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wardenparker · 3 months ago

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The Stars Re-Align, part 1

Frankie Morales x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: M for Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 12.1k Warnings: Reader is given an age and a grown daughter. Starts out as Santiago x reader. Cursing, food/alcohol, meddlesome friends, mentions of military service (obviously), glancing mention of Tom's death, past drug use, off-page abusive relationship, panic attacks, complicated relationships, family drama. Summary: When your daughter and your boyfriend talk you into having a birthday party, you are not prepared for all of the surprises that come your way. Notes: A little love triangle and 'one that got away' vibe for your Feral Frankie Friday!

“Rachel!” Calling from the kitchen is an old, unbreakable habit by now, but dinner is almost ready and you know your daughter is in the living room studying. She has plans with her boyfriend tonight which means she’s getting her reading out of the way, and you’re proud of her for having such good habits and steady resolve. It’s not at all what you were like at her age, and you’ve worked hard to make sure that she has opportunities that you never could have. Being a young single mom was rough, but every second you have with your little-girl-turned-young-woman is worth it. “Supper’s ready, honey. Find your bookmark!”

“Sure thing!” There’s no point in reminding you that her book is a digital copy, no bookmark needed, but she dutifully saves the spot and closes her laptop. “It smells good.” She compliments, walking into the kitchen and over to the fridge to bust out the bottle of wine that had become a habit with dinner since high school. Nothing fancy, just a cheap sangria, but it was a ritual that both mom and daughter enjoyed. “Are you going out with Santiago tonight?” She asks as she gets down the glasses to pour.

“He might come over to watch a movie since you’re going out.” Your two-month-old relationship isn’t deeply committed or deeply anything yet, really, but you like him. He’s attentive, handsome, and funny, and deeply — okay there’s one deeply — good in bed. “Do you want the good parmesan, or the shaker can? We have both.” Spaghetti with onions, peppers, and sausage isn’t necessarily gourmet, but it’s a family staple. Something your dad used to make you when you were growing up in New York City and you have made for your daughter her whole life afterwards.

“Good parmesan.” She hums. “Let’s be fancy tonight.” Bringing the glasses over to the small kitchen table, she moves on to set out the silverware. A chore when she was younger, it’s now just become habit when you eat together. ‘Working together as a team’ is how you always phrased it and it’s something she loves about her relationship with you now. You’re a team. “I’m going to stay at Ben’s tonight, so you and Santiago can have wild sex.”

“Be safe.” She’s twenty-four, so you’re not going to quibble about her sleeping over with her boyfriend, but you do give her a meaningful look when you set down the plates on the table. “Don’t make me a grandmother and I won’t make you a sister.”

Rachel laughs, it’s the same statement you have been using since she was first dating boys after puberty. “But Mom!” She pouts playfully. “I really want a baby sister!”

“Think I’m getting a little too old for that option, honey,” you huff, but laugh anyway. “Ask Santa for one at Christmas.”

She grins at you, bringing over the basket of breadsticks that are an Olive Garden copycat. Plain frozen ones that you brush with butter and garlic salt. So many of the meals you have together are mocks of the restaurant meals she had wanted when she was younger and you couldn’t afford. As an adult, it’s humbling to see the lengths you went to in order to make her happy.

“You’re coming back tomorrow, though, right?” Though you typically aren’t one to make a big deal out of such things, Santiago had offhandedly mentioned to your daughter a few weeks ago that it was a shame you weren’t doing anything for your birthday and Rachel had jumped on board with talking you into a party. The backyard barbecue will be small, but a chance to meet your boyfriend’s friends and have a few of your own friends from work come over. “It was half your idea, after all.”

“Yeah, I’m going to be there.” She promises. “Oh, is it okay if I bring Ben?” She asks. “He’s got another party to go to if not, but he said he would rather spend time with me.”

“Yes, you can bring Ben.” He’s a few years older than Rachel and has had a very different life experience, but you like Ben Miller. He’s doing his best to make an honest way in the world and he treats Rachel with love and respect. And probably in ways that you want to know absolutely nothing about. “There’s going to be plenty of food. Santiago and I are managing that end.”

She snorts and shakes her head. “Of course you are cooking for your own party.” She huffs.

“Get sassy with me and I’ll send every stitch of leftovers home with other people,” you threaten, though it’s hollow and comes with laughter.

“Not like you won’t make enough to still bring home food.” She shoots back with a grin. If there was ever a party, you always made too much food. It might be pasta salad, but you and she would be eating it for a solid week after everyone had gone home.

“Nothing fancy,” you assure her even though you know she’s right. “Burgers and dogs. And veggie burgers for the few people that skip red meat. All the accoutrements. Santiago is in charge of the grill, which he’s very happy about. And I’m making that cheese dip you like along with my guac. Salsa is coming out of a jar despite protests.”

“Let Ben bring the salsa.” She volunteers immediately with a grin. “He’s got some recipe he got from friends he used to serve with.” She explains. “He was going to make it for their party but we can hijack it and bring it to yours.”

“Deal.” That’s one more thing off your checklist and you’re fine with that. “And the cake is coming from an actual bakery, not a supermarket. I do listen to your protests most of the time.”

“The buttercream is far superior.” She huffs happily and lifts her glass when you are both sitting down at the table. “To a wonderful birthday weekend.” She offers. “One you never forget.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” You tap your glass against hers and smile. “Forty-two feels like it will be a good one.”

******

“We have the cake, the burgers are all ready to throw on the grill. Fish is bringing the baked beans, Ironhead is bringing the potato salad and you said Rach’s boyfriend is going to bring the salsa?” He arches a brow in concern. “What do you know about this guy? Is it good salsa? Because I’m going to be offended if it’s Pace.”

“I was told he has a recipe from somebody he served with.” The Pace is in its jars in the cupboard where Santiago can’t be offended by it, and you slip past him to look at your checklist taped to the cupboards one more time. “Coleslaw is made, cheese dip is made, and you filled up the outside fridge last night so that’s all set. I think we’re okay. The last thing is the guac and that only makes a few minutes.”

