much as Will wanted to say ‘I told you so’, he just held his hand through recovery. The feeling of being right was only second to seeing his friend get better. It took every ounce of strength Will, Pope, and Benny had to drag Frankie back into reality. Now that he is teetering on the edge again, Will is terrified that he doesn’t have enough left in him to save Frankie. Pope cuts in to attempt to stop Benny from causing Will to have another Publix level freakout.

“What exactly did she hear?”

“She just said that he got a phone call and he immediately tensed up when he saw who was calling. Then, when he answered, he said her name.”

“Let’s not lose our heads, boys.” Pope turns toward Will who is still pacing. “We don’t know the context of the phone call, alright? Rochelle was the one that called him, not the other way around.”

“Does it matter?! She like a fuckin’ drug to him!”

“You’re not fucking helping, Benny.” Pope seethes.

Will regains some control over his emotions and pilots himself over to the front desk.

“Pope is right. We don’t have all the facts yet.” He lets out a weighted sigh and white knuckles the edge of the desk. “Let’s just keep an eye on him and this situation until we know, for sure, what’s really goin’ on.”

The suffocating tension in the room is shattered when Benny’s phone chimes with a text.

You: My car is as good as new! Frankie and I even stopped to get some new air freshener scents for you to test out for the gym! See you tomorrow (:

“Ho-ly shit.” Benny lets out a low whistle.

“What?” The two other men speak in unison.

Benny just laughs to himself as he tosses Will the phone.

“Well would you look at that?” Will echoes his brother's tune.

“Let me see that, huh?” Pope snatches the phone and reads the message you sent. “So that's why that pendejo hasn’t been answering my texts all damn day. He’s with her!”

“That sneaky bastard!” Benny laughs. “Yall think he likes her? He’s got to, right?”

“You really should get someone else to fill in for you at the fights every now and then.” Will snickers, all tension gone from his body. “Of course he likes her. He told us last Friday.”

“I miss everything! Why didn’t anyone tell me?” He complains.

“Nevermind that.” Pope says as he returns the phone. “She might be the solution to our problem.”

How’d you reckon?” Will inquires.

“If we can get them together, there won’t be any room for Rochelle.”

“We aren’t pimpin’ her out, Pope. That’s fucked up.”

“No, no.” He shakes his head. “We aren’t pimping her out, dumbass. Not if she likes him back that is. I mean, come on, you saw the way she was looking at him when they shared that beer the other night.”

“They shared a beer?!”

“Not now, Benny.” Will hushes. “Damn straight I saw that.”

Pope turns to Benny who still looks in shock because of what he just learned.

“Can you do us a favor?”

“Anything if it means getting Rochelle out of the picture. Again.”

“Good man. Now we need you to keep your ears open for anything she says about Fish. We need to know where she stands before we do this and you’re the one that sees her everyday.”

“Hell yeah! I’m gonna be all over her!”

“Don’t be weird, Ben.” Will groan.

“Then it’s settled. When we figure out if she likes him or not…operation ‘catch-a-fish’ is a go.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

{tag list: @cutesyscreenname @rsquared31 @smol-beb @bitchwitch1981 @avastrasposts @hoeslingz @saltybutteredtoast @javicstories @c-justhere @pimosworld @modernperplexity @beboldbebravethings @modernperplexity @mxtokko @moonliqhtszn @tanzthompson @megcads @myloveistoolittle @casa-boiardi @jitterbugs927 @partyofone3413 }

#francisco morales #frankie morales #catfish #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #benny miller #will miller #ironhead #santiago garcia #pope #through the scope #read on a03

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communicationthroughlyrics · 10 months

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I Like Your Blood On My Teeth Just A Little Too Much - 13

You’re a former military, career oriented security executive who has made quite the living for yourself- but it has always been lacking. Your non-committal attitude has led you down a playgirl lifestyle, never really settling. What happens when your new boss throws you a curveball, and as a result? You end up hopelessly involved with a Hollywood starlet.

A/N: TW for r*pe, assault, angst, accidents- you name it. The chapter is a real peach. Buckle up!

4K Word Count

Ch 13: Digging Up the Dirt, You Get to Meet All Sorts

“Are you ok?” You ask Scarlett, looking at her ghastly face through the rearview mirror. Her gaze shifts to yours, wide eyed.

“Wha…what just happened? Why’d you leave?” She asked, concern and terror laced her features, her brows furrowing and a deep crease forming between them.

“Your safety comes, first, Scarlett. I can’t have you hanging around when that’s what they are trying to do, is get you alone or with as little security as possible.”

“Wh…who was in that car? We were just in that position. That could have been us.”

“That was Jim’s car.”

“I…I was supposed to be in that car this time, wasn’t I? ” Your blank stare gave her the answer she needed.

“I am calling your agent, you’re not going to this last interview.”

“I… I think I can, Y/N, keep going.” She stutters.

“No, Scarlett. You’re shaking, and you’re pale. You’re not going. I should have called it back at the last studio.”

“Why? What do you mean?” Her tone laced with disbelief, if there was any doubt, then she should have been informed.

“Gut feeling.” You fire back, not wanting to let her know about the missing agents.

The drive from there was silent, aside from the brief phone call to her agent, telling them there has been a safety breach and for Scarletts safety, the remainder of the schedule for the day needs to be cleared. You redirected the vehicle towards Scarletts home, so she would be able to relax as much as possible after a stressful day. You turned down the familiar street, approaching the end of the driveway, where your memory flashed back to Steven crushing your hand last night.

“I don’t want to be home right now, Y/N. They know where I live.” She muttered from the back seat, crossing her arms as you approached the house.

“Do you not want a change of clothes? It might help to get into comfier clothes, Scar. Help you to relax. I can stay while you change, if you would like.” You offer, your mind now racing about todays events.

“Fine. Half an hour, and I want to be out of here.” She responds, as you climb out of the car, walking around to get to her door, and let her out. She stalks past you, and you turn on your heel, following be hind her closely, while the other lone agent with you stands by the front door. Once inside, she retreats immediately to the master bedroom, and you station yourself just outside the door, not wanting to invade her privacy as she changes. You hear water running, and doors slamming behind you as shuffling noises come from beyond the wooden doors. Shortly after, the doors are slid open, and a small gasp comes from her. “Jesus, Y/L/N, were you there the whole time?” She asks, holding her hand over her chest. You simply raise your eyebrow in response. You still have your glasses on, thankfully as you eye the woman up and down, her having changed into black yoga pants and a grey zip up hoodie, with a Yankees hat on, pulled down low over her eyes.

“Where to, Johansson?” You ask, following behind her to the kitchen, as she reached into her fridge, grabbing a bottle of water, offering you one too. You nod, accepting the water, but turning around and walking towards the front door. She stood there, confused as you open the front door, and hand the water to the agent at the door. You shut the door, walking back to her, another bottle already on the counter for you. You leaned your hip again the edge of the counter, watching the actress. The blank expression on her face tells you she’s not present, she’s just standing, and staring off into the distance. “Scarlett?”

“Huh?…oh. Sorry. ” She responded sheepishly.

“It’s ok. Today was stressful.” You state calmly, approaching her. She turned towards you, her arms waving by her side, like she was asking for something. She slowly approached you, unsure of her next move. You set the bottle of water on the counter, raising yourself off the counter and approaching her, arms open. “C’mere.” You speak softly, opening your arms so she can step closer. Your slightly taller frame allows her head to rest under your chin, as she clings tightly to you, a deep breath coming from her as she calms down a little bit more. You allow your arms to wrap around her, enveloping her in a friendly hug. The feeling of how natural this feels is not unnoticed by you, as she just…fits. She unwraps herself from your body, stepping away with a sheepish smile on her face.

“Thank you.” She whispered, a small look adorning her face. You shoot her a reassuring smile, rubbing her arm as you direct her to the door.

“Lets get you outta here.” You walk behind her, taking a swig from the water bottle before shutting the door behind you as you cross the threshold. She locks the house from her phone, and you walk back towards the black Escalade, opening the door for her to climb up into the back seat, while you and your agent get up front. You look into the backseat, silently asking if she has made up her mind on a destination.

“Anywhere, Y/N. Just not here.”

“Well, I need to drop him off at the office, and fill out some paperwork. Do you want to go to someones house, or stay with me?” She looked at you, acknowledging the necessity of what you needed to do.

“Everyone I could usually go to is out of town. I don’t feel safe alone.” She responds, looking down at her hands, wringing them slightly. You turn back to the front of the car, starting it before turning out of her drive.

“That answers that then, you’re coming with me.” You smile in the rearview, pushing your glasses up your face.

***

You arrive at the office, pulling into the garage, and driving up to the level that housed all the fleet security and armored cars. You unlocked the doors, your agent letting Scarlett out of the car, while you gathered a few bags from the back of the car. You usher her to the elevator, the other agent had already gone up. Standing by the elevator doors, you both maintained your silence, not uttering a word until the elevator arrived. Once inside, she releases a deep breath, turning to you.

“Are you ok? That happened right in front of you. That was someone you work with.”

“I’ll be ok. I just need to find out what the hell happened.” You maintain a stoic expression, not wanting to reveal the internal panic you felt for someone who you saw as a father.

“Are you sure?” She asked again, almost like she knew, you weren’t ok. You sent her a less than reassuring smile, and the door dinged open, revealing a panicked Kris and Paul.

“Follow me.” You place your hand on the small of her back, guiding her to the boardroom, setting the duffle bags over your shoulder in the corner. Her eyebrow raises at the choice of office. “Your publicist and agent, as well as some officers will be showing up here shortly. They’ll need statements.” You respond.

“This can’t be your office.”

“It’s not. I have some calls I need to make, and then I will be back.”

“But, I don’t want to be left alone.” She whines, slouching into a high back leather chair.

“Kris will be in here with you.” You respond, her eyebrow shooting up. Turning on your heel, you walk away, letting Kris know you need her in the boardroom with Scarlett, to keep her company until her party shows up.

***Kris POV***

“Y/L/N, why? She’s a grown woman. She doesn’t need a babysitter.” I fire at Y/N, I really don’t want to be watching over her right now.

“Shut it, Kris. Get in there, do some paperwork, I don’t care. Just, don’t leave her alone.” Y/N makes a pointed remark, leaving me no room for argument.

Ughhhh…I shuffle around, pick up some paperwork and my laptop, going to the boardroom to watch over the blonde. Upon my entrance, the blondes gaze drops, and the disappointment on her face was obvious. I can’t say my expression is better, I am just irritated with how the day unfolded, and now I’m stuck watching over the reason it happened. I set my computer down, and pull out a chair on the other side of the table, and begin typing away as soon as I sat myself down. I lost myself in the paperwork I needed to fill out, until a throat clearing drew my attention elsewhere.

“Kris?” The blonde asked quietly, I had to restrain myself from rolling my eyes towards Scarlett.

“Yes, Ms. Johansson?” I shut my laptop, directing my gaze towards her.

“Is there any water available? I’m a little thirsty, the carafe is empty.” She mentions, pointing at the empty carafe and glasses on the table.

“Of course. Is bottled ok?” I ask, rising from the table and walking to the end of the room, towards a large credenza. I opened one of the doors, revealing a small beverage cooler full of water bottles.

“Yes, that’s fine. Thank you.” She responds, as I grab two, realizing I haven’t had anything to drink for a while either. I slide the other one down the table to her, while opening mine and taking a rather large swig.

“I can see why you and Y/N were a thing. You two make a good couple.” She comments, making me almost spit out my drink.

“What?” I asked, incredulous that she would make such a statement.

“You, and Y/N. You were an item, were you not?”

I scoff at the remark. “Uhh, a little bit more than an item, I would say. But sure. What business of it is yours?”

“None. Just thought you two are a cute couple. Or, were. You complement each other nicely.”

“You don’t even know Y/N.” The blonde raises her eyebrow. “How can you say we ‘complement’ each other when you don’t know either of us?”

“Kris, I make a living off imitation. I am very good at watching behaviors, how people interact. I have to be good at that. Besides, Y/N and I have talked enough for me to have an idea of what she’s like.”

“You don’t know the half of it. You know how I know, Scarlett?” The blonde hums in response, waiting for me to answer. “I don’t even know the half of it. She’s an emotional clam.”

“There’s no need to be offhand about it. I merely made an observation, Kris.” God, the audacity of this woman.

“I’m not being offhand, Ms. Johansson. We just sent two of our most tenured agents to the emergency room in critical condition, after being in an accident int he car YOU were supposed to be in. One of those people Y/N sees as a father.” I shoot her way, narrowing my eyes as the look on her face goes slightly more aghast. “Forgive me, rather- forgive US for being a little bit on edge right now.” I’m now standing at the table beside her, my finger pointed onto the table looking down at her, while she just looks at the water bottle in her hands. “Leave whatever you think happened in Y/N’s and I’s love life, out of it.“

***Y/N POV***

You must have made a million phone calls, trying to get an update on Grange, and calling various agents to try and get an idea of what actually fucking happened today. You paced in your office, changed clothes, and tried to make heads or tails of the day, but nothing made sense. Deciding I\you need to go down and check on Kris and Scarlett, and let Scarlett know her team will be here as soon as they can, but it will still be a few hours. You walk out of the office, now wearing a pair of black sweatpants over your gym shorts, and a tight fitting black tee shirt. You had decided to go down to the gym and do something to relieve some stress. As you approach the board room, you can hear Kris’s raised voice. Oh no. That’s not good.

“Leave whatever you think happened in Y/N’s and I’s love life, out of it.“ You hear, and are instantly puzzled at the subject matter. Was Scarlett asking about your love life? Bracing yourself, you walk into the board room, and immediately sense the tension. You narrowed your eyes at Kris, she knows better than to do this.

“Kris, can I speak to you for a minute? Outside?” You point outside the boardroom, not missing how both Scarlett and Kris eyed you up and down in your current attire. Scarlett’s gaze stopped briefly at your chest, then abdomen, but when she saw your hand, her eyes narrowed.

The door slammed behind us as you pushed Kris to the opposite side of the hallway. “What. The. Hell did I just walk into, Kris? I asked you to watch her, make sure she stayed comfortable. I leave for half an hour and you’re fucking badgering her?! Do you want to get fired?”