Santiago slides behind you and wraps his arms around your stomach and hums. “So we have time to go back to the bedroom?” He asks playfully, even if he would haul you back there if you said yes.

“Only if you’re planning on disappointing me,” you tease, knowing he never has and never would. Not on purpose. Still, you twist to kiss away the pout that has certainly formed there. “People are going to be here any minute.”

“We could always tell them to go the fuck away.” He laughs as he suggests it and then the doorbell peels out right afterwards. “That’ll be Ironhead.” He predicts. “Will’s always early.”

“Is that his real name? Will?” You call back when Santiago goes to open the door. You can make guacamole with your eyes closed due to the fact that you’ve had this recipe longer than your daughter has been alive, and you go to the fridge to get the ingredients.

“Yeah!” He calls back over his shoulder before he opens the door to find his friend on the doorstep. The smiles are genuine, almost guilty considering the shit they’ve gone through for the past five months since South America. Grief and sorrow have pulled at them, but it also has finally started to let them live again. “You made it!”

“Of course I did. You didn’t think I’d miss out on seeing your ass do something domestic, did you?” Will ‘Ironhead’ Miller slaps Pope’s shoulder. “Nice place she’s got. You tried to move in yet?”

Pope chuckles quietly and shrugs. “Maybe in another month.” He jokes. “Gotta get in good with the kid first.”

“Right, the kid.” With another friendly slap, Will Miller steps inside the house. It’s well-appointed, clean, and obviously loved. “She coming today?” He thinks so, but he can’t remember. Although a barbecue and pool party seems like a kid thing. But somehow Will remembers the kid not being kid. Teenager? He can’t remember now.

“She spent the night with her boyfriend, but she’ll be here.” Pope nods. “Although she’s already said she won’t call me daddy but I can take her for ice cream.”

“Nobody ought to be calling you ‘Daddy’,” Ironhead huffs.

Santiago laughs and shrugs. “You’re right.” He admits, knowing that he’s not father material. One of the reasons you were an attractive option was that your kid was grown. He didn’t have to play daddy, although from what he’s understood, the dad was your first love and was too immature to stick around. “Benny didn’t ride with you?”

“His girlfriend’s got a family thing today.” Will shrugs slightly, but honestly he’s impressed. His kid brother is crazy about this girl. It’s six months in and he’s starting to use some very committed language — which is fucking thrilling to Will as it signals Benny finally starting to grow up where sex and relationships are concerned. “He’s gonna come by later.”

“That’s good. I want him to come and have a few beers. Fish should be here shortly.” Pope will be happy to see everyone, it’s better than just checking in and having a beer. This will be a good time to really catch up. “How’s things with Marie?” He asks Will softly, knowing that Frank has been a little closed mouth about things between him and his lady. South America hadn’t been great for their relationship, although no one really likes her, she’s the one who was dabbling in drugs and got Fish hooked on coke.

“She was throwing some fit last night about Fish being out with another woman.” Which is obviously bullshit. Frankie would never step out on the mother of his child. But living in the apartment next to Frankie and Marie means he overhears plenty of bullshit. “All he was doing was asking if she wanted to come today. So who knows what kind of mood he’ll show up in.”

“Shit.” Pope sighs and shakes his head as he escorts Will though the living room and towards the kitchen where you are. “He needs to just bite the bullet and leave her.”

“We all know that. But it’s Fish. Too loyal for his own fucking good.” Will hadn’t been expecting to see anyone standing in the kitchen, let alone you, and he clears his throat. “Um—sorry, ma’am. Soldier’s habit,” he apologizes.

“It’s fine,” you promise him, actually laughing at the sheer display of manners. “I survived my daughter’s teenage years. You want to know who swears more than soldiers? Teenage girls.”

It’s been a long goddamn time since Will has been around teenage girls, but he just nods politely and offers his hand. “Will Miller.” He introduces himself. “Santiago has talked you up to be some kind of Wonder Woman, and it looks like he was underestimating your worth.”

"That's very kind of you, Will." You take his hand and introduce yourself easily enough, reflecting momentarily that Santiago has pretty friends. Blonde and blue-eyed isn't your type, but good looking is good looking. "Would you mind helping us get the last few things outside? And the pool is open, I hope Santiago told everyone."

“Absolutely, ma’am.” Like any good solider, Will is going to follow orders and he immediately picks up the heavier items to carry outside. “You have a beautiful home.”

"Thank you." It's something you worked hard for, and you continue to work hard for every day. Everything in your life has been to make sure your daughter is healthy, happy, and well taken care of. It was a lucky break that you got a well-paying job in your field to boot. "And you don't have to call me ma'am. Though I appreciate the manners."

“We need to give her a nickname before Taz does.” Will snorts.

"Taz?" You haven't heard that name before, and it piques your interest as Santiago helps you set things out on the table on the deck.

Will chuckles. “Youngest in our team.” He explains. “Short for Tasmanian Devil. Brother’s like a whirlwind of stirring up shit.”

"Got it." The Army nickname thing had taken you a second to get used to, but you're on board now. It's a brotherhood thing, and you like that Santiago has such a tightknit group of friends still. It's not something you've really had much of in your life, so you're glad to see when it happens for people you care about it. "Well, I told Santiago, but whenever your friends get here just let them into the backyard. The bathroom is off the living room, but everything else worth getting at is outside."

“Yes ma’am.” He smirks slightly when he says that again before disappearing out of the sliding glass doors.

"Are all your friends polite and helpful?" You glance back at the man you've been seeing for the last few months and crack a smile. "I'm glad you invited them. It's about time we started to meet each other's friends."

“Until they are assholes.” He jokes, giving you a bittersweet smile. “We lost a friend half a year ago and it seems like we’ve had a hard time getting back in the routine. Thought this might be the little jolt we needed.”

"Then we'll make sure it's a fantastic day." He hasn't confided too much about his years in the service or about where he was before moving back to Florida a few months ago, but this is probably a large part of the reason why. Either way, you slip your arms around him for a comforting hug. It's the least you can do, when he's gone through something terrible and is willing to open about it a little.

“It’s your day.” He protests, turning and kissing your lips. “It’s supposed to be good for you, not me. We will have a few drinks, have a few laughs and then…” He waggles his brows. “Well kick everyone out and I’ll make you cum until you pass out.”

The hum that forms in the back of your throat is as pleased as it is dirty, and you kiss him once more before your doorbell rings again. "I'll get it," you nudge his nose with yours and step back, albeit reluctantly. "Go hang out with your friend."

People trickle in little by little. Friends from work, mostly, and the one mom from Rachel's school days that you stayed friends with despite Rachel and her son never actually having been friends. Eventually the text comes through from your daughter that she's a few minutes away and that makes you smile brighter than just about anything else today.

Pope pulls out his phone and texts Frankie, wondering when he’s coming – or if he’s going to come at all. He is worried about him, knowing that he’s under a lot of pressure. Marie blames him for losing his license and then going down to South America for two weeks when it was only supposed to be one. He couldn’t even tell her what happened and that was causing issues.

Had to wait for the babysitter. On my way now. Says the text that comes through a few minutes later, but there is a temporary distraction from waiting for Catfish: Rachel's car pulls up and parks outside the house, expelling both your daughter and her boyfriend onto the front lawn.

“Come on, Ben.” Rachel grabs his hand and rushes him towards the door. They are running behind because of the pre-party activities he had talked her into and while she’s not regretting that in the least, she wants to get inside and wish you happy birthday.

“Sounds like everybody’s out back, baby,” he steers her toward the fence surrounding the backyard instead of the front door, but when that brings him closer to the actual driveway of his girlfriend’s house he frowns — deeply — in confusion. He shouldn’t recognize the two vehicles sitting behind Rachel’s car and her mother’s, but there they are: Pope’s slick vintage Corvette right next to Will’s jacked up picked up truck. There’s no denying the two vehicles, he’s seen them together far too often. “The hell?” Benny breathes, but Rachel doesn’t hear him. She’s too excited to see her mom and moving them through the gate before he can hang back to do a double take at the cars.

“Mom!” Pope looks up at soon as he hears a familiar happy cry but then he’s immediately frowning. Watching as Ben Miller moves through the fence gate with Rachel. “What the fuck?”

“I told you she was bringing her boyfriend, didn’t I?” Santiago’s level of confusion is confusing in its own right, but you ignore it in favor of meeting your daughter at the edge of the porch to give her a massive hug. “Hey sweet pea!”

It helps that Benny looks just as stunned as Pope does, Will stopping short when he sees his younger brother and doesn’t hesitate to call out. “You made it!” He huffs out and shaking his head at his brother’s fickleness. “Girlfriend’s family already kick you out?”

“Nooo…” Benny blinks against the sunlight, having left his sunglasses in his truck. “You’re at the wrong party, assholes.”

The ball busting smirk immediately slides off of Will’s face, due to the knowledge that there is no way they could be at the wrong party. “Benny…” He glances at a stunned Pope and sighs heavily. “We’re at the right party.”

It only takes about a second more, but by the time Benny breathes “Ohhh shit.” He’s also cackling with laughter. “Are you telling me—” The younger Miller brother looks around and drops his voice for the sake of not embarrassing the girl he adores. “Are you telling me Pope is banging my girl’s mom?”

Will snorts and shakes his head. “Looks like.” He agrees quietly. “Hell of a birthday surprise.” He hopes that it won’t change your daughter’s mind on dating him, Rachel has been fantastic for Ben.

“Fuck….” Pope snickers quietly, shaking his head at the irony. He should probably go spell this out for you so you don’t take it the wrong way. No one knew. Even after hearing about Benny’s girlfriend for months, only Will and Fish had met her so far.

Rachel pulls back and gives you a beaming smile. “Happy Birthday Mom.” She hums, winking at you. “Santiago spend the night last night since I was with Ben?” She’s not been paying attention to the guys, too focused on you.

“We fell asleep watching our second movie.” It’s mostly true — true enough that you can play it off as innocent because you did technically nod off during the second movie — but the empty bowl of popcorn and wine glasses in the living room had waited until this morning to be cleared away once you hauled each other off to bed. “Did Ben have a fight last night or did you guys just go out?”

“No fight.” She shakes her head. “Next weekend, so we just got to go out. Although he wants to know if you would like to come to the fight.” You’ve met Benny and she thinks you like him, but she wants you to get to know him better. Which is why she had suggested they go to your party today instead of his friends’.

“If you want me to.” You don’t feel too excited to watch your daughter’s boyfriend get beat up, but you do want to get to know him better. Rach is so obviously head over heels for him.

“It’s up to you.” She smiles and looks back at Ben, curious to find Will here. “Um— what’s his brother doing here?”

“Whose brother?” Turning to follow her eyes, your head tilts slightly in interest. Santiago and Will are deep in conversation with Benny already. “That’s one of Santiago’s friends. Will.”

“Mom…” Rachel’s eyes widen slightly. “That’s Will Miller…Benny’s older brother.”

“That…” You swallow, slowly registering the situation as you watch the men interact. “That makes things interesting…” You’re dating a man who served with your daughter’s boyfriend…this is going to get complicated…

“Oh god.” Rachel bites her lip as Benny and Pope quickly break away and come over to the two of you. “So…”

“So, this is interesting.” You repeat the phrase almost disbelieving.

“Kind of a funny coincidence, huh?” Benny wraps his arms around Rachel and plants a kiss in her hair.

“I didn’t know.” Rachel promises you with a small shake of her head. “Shit, Ben. I can’t believe I didn’t know it.”

“I think I know why.” You observe, clearing your throat and accepting the comfort of Santiago’s arm around your waist as you look up (and up) at Ben. “I’m going to guess that your nickname while you were serving together was Taz?”

“Yeah.” Benny nods and looks back between all the other men. “Oh fuck, we’ve been just using our nicknames and they didn’t know.” He groans. "I'm sorry baby." He turns to Rachel with an apologetic look. "Pope was talking about his new girl and spending as much time as possible with her, so he missed the last fight you were at."