“Well, Y/L/N, I didn’t want to babysit her anyways. She started it.”

“What are you, 12? I don’t give a flying fuck who started it. I get that it's been a long day. But you do not get to corner our client because you don’t like something she said.” You turn around, walking back to the boardroom, before turning back around. “Go back to your office, handle your shit, and go the fuck home.” You respond, leaving the blonde speechless in the corridor, before slipping into the boardroom and walking down to the same fridge to get a water. You pulled out the chair at the end of the table opposite Scarlett.

“I don’t bite, Y/N.”

“Scarlett, my apologies for Kris. She often… wears her emotions on her sleeve.”

“It’s, ok, Y/N. It was mostly my fault. I was just trying to start a conversation.” Your eyebrow raises at that. “I just mentioned that you two must have been a good couple.” You almost spit out your water at that. It takes a minute, but you finally regain your composure.

“What makes you think we were a couple?” The smirk on her features tells you all you need to know.

“Please, Y/N. The tension between you two is palpable whenever you’re both in the room. She always looks at you with the biggest doe eyed expressions.”

“That doesn’t mean anything, Scarlett.” You respond back, trying to downplay her observations.

“I can tell you two care about each other.”

“We do, but friends care. Doesn’t mean we were together.” You fire back.

“But she still loves you, Y/N. It’s obvious. ”

“That still doesn’t mean we were a thing, Johansson. And what business is it of yours anyways?”

“Just sayin’. I never tried to make it my business, Y/L/N.” You sigh deeply, squeezing the now empty water bottle in your hand, before throwing it out and pinching your eyebrows with your fingers.

“Come on. I need to work out some frustrations, I don’t want to leave you up here. Follow me.” You stood quickly, walking to the door, and holding it for her to trail behind you. You led her to the elevator, going down 3 floors to the training center.

“A training center?” Scarlett asked, observing her surroundings as she stepped out of the elevator.

“Yeah, we train all of our agents in house. Plus its nice to have a gym to brush up and practice your skills at work.” You respond with a blank expression, turning on your heel, and walking to the locker room. She hesitated stepping inside, so you shrugged and continued to your locker. You removed the black tee, and lost the sweatpants, and swapped your shoes over to your black training shoes. You grabbed the towel and empty water bottle out of your locker, and walked back out of the room, stopping at the water bottle fountain, before turning around and walking to the speed bag. You noticed that Scarlett had made herself at home, casually walking on one of the treadmills. You wrapped your hands, slipping them into a fingerless glove. She hadn’t noticed you come back out yet, so you started to stretch and warm up, beginning your combinations on the bag before you. The sound of the bag caught her attention, her gaze firing over to you as you fired merciless combination after combination at it, progressively getting faster and faster. You had eventually worked yourself up to a dull sheen of sweat covering your chest, arms and face, before switching over to one of the lighter heavy bags. You knew you’d regret this, but this was the only thing that could get your mind off the dull ache in your heart.

You began striking and kicking the bag, taking any pent up frustrations you had out on it, without realizing the emotion you were feeling. You were landing punch after punch, kick after kick, and slowly the bag before you transformed.

***

You stood in a packed courtroom, one side of the room was your team, Cam and Nix seated behind you, Grange, and others who had witnessed your slow dissolve due to your abuser. The other side of the courtroom was full of high ranking officials, men that he had served with on his multiple tours, and his wife and family. They all stared at you with a strong look of denunciation, like they could really understand the hell the man seated across the aisle from you had placed on your shoulders. He was clearly having the time of his life, so sure that the charges alleging the sexual assault and abuse would not stand. He was oh so sure, but you made sure that your case was bullet proof. And just in case, you had two pieces of evidence withheld, in the case you would need it. You just hoped you wouldn’t.

“All RISE, for the honorable Lt. General Rennoll. AttenTION!” The guard by the door called out, as every stood and raised their arms in salute.

“At ease, everyone.” The clean cut judge at behind his bench, and everyone else followed suit. You glanced over at the man who had put you here, to witness the most shit eating, contemptible grin cross his face. The sheer lack of regard he held in this moment, showed no remorse, no regret for anything he had done. He truly believed he did nothing wrong. And in your current mental state, you were terrified he was going to get away with this. The evidence you had given to the courts was overwhelming. The hospital had documented every bump, bruise and cut when you had been carried in, some of the photos showing the dark bruising that had hidden some of your tattoos. The hospital had confirmed in the rape test that Waters had, in fact raped you. But according to his account, he had been drunk at the bar, and mistook you for his wife he missed so dearly, having not seen her in over a year. He was allegedly so inebriated that he had no idea how rough he was being, and had blacked out as a result.

Your defense had argued that this had been an ongoing issue, the testimony of the decline of your health attested to by your doctor, as well as Nix and Cam. They had also testified to the many nights of you showing up, stumbling late into the bunks, almost waking the entire group of people and risking disciplinary action as a result. The mornings where you had a hard time waking up, or the nights you stayed up crying and trying to not make yourself sick with how disgusting you felt were all accounted for by your bunk mates. This entire court case had sent you spiraling, which is exactly why you hadn’t wanted it in the first place. The doctors, Cam, Nix, and Jim had all convinced you to ruin this man the best way you could, by getting him prosecuted. You were sure that this would become career suicide, but the overwhelming guilt of him doing this again ate you alive.

Leaning over to your attorney, you whispered in their ear that you wanted to use those 2 pieces of evidence, regardless of the outcome. He looked at you like you suddenly grew six heads, because this trial was all but over. But the smug act from the aisle over made you want to push this all the way. He leaned over to the second attorney, letting them know what you had said, and she leaned over to you, ensuring you wanted to do this. You shook your head yes, just wanting it over before you changed your mind.

Your attorney stood, gaining the attention of all the people in the room. “Your honor, may I approach the bench?” She asked, before the judge waved both her as well as Waters attorney up to the stand. The judge raised his eyebrows, presumably at the admission of the 2 pieces of evidence that you were asking to become a part of the court case. An animated, hushed argument between the 3 began, before Lt. Gen. Rennoll shushed them both, and sending both attorneys back to their benches. Waters attorney was clearly not happy about what was said, but the judges actions told you all you need. Your attorney rose, announcing the new evidence into the court case. You could hear a pin drop when the first piece of evidence was announced.

“Your honor, my client had been feeling ill after this last alleged assault, and as a result, had a pregnancy test performed after two successful at home tests proved to be positive. The following evidence is the positive test performed at the off-base doctors office, as well as the post abortion fetal cell microchimerism test, which shows the DNA matching the alleged abuser was present in the aborted fetus, thus proving that the abuser was the father.” The silence in the court room was deafening, as the results to the test and the DNA overlap showed a 100% match to the same DNA sample that was pulled from the rape test at the hospital.

“The second piece of evidence was obtained via an off base security camera, located by a bar that is frequented by many service men and women.” Your attorney paced back and forth in front of your bench, looking at the opposing bench and the judge. “If there was any doubt that this had been happening for a while, this will prove other wise.” Your attorney continued. What followed was a sequence of multiple occurrences where Waters had pulled you out of the bar on different dates, sometimes pulling you to the side in an alleyway, and forcibly having his way with you- sometimes pulling you into his vehicle and watching the rocking back and forth, before inevitably knocking you out or beating you to a pulp, only for you to stumble away, sometimes a half an hour later- sometimes longer. The resonating image being your limp body thrown from the side of the vehicle as he was driving it backwards, ditching you, unconscious from a moving motor vehicle.

Your eyes were trained on the alleged sat next to you, as you watched his wry smile disappear, turning into a scowl. His demeanor shifted from one of cocky assurance he was going to win- to one of him knowing that his entire life just fell apart before him. The dead air in the courtroom was momentarily stirred by the departure of Waters wife, an exodus of all of the people you had presumed as his family shortly thereafter.

CHAPTER 14

#communicatethrulyrics #wlw fanfic #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #ilybomtjaltm #scarlett johansson smut #scarlett johansson x you #scarlett johansson x reader #scarlett johansson x fem!reader

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burninlovebutler · 2 years

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25 - New Years Pt. 1 - Til You Come Back for More* // Forever Winter Series

pairing: austin x fem!oc | word count: 4k-ish

warnings: angst, jealousy, mentions of strip clubs/sex work, alcohol, excruciating teasing from a fed up!austin, taunting, fingers, lots of dialogue, 18+ only, MDNI

summary: Austin meets Elsie at a roof top new years party, bringing an unexpected plus-one with him. Elsie finds herself overcome with a foreign feeling of jealousy that demands an outlet.

prev chp -> 24 - Ski Slopes**

see masterlist/summary for chapter log & background info

will i still love you like this when it’s midnight?

will you still love me like this when it’s midnight?

the new year comes but i’ll be lonely tonight

Til you come back for more

-ELSIE-

Nox and I finally arrived to this stupid corporate party Nox’s coworker invited us to for New Years. It was what was described to me as “modern black tie 20’s Great Gatsby” themed… whatever the fuck that meant. I suppose when you work with a bunch of overgrown frat boys as business partners, party themes aren’t executed that well. My only saving grace was that I invited Austin. I knew Nox would eventually ditch me for his coworker buddies and leave me alone, so the least I could do was have Austin come with me.

I tugged at my satin green dress while checking my phone for any updates from Austin, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I spun around to my best friend in jeans and a leather jacket – quite the difference to the suits crowding the roof top. I then took notice of the petite blonde that followed behind him.

Austin cleared his throat. “Elsie, this is my friend Aspen.” Austin gesturing between us.

‘Friend’ yeah right.

“Aspen, this is my friend Elsie.”

‘Friends’ sure.

I wondered if they were friends like we are.

And what exactly was that?

“Hi!” Aspen chirped and extended a hand. “Nice to meet you Elsie!”

I shook her hand, “Nice to meet you too.”

Austin seemed to have ignored the memo with his casual attire that made him stick out like a sore thumb – Aspen evidently had nailed the assignment, a slinky silver dress hung over her thin body. She was exactly the kind of girl he always ended up with. She was everything I wasn’t.

“Oh! I’ll get us some drinks! I’ll be right back Aust.” She pecked his cheek quickly and fluttered away to the inside bar.

Aust?

Who the fuck was this bitch?

“I didn’t know you were bringing someone?” I questioned, wanting to cross my arms but it seemed inappropriate, there’s no reason for me to be so peeved about another girl with him.

“Oh well, I just thought I might as well bring a date to the party.”

A date?

“Oh well, you just didn’t tell me you were seeing someone.”

“I’m not.” He replied shortly.

“You’re not what?”

“Seeing her. We’re just friends.”

“You just said she’s your date, she kissed you.”

“I’m your ‘date’ to shit all the time. And you kiss my cheek too.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong, but the words sliced just the same. He never seemed to object before, it’s not like he felt this searing over Nox. Other than his hatred for him.

The bubbly blonde returned with drinks expertly stacked in her hands. “Here, do you mind holding this for me?” handing her cup to Austin, “I have to call Courtney back, I might have to go cover her shift at the club.” She said with a pout.

Club?

And she was gone again. “Club?” I asked the second she was gone.

“Yeah, she works at a club.” He shrugged, taking a sip of his own drink.

“What kind of club?”

His eyes diverted, “Ehm, you know just a night club.”

“Which one?” Narrowing my eyes but quickly softening them, keeping my reactions calm.

“’Body Language’.”

“The strip club!” I was losing my grip of restraint. Scratching his arm, he just nodded. “And what does she do there?”

“She’s a bottle girl,” He answered casually, “But sometimes she covers other shifts.”

“So, she’s a stripper.”

“No, she’s a bottle service girl. Most of the time.”

“Right, and you’re ‘just friends’.”

He met my eyes now, the energy shifted. “What does it matter?” He snapped back at me, obviously catching on to my unwarranted attitude.

I hadn’t thought that far, I reeled in my interrogation. What did it matter? “It doesn’t – I was just wondering. She seems…nice.”

“Well, like I said, we’re just friends.”

“Right.” I knew he was lying, he’s the worst fucking liar.

Aspen returned even perkier than before, “She found someone else! Thank god I didn’t wanna leave. You seem so fun!”

Oh my god why did he have to pick the more irritating girls. I gave a forced tight-lipped smile. “Austin tells me you’re a writer!”

“Oh uh, yeah. I work for an online magazine.” How boring compared to a stripper, suddenly feeling insecure about my profession.

“That’s really cool!” Agonizingly sweet, like cotton candy perfume. It made me want to vomit.

“What do you do?” Wanting her answer.

“Oh, I work at the strip club down the street, I’m a bottle service girl!” She answered like it was the most prestigious job.

So, he wasn’t lying about that. “So, you never strip?” I felt Austin’s eyes burning into me.

She giggled, “Oh sometimes I do, that’s where the real money is.” Of course it is.

“I bet. And what does a bottle girl do exactly?” Taking a very necessary gulp of my saturated drink. I knew my tone came off quite judge-y, but I couldn’t help it. I’m extremely supportive of sex workers, it wasn’t about that. It was something else.

“Well let’s see. Mostly I just walk around in lingerie pouring drinks for the patrons. I can give lap dances if I want to. Or use the private rooms if I’m asked specifically.” She spoke about it so professionally. I’d never heard a club employee explain their duties like that.

“Ah.” I stole the last sip of my drink.

“I keep telling Austie he needs to come visit me!” She looked up at him like a little kid and he curled his arm around her waist.

Austie? Only I ever called him that. Me. Just me.

“You could come visit too!” She offered, “If you’re into that. You could bring your boyfriend.”

I snapped my eyes up to Austin’s, “Maybe I will.” His eyes matched my intensity. Aspen didn’t seem to notice, or at least didn’t care. The ditzy blonde reminded me of literally every girl he’d ever dated. Though, she was nicer than most. At least she was fucking nice. I never understood how he ended up with girls like her, he’s so the opposite of anything they were.

I wanted absolutely nothing more about this interaction. Scanning the crowd for Nox, he blended into all the rest of the 3-piece suits. “Well, I better find Nox, it was nice meeting you Aspen.” I fled before she even had a chance to respond.