“It’s a little unconventional,” you admit, wondering what Santiago thinks of all this. “But not terrible, right?” As close in age as you and Rachel are, it wouldn’t be the first time you have had mutual friends. Just the first time you were ever dating mutual friends.

"He's a good guy." Pope assures you, like it's the first time you've met Benny. "And we can kick his ass if needed."

Benny snorts and rolls his eyes. "You wish, old man."

“Rach?” Your fingers run through her loose curls gently and you give her a questioning look. While this isn’t the day you want to have — after all, you do like Santiago — it’s ultimately up to her. Everything is and always has been in your life, and you made that decision for a reason.

"I don't think that you need to stop seeing Santiago just because he knows Ben." She rationalizes. "I think it's fine, what do you think?"

“Just as long as you’re comfortable with it.” That goes for the men involved, too. But they don’t seem to mind beyond being apologetic.

Rachel snorts and shrugs. "Just as long as they don't share sex stories." She giggles and shoots Santiago a smirk. "And we won't either."

“I was not planning on it, sweet pea.” You might be close, but that’s a step too far even for you. “Never ever.”

Agreeing completely, she walks up to Pope and gives him a hug. "So if you make my mom cry, I'll have my boyfriend beat you up." She teases.

“Got it.” She’s a grown woman, but he can’t resist the urge to mess with her thick hair, watching her face wrinkle in disapproval before she moves back to Benny, who smooths the familiar curls with care. “Now we just need Catfish to get here and we’ll have everybody.”

"I'm here!" A hand appears over the fence before he opens it, hat pulled low, and he grunts when he picks up the cooler full of ice and beer that he had stopped and picked up on the way. "Sorry I'm late."

“Fish!” Benny kisses the side of Rachel’s head before peeling off to grab the cooler from him and take it to the porch so his friend can catch his breath. He doesn’t see the tick in the tilt of your head or the way your eyes widen just a second later.

'Fish', or Francisco Morales, looks up and smirks at Benny when he grabs the cooler. Thankful, although he wouldn't make too much of a fuss about it. Getting older sucked and he's still feeling the effects of that workout he helped the other man do just two days ago when his normal sparring partner was sick. "'Bout time you made yourself useful." He huffs playfully and looking towards Pope to wave. Freezing with his arm halfway up in greeting when he sees someone that he had never expected to see before – you.

The way you shrink into yourself immediately is instinct. As much shock as anything else. But within seconds you’re stepping forward to block Rachel from view and shakily a demand an explanation. “What the shit is going on?” You hiss, though you’re not exactly sure who you’re talking to, you just don’t want to make a scene in front of your coworkers. They consider you to be such a calm, collected woman.

Frowning, Pope turns towards you, reaching out to touch your arm and stepping closer to you. "Babe— what's wrong? What are you talking about?" He follows your gaze back to Fish and he grunts in confusion. "Fish? He's another teammate. One of my best friends."

“Fuck.” Deflating on the spot, you feel like you could just collapse where you stand but that wouldn’t help the situation any. “We—we, um—know each other,” you explain quietly. “But it’s been a long time.”

Feeling like he's been kicked in the chest by one of those fucking mules, Frankie stumbles forward and murmurs your name softly. "I— what are you doing here?" He asks, frowning slightly.

“This is my house.” You wonder if Santiago even explained where he was inviting him, or if you have a nickname to their group just like they all do to each other. “I wouldn’t expect you to still remember my birthday.”

All the blood drains from his face and it falls into a wounded look. Realizing that you have to be Pope's girl. "I— remembered." He murmurs quietly, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Seven billion people in the world. Figured someone else would have the same day too." It's almost a kick in the teeth, that comment of yours. Considering he had a fight with Marie because he had said your name this morning when he was talking to himself after waking up. You were the reason he had fought, again, with the mother of his child and she had pitched a fit and left. Making him wait on a babysitter so he could come to this party. To find out that it was for you. He's so fucking lucky that Marie isn't here. He clears his throat roughly and bites his lip. "Happy birthday, gatita." He uses the nickname from a million years ago and steps back. "I should go."

A press of overwhelming guilt and the instinct to stop him makes you reach out, grabbing his arm before you can stop yourself. “No. You shouldn’t.” You admit, even though it hurts.

"No," He shakes his head and gives you a wry smile. "I should." He sighs softly and looks over at Pope. "This is your girl, huh?" He asks, confusing the other man even more. "Keep her and take care of her." He tells him. "You'll regret it if you don't." He reaches for your hand and pries it off his arm gently, squeezing it before letting it go.

“Where’s Fish going?” Benny returns from the deck just a second too late, but just in time to watch Frankie leave again and see the bewildered looks on his friends’ faces.

"I don't fucking know." The entire day has been one big bag of surprises and Pope doesn't particularly like surprises. He turns towards you for some kind of explanation, although the nickname gatita sounds familiar, like Fish has mentioned it before. "You know Frank?"

“We grew up together.” It’s the best you can hiccup out before you take off like a shot, following Frankie through the gate. “Frankie!” He’s already down at the street, but he pauses when you call his name and it gives you time to catch up.

Waiting for you as you rush towards him, Frankie takes off his Standard Oil hat and scratches his hair. Struck by how nostalgic the moment is, waiting for you to catch up to him so many times once upon a lifetime ago. “Look, I’m sorry.” He sighs when you are closer. “I didn’t know, okay? I’m going.”

“I think you should stay.” Not as fit as you once were, you puff a little and put your arms around your waist. “We, uh—for Santiago, if nothing else. You’re his friend and I—I’m somebody you used to know.” And there is so, so much to tell him…

The idea that you might want him there makes him pause and he frowns slightly as he stares at you for a moment. “Only if you’re sure.” He still hesitates. “It’s your birthday after all.”

“It is.” And you’re not sure. You’re really not. But since he’s reappearing in your life almost twenty-five years later, the lump in your throat is winning over logic.

“Last time I saw you was on your birthday.” Frankie frowns, wondering how he could have been such a shit head back then. “Seems like the circle is complete.”

“Eighteen was a long time ago.” It was right before he left for boot camp, and you’d been pushing him to commit to you before he left. A stupid thing to do at such a young age. You know that now. But you were so stupid in love with him back then and there was so much going on.

“Yes it was.” He can admit that, biting his lip and shuffling slightly. “And I was an asshole.” He had broken his own damn heart, even if he hadn’t known it at the time.

“I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard.” Squeezing your eyes shut makes you feel like your heart is going to burst, but the universe has decided that it’s time to finally time to come clean. “I was scared. And I’m sorry.”

“I was stupid.” Frankie has so many regrets from that time of his life, just compounded over the years and he almost steps closer to you, but he doesn’t. He can’t, he doesn’t have that right anymore. “I proved you right. I didn’t come back.” The argument is still confusing in his memory, just as much as it had confused him then. You had pushed to get married before he left and he had wanted to wait. It had become a sticking point and in his stubbornness, he had broken up with you.

“You didn’t come back and you didn’t have a cell phone…and then your parents moved.” With their only child moved on, Frankie’s father had accepted a transfer upstate from the Standard Heating & Oil Co that both of your fathers worked for. “I had—I had no way to talk to you. To—to tell you—” Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, surprising you since you thought you had cried every last tear you had over Frankie Morales.

“Tell me?” Frankie frowns and he does step closer, hating to see tears in your eyes again on a birthday. Especially because they seem to be because of him again. “Tell me what, gatita?”

“Fair warning.” Wiping at the corners of your eyes, you can’t quite look him in his even when you straighten out again. “You’ll hate me. And you probably should, at this point.”

“I don’t think I could hate you.” Frankie admits quietly, unable to even imagine a world where he would.

“You might.” Wiping your hands down your face and breathing out a deep, frustrated groan, you look up again to see the eyes of the boy who was your first everything looking back at you, and you crumble. “I didn’t have any way to contact you,” you repeat again, knowing you could and should have tried harder anyway. “And I was scared of losing you because — because I was pregnant.”

The way his brows pull down is instantaneous and he immediately puts his hands on his hips and twists around as he absorbs your news. “You— you were pregnant?” He chokes out, looking back at you with a wounded expression. “I— what? No? What— pregnant?”

“That’s…that’s why I was pushing you so hard to propose.” You admit, eyes cast down at the ground.

“You didn’t say a word.” Frankie shakes his head. “Why— why didn’t you tell me? If I had known—”

“I thought if I told you that you’d only run away from me faster.” Which, at eighteen years old, had seemed like pretty sound logic to you. “By the time I was scared enough to just want you there regardless, it was too late. You were…you were gone.”

“By the time—” he shakes his head, eyes wide and he swallows harshly. “What happened? Don’t— I— what are you saying?”

"I'm saying that you have a daughter." A fact which sticks in your throat now like you had tried to swallow a pinecone. "Who is smart, and kind, and headstrong, and stubborn as hell. But she's doing so well for herself that a lot of that stubbornness just slides right by."

Frankie blanks out for a minute, staring at you before he turns away. Grappling with his emotions as he bends over and tries to take a breath, groaning slightly in disbelief. “No.” He shakes his head, turning back to you. “No! Don’t tell me that!”

"I'm sorry." It isn't worth much, as apologies go, but you kneel down beside him on the grass and wonder if he'll be mad enough to strike out if you put a hand on his back. "I really am. You should have known a long time ago."

“Twenty-four,” he chokes out. “You are telling me I have a twenty-four year old daughter?” His face screws up in the regret and tears. “Please tell me you’re fucking joking.”

"I had no way to tell you." It's a lame excuse, or at least it feels lame, and you do rest your hand on his back but it's so gentle you don't even know if he can feel it.

“Oh fuck….fuck, fuck, fuck…..” Frankie moans, closing his eyes and his fists bunch against his thighs. “I-I-I— don’t— I can’t –”

"Frankie?" His breathing sounds panicked, and you soothe one hand in circles around his back. "Breathe, okay? Just breathe. Everything's okay. She—she's grown. She's raised. No one is asking you to do anything."

“I—I missed it.” He manages. “I missed everything.” Closing his eyes as he realizes that his trajectory of his life would have been vastly different if he had known.

Oh. It's the opposite. The exact opposite. He's not panicked that you're going to expect him to stay, like you thought he was. He's upset that he missed Rachel's childhood. "There's...there's still the whole rest of her life ahead."

“I— I should have been there.” He drops his head down even more. “Fuck— you must hate me. She must hate me.”

"It's my fault you didn't know. Why would I hate you?" As much as it has ever hurt to lose him, you've never actually hated him. Just missed him. Which isn't the same although they can be confused for each other. "And Rachel— Frankie, she knows the truth. That we were young and lost touch."

“Rachel.” He shakes his head, focusing on her name and it’s so goddamn familiar. “Her name is Rachel?”

"My aunt Rachel died right before she was born," you explain, wondering if he even remembers meeting your mother's sister a million and a half times at different family functions while you were together. He was always invited for every holiday.

“God.” He closes his eyes and shakes his head, hating that he had been such a fucking idiot back then. “I’m so sorry.” He whispers.

"I am, too." More sorry than you can possibly say, but what else can you do at this point but try to move forward?

“So I managed to ruin another birthday of yours.” He pushes aside the grief and sorrow that is threatening to overwhelm him and locks it down. Compartmentalize, shutting down, it’s what he knows best. He can freak out about this later when he’s left.

"It's not ruined." It's awkward, and it's uncomfortable, and you're not really sure what to do now. But it's not ruined. "It's—it's not—I don't know what today is, but it's..." you sigh heavily and stand up again. "I don't know, Frankie. If you want to leave that's up to you. But our lives cross now, and I know...I know Rachel would want to meet you."

“Oh god. Is she— is she there? Here?” He asks, shaking his head. “Can I meet her?”

"If I wasn't going to let you meet her, I would have just kept my mouth shut about the whole thing," you needle him gently. Just wishing he could or would do as much as crack a smile. It seems desperately needed.