As predicted, Nox payed little attention to me, leaving me alone with too many glasses of champagne and a dance floor. The latest Doja Cat song blared from the DJ’s speakers and to say that I was enjoying myself would be an understatement. The alcohol coursing through my veins, the anger of Nox’s absence and the unexplainable fury with Austin all fueled the way I danced and spun around the dance floor. My hips swung in time with the music and my emerald green dress flowed accordingly.

Every time I caught a glimpse of Austin, his eyes were already on me. It was interesting to see the difference of his gaze on me versus Aspen. On me, his eyes were dark, brooding, maybe even… angry?

On her, it was soft, kind, happy, fun.

That was how he would look at me, when we were alone. Maybe that just wasn’t us anymore. Perhaps we’d crossed one too many lines to stay who we were. If our, incidents, were starting to cause a rift between us, I knew it had to end. Just the idea of living without him as my best friend was unbearable. The weirdness between us had to end, no matter how much I disliked his new girlfriend.

Lost in my own thoughts, I twirled into another swirling girl resulting in her red wine spilling all down the front of your satin dress. A sharp gasp came from you as the cold liquid spread over your clothes.

“What the fuck.” You muttered trying to piece together what happened. To your shock stood Aspen covering her filled lips with a dainty hand.

“Oh my gosh Elsie I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to-“ She began desperately apologizing, not a hint of insincerity in her voice, but it only made me more infuriated.

Even in my drunken state I knew I shouldn’t voice the vile words I had swirling in my head. “I have to go.” Brushing harshly between them to the kitchen within the penthouse. Behind me I heard Austin apologize to Aspen before his footsteps tried to keep up after me.

“Elsie!” He called and didn’t take long before he caught up to me, “What the fuck was that about?”

I spun to face him emphasizing the growing deep red stain on my slitted dress, “She got fucking red wine on my dress, that’s what that was about.” I hissed turning and charging back away from him, pushing through the crowded loft. Boiling alcohol bubbled in my veins

“You bumped into her and knocked it on yourself Elsie.” His tone was far calmer than what I’d expected, I expected him to be angrier – angrier at me for knocking into his sparkly new girlfriend or angrier at her for spilling wine onto me. The calmness of it was making me angry. Why wasn’t he angry at either of those things?

I felt his hand grasp my arm briefly but dislodged thanks to a stranger’s passing elbow. Each body I brushed past built up the already boiling alcohol in my veins, I couldn’t look back at him, I didn’t dare - I was seeing red and I didn’t want to see it on him.

Though, it was no surprise that he caught up to me – amazing how much speed you gain from just having height. His hand clamped itself around my bicep, “Let me help you.” A grumbled whisper filled your ear, his warm breath shooting goosebumps across your neck.

Of course, I retracted my arm from him, “No I don’t fucking need your help.” But his grip didn’t give, and he hauled me into the crowded kitchen.

“Yes, you fucking do Elsie,” Both tone and facial expressions curled with frustration but immediately toned it down when he noticed the other people in the kitchen watching, who soon filed out, no doubt from the uncomfortable air. Once gone he wrapped his hands firm on my shoulders, dark blue eyes glaring down at me. “What the fuck is your problem?”

Finally, I was able to wiggle my way out of his grasp, “I don’t have a fucking problem. You’re the one being the prick.”

He rolled his eyes and snatched a dish towel, running it under water before tugging the wet material from my chest. “I’m being a prick by dancing with my date?” He snapped, his focus seemingly on getting the stain out.

“No, you’re just – I don’t know you’re just being fucking mean.” I flustered, the adrenaline pumping through my body was making every thought and memory blurry.

“Mean?” With snide, glancing up at me briefly, “How the fuck am I being mean? Because I fucking brought a girl to a party? Because I didn’t come to be your secondary date?”

I noticed his eyes subtly surveying the party behind the kitchen as if he was ashamed to be seen with me. “No – No it’s not about that.” I stuttered out, realizing I didn’t have an answer.

Dropping the fabric and slamming the towel on the counter, “Then what is it about Elsie, please fucking enlighten me.”

He ran his tongue across his bottom lip at the lack of my response, “Hm.”

Oh– his tongue. It had taken every piece of me to snuff out the memory of his tongue. His tongue on my – his tongue making me feel things I’d never felt. My eyes lingered on his plump lips, it sent a warm trickle down to my lower stomach.

As much as I wanted it, I couldn’t. Not again. We had just gotten past it.

“It’s ju-“ I was in his grasp again, my wrist this time being used to tow me away to the hallway. Jiggling the handle of every room before finding an empty one and pulled us into it. He locked the door and spun me against the door.

My arms crossed over my chest, “What? You’re scared of her seeing me with you?”

“What does it fucking matter Elsie?” Through straight, gritted teeth.

“So, you are scared of your girlfriend seeing us.”

“For the last fucking time she’s not my girlfriend.” He pushed himself off the door running fingers through his golden hair. “Jesus fucking christ, what does it fucking matter?”

“Answer the question.”

“What? If I care if she sees me with you?” He stepped back closer, towering over me then leaning down to eye level. “No, she doesn’t give a fuck. I don’t give a fuck. We’re not together. She’d try to fuck you if she wanted.”

“Well I-“ Pressing back into the door as if I could camouflage into it.

“You what?” He hissed, eyes narrow and callous.

I blurted the only sane answer I could think of, “I don’t like her.”

“I don’t like Nox.” Shooting back with even stronger ammo. I made him put up with Nox, why couldn’t I just fucking put up with Aspen.

“Yeah but-“

“Actually, you know what I’d like to know why you don’t like her. Because she’s been nothing but nice to you. And you’ve been fucking rude.” His accelerating voice almost frightened me.

“Augh- It’s not about that.”

“Then what is it about Elsie.” His thinning dark blues felt like lasers.

“I don’t know it’s not-“

“What is it about.” He questioned again before I could even finish my sentence.

“I-I don’t know it’s not her-.”

“Then what the fuck is it about!” His hand slammed against the door right beside my head.

I immediately tensed beneath him. “I don’t have an answer.” I let out quietly.

“I think you do.” He moved closer, his voice even lower.

“I-I really don’t.” I sputtered out, barely even loud enough to hear.

His hand gave him an anchor on the door to lean down just below my ear, “Sure you do. C’mon use your words.”

My breath hitched in my throat as if I just swallowed an ice cube whole. The words rang a memory of when I was in his lap, in the bathroom on Christmas. His tone smooth as butter, vastly different than the fuming voice from just seconds ago. It caused a flutter in the pit of my belly and my heartrate to spike. The ice cube in my throat kept me silent.

His hand tilted my chin up to face him, “You can do it darlin’. Use your words.” His words were sweet, encouraging, but his tone was anything but. Condescending, teasing, punishing. It was like my voice was stolen, I couldn’t even form a sentence. I couldn’t think over my heart thumping against my skull. I could only blink up at him.

His hand moved up my side – but never touching. His touch hovering over my body, somehow worse than him actually touching me. The flutter in my stomach now dropped between my thighs. Moving to my chest, a bent knuckle traced around my breast then just ever so slightly grazing my hardened nipple. I took my lip between my teeth trying to stifle a moan, but it failed. “Fuck.” I breathed out, causing a smirk to curl his lips. How did he make me so fucking weak.

“Ah, that’s it. So, you can use your words.” His deepened voice sent shivers down my spine and straight between my legs. And again, the ability to speak left.

His hovering fingers descended down my front painfully slow. “Could you do that for me again?” I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Then his fingers now lingering in front of my core. The buzzing below my hips only worsened. The feeling of his hand just being near me was enough to cause a pooling in my panties. I sucked in a staggered breath.

“What’s wrong darlin’?” His hand now hovering back and forth across my hips. “You want me to touch you?” My eyes widened, what the fuck was he doing to me, some twisted hypnotic dance. A devious smile spread across his face, “Ah that’s it isn’t it?”

My heart now in my throat, threatening to rip out of my body. I still couldn’t speak, I didn’t want to answer. And yet I nodded. His lips again at my ear, “Well maybe if you use your words, I just might.”

The throbbing in my core begged me to respond. “Please.” I whispered.

The same devious smirk returned, but he didn’t move any closer to me. “I wanna hear it again.”

“Fuck, please.” Two fingers now moved in circles a centimeter away from where I needed him.

“Please what?”

“Please touch me.” The words leaving me much whinier than intended.

“Hm. I don’t think so.”

“What? Why?”

“Don’t you remember? Your own rule.” His words so fucking serrated. “’No touching’.”

I suddenly regretted every word past me ever said. This also confused me since we had touched before, technically. I just wanted to do that again, just enough for it to not feel as wrong. Even though, it still lingered a guilt. “We’ve touched before.” Looking up at him with innocent eyes. For some reason my response made me nervous for his reaction.

And I was right, his gaze turning menacing, “Yeah, I’m not doing that shit anymore. We’re either gonna touch or we’re not.” His brows lowering, striking both fear and arousal in me. “All or nothing. I’m done caring about the rules, I want to break them.”

My eyes rounded and my fucking speech leaving me yet again. How was I supposed to argue with him, I couldn’t break them. No matter how much I wanted to.

He hummed, “I have a question.” My stare answered for me.

“You still think about me when you’re touching yourself?”

Fuck not this again. I didn’t want to answer it this time as it had only gotten more rampant since Christmas. Especially when I thought of his cock in my mouth. I hesitated before answering, worried of how I’d respond if he grew any more taunting. “Yes.” Barely a whisper.

“Hm.” Pausing before continuing, “And how is that any different than my fingers on you? I mean, you’re imaging they’re my fingers aren’t you?” My mouth went to gasp but suddenly lost function. He was fucking torturing me. “So,” Another pause, “So your fingers get to touch your pretty pussy but mine don’t?”

God fucking damnit. My panties already fucking drenched and he hadn’t even touched me.

“That’s pretty selfish darlin’, don’t ya think?” He continued this taunting little game, “You get to make yourself cum to the thought of me, but you won’t even let me actually do it.” The fact that he was so focused on my own pleasure made it even fucking worse. He wasn’t here complaining that I wasn’t getting him off, he was complaining that I wouldn’t let him get me off. I’d never been with anyone who cared so much about my own orgasm like that.

“If you’re so deprived that you need to touch yourself thinkin’ about me,” His teasing fingers resumed their cruel motions just in front of where I wanted him the most. “Then I wonder, if I could make you cum without even touching you at all.”

The rapid pulse in my clit suggested he might. I closed my eyes and rested my head against the door. I could feel the electric distant swirling of his fingers right in front of my sensitivity. “Remember what my tongue felt like? If I could touch you, you’d be in my mouth right now.”

“Fuck.” Was all I could muster.

“I’d swirl over your swollen clit while my fingers fucked you. I’d fucking devour you.” His cruel tone only worsening the problem between my legs.

“Fuck Austin, please don’t stop.” It was like my brain was communicating with my body, creating an imaginary feeling as if it was happening, as if his fingers were actually touching me. But I wanted the real thing. My shifting thighs made a feeble attempt at any added friction.

“Fuck, if I was allowed to touch you, I’d wanna be inside you, I’d want to fuck you. Would you like that?” He’d never said that out loud, we’d never said that out loud, and there it was like it was the easiest thing in the world for him to say.

Silence – Yes I fucking would. I need it right now. Is what I would say if I had any ounce of bravery.

“C’mon baby,” He whispered into my neck, “Wouldn’t you like my cock deep inside of you?” Goosebumps ruptured across every inch of my skin.

Baby

That name never did much for me, but in his voice, god I swore it was different. He’d only used it a time or two before and I’d never had any name make my stomach flip the way his ‘Baby’ did. It was like a warm blanket I never wanted to unravel from.

“Yes.” The buzzing and the wetness in my panties only grew, I didn’t know how much more they could absorb.

“Good girl, you can follow directions.” Teasing, as if he were talking to a hound dog that finally learned a trick.

“What- What would you do next?” My eyes timidly looking up at him, the sight of him only intensifying every blinking nerve in my body.

“Hm. I like when you listen to me. I just might let you cum.”

Pressing my thighs together even rougher only barely aiding the pulsing, driving me toward my finish line. “Fuck.”

“I’d push you to the edge over and over.” His crooked words curled around every blood vessel, pushing my heart into a dangerously fast pulse.

“Multiple times?” I squeaked both in fright and excitement.

He let out a chuckle as if he was proud, probably remembering the couch. “Yeah baby, multiple times. God, I’d hold you there, torturing you with my tongue. Again and again.”

“O-Oh.”

“Then I’d go back to fucking you, burying myself deep inside your wet cunt.” As much as he would probably deny it, I knew he was struggling just as me. I could feel his hard member against my thigh only making my core crave him more.

“I need you to touch me, I take it back. I take it all back. I don’t want this rule anymore.” I wanted him, all of him – no, I needed all of him.

“Nuh uh, that’s not how this works.”

“Please.” I begged.

“Alright, I’ll oblige, just a bit.” His fingers now pressed against my covered clit, over the dress and panties. He began ever so slightly moving them in circular motions. It wasn’t much but it was something. But I wanted more. I grasped his arm and pressed his hand more into me. But he pulled back to his original restrained position. “No.”

I let out a utterly pathetic whine, “I need to cum, please.”

“This is what you get. You can have this or nothing.”

Letting out a groan, “Fine.” He continued his swirling motions barely over my heat. I was so close, every cell blinking with pure unbridled need. I wanted to scream from how much tension was built in my body. I wanted to beg. I’ve never begged for anything in my fucking life. But god did I want to get on my knees and beg right now.

“Please I’m so close.” I whimpered, my desire now dripping down my thigh.

“Yeah?” He asked, “Could you do somethin’ for me darlin?”

“Anything.” I barely got the word out through my accelerated breathing.

“Anything huh?”

I nodded desperately, gripping the sides of my dress, practically vibrating. “Yes- Fuck anything, I’ll do anything. Anything, whatever you want.”

The energy shifted, this time cruel. “Then can you tell me what all that bullshit was about out there? Can you tell me what the fuck this is about?”

My eyes shot open, that was the last thing I expected. I realized that this little game was just a ploy to get my answer. “I-I”

“Nuh uh,” His motions slowed, “I need your words Elsie.” And I was back to just Elsie. It now sounded like the worst possible thing I could ever be called.

My eyes squeezed shut, the borderline painful throbbing in my pussy pleaded me to give in. “If you tell me, I’ll touch you.” He bargained, “That’s all you gotta do, a couple little words and I’ll let you cum. It’s as simple as that.”

My chest dropped, I couldn’t give in. “I can’t.”

“You can’t?” His middle finger giving me slightly more pressure as it slid up and down my covered slit. “C’mon darlin’ give in to me, just tell me. I want to hear it. I want to make you cum.”

I let out the most regretful sigh, “I can’t Aus.”

“Hm.” His hand pulled away, “Guess that’s it huh?”

I ached for his touch back, I wanted to give in so fucking bad. I didn’t want him to leave.

He turned to leave but then returned, rested his hand on the door just above my head and leaned down one last time. His index tracing up my throat and tilting my chin up, “I don’t want you to clean up. I want you to spend the rest of the night in your soaked panties, and every time you feel it, I want you to think of me.” He growled beneath my ear, his voice reverberated through my entire body. It only made the aching in my hips worse. “And I want you to feel it while you’re dancing with your boyfriend.”

He cracked the door open but before leaving he left me with one last thing, “Make sure you wait in here for a while. Wouldn’t want your boyfriend to see you come out of a room with me, looking like that.”

Just like that he was gone, leaving me like this, flustered and bright red. I was throbbing and wet and desperate. I felt so fucking pathetic like I had just lost an easy game.

Suddenly I heard a roar in the party, I finally peak out to a unanimous, “Happy New Year!”

In the center of the party was Austin curled around Aspen locked in a New Year’s kiss. It stung. It stung as if a bee the size of Mount Everest just speared its stinger straight through my heart.

Why did it hurt so much. And why couldn’t I fucking say it.

Next Chapter -> 26 - New Years Pt. 2 [coming soon]

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crackedpumpkin · 2 months

Text

The Red String Theory (04)

𝗭𝗵𝗮𝗼 - 赵将军

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀 | 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 | 𝗻𝗲𝘅𝘁

a/n: super short chapter but the next few are much longer, especially chapter 6. it's already at like 4k words rip

The scent of soot hangs heavy in the air, almost like a cloud of fog that you inhale with each breath. The tips of your ears are still tinged pink, having suffered from some frostbite as a consequence of diving into the freezing waters of the South Pole without thinking.

Although firebenders have a naturally higher body heat than others, it didn’t protect you from the cold of the South Pole. After Iroh had pulled you out of the water, you’d passed out in your cabin and developed a fever.

Zuko had visited once while you were asleep, having given you a thick coat he’d somehow gotten during his fleeting meeting with the Water Tribe. You didn’t ask any questions, and he never answered any.

Just the way you both preferred it.

You recovered after a while, the coat your new favourite item to wear to tolerate the chilly night breeze during your shift. However, Zuko had become more distant before, and somewhat angrier. You’d been trying to figure out why, but he’s been something of an enigma since day one.

Was it because you’d prioritised saving him over capturing the Avatar?

The possibilities are endless. You know him well enough to understand that there are a million reasons why he could be angry, and maybe only a quarter of them have you as the cause.

Now though, you’re heading down the ship’s platform. The scuffle with the Avatar had left the ship damaged, and you’d hastened to the closest Fire Nation colony for reparations. You walk behind Iroh, Zuko ignoring your presence.

“Uncle, I want the repairs to be made as quickly as possible. I don’t wanna stay too long and risk losing his trail.”

“You mean the Avatar?” You pipe up, only to flinch when he turns to you with a glare.

“Don’t mention his name on these docks,” He says lowly. “Once word gets out that he’s alive, every Firebender will be out looking for him, and I don’t want anyone getting in my way. Not after what you did, you imbecile.”

Your jaw drops in shock, parting your lips to ask him what exactly gave him the right to insult you. However, another sneering voice interrupts you from speaking. “Getting in the way of what, Prince Zuko?”

Zuko stands with crossed arms, eyeing him warily as he nears. “Captain Zhao.”

“It’s commander now,” He corrects with a smug smirk. “And General Iroh, great hero of our nation.” He makes it a point to ignore your presence, which makes sense. You remain quiet, but don’t bother hiding your distaste for the man with a roll of your eyes.

“Retired General,” Iroh amends with a smile, bowing slightly. He glances back at you, clearly amused by your reaction. He turns back to continue the conversation with his nephew and Zhao. Warmth spreads through your chest, touched that he’d checked on you.

“The fire lord’s brother and son are welcome guests anytime. What brings you to my harbour?”

“Our ship needs repairs,” Iroh gestures to the destroyed front of the ship, Zhao’s eyes widening slightly in shock as he processes the sight.

“That’s quite a bit of damage,” He remarks.

Another soldier catches your eye, the jade pendant that had escaped from his armour dropping onto the ground. It lays there without anyone noticing, not even the soldier that dropped it.

You glance at the three of them still engrossed in their conversation. Hesitating, you take a moment to consider what to do next. Ignoring it would be wrong, obviously.

Which is exactly why you sneak away and pick up the jade pendant, turning the smooth stone over in your hands. Holding it up, you squint slightly to check the quality. Sunlight passes through the stone easily, enhancing the vibrancy of its rich green hue.

Turning it over, you spot something etched into the top.

‘ 福 ’

“Fu…” You mumble under your breath, tracing the engraved character. You chuckle softly. What an irony. To carry something as simple as luck and fortune on you while waging a war is hypocritical in itself.

But then again, you realise, someone must’ve given this to them. It could’ve been their parents or their significant others, or maybe even their child. Your hand automatically goes to your wrist, feeling for a bracelet that’s stowed back in your cabin.

You stare at the jade, the temptation to sell it and procure money to sneak back into the Fire Nation almost overwhelming. It’s easy; you just have to bring it with you back on board and stop at a different town to pawn it over.

They’d give you like, what, a few hundred yuan? Maybe a thousand if you’re lucky. Either way, it’d take you back home without the need to go through all this. The only thing you’d have to do is lay low and pretend to be dead so that the Fire Lord won’t catch on.

You grapple with these thoughts for a few more minutes, looking up when Iroh calls your name. Hesitating, you glance back down at the jade in your hands. You can almost smell the money that you’d get from selling it.

Iroh calls your name once more, gesturing for you to come back. Pausing, you finally make a decision. You run back to catch up with them. Turning back, you witnessed the same soldier who had lost their jade pendant moments ago now clutching it tightly in their hands, a radiant smile adorning their face.

“I thought I lost it!”

— — — — —

“I’m pretty sure I asked for a vacation, not an interrogation,” You mutter to Hu Ge who’s standing next to you. He shrugs, though the worry in his eyes remains. Iroh had instructed you to head back to the ship while he and Zuko would meet with Zhao.

Once you arrived though, you’d been shoved with the rest of the crew to stand in line on deck, various armed guards poised and ready to attack in case there was a ruckus. Someone you assume to be their captain - or at least has some form of authority, had been going down the line, interrogating each crew member about how the ship got damaged.

One by one, each member revealed that Zuko had found the Avatar and tried to keep him hostage but failed. With every matching testimony and the interrogator growing closer to you, your mind begins to race.

Do you say the same thing as everyone else? Or do you lie, and protect Zuko?

“There’s no point in lying,” Hu Ge grunts beside you, keeping his voice low. “If you’re the only one to say differently, you’ll be thrown in jail and you’ll never get to see the light of day again. You know how they treat traitors here.” You didn’t need confirmation for a shudder to travel down your spine.

You knew perfectly well exactly the sort of treatment you’d receive.

“I know you’re close with him, but you have to put yourself first. You have to survive.” He stares straight ahead, catching the eye of a guard who points their spear at you with a suspicious gaze. “There’s no use dying here.”

“No colluding!” The guard shouts, racing over and grabbing Hu Ge’s arm. They haul him away, punching him in the stomach. “And you,” Another says menacingly, his painful grip on your wrist starting to discolour the skin. “What do you know about the Avatar?”

You want to deny everything, to say that you’re just as clueless as they are. But it’s too late. It’s all or nothing.

“The Avatar is alive,” You confirm, defeatedly accepting the harsh shove that he gives you, your back bumping against the wall. “He’s on the run now, with two companions… We tried to capture him, but he broke out.”

The main interrogator laughs, the rest of the guards breaking into peals of laughter as well. Your arms tense, hands clenched into fists as you battle the urge to kick them all where it hurts. Once their amusement dies down, they get back to interrogating the rest.

Hu Ge is shoved back next to you, bruises now littering his arms. “Good job,” Hee wheezes out through a painful cough, the soldiers now leaving the both of you alone now that they got the information they needed.

You stare down at your wrists, wishing more and more that you were anywhere but here. “Yeah.”

— — — — —

Surely Zuko wouldn’t know that you had also revealed the vital fact that the Avatar’s alive, right?

Wrong. As soon as he got back on the ship, he’d shoved you aside with a harsh push, not sparing a single glance at your pained cry. You stand back up with a wince, giving Uncle Iroh’s hand a grateful squeeze before narrowing your eyes into a glare at Zuko’s back.

“What was that about?” You walk up to him, hands on your hips and doing your best to ignore the stinging pain in your shoulder. He ignores you (no surprise there), looking down at the map in his hands.

Rolling it back up, he continues walking. You match his pace with quick steps of your own, trying to catch your breath as your pride stokes the budding flames of anger in your heart. Very mature Zuko, ignore the only other person that cares for you on this ship.

“Set sail immediately,” he commands upon reaching the ship’s bow, “We’re going after the Avatar.” The crew heed his orders, the ship beginning to depart. “And you,” He turns to finally address you, eyes narrowed into a glare. “You told Zhao’s men that the Avatar is alive.”

“I’m sorry, I think I heard wrong. You can’t seriously be blaming me for that.” You scoff in disbelief, though you quickly regret it when his jaw visibly tenses, his breaths heavier with each word that leaves your lips. The rest of the crew avoid looking directly at you. Having Zuko’s anger directed at just you instead of them is a far better outcome than their potential doom.

“It was either admit it, or be charged for obstruction of their duty! I could’ve been thrown in jail, Zuko!” You argue, faltering as he fixes you with a chilling glare. At this moment, calling him by his name is a mistake. You’d crossed the line, the boundary between your position and his becoming blurred.

“You’re on this ship because you’re supposed to aid me in his capture, not to have a holiday. Or have you forgotten that you’re banished?” Crossing your arms over your chest, you regard him warily. His words hurt, pressing on a sore spot that he knows perfectly well exists.

“I haven’t forgotten,” you frown, now regretting further having opened up to him over these three years. But he’d probably let go of this;you’re friends. “But that’s not the reason I was banished. Your sister framed me for something I didn’t do.”

His fists are clenched at his side, the skin on his knuckles turning pale. “Yeah, and look where that got you. You’re my subordinate. You’re supposed to take orders. Otherwise, get off my ship.”

That stuns you. The rest of the crew pretend to be preoccupied with their own work, but their ears are peeled for any sign of a physical confrontation. Silence falls over you both, Zuko’s chest rising and falling as he stands firm behind his words.

You know perfectly well that his pride refused to let him apologise, or regret what he said to you. Usually you’d let it go, but all that coming from someone you truly regarded as a friend stings.

Instead, you force a sarcastic smile on your lips, trying not to let the fury bubbling within you to show on your face. The best thing to do for now would be to lay low and wait. The opportunity would come sooner or later, to finally leave all this behind. You can’t do that while you’re on a ship.

“Fine.” Your words are curt, refusing to give him even the most basic of pleasantries as you bow with a hand over your heart. “I’ll help you capture the Avatar, Prince Zuko.”

The time will come.

#sokka x reader #sokka #sokka x y/n #atla sokka x reader #atla sokka #atla #atla x reader #avatar the last airbender x reader #x reader

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itsevanffs · 9 months

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hit 800k total in digital writing earlier this week! on ao3 i've got just shy of 400k published, so that just goes to show how much you guys don't see XD

but i'm still going strong! last year at this time i had 200k less (615k) which is absolutely buckwild to me. completely bonkers. 200k written just this year! that's over 15k a month, consistently! almost 4k a week! that's absolutely mind-boggling. where did these words come from.

i know i haven't been posting a lot this year (a lot of stressful things keep happening, like stairs) but i have been absolutely grinding at it behind the scenes, as this demonstrates.

anyways, a few announcements while i'm here:

new year, new me: i plan to change every single one my pfps to something i have demonstrable permission to use, by the new year at the latest. i'm still deciding on what; i do want to stick with it once i choose, because being quickly recognisable is important to me.

anabiosis is really close to being finished. like ridiculously close. i want it to be absolutely perfect so it'll be a little while off yet but i just wanted to let you know that it's almost done! woo!

i've finished the initial planning stage for itd in its entirety and am slowly working on rewriting each chapter. it'll be a while before i'm caught up with the published material right now; i won't actually publish any of it over the old stuff before i've reached that point, so rest easy for now. if you want to download the old version for safekeeping, feel free to do so! i will be keeping a personal copy of the old version permanently as well.

there is a chance, albeit not a very large one, that stepbro fic will be finished somewhere before valentine's day. no hard promises, but keep an eye out just in case!

that's all i wanted to say! thanks so much for reading my fics and being kind to me and each other above all!

#fanfic #in the dark (hamlet fic)#anabiosis #anabiosis au #every time we meet (hello hello)#i'm kind of amazed that i caught the milestone so close to the actual event :P #was kind of expecting to update my spreadsheet like a month after it happened as usual XD

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olsenmyolsen · 3 months

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The Pressure of Someone Else and Rings

Part 43 of On The Inside With Elizabeth Olsen

Word Count: 4K

masterlist

Hello ❤️. This chapter is just short and to move some plot along! I missed Y/n, Liz, and you all so much!

Saturday Morning, May 7th, 2022

Billboard Today "Fans of newcomer hex showed up in force just after midnight last night to see the drop for the tracklist to the artist's debut album. The livestream, which many thought was going to be small, was watched by over 200,000 people. Oh, and what about the songs, you ask? It looks like the album is going to be a solid eleven songs. But just before signing off, hex let it slip that there may be more in the future. Deluxe album, maybe?"