The huff, the quarter of a smile is almost involuntary. Almost in disbelief and he looks over at you with a heavy stare. “I want to meet her.” He tells you quietly. “If I had known, things would have been so different for us, gatita.”

"No use crying over spilled milk, I think." Twenty-four years of regret is a lot to process, but you nod in acknowledgement. Just a small motion of thanks that he is at least saying out loud what you suspected.

“Fuck.” He huffs again and uncurls his hands to wipe them on his jeans. “I’m nervous.”

"Telling you not to be seems cruel," you huff, though you're not sure what else to say. "No one planned this. No one saw this coming. It will be as much of a shock to her as it is to you. As—as it was to me to see you."

“Forty-two.” He shakes his head and looks back over at you in awe. “You don’t look a day over fucking eighteen.” It might be a small embellishment, but you look amazing and so much like the girl he has loved for so long.

"You're not so bad yourself." Santiago may be on the other side of that fence, but a part of your heart has always and will always belong to scrawny Frankie Morales from Brooklyn. Even if he isn't scrawny anymore – which is a thing you can't help but notice.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, centering himself before he nods. “We should go back.” He murmurs.

"I promise she's not scary." Although you'll understand when it is a complete shock to her. And to the others. "Just...let me tell her first? I ran after you so fast that I didn't explain to anyone else yet."

Both of you stand up and he scrubs his hands on his jeans again. “Sure, sure.” He agrees, knowing that it could be sort of a shock, even if she’s known about him her whole life.

"Remember to breathe," you advise him with a wry chuckle, even though it's good advice for you too.

“When I remember how.” Frankie snorts, slightly pacing in place as he glances towards the back yard gate.

"Come on." Nodding toward the yard, you take a step in that direction to see if it will spur him on. The urge to offer him your hand is misplaced, and you have to quell it by putting your hands in your jeans pockets. "We've kept them waiting long enough."

Frankie exhales roughly and trails along behind you, wanting you to take the lead. He has to tell you about Luna at some point, but he will do that after he meets the daughter he never knew he had.

“Sorry about that.” Once you’re on the other side of the gate again, you see Rachel standing in the midst of Santiago, Benny, and Will all looking concerned. “That was…unexpected? Shall we say?”

“Mom?” Rachel moves closer to you and frowns as her eyes slide back to where Frankie is hanging back. “Why are you upset with Fish?” She asks softly, looking back at the other three men and then back at you. “You said you knew him? When? I don’t remember you dating him.” Your dates had been few and far between, even rarer that she had met them, but she would have remembered someone called Catfish.

“I’m not upset, sweet pea. I’m just surprised.” It’s a lie, but a prudent one. You are upset, and it’s because your little slice of peace has been disturbed. But no one did that on purpose, so you’ll just have to live with it. “Why don’t we—we should talk about this inside.”

“No. Here. Now.” She has inherited her stubbornness both you and Frankie. And she’s eyeing the man she had met a few months ago and hung out with suspiciously. He looks like he’s about to be sick and she’s not above taking a baseball bat to his knees if needed, whether or not she had liked him before.

“Rach, I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” you murmur, looking around the backyard. Most people are milling about and a few are in the pool, but they obviously all know something is up.

Rachel stares at you for a minute and then she shoots Frankie a glare because you look so upset before she turns around and marches towards the house.

“You guys, too,” you decide, figuring it’s probably best to get all of this over with. Santiago is dating you, Benny is dating Rachel, and Will is bound to find everything out soon enough.

There’s not a lot of hope for him with the glare shot his way, so Frankie hangs back for a moment. Reconciling the fact that Rachel is the girl that Benny has been dating. His daughter is dating his friend. His friend who has been bragging about his girl to him. And their sex life. He’s going to throw up or punch Ben in the mouth.

Once everyone is inside, you check to make sure the bathroom is empty and close the sliding doors tightly. Everyone outside can wait. This is far more important. “Everything is okay,” you start, making sure that right off the bat Rachel knows you aren’t mad and Santiago understands you don’t hate his best friend. His best friend. Fuck. “It was just—as surprising as it was to find out Santiago and Ben are friends…this is an even bigger surprise.”

Frankie leans on the side of the wall, staring at the tip of his boot as he tries to wait for you to tell Rachel. He can’t blurt it out, she’s your kid. Not his— not really. He hasn’t done a goddamn thing to help raise her, but he has to admire the job you’ve done.

"The thing is, Rach." Blowing out a breath, you reach out for your daughter's hand and just pray she won't hate you. "You wouldn't remember when I dated Frankie. Because it was before you were born."

“Hermano.” Pope’s eyes widen and the nickname clicks. He knew he had heard it before. “Gatita? This is—” he whistles quietly. “Mierda.”

When Rachel still looks confused, you breathe deeply and try your best not to shake. Or to chicken out. "There are a lot of blanks to fill in along the way, but...sweet pea...Frankie is—" Oh god, you're going to throw up. You're absolutely going to throw up. "He's your father."

You could hear a pin drop, or a mouse fart, the room is so quiet. Every head snapping towards Frankie in judgement and he doesn’t pay them any attention, focusing on the one person right now that matters. His daughter.

"I don't understand." Rachel stands bog still, clutching your hand with eyes as wide as saucers as she looks frantically between you and Frankie. She had liked this man. He is a good friend to Ben. But now she doesn't know what to think.

“Your mom and I were high school sweethearts.” Frankie isn’t sure what you might have told her, but he’s going to tell her what he knows to be true. “More like middle school, but you know?” He shrugs. “I didn’t know she was pregnant.” He promises. “I swear I didn’t know.”

Will sighs from the other side of the room. “Oh shit.”

"Everything I ever told you about him was the truth." You had worked hard to always be fair to Frankie when you were raising Rachel, even if it led to never telling her very much about him unless she asked. "He didn't know, and I had no way of telling him. It's been...it's been twenty-five years since we even spoke to each other. So you can understand why I was surprised to see him walk in today."

“And he’s friends with your boyfriend and mine.” There’s a note of disbelief in her voice that Frankie doesn’t blame her for.

“We were on the same team for years.” Frankie explains. “I was their pilot.”

“That’s why we lost touch,” you remind your daughter gently. “He left for boot camp.” Considering Ben isn’t the first Army boy that Rachel has dated, you have always sort of had a suspicion that she was subconsciously searching for her dad in these men. It just never occurred to you that it would actually work.

She looks at him, almost accusatory in her gaze. “Why did you never come back?” She demands. “If you loved her, why did you just walk away?”

That makes Frankie wince, and he shoves his hands in his pockets again. “Have you ever done something dumb and been too goddamn proud to admit you were wrong?” He asks quietly, and Pope, despite his own feelings about the entire situation, won’t let Frankie’s daughter twist in the wind.

“He used to talk about his gatita.” He interjects. “Regretting not making up with her and wishing he could get in contact with her.”

“It was harder back then, honey.” The gentle reminder is important, because Rachel might not have grown up in a world of luxury but she’s definitely never known a world without cell phones or social media. “When I told your grandparents that you were coming, we moved. It was just a little further outside the city, but the place was bigger and the neighborhood was safer. Your grandma found a better job and— and with neither of our families still in Brooklyn, we couldn’t have found each other. Even if your dad had come back looking for me, or tried to call our old apartment? We wouldn’t have been there.” At least she hasn’t ripped her hand out of yours yet. You’re considering that a good thing “We were kids, and we made mistakes. Very big ones. But you know he didn’t leave because he didn’t love you.”

“I would have never.” He promises, his voice thick with emotions. He shakes his head and frowns slightly. He doesn’t know why he didn’t realize who she was to him now that he knows. She looks just like a perfect combination of you and him, with your nose, thank God. But her ears curl just like his.

“Oh god…” In trying to process everything, Rachel glances up and looks at Frankie’s hat again, groaning to herself and wiping one hand at the bottom of her neck just like he does — but neither of them ever noticed the simile gesture. “I always just thought the hat was a funny coincidence,” she admits with a huff.

“My hat?” He takes it off and scrubs his hair quickly before putting it back on his head. “Had it since I was a kid.”

The Miller brothers look confused, and you offer them a wilted smile with your explanation. "Both of our fathers, Rach's grandfathers...they both worked for Standard for forever. That's how Frankie and I met."

“Oh shit.” Benny frowns slightly and moves over to Rachel’s side, squeezing her hip supportively.

"I know this is a lot." It's a lot for everyone, but you're mostly just talking to Rachel. Your whole adult life has been lived for your baby girl and now emotions are unraveling at light speed. "But nothing has to change. You're a grown woman, sweet pea. And whatever relationship you want with your Dad is up to you."

“I’ve spent time with him.” She admits quietly. “After a fight of Benny’s.” She looks back at Frankie and bites her lip. “But I’d like to get to know him as my dad.”

"I know this just got sprung on everybody," you murmur again. The fact is that right now you have a yard full of people and all you want to do is disappear under your comforter and pretend it isn't happening. "But...life throws you curveballs, right?"

“Yeah.” Frankie huffs, crossing his arms over his chest and feeling like his entire world has turned on its head. Wishing like hell he could snort a line but he promised himself he wouldn’t touch that shit again.

"We should give you guys some privacy." When Will finally speaks up, it's to motion to his brother and to Pope that maybe they should step outside. There are a lot of emotions creating tension in this room and they're not going to be made easier by having an audience.

Pope shuffles slightly, wanting to stay, but he also needs to think about this entire thing. The situation is blowing up and he doesn’t want to make things worse.

"Maybe you could throw the burgers on the grill? And we'll be out in a few minutes?" He had offered to be in charge of the grill today but that was before everything had gone to hell and now you have no idea what he's thinking. "And I promise we'll talk through everything, too."

“Of course.” He nods and doesn’t lean in to kiss you like he might have just a few minutes before walking in this house. Feeling almost guilty for the entire situation right now.

That missing kiss is enough to tell you that everything has changed. Santiago has never shied away from affection or from public displays, and this is exactly the time that a partner might have offered that kind of comfort. Whatever you end up talking to him about later, you're now prepared for him to end things. But you can't fault him for that. You had a baby with his best friend – even if you didn't know each other then.

“Baby?” Benny looks at Rachel, checking with her before he leaves.

"It's okay," she promises him, going up on her toes to kiss the corner of his mouth. "I'll find you when we come back out." And she's going to find a White Claw or six in the garage fridge, too. Fuck.

“Okay.” He shoots Frankie a worried look, not liking the despair on his friend’s face and shuffles to the door.

"I figured it might be easiest to just tell them the facts up front and then let all of us talk," you tell them both, now wondering if that was the right move at all.

“Yeah.” Frankie nods, understanding why you did it, but he looks over at Rachel with regret and waits for her to say something.

"Do you, actually...do you mind if I talk to Frankie—" Rachel hums awkwardly over it, before reconsidering. "If I talk to my father alone for a few minutes?" She sort of feels like they're ganging up on him, and while she has questions and she's sure that you do, too...hers are going to be very different from yours.

“I don’t mind.” Frankie glances back over at you for approval.

"I should go make the rounds outside." As much as you don't want to, it is your party and they are your guests out there. Most of whom noticed that something odd has happened even if they don't know what. Still, you nod and lean over to hug your daughter. "Come back out when you’re ready. Ben looked like he'll worry until you do."

“I will.” She promises and Frankie catches your eye as you glance over at him.

“Thanks.” He murmurs, thanking you for the opportunity to talk to Rachel. He knows you could have been very different with this entire thing. Blowing out a breath when you walk out and shut the door, he looks back at his grown daughter. “So hit me with it.” He tells her.

For a second Rachel is dumbfounded. She just stands and stares at him, but then her shoulders slump and she shrugs and she blows out a long sigh. “I guess I know the real reason my middle name is Francine,” she poses, shaking her head. “Mom said it was because The Nanny is her favourite show and I completely fucking believe that because she worships Fran Drescher, but I’m willing to bet that’s one of only like six lies she’s ever told me in my whole life and it’s actually because of you.”