PopCrave "Artist hex debuted their tracklist for their debut album hex last night to awaiting fans. Check out the photo below from the livestream!" photo

MusicStarsNow "In a series of tweets starting with a profile picture change. Artist hex shows fans who missed last night's livestream the painting of the album cover commissioned by a friend of the artist Cyrus Wilcott. Followed by eleven tweets. Each one being a track title with short information about the song. However, the final tweet only contained the song title. Other than that, no release date has been given, but we hope for a summer release!"

Twitter

Saturday July 9th, 2022

Y/N POV

It's the day of the twin's birthday party, and Liz and I have finally made it to Ashley's after a grueling morning. On top of that, this moment has been a long time coming. It's been a few months since we've seen the two dirty blondes. They couldn't attend my birthday party last month since it was just a small get-together with the band, local friends, Max, Ivy, myself and Liz. And they were busy traveling for their brand all while having their actual birthday a few days prior.

Yeah, sure, we've had FaceTime calls and our group chat, but it just hasn't been the same. So anyway. Here we are.

At the twins (a month late) birthday get-together.

We made it.

"Y/n." Liz draws my attention towards her as she lifts her hand to pick up a hair from my face as we stand outside the door of Ashley's giant home in the city. "There we go. That's been bothering me since we left our new place." I can't help but laugh. "Why did you wait till now?"

Liz shrugs but hides a smile.

I roll my eyes. "You're lucky you're cute," I say, making Liz grip my arm tighter and pull her towards me as I stumble. "Oh, is that all I am?"

"Right now, you're being sexy, and it's unfair," I reply, but before Liz can rebut, the door opens, revealing Mary-Kate on the other side. In an instant, Liz removes her arm from me and hugs her shorter sister. "Oh, Lizzie!" Mary-Kate shouts as she accepts the loving hug.

I can't help but smile as I watch the two.

"Oh my goodness, I love this dress." MK unwraps herself from my girlfriend as she moves her hands down the dress. "Dôen?" Mary-Kate guesses correctly, making myself and Liz shocked. "How do you know that?!" Liz stamps her foot like a child, making me laugh. "I was hoping this would stump you."

Mary-Kate raises her eyebrows and hums. "It's my job, Lizzie." MK moves her attention to me. "Y/n!" She cheers and makes a big show of it just to get under Liz's skin. And it works. "She's wearing my clothes, so you probably already know it all."

Mary-Kate looks over my fit, and she notices every article of clothing. But before commenting on it, she turns to her sister. "You know you already have her, so you don't need to loudly claim your territory." Liz shrugs and crosses her arms as Mary-Kats turns back to me. Her hands still hot on my arms.

"I must say you have good taste." MK looks up to my eyes and winks, forcing Liz to step between us. "Okay!" I shake my head at Mary-Kate's teasing as she tries to stop Liz from pulling me away. "Lizzie, stop. I was joking. Come on." Liz looks back and sighs. "Okay, you're right."

"I know I am." MK smirks. "Aren't you going for therapy for your jealousy issues?"

She was.

Liz glared at her sister, who had taken the hint. "Right. Okay. Let's see... Sparrow Top from Dôen. Again." Mary Kate hummed. "Jesse Kamm pants. Oh wow!" MK squats in her jeans and white wavy blouse to look closer at my (Liz's) brown leather shoes. "Manolo Blahnik. They look great!" Mary-Kate says as she looks up to Liz. "I know," Liz says before breaking out into a smile.

MK huffs as she rises. "Regardless, you both look great!"

Liz and I compliment Mary-Kate and refuse to guess where her clothes are from before leaving the entryway.

That'd be impossible.

We find Ashley amid a phone call to her boyfriend, Louis. A sweet guy I've only met a handful of times. One of those being Thanksgiving! Apparently, he couldn't make it to the birthday dinner tonight. He left early this morning on a business trip.

At least, this is all according to what Mary-Kate was mouthing to Liz and me while Ash wrapped up her call.

"Love you too! Bye!" Ashley flipped her phone down with her left hand and ran like an excited kid to her younger sister. "You're here!" She said as she squeezed Liz. "Oh, Lizzie! It's been too long! I'm growing sentimental in my old age."

"Hey!" Mary-Kate loudly whined to Ashley's words. "We're not old!" Ashely ignored her as she moved her eyes to me. "Y/n!" Just as quick I'm being wrapped up in a hug. I missed this. "Hi, Ash!" I say with a chuckle.

"Okay, that you don't have a problem with, but I look at Y/n a little too long, and I get the glare?" Mary-Kate whines to Liz who rolls her eyes. "Mary-Kate, let's not dwell on things," Ashley says as she laughs at Liz, who is already grabbing wine and glasses for the three of us. And a water for MK.

Thoughtful even when she's annoyed by her sister.

Ashley walks around the spacious kitchen to help pour the wine into the glasses, and Mary-Kate focuses on grabbing some snacks for tonight's events. Speaking of...

"So when is everyone else getting here?" Liz asks as if she could read my mind. I mean, the four of us aren't necessarily a party. It could be, but it isn't.

"Well, Ruby is on her way. She had to take care of some personal things first." I smile at hearing those words. Mary-Kate is still seeing her former assistant and now full-time girlfriend, Ruby.

As far as I know, she still works for the Row but has had to be relocated to a different department. I remember Mary-Kate complaining about the unfairness of it because she was the boss. Ashley just laughed.

"Courtney might swing by!" Ash says as she picks up her phone. "Might?" Liz curiously asks. Mary-Kate takes this one. "She and Vanessa just flew into the city last night. Then I think tomorrow morning they're going to Wyoming. No, that's not right..." Mary-Kate slowly stops as her thoughts consume her. Liz stands by, confused. I mean, I am, too, because last we heard, Court was about to land an audition for an undisclosed streaming show.

"What about the show?" Liz asks as she looks from one sister to the other. Mary-Kate sees the look. "Oh, she didn't get it..." MK says with a frown before tilting her head at Liz and myself. "She didn't tell you?" Liz and I look at one another and shake our heads.

Ashley looks to me. "Aren't you and her like besties?"

I wouldn't say besties, but I have a close friendship with Courtney. She reminds me a lot of Max most of the time, which may be why Court feels like a friend I've had for a while. Not just Liz's sister.

But why didn't she say anything?

"No." Liz and I both say, earning a look from the twins. "Are we missing something?" I ask. "Well, it happened weeks ago." I slowly nod. "And the exact words are lost on me now, but..." Ashely trails off. "It's like the first couple of times you tried out for parts, Lizzie," Mary-Kate concludes. My attention turns from one sister to the other as Liz closes her eyes and sighs.

"They're comparing her to me," Liz says quietly with a heartbroken expression. My mouth drops, seeing the beaten look on her face. I quickly move to be by her side. Ashley looked just as hurt. "Well, I see why she didn't tell us," Liz says to the room, but I still nod to her words.

"You know it's not your fault." Mary-Kate immediately speaks up to let Liz know that she indeed had nothing to do with this. "But it's still unfair," Liz says back, making the twins nod.

I slowly rub my arm up and down Liz's back. Liz sighs. I can see she's already thinking about how to talk to Courtney about this.

"Is there anything I can do?" Liz offers. Ashley looks to her twin for an answer.

"Maybe stop being so good?" Mary-Kate cautiously says, hoping to break the mood. I chuckle, and Liz follows on her own. It's small, but it happens. "You're clearly going to win an Oscar one day."

"That's what I keep saying!" I pipe up, earning a smile from MK and an eye roll from Liz. "Guys, be serious."

"Even if it is true?" Ash asks as her eyebrow raises. Liz sighs again before finding herself a spot to sit. Mary-Kate watches as Ash follows their sister. Sitting next to her at the kitchen island. "Lizzie." Ash grabs her sister's hand with her right one and squeezes it. "It's not your fault, and as much as it sucks, Courtney is going to have to power through like you did."

"But I don't want her to do that."

"That's because she's your sister, and you love her." Ash smiles at Liz, who nods and smiles back. "Maybe you can talk to her about it later." Liz nods again and lowly laughs as she speaks. "You sounded a lot like mom just now."

Ash goes wide-eyed and pulls her arms very comedically away from Liz. "I am not ready to be a mother!"

Cut to: The Halloween party later this year when Ash tells us she pregnant while I'm dressed up like a vampire with fake teeth and a horrible Transylvanian accent and everything. All the while, Liz was dressed as "Red Head Black Latex Hero," according to the Halloween store Liz went to three weeks before this.

"Well, I'm not having kids," Mary-Kate says before I see her pull out her phone and look at it. Her face looks up from her phone to Liz and back down before she hits the button on the side and puts it down.

Ignoring whoever was calling.

Liz laughs as her sister as she lets her back rest against the seat. I look at MK with a "who was that" look once she faces me. "Dad." MK mouths and turns her head as a way to end the conversation.

A flat smile forms on my face.

Liz still has yet to talk to her father since Thanksgiving. I've already moved on from that day, but my girlfriend hasn't. I don't blame her, and I can try to convince her to talk to her father all day long, but at the end of the day, it's Liz's decision.

One myself, her sisters, and the rest of the family have all come to terms with.

I tune back into the conversation as the Olsens pick up their wine glasses and water. "Come on." Liz laughs as she stands in front of me. "We're moving to the living room." She laughs as she grabs my hand and pulls me. "What were you thinking about?" Liz asks. You take a beat to answer. "Your father called Mary-Kate." Liz stops in her tracks. "How do you know?"

"I watched her ignore it." I look at her green eyes as they wobble slightly. "And she told me."

"You know I agree with whatever you decide now or in the future, but have you thought about talking to him recently?"

Liz and I are stopped in the glorious living room entryway. Ashley and MK noticed a while ago and have done their best "we're not eavesdropping" expression.

But they aren't precisely acting it out very well.

"I have," Liz admits before sighing and seeing her sisters out of the corner of her eye. "We can talk about it later." She whispers, and I nod and agree. Whatever she's comfortable with.

"Okay, stop being weird, you two, and don't bring it up," Liz says nervously as she sets her wine glass down and sits on a loveseat before patting the cushion for me to join her.

A thing I happily do!

The twins agree, but when Liz doesn't notice, they have a silent conversation with themselves.

Twins do be weird like that.

Anyways!

"Oh right, so who else is coming!?" Liz asks once the conversation has shifted from not talking about David Olsen to talking about Liz's garden, my album, Geneva, a little bit of baseball, my continuous lack of my own vehicle, and finally coming back around to Liz's acting skills and the lack of future projects.

Little Miss Not A Lot Going On Right Now.

I've seen the scripts on her desk and email.

"So Courtney and Ness maybe, Ruby, Chelsea, Juliet, Lana, and some other friends.

"She means models," Mary-Kate speaks openly as Ashley gives her an annoyed glare. "And you're sure you just want something small?" Liz is perfectly normal doing a small birthday but she knows that MK and Ash usually like to do something a little more extravagant.

Ash nodded. "I'm more than fine with it. I have things planned, too." She says before she picks up her glass and takes a sip as she again looks at Mary-Kate.

I hum to myself quietly, as this isn't the first time I've noticed them eyeing one another.

But a second later, I almost choked on my white wine.

Did I forget?

Did Liz tell me?

She's not freaking out about it...

One by one, these thoughts fly by as I pull my eyes up from the giant rock on Ashley's left hand.

She's engaged??

How did I miss that earlier??

The doorbell to the townhouse rings, making the twins rise and squeal as Ash looks at the security camera on her phone. "It's Ruby!" Mary-Kate is racing to the front door in a flash.

Liz smiles and adores seeing her older sister love and be loved.

Meanwhile, I'm struggling to consider whether I was told about Ash and the acknowledgment of marriage.

Liz rises from the loveseat to get ready to greet Ruby once they come back before I grab her hand. "Liz?" I say, making the sweet dark blonde eye me. "What's up?"

I open and close my mouth. "Di-did- okay, I know I've been working a lot on the album, and so many days I'm like exhausted, but did... did you tell me that Ash got engaged and I just forgot?" Liz's concerned look turns into one confusion. "What?" She asks before I end up following her into the foyer.

Liz interrupts everyone's greeting as she grabs Ashley's left hand and lifts it to her face. "Oh my gosh!!" Liz drops the hand and jumps up and down before hugging her sister. "Took you long enough!" Mary-Kate loudly says as Ruby slaps her girlfriend's arm lightly. "Babe!"

"When did this happen, and why didn't you tell me?!"

I give a quick hello to Ruby as Ash folds due to the integration process she's become a part of.

"It happened last night." Liz covers her mouth in shock at Ashely's words. "We went out to dinner, walked the park, came home, did our nightly routine, and then as we were laying in bed, he got up and was gone for about three minutes before he came back into the room with the box. He was going to propose over dinner but had gotten so nervous before we left that he switched his jacket with the ring inside of it and didn't realize until we had already left."

Ash looked at her hand with a smile. "Apparently, he had planned to propose so many times the weeks prior."

Liz didn't say anything else but wrapped her older sister up into a hug. She was elated for her. "Oh my gosh!"

"Looks like you're next," MK says as she bumps my shoulder.

Oh, don't worry, Mary-Kate, I'm like three steps ahead of you.

"Honey, stop!" Ruby softly hits MK again before dragging the one twin to the kitchen for tea. "Congrats, Ashley!" I say once I'm allowed to hug the older Olsen. "You know this means you'll be singing at our wedding."

I smile and laugh. "Of course. I assume it pays well?" Now, it's my turn for my partner to slap me and tell me to stop. "We'll plan around your tour." Ashley smiles brightly. "Speaking of, have you heard when it will start?"

I shake my head. "December is the rumor if the album sells well immediately. The label is kind of taking a risk on me, so they want to push me as quickly as they can. Hoping everything will work out, and who knows, maybe it'll be pushed to spring." I shrug.

A few weeks from now, after the album's first week sales came back, a tour was announced to start in January.

"December can work," Ash says with a sly smile. "No!" Liz says with shock and excitement. "That's what we're doing tonight!?"

It finally clicked for Liz and I.

The "party" tonight is to help plan Ashley's wedding.

Before she goes to a professional, of course.

"Oh, and don't worry!" MK says as she and Ruby return. "Ashley and I know someplace where we can get a custom wedding dress."

Ash groans at the joke.

But I don't think I could survive if the wedding dress is anything like the one Liz wore the night she won the Emmy for WandaVision.

It's not sometimes my lock screen for no reason. (Other than the fact I'm not allowed to have Natasha Romanoff anymore.)

As time moves by, more guests slowly start to arrive and cry out in excitement once Ash flashes the ring. The later into the evening it got until Courtney and her girlfriend Ness showed up.

Courtney almost practically pushed Ashley over from the happiness coursing through her.

Liz kept her eyes on Court as she slowly walked through the crowds of people looking at hundreds of wedding mockups. "Hey, Courtney!" Liz said as she found her sister, who glanced at us. "Oh, Lizzie!" Courtney looked ecstatic to see Liz. So either she indeed was or was actually a better actress than Hollywood knew.

"Y/n!" She said as she wrapped her arms around me and pulled me close. "It's been a minute!"

"It has!" I reply. "I've just been busy," I add on, making Courtney nod. "Me too."

"Yeah, how are auditions going!?" My girlfriend asks with no sense of slickness. Ness arrived at my side and gave a little wave as we watched the sisters interact. "They told you, didn't they?" Court says back with a sigh.

Liz's face forms a frown. "I'm sorry..." Court shakes her head. "It's not your fault."

Liz hesitates before speaking.

"But is there anything I can do?" Courtney shakes her head again. "No. I've made peace with it after crying and screaming about it." Court gives a nervous chuckle. "Plus, I still want it to be done my own way, so you doing nothing is actually beneficial."

I peek over at Liz, and I can tell she hates the idea of doing nothing. She wants to help. Call up who she can, but even she knows that the more Courtney does without her interference, the more successful she'll be.

"Okay," Liz says, defeated, before Courtney moves in to make her big sister feel better. "I'm still going to auditions, but I think maybe directing and producing might be my avenue."

A lightbulb goes off above me.

"Excuse me," I say to Ness as I move past her to the kitchen and to the backyard. A firepit, ivy, and an outdoor set that probably cost more than the car I'm looking to buy sits in the back.

"Hello?" My man of manager Bo says into the phone. "Hey, I think I might've found someone to direct the music video for Always, Joni."

"Great!" Bo replies, "Send their information over!"

"Okay, will do!" I breathe out a sigh of relief. "By the way, it's Liz's half-sister. Okay, bye!" I close the phone before Bo can make a huff about anything.

That man worries too much.

I mean, I did already have a stalker before my career even started, so I guess that's something.

"Hey!" Liz says, making me turn around on my heels. "I was wondering where you went off to." Liz looks behind her before returning to me and pulling my face closer until we kiss. I place my phone in my pocket and pull her body into mine as one kiss turns into two, three, and more. "I love you," Liz says once she pulls back. Her green eyes shooting mine.

"I love you too," I say as I move her bangs around before Liz shakes her head with a laugh. "Oh my gosh, stop!"

I stop and place my arms around her once more as we slowly move from side to side in Ashely's backyard. The orange sky becomes darker as the summer sun moves further away. "I can't believe she's engaged." I hum back. "And she wants the wedding to be in December."

My mind places a question in my head as I kiss the top of Liz's noggin.

"What?" Liz says as she looks to me. "What?" I reply, but Liz smiles. "You want to ask me something."

She can see right through me.

"I was just wondering... when maybe you would want to get married..." I close my mouth and look at my incredible girlfriend.

"Y/n..?" Liz asks as she tilts her head. Her smile never faltering. "I'm just wondering, not asking," I say, only to earn a nod. "Okay. We do this a lot." Liz giggles. "The I'm asking you about marriage but I'm not proposing thing."

"Well, nothing about us is ever easy or normal, so why should this."

"Some things are normal," Lizzie replies, and I only roll my eyes until I ask again. "So, thoughts?"

Liz is quiet for a minute, and I let her process her thoughts.

"Honestly, I don't have any. Getting married in the summer or winter. The wedding could be big or small. In the backyard or on a beach. As long as it's to you, I'm happy."

I wasn't expecting those words to hit me as much as they did, but I quickly find water filling my eyes. "Oh, baby!" Liz moves her hands from my back and shoulder to my face to wipe a fallen tear. "Fuck I think I'm starting my period soon."

Liz shakes her head. "I love you."

"I love you too, Elizabeth Olsen."

"Gross! Come on, guys, we're arguing over the wedding cake!" Mary-Kate's booming and disgusted voice makes us jump and cower before she's gone as she yells, "Found them, they were kissing!"

Liz's head falls into my chest. "You're not performing at her wedding." I can't help but laugh as Liz and I walk back into the house hand in hand.

The question won't be soon, but the custom ring I am waiting to pick up looks promising every day.

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sailor-aviator · 8 months

Text

Fool's Fare: Chapter Five

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Captain Jake "Hangman" Seresin had come close to swinging from the gallows more times than he would care to admit. He's stolen, cheated, even killed. The worst thing he's ever done? Broken the heart of a woman. Having broken the heart of the woman whom Davy Jones himself had fallen for six years ago, Jake is now cursed to live as something not dead, but not alive. He's doomed to live a half-life for the rest of his existence unless he manages to obtain the treasure Davy Jones deems most valuable. The problem? He has no idea what it is, and he only had seven years to obtain it.

Trigger Warning: Language, Big brother Bradley, Secrets, Feelings of betrayal, Abandonment issues from the reader, Reader says something she'll regret later, Allusions to prostitution and violent men, Magic, Curses, Supernatural is real, Reader cries, Feelings of helplessness, Pirate!Jake. I think that's it, but let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 4k

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

“What do you mean you still haven’t eaten?”

Bradley winced at your tone, running a hand through his brown locks as he eyed you wearily. You had meant to drag him to the physician at the last port you had docked at, but the excitement from the day prior had wiped the issue completely from your brain. Who knew falling overboard could do that to a person?

Now here you were a week later, and it had finally dawned on you that you hadn’t seen your brother eat much more than an apple here and there. You had kept quiet the past two days, silently observing him, and here you sat in the galley, Bradley to your right with Mickey and Nat sat across from you. The rest of the crew milled about, and it wouldn’t be long before Bob and Reuben joined your little group for breakfast.

“It’s not that serious, Guppy,” he murmured, casting a weary look at the two sitting across from you. “I feel fine.”

“Bradley, you aren’t eating,” you scowled, turning your own gaze to your new friends. “Tell him he needs to go see a physician.”

The two shared a look before Mickey shook his head, putting his hands up in surrender while Nat sighed.

“Yeah, I’m definitely not getting in the middle of a sibling squabble,” she drawled, taking a bite of her apple. You rolled your eyes, turning back to look at the brunette beside you.

“As soon as we dock, I’m going to go find a physician,” you told him, pressing your lips into a firm line as you stared him down. Your father had always said that you get your temper and attitude from your mother.

“It’s like a miniature you running around everywhere, Pen!” He’d laugh, throwing his head back as you gave him the best scowl your six year old self could come up with. Your mother would roll her eyes, biting back a smile as she watched you glare at the older man.

“She’s going to strike fear into the heart of everyone who crosses her, mark my words!” He grinned, reaching out to gather you in his arms.

“Don’t give me that look,” you scowled as Bradley gave you a dubious look. “I mean it! We’re finding a physician the next time we dock.”

“Alright, fine,” he grumbled, moving to stand, holding up his hand when you made to say something else. “By all means, go find a physician, Guppy. In the meantime, I’m going to go get some work done on deck before we dock.”

“Javy said we should make landfall within the hour,” Nat provided, watching as the brunette rounded the table towards the stairs. You watched after him, chewing on your bottom lip in worry. Were you really in the wrong for worrying after him so? Surely not. Bradley had always been stubborn, ever since the two of you were children. If anything, he wasn’t worrying nearly enough about his current condition.

“He’s going to be okay, you know,” Nat said, reaching out to hold your hand in hers. She offered you a gentle smile as she squeezed it lightly. “Maybe you should give him some time?”

“I’ve given him plenty of time,” you mumbled, glaring half-heartedly at the stairs where Bradley had just disappeared. “He needs to see a physician if he’s not eating. It could be illness.”

“He seems fine to me,” Mickey offered with a shrug. “A physician would be a waste of time, anyway.”

“Why’s that?” You asked, brow furrowing at his words. Nat shot him a pointed look, and Mickey straightened up as if just realizing what it was that he said.

“Oh, I just mean,” he trailed off, looking at Nat for help. All she offered was an unimpressed glare as he fumbled for how to continue.

“I just mean,” he stammered, “that physicians never really know what they’re doing, right? I mean, they’ll prescribe plants and leeches and-”

“Mickey?” Nat interrupted, raising an eyebrow and resting her chin on her fist.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

“Oh thank God,” Mickey mumbled, looking away and catching sight of Bob and Reuben making their way towards your table. Bob sat down next to you, bumping your shoulder with his in greeting as Mickey and Nat made room for Reuben on the other side.

“What are we talking about?” Bob asked, taking a bite of his oats.

“I’m going to go and find a physician for Bradley once we dock,” you told him. He paused, stiffening next to you for a moment before continuing with his food.

“What?” You asked, a tinge of annoyance evident in your town. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just chewing before swallowing.

“Is a physician really what he needs?” He asked carefully, glancing up at your friends on the other side of the table. You rolled your eyes fixing the bespectacled man with an annoyed look.

“Is there some sailor superstition about physicians being bad luck that I don’t know about?” You questioned, glancing around the table. Everyone refused to meet your eyes, and you felt another twinge of aggravation in your chest.

“No,” Bob replied, shaking his head, spoon clacking against the side of his bowl as he moved the oats around. “It’s just that they’re costly, you know? I’d hate for you to waste all that money only for there to be nothing wrong with him.”

“He’s not eating,” you replied dryly. “I think that’s plenty of cause to go and see a physician. I’ll deal with the cost when we get there.”

Shouting could be heard from on deck, and all of you glanced up at the sudden outcry.

“Sounds like we’ve reached land,” Reuben commented, focusing back on his plate.

“Perfect timing,” you chirped, already moving to stand. You cast a final smile to your friends, giving a small wave as you made your way towards the stairs. “I’ll see you all up there!”

It was still a few hours before anyone was allowed to leave the ship, Jake and Javy making sure that everyone had been inspected for signs of illness per the harbormaster’s orders. You kept silent about Bradley’s lack of appetite, certain that if it were contagious, then the others would be showing signs as well. Once the ship had been cleared and deemed healthy, you all set about preparing the ship to settle.

It was the late afternoon by the time you finished your tasks, and you set about trying to pin down Bradley.

“Have you seen him?” You asked Nat as you hung in the doorway to your shared cabin, having ran from the galley to the private quarters. She glanced up at you in the mirror, a quizzical look on her face as you fought to catch your breath.

“Who?”

“Bradley, of course,” you chuckled, straightening up and stepping further into the room. “Who else would I be talking about?”

She hummed noncommittally, turning her focus back towards her bun.

“I haven’t seen him,” she responded finally. “But I haven’t seen the others either. Perhaps they’ve already gone ahead and gone out?”

Your lips pulled into a frown as you realized that, save for Bob just moments before, you hadn’t seen Mickey or Reuben either.

“He wouldn’t,” you growled, earning another look from the woman in front of you. Your jaw dropped in indignation. “That rat!”

“He’s your brother,” she shrugged, once again turning back to the mirror. You let out another growl, turning to stomp your way back onto the deck. The oaf you called a brother would have to come back to the ship at some point, and it was then that you would corner him.

Meanwhile, your boots stomped across the deck and towards the gangway, mind bound and determined to find a physician at this small port. The docks were already crowded in the late afternoon, and you found yourself having to push through throngs of people just to get into the streets themselves. You weren’t sure where you should be looking, but you were sure that a port town of this size had to have some kind of physician. All around you, merchants of all kind hollered to the passing travelers, some selling food, others selling trinkets.

“Fine wares for your misses, sir!”

“Fish for sale!”

“How’s about a shilling for an hour of your pleasure, mister?”

You shied away from the last one, not wishing to be caught up in that business. People did what they needed to survive, but you were weary of the men who tended to hang around those parts.

“Interested in apples, miss?”

You turned to find an older woman staring directly at you, knobbed fingers outstretched to offer you a bright, red apple. She was missing a few teeth, that you could see as she smiled up at you, her silver hair falling out of her bun in wisps.

“They’re just a three for a shilling,” she continued, waving it up at you. “Tha’s quite the bargain.”

“No,” you shook your head. “No, thank you. Would you happen to know where I can find a physician?”

“A physician?” She parroted, her arm dropping back to her side as she studied you. “Doesn’t look like anythin’s wrong with you.”

“It’s not for me,” you corrected her. “It’s for my brother. I think he might be sick since he hasn’t been eating.”

“Not eatin’, you say?” She hummed thoughtfully. “Was a boy back when I was a girl meself who stopped eatin’ one day, there was. Was fit as a fiddle and then just dropped dead one day, the poor lad.”

“Yes, well,” you swallowed thickly, feeling ice run up your spine at her words, “I’d like to keep that from happening to my brother, if you don’t mind. So, do you know of any physicians here in town?”

“Oh, aye, aye,” she nodded, her wayward strands of hair flying all over the place. “Physician’s just a few streets over, love. A fine man he is, too. Helped me sister when she was puking buckets a few years back. Set her right as rain he did.”

“You said he’s a few streets down?” You prodded.

“Aye, just three streets down and to the right from here. There’s a big ole sign out front, you can’t miss it,” she said, waving in the general direction of where you needed to head. You followed the gesture, looking back and nodding.

“Thank you,” you smiled, turning and making your way through the crowd once more. It took you all of fifteen minutes to find the building the old woman was talking about, a bright blue sign with the word “physician” painted in white letters hanging above the streets as you approached. Worming your way through, you finally managed to trudge your way through the door, slamming it closed behind you with a wince at the loud sound in the unusually quiet room.

It was your standard physician’s office, the wood floors creaking as you wandered further into the dimly lit room. The walls behind the counter were filled to the brim with different herbs and potions meant for treating different ailments. It wasn’t long before an older man walked out from the backroom, peering at you curiously from over the rim of his glasses.

“Might I help you with something, young lady?” he inquired, rubbing his hands clean with a cloth towel.

“Yes, actually,” you smiled, crossing the rest of the distance to stand just in front of him, only the counter separating the two of you. “I came because of my brother. He hasn’t been eating the last few weeks, and it has me worried.”

“Hasn’t been eating, hm?” He hummed, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. “Does he have any other symptoms?”

“Now that you mention it, no,” you frowned, suddenly finding it odd that the only thing physically wrong with Bradley was his apparent lack of an appetite. “He sleeps just fine, and he looks healthy as he usually does.”

“No fever?” He continued.

“No, nothing like that,” you assured him.

“Vomiting?”

You shook your head, earning another hum from the older man.

“And, uh,” he smiled, a gesture you were sure was meant to be comforting, “what is it your brother does for a living?”

“He’s a sailor.”

“A sailor,” he nodded, cocking his head to the side. “And why isn’t he here with you now?”

“He thinks he doesn’t need a physician,” you scowled, crossing your arms. “He was supposed to come with me, but snuck off before I could grab him.”

The physician chuckled at that, tossing the cloth onto the counter as he leaned against it.

“Well, unfortunately, there’s not much I can do about his situation without seeing him in person, miss. How long is he in town for?”

“We’re here for at least another day,” you told him, earning another nod.

“Bring him by tomorrow,” he instructed. “I’ll take a look at him before you two leave town.”

“Thank you,” you sighed, relief washing over you in waves. “I really appreciate this, you have no idea.”

“I’ll keep the shop open until sundown. After that, I make no promises.”

“We’ll be here!” You assured him, turning to leave, weary of the setting sun shining through the window. You waved at him from over your shoulder, offering one last smile as you exited the shop.

“Bradley,” you huffed, arms crossed and eyes narrowed at the taller brunette. The two of you were currently in another argument about going to the physician, your window before the shop closed rapidly waning as the sun sank lower and lower towards the horizon. You had tried to stay awake the night before, waiting for Bradley on deck before falling asleep on one of the dozen barrels scattered about. You had inexplicably woken up in your bed that morning, still dressed in the clothes from the day before. When you had entered the galley, he was still absent, the rest of your little friend group remaining tight lipped about where he might be. The rest of your day was spent meal prepping and taking inventory with Bob until finally, the man had run out of chores for you two to do. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was keeping you busy on purpose.

You had sat perched in the same spot as the night before, eyes trained on the gangway until a familiar head of brown hair peeked over the deck. He spotted you right away, freezing in his tracks before making a beeline for the stairs leading below deck. You were hot on his heels, your temper surfacing as you finally cornered him.

“Guppy,” he replied cooly, refusing to meet your eye as he scanned the galley for help.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you accused him, earning a scoff.

“Have not.”

“Have to.”

“Have not.”

“You have to, and don’t even try to deny it again,” you snapped, poking him in the chest. “We have precious little time to get to the physician before he closes up shop for the day. He was kind enough to keep it open as long as he is, now let’s go.”

“I’m not going,” he muttered. You froze, balking at his tone.

“What?”

“I’m not going, Guppy,” he repeated, still not meeting your gaze, golden eyes locked on something just past your shoulder. You let out a humorless chuckle, shaking your head in exasperation.

“Bradley-”

“I’m not going, and that’s final,” he growled. “Drop it.”

You stared at him for a long moment, your anger and sadness welling up all at once inside of you.

“You really want to leave me alone, don’t you?” You whispered. Bradley’s eyes snapped to you, still firm, but now with an edge of uncertainty to them. “First it was Papa, then Mama. I only had you, and now you’re determined to leave me too. You’d rather see me alone than go see the stupid physician, is that it?”

His face dropped into a look of horror, regret swirling in his eyes as he reached for you. “Guppy-”

You took a step back, feeling the hot, angry tears sting at your eyes. You fixed him with your meanest glare, cursing yourself when you felt your bottom lip begin to tremble.

“If you want to die so bad,” you sniffled, “then by all means, go ahead. Just leave me out of it.”

And with that, you turned on your heals and practically sprinted towards the stairs, the eyes of the rest of the crew fixed on you the entire way. You were vaguely aware of Bob’s concerned face peering at you from the kitchen, Mickey and Reuben seated not too far away. You passed Nat, ignoring her outstretched hands as you thundered past her and Javy up the stairs. The wind sent a chill down your heated face, only made worse when the tears finally began to fall. The sun was just above the horizon now, the sky painted in an array of pinks and oranges as it beckoned the night.

“Rough time?”

You jumped, spinning around to find Jake leaning against the railing on the far side of the ship. His golden blonde hair shimmered in the evening light. The sun kissed the horizon just passed his shoulder, creating a halo that glowed around him. If you didn’t already know him, you’d think he was an angel. He stares at you as if he could see into the very depths of your soul, his olive green eyes never wavering.

“What do you care?” You snapped, furiously rubbing at your eyes to rid them of any tears. Jake watched you intently, as if knowing that you would continue. “Bradley’s not eating.”

“Of course he’s not,” Jake replied, no hint of malice or sarcasm in his voice. Just a simple statement, but it made you tense up nonetheless.

“He hasn’t eaten in weeks,” you clarified, unsure if maybe he misunderstood you. He nodded, face unchanging.

“I know.”

“You know?” You asked incredulously. “You know, and you’ve done nothing about it?”

“There’s nothing to be done about it,” he shrugged, and you felt your whole body stiffen in anger.

“He needs a physician,” you snapped, fists clenched so hard at your sides, you thought you might draw blood with how your nails dug into your palms.

“A physician can’t cure what’s wrong with him, darlin’,” he drawled, as if explaining something so obvious. Your jaw ticked in annoyance.

“And what, pray tell, is wrong with my brother, captain?” You spat, the title earning a twitch from the blond’s lips.

“Do you believe in Davy Jones, Guppy?” he asked. That was unexpected. The change in conversation had your head jerking back, confusion stifling the anger momentarily.

“I believe he’s a scary story that parents tell their children to scare them into being good,” you responded, thinking back to the stories your own father would tell you. “He’s not real.”

Jake gave a humorless chuckle, closing his eyes and letting out a deep sigh. He ran a hand through his golden locks, looking out over the side of the ship and to the sea. The sound of the gulls and the creak of the ship as it rocked in the waves were the only things to be heard before he spoke. “I can assure you, he’s real.”

“Stop teasing,” you snapped, crossing your arms and fixing him with a glare. He gave you a wry smile, a look of sadness barely discernable in his eyes as they swept over you.

“If only it were that,” he started. “I didn’t believe in curses until six years ago, if you can believe that.”

“And what happened six years ago to make you a believer?” you asked, rolling your eyes. You were in no mood to be mocked or played with, and this man was wasting your time with his nonsense. You glanced over his shoulder. If you could wrap this conversation up, perhaps you could somehow convince Bradley to go with you to get the care he needed.

Jake paused. “Six years ago, I met a woman. She was beautiful, sweet, caring. The kinds of things most men want in a woman.”

“And you don’t?” you questioned.

“Those are nice things to have,” he hummed thoughtfully, then he gave you a small smirk. “But I’ve always wanted a little more.”

You ignored the shiver that smirk sent through you. “So, I’m guessing you took this woman to bed?”

“I did,” Jake admitted, pursing his lips. “And then I left her. Only, I didn’t know that there was another man in love with her at the time.”

“And he beat you senseless?” You guessed, letting out a snort of derision.

“Haven’t you been paying attention, darlin’?” He chuckled. “That man was none other than Davy Jones himself. Risen from the deep to exact vengeance on little, old me.”

“Right,” you scoffed. Surely he couldn’t be expecting you to believe him? He was speaking of fairytales. “And what, pray tell, does this curse involve exactly?”

“I, and everyone in my crew, are destined to exist on this earth in limbo. Not alive, but not dead either. A half-life. We eat, but we are never full. Our food tasting like ash.” He stood up, walking slowly towards you as he continued talking. “We drink, but our thirst is never quenched. The finest wines leave our throat dry like the desert.”

He cupped your cheek, stroking it before resting his thumb on your bottom lip, and you willed yourself to stay focused on the conversation at hand, despite the warmth the seemingly innocent action sparked in you. “We can feel, but no touch leaves us satisfied. I and every other member of this crew have taken many women to bed, only to crave more and more as this insatiable need for contact drives us mad. I’ve not known relief from another person’s touch in over six years.”

“Must be lonely,” you said softly. A look of unadulterated despair ran across Jake’s face, and it was then that you knew in your heart that he was telling the truth. It was the look of a man with ghosts that followed him, taunting him into submission, and you sucked in a harsh breath as he stared at you. His eyes shone with unshed tears, his breaths coming in ragged for a moment before he was able to compose himself.

“It’s agony,” he admitted quietly, dropping his hand back to his side, almost reluctantly.

“Did Davy Jones give you a way to lift the curse?” you asked, a sense of urgency in your tone. If there was a way you could help Bradley and your new friends, you had to try.

Jake didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he sighed, “I have to find what he considers to be the greatest treasure of all.”

“And what is that?”

“He didn’t say,” Jake muttered, head hanging low.

Your brow furrowed. “But, how are you supposed to find it if you don’t even know what it is you’re looking for?”

“Isn’t that the point?” he snorted, a humorless smile etched onto his face as he looked back at you. A sense of dread filled you, and you did your best to push it to the side. Giving up was not an option, it never had been for you.

“Well, you have all the time in the world to find what it is you’re looking for,” you offered, giving him a soft smile. He shook his head, the wry smile finding a home on his face once more.

“Old Jonesy only gave me seven years to find it before the curse becomes permanent.”

“Seven years?” you exclaimed, ice drenching your bones. “But you said this happened six years ago!”

“I did,” he said softly, watching you put the pieces together.

“But, that means…” you trailed off, horror overtaking your senses. Jake nodded.

“I have less than one year left to find the treasure.”

A/N: This one goes out to all my Fool's Fare girlies who have been waiting patiently for two months now for an update and haven't complained once! Y'all are the real MVPs. If you haven't heard, I'm redoing my tag lists, so please be sure to sign up for this new one! As always, reblogs and comments are appreciated and encouraged! And don't ever hesitate to pop into my inbox to talk about my fics or anything else! You can also find my works on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator!

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goforth-ladymidnight · 8 months

Text

A Second Chance

Ch. 7

Pairing: Tamlin x Lucien

Word Count: 4k (I know it's shorter than usual, but the next chapter will make up for it)

Summary: Tamlin is not the only one keeping secrets

Available to read on AO3, or below the cut:

A blanket of fresh snow crunched beneath the tires as Lucien slowly pulled through the wrought iron gate and into the circular drive.

Tamlin leaned forward in the passenger seat to get a better view of the large, three-story manor. “Where are we?”

“My brother’s house,” Lucien explained as he shifted the car into Park. “Eris. You’ve met him before, I think. When I brought you home for Christmas that first year.”

“Oh, yeah. I think so.” Tamlin sat back and stared at the tall stone steps leading up to the massive front door. “Doesn’t he have, like, a million dogs?”

Lucien chuckled as he pulled off his seat belt. “He has ten, the last time I counted. But it’s been a while since I’ve been here, so who knows anymore.”

As Tamlin handed him the extra takeout container, he asked, “Do you want me to come in with you?”

“No, I’ll just be a minute,” Lucien insisted, opening his car door. “I have to bribe him with some latkes, and then we’ll go pick out a Christmas tree, okay?”

“You have to bribe him? What for?”

Lucien pulled the door closed against the stream of cold air blowing in, and thought quickly. “Since Vassa’s been in town, I’ve been falling behind at work,” he lied. “So, Eris has been covering for me. This isn’t so much a bribe as it is a thank you, so…”

Tamlin nodded slowly. “Oh. Okay.”

On a whim, Lucien leaned in and brushed a kiss against his cheek. “See you in a minute,” he said with a reassuring smile, then slipped out of the car and left it running.

He could feel Tamlin’s eyes on him as he made his way up the steps, pretending nothing was amiss. His heart was beating like a drum as he pressed the buzzer.

The red light clicked on as a voice sounded through the subtle layer of static. “Yes?”

“It’s me,” Lucien replied evenly.

The red light turned off with a click, but thankfully Lucien didn’t have to wait long for a response.

Eris answered the door himself, wearing his favorite Sunday attire: an embroidered velvet smoking jacket over his black silk pajamas, complete with matching slippers. The only thing missing from his ensemble was a fez.

Making a mental note to add one to his shopping list, Lucien smiled and said, “Hey. Thanks for seeing me.”

“No problem,” Eris said with a sniff, crossing his arms against the cold.

While they had both inherited their mother’s slender build, Eris had pale skin that freckled in the sun, and short, gingery-red hair that he kept tucked behind his ears. Unlike most redheads he knew, including all six of his brothers, Lucien tanned in the sun, and his hair was more auburn than red. At least his mother’s hair was auburn too, or he might have wondered if his brothers were right about him being adopted all those years ago.

“So,” Eris continued. “You said something about ‘better than hash browns’?”

Before Lucien could answer, one of Eris’s adopted retired racing greyhounds appeared by his side as if summoned by the smell of still-warm latkes, wagging its tail and whining in hopes of a handout.

“Hey, there,” Lucien said sweetly, reaching out to fondle the dog’s silky ears. The dog sniffed at his hand, body wagging furiously, then circled his legs and nipped back inside with a yip to get out of the cold.

Eris chuckled and stepped onto the covered porch and shut the door behind him. “That was Lily. She’s new. She doesn’t know that much about snow yet.”

Lucien huffed a laugh that was visible in the frosty air. “How many dogs does that make now. Eleven?”

Eris smirked. “Twelve. I’ve got a mini grey that’s napping in my chair right now. Do you want to come inside and meet her?”

Lucien regretfully shook his head, then nodded at the car running behind him. “I can’t. Tam’s waiting in the car for me, so…”

As Eris accepted the takeout container, his amber eyes turned sharp as he stole a furtive glance over Lucien’s shoulder. “That him?” he said in a low voice.

“Yeah,” Lucien said quietly.

Eris let out a long, slow, frosty breath. “If half of what you told me is true, it’s going to get ugly. Without a rape kit, and without eyewitness testimony, his chances of winning this suit are next to nothing.”

Lucien’s heart sunk. “So, you’re saying we shouldn’t even try?”

Eris’s mouth pursed. “I didn’t say that,” he said more gently. “If anyone is willing to testify on his behalf, I might be able to scare the University into coughing up a settlement.”

“Is that all?” Lucien asked, disappointed.

“It’s better than having his name dragged through the mud. Especially if that dean is in bed with the police.”

Lucien felt a twinge of guilt for sharing Tamlin’s story without his permission, but he needed to know if there was a chance Tamlin could get his life back. If anyone could help him get a shred of justice, Eris could.

“Have you told him what you’re planning yet?” Eris asked.

Lucien shook his head and rubbed his gloved hands together. “Not yet.”

As Eris opened the takeout container, he said, “Before you say anything, let me look into it.” He paused to breathe in the fragrant steam. “Is that applesauce?”

Lucien smiled. “Does it count as a bribe if I say ‘Yes’?”

Eris smirked and waggled the container. “It depends on how good the goods are.”

Lucien grinned as he turned for the steps. “Trust me. They’re good.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

“I thought you were a lawyer,” Lucien called over his shoulder.

“Not on Sundays,” Eris countered.

Lucien laughed as he walked down the steps. “So call me and tell me the verdict tomorrow, Your Honor,” he quipped. “I’ll be out most of the day.”

“Doing what?”

“Buying a Christmas tree.”

“Is that right?”

Lucien turned around at the bottom of the steps and gave his brother a friendly salute. “Dad can’t say no to me buying myself a tree and a few decorations now, can he?”

Eris frowned thoughtfully. “I guess not.”

“And what’s a Christmas tree without a few gifts to go underneath it, right?”

Eris’s lips pursed in disapproval as he shook the container at him. “You’re toeing the line there, little brother.”

Lucien grinned and reached for the car door handle. “Don’t I always?”

“Always,” Eris called out. “And I have the heartburn to prove it.”

“Try the applesauce,” Lucien called back, then got into the car to go shopping with Tamlin.

* * *

“This is where you live?”

Tamlin winced at Lucien’s question. Hybern Heights was not exactly the height of luxury, no matter what the brochures said. “I know it’s not that impressive,” he said, slipping off his seatbelt, “but it keeps the snow off my head.”

“I’m not judging you,” Lucien reassured him. “I’m just… surprised, that’s all.”

“Yeah,” Tamlin murmured. “Me, too.”

It was a far cry from the dorm room they had shared all those years ago. Even if the rooms were small, at least they were clean and well-kept.

He didn’t know how old these apartments were, but they were most certainly older than him. Angular cracks traced the gray brick facade, which had once been painted white, but what wasn’t peeling away was now the color of old bone. Overgrown ivy clung to the walls in summertime, but in winter, they were brown, spidery husks clinging to the bricks like skeleton fingers. At least the snow softened the worst of it, but it did nothing to hide the sins of the interior. Stained carpets, peeling wallpaper, rusty taps… It was a wonder how easily he had gotten used to living there, and thinking it was okay.

It wasn’t okay. It was pathetic. Especially because of the amount of money Mr. Hybern charged them in rent. If they finished this job for Koschei, maybe they wouldn’t have to put up with it anymore. But that was a big IF.

As Lucien unbuckled his own seatbelt, Tamlin stopped him.

“You should wait here,” he said quickly. “It’s a mess in there, and I’ll only be a minute. Really.”

Lucien quirked his mouth to one side. “If you’re sure,” he said, but he sounded reluctant to agree.

“I’m sure.” Tamlin smiled and reached for the door handle. “I’ll be right back.”

“Tam?”

He paused. “Yeah?”

Lucien slid his sunglasses up and into his hair. “You know,” he began slowly, “I have tinted windows, so… feel free to kiss me anytime you feel like it, all right?” He gave Tamlin a teasing smirk. I promise I won’t mind.”

Tamlin blushed. “How did you get to be so confident about all this?”

Lucien shrugged. “Practice.”

Tamlin considered this, then shyly glanced around to make sure no one else was hanging around the snowy parking lot. It was a Sunday morning, so the chances of anyone being up and around weren’t that high. Even with tinted windows, he felt better knowing no one else was there.

“It’s just us, Tam,” Lucien said gently.

Tamlin took a deep breath, “Okay,” he said softly, then leaned in. “Come here.”

Lucien grinned. “That’s more like it.”

One awkward nose-bump and affectionate kiss later, Tamlin pulled away, blushing madly. “I’m not very good at this,” he said, slumping back in his seat.

Lucien, however, was beaming. “That’s what practice is for,” he declared, then nodded at the apartment building. “Now go on. The sooner you get back, the sooner we can practice some more.”

Tamlin was still blushing when he made it up to the third floor apartment.

He was so distracted that when he walked in, he thought he had walked into the wrong unit. It was bitterly cold from all the windows that were cracked open, and there were piles of stuff everywhere. When he recognized the sagging, blue-checkered sofa, his next thought was that they had been robbed. Except he couldn’t tell what the would-be robbers might have taken. The nicest thing they owned was the television, and that wasn’t saying much. At least it was still there.

He was beginning to think that some kind of wild animal had gotten in and trashed the place, when Jurian walked out of the kitchen, carrying a roll of garbage bags and the old broom and dustpan.

“Hey, I’m glad you’re here,” Jurian said distractedly, gesturing to the piles. “Grab a bag. Pick a pile.”

Relived but not quite, Tamlin slowly closed the door behind him. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like? I’m cleaning.”

“I can see that, but… why?”

“Why?” Jurian gestured to the mess. “Because I just spent the night in one of the most luxurious hotels I’ve ever seen outside a magazine, and I realized we live in a trash compactor.”

A wry smirk touched Tamlin’s mouth as he stepped closer. “Took you long enough.”

Jurian shot him a look, then did a double take. “Where have you been, anyway?”

Tamlin blushed again. “Oh, you know. Out.”

Jurian raised his brows in silent inquiry.

Tamlin shrugged him off, then reluctantly admitted, “With Lucien.”

Jurian looked him over with a slow, thoughtful nod. “Are you just getting in?”

Tamlin wasn’t ready to admit that he had just spent the night in one of the most luxurious beds in the world with a guy who had just come out to him as gay, because he himself wasn’t ready to come out as anything. He wasn’t even sure what to call what they had done. Platonic cuddling? Sensual handholding? Sleeping together but not that way?

Since he owed Jurian an answer, he simply said, “Yeah. We just talked.”

“All night?”

“Yeah,” Tamlin squeaked, then cleared his throat. “Basically.”

Jurian shrugged. “Okay.”

As he looked away, Tamlin was grateful he had let it go, even though he might have already guessed. Jurian’s sloppiness did not apply to his detective work, after all. To keep his attention elsewhere, Tamlin decided to change the subject. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Jurian asked, shaking out an empty garbage bag.

“What about you and… you know. Vassa.”

“What about her?” Jurian said stiffly, keeping his gaze averted.

“How did it go last night?”

Jurian eyed him sidelong, strangely silent, until he suddenly sagged onto the couch, which creaked beneath his weight. “Oh, my god,” he moaned, then ran a hand through his hair. “She’s incredible. She’s absolutely incredible. She’s gorgeous; she’s funny; and she’s into me… Those are three things I never thought I’d string together in a sentence. Not to mention she’s bilingual in the best possible way…” He murmured something in Scythian. “My god…”

Tamlin looked at him askance. “What happened?”

Jurian sighed and dropped his hand to his lap as he stared at the ceiling. “Nothing I’d be willing to confess to a priest.”

Tamlin made a face as he thought it over. “Eugh.”

Jurian sat up and glared at him. “Hey. I don’t give you shit about your love life; you don’t shit on mine. Got it?”

Tamlin winced and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. Sorry.”

Jurian’s frown softened. “Yeah,” he muttered, running a hand over his stubble. “I know. Me, too.”

Tamlin shifted from one foot to the other as he glanced around at the half-cleaned apartment. “So… Did you invite her over?”

“No. Hell, no.” Jurian sat up. “I just realized that if I did invite anyone over, there wouldn’t be anywhere to put her coat, let alone her purse, even if she wanted to stay.” He gestured to the mess, no further explanation necessary.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Tamlin remarked, stepping towards the coat closet where his meager possessions were stored. “Lucien’s waiting for me outside. I just came up to change clothes and—and grab some stuff.”

As he draped a fresh shirt and clean-ish jeans over his arm, Jurian asked him, “What kind of stuff?”

Tamlin kept his gaze averted as he added more clothes to his pile. “Oh, you know… Clothes and—and stuff.”

“Uh-huh.”

Tamlin’s face flushed as he tried to hide three days worth of fresh socks and underwear under yet another sweater.

“I hope you’re not emptying that closet on account of what I said,” Jurian remarked. “Vassa’s not coming over, and even if she was, we could put her coat somewhere else.”

Tamlin shook his head without turning around. “No, that’s not—I’m not—I’m not doing that,” he stammered quietly.

“Are you moving out?”

“What? No!” Tamlin turned around and tried to squelch his panic. “Unless… unless you—Did you want me to move out, or…?”

Jurian gave him a sad, resigned kind of smile. “Are you kidding? Of course not.” He groaned as he pushed himself to his feet. “You’ve got a place with me as long as you need it, you know that.”

With a relieved sigh, Tamlin said quietly, “Thanks, Jurian.”

“No problem, kid.”

Tamlin watched as he bent and grabbed the first of many old takeout containers and shoved it into his garbage bag. “Did you want me to stay and help? I can let Lucien know…”

“Nah. I got myself into this mess. I can get myself out of it.”

As empty cans and bottles began to clink inside the plastic bag, one against the other, Tamlin somehow suspected he didn’t mean taking out the garbage. “What about Vassa?”

“Kid. We have already had this discussion,” Jurian said coolly.

“I don’t think we have.”

“Look. I just had the most amazing night of my life, with the most amazing woman I’ve ever met…” He threw another bottle into the bag with an especially loud clank. “…and I realized that you were right.”

“I was?”

“Yeah.” Jurian straightened and ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t—I can’t take my work home with me. No matter how incredible she is.”

“Isn’t it a little late for that?”

“Technically, we went to her place, not mine,” Jurian said with a wry, sad smile. “So, technically, it doesn’t count.”

“Are we talking legally, or biblically?”

“What’s the difference?”

Tamlin gave him a look, and Jurian looked away.

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Jurian let out a weighty sigh. “It doesn’t matter anymore, because I’m done.”

Tamlin gawked. “You’re done?”

“Yeah, I’m done,” Jurian said, waving dismissively. “It’s over. I can’t see her anymore. It’s unprofessional. I should have known better.”

“But if you already slept with her, then—”

“Look. It doesn’t matter. I’m never going to see her again. That’s it. End of story.”

Tamlin stared as Jurian bent over to grab more garbage for his bag. “Never?” he asked. “Like… never ever…? Or…?”

Jurian looked up at him, half-bent over, still holding an empty bottle. “Why.”

Tamlin sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth. “Well…”

“Well, what.”

“You know, it’s just…” Tamlin took a deep breath. “Lucien invited you and Vassa to a tree decorating party at his place tonight at seven o’clock,” he said quickly, hoping his smile would be persuasive.

Jurian straightened up and stared at him. “Are you kidding me?” When Tamlin shook his head, Jurian groaned and dropped the bag and the bottle to the floor to grip his hair with both hands. “What are you doing to me, kid?” he moaned at the ceiling.

“Hey, you don’t have to come—”

“Oh, I’ll come,” Jurian said, pointing at him. “I’m just going to be a little bitch about it.”

“Hey,” Tamlin said sternly. “You’re the one who wanted to take her out last night. You’re the one who ignored your own goddamn code of ethics.”

Jurian’s face crumpled. “God. I know.”

As Jurian buried his face in his hands and moaned, Tamlin uncomfortably shifted his pile of clothes from one arm to the other. “Did you really sleep with her?” he asked quietly.

Jurian was silent for a long moment. “Do you really want to know?” he asked, muffled.

“No.” Tamlin shook his head for emphasis. “It’s bad enough knowing that she’s Lucien’s friend. I don’t need to know the particulars.”

“Yeah.” Jurian sighed and scrubbed at his face. “It’s for the best.”

Tamlin took a half-step toward the bathroom to change. “So… are you coming tonight?”

Jurian sighed without looking at him. “Yeah,” he murmured.

“Are you really going to end it with her?”

Jurian dropped his gaze to the floor and nudged the garbage bag with his foot. “I don’t know yet,” he murmured.

Tamlin sighed. “If… if you want, I can bring my camera. I’ve still got an old point-and-shoot, so we could get this job over with if you…” He trailed off when Jurian shook his head.

“Nah.” Jurian ran a hand through his hair. “It’s a party. And it’s still Sunday. We’re off the clock.”

“Oh. Okay, then.”

When Tamlin came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, Jurian was sitting on the couch arm, surveying the mess he had made. At least he’d finished tying up one garbage bag, but he wasn’t anywhere near done yet.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

Jurian startled as Tamlin walked up to him. “Yeah. No. I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.”

“I’ll be fine,” Jurian said emphatically. “Just tell me where this party is, and I’ll be there at seven with a smile on my face and a poinsettia under my arm.”

Tamlin smiled a wry half-smile. “You don’t have to bring anything.”

“The hell I don’t,” Jurian said lightly, then gently punched his arm. “I’ve got a date tonight. I can’t just show up empty-handed.”

“It’s not a—a date…” Tamlin faltered when Jurian shot him a look.

“I don’t think you know what a date is, kid.”

Tamlin blushed and hoped it wasn’t obvious. “Fine,” he muttered, then told him the address.

Jurian whistled. “They don’t charge admission to get in, do they?”

“No, I think your wallet is safe,” Tamlin said with a smirk.

Jurian smirked back. “Good,” was all he said.

Tamlin turned to go, then paused and asked, “By the way… How was Swan Lake?”

Jurian looked thoughtful, and his smirk softened to a smile. “It was nice. Real nice.” He nodded at Tamlin. “Tell your friend I said ‘Thanks’. From both of us.”

#did somebody say update?#it's been a while!#hope you like #:)#my writing #my fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #tamlin x lucien #lucien x tamlin #tamcien

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