“Francisco Alberto Morales.” He introduces himself to her quietly, nodding and trying not to be humbled by the fact that you gave your daughter a version of his name. Something to connect the two of you.

“And you guys were…you were together for a long time?” She knows the story. She’s heard it from you over and over again. But something in her feels like she needs to hear it confirmed from him.

“Seventh grade until her 18th birthday.” He frowns at the way that makes him sound, how callous it could be construed. He has just walked away after so long.

“And she wanted to get married.” Rachel prompts, needing these landmarks of the story confirmed for her.

“We had a plan.” He shuffles slightly and looks around the neat and well decorated home. You’ve done well for yourself and it shows. “I was going to get through boot camp and my ‘A’ school while she started college and then when I got to my first duty station, she would transfer to a school nearby.” His shoulders round when he remembers that last fight, the missing piece now clicked into place and with maturity, he can see that you had been terrified, not overbearing. “Her birthday, she blind-sided me with getting married.”

“She wanted to skip forward and get married first, and you didn’t agree.” She can see it from both sides, now. As an adult it makes sense why an eighteen-year-old planning his life would think his girlfriend was just trying to trap him — or even that she wanted the wedding more than she wanted him. “But…you never got married at all? Even after Mom?”

“No.” Marie isn’t married to him, he couldn’t do that even if he had been inclined to. She was still technically married to some guy in her past, or so she claimed. “But….”

“Oh god, don’t say Marie.” Rachel bursts out, talking before she can even think. “She’s awful, and I’m not the only one who thinks so. I didn’t feel like I had a right to say anything before but I totally do now and she’s abusive and terrible, and I will absolutely help you leave her if you need help. I’ll babysit Luna anytime and — oh my god Luna is my sister—”

Frankie shuffles and looks down at his feet. Marie hadn’t been at her best the first time that Rachel had come to the bar after the fight. She had been pissed off because his hearing had been postponed again and he wasn’t closer to getting his pilot’s license back.

“Look, if you’re happy, it’s whatever.” Rachel shuffles, not realizing she’s moving the same way as Frankie, and shrugs. She senses she’s hit a nerve. “I’ll still help with Luna whenever you need. I—I always wanted a baby sister…”

“She’s not bad.” Frankie had dealt with her for a long time and it seemed harder to leave than it was to stay. “That was a bad night.”

“If you say so.” She doesn’t believe him, but the very first day she meets her father isn’t the day to push too hard.

He doesn’t know what to say, so he looks around the house again. “Did you and your mom struggle?” He asks quietly.

“My grandparents helped.” The short answer is yes, but she doesn’t want to make him feel guilty. “We lived with them when I was little, then we moved down here when I was about thirteen. Mom got a job with Disney.”

Frankie nods, frowning slightly. He has his retirement and his Thrift Savings Plan from the military, which he will hopefully be able to not use once he gets his license back. He’s not in the best position to offer any kind of help, but he will. “You’re in school, right?” He asks.

“I’m getting my masters at UCF.” Rachel nods again. “I still live with Mom. Here, I mean. She didn’t make me leave or anything when I started college.”

She’s dedicated. Frankie knows that college, especially graduate programs, are expensive. “That’s good.” He bites his lip and wonders if the offer would offend her. “I have my G.I. Bill.” He mentions. “I can gift it to a spouse – which I don’t have.” He shrugs. “Or a child.”

It's a very sweet offer, but that doesn't really surprise her. She already knows Frankie is a sweet guy. "Save it for Luna," she tells him. "I have great scholarships, and that way she'll be able to look forward to school without worrying about student loans."

It’s feels like a rejection, even though he knows it’s not. He nods and clears his throat. “That’s good.” He has an odd sense of pride for her achievements, even though he had done nothing to contribute.

"What do you want to know about me?" There's probably plenty, but now Rachel feels a bit self-conscious. She's at least heard stories about him. All he knows about her is whatever Ben has told him.

“Everything.” The word tumbles out before he can stop himself and he looks embarrassed. “I— I want to know everything.”

"Everything is a lot," she laughs, but understands. She wants to know everything about him too. She's wondered about her father forever. "What if...what if we did some father/daughter stuff? I could come over and spend time with you and Luna or we could grab a drink sometimes? Just...exist together. And all the get to know you stuff will come in time?"

“Yeah.” He nods eagerly and smiles at her, his eyes crinkling and his face lighting up at the idea. “I like that. Any time. Any time at all.”

“Okay.” She’s feeling bone tired by all of this so she can only imagine how you and Frankie feel, but as Rachel moves over to the notepad on the far table to write her number down for him, she purses her lips slightly and tilts her head. Her thinking face. “Don’t…please don’t be too hard on Mom?” She asks, holding the slip of paper out to him a second later. “She doesn’t ever say it, but I know she’s missed you. And she worked so hard to raise me alone, she just…she deserves the world.”

“I’m not mad at your mother, querida.” He promises, taking the paper and looking down at it before he folds it up carefully and tucks it into his pocket. “I’m mad at myself.” He explains. “Too goddamn proud to admit I was wrong, and I apparently missed out on a hell of a life.” He looks up at her with pride. “And a hell of a daughter.”

“Well shucks, Paw,” she laughs, obviously very touched by the sentiment. “I guess we both have a bunch to catch up on. But we can do that.”

He snorts and huffs out a grin. “By the way, I’m going to punch your boyfriend in the mouth.” He warns Rachel. “So don’t go screaming at me when it happens.”

“Benny?” She makes an audible huffing sound. “What did he do?”

“You’ll find out.” He won’t say now, but he shrugs. “He deserves it, and he’ll know it.”

“Seems weird, but okay.” Men do weird things sometimes. She’s not so young that she doesn’t know that.

He chuckles and sweeps his head off his head again. “You look like your mother when you wrinkle your nose.”

“It’s funny.” She wrinkles her nose again but consciously, wondering if she really does look like you that way. “She always said I had your smile. And your ears.”

Frankie reaches out and brushes her curls back behind her ears and smiles. “You do have my ears.” He admits.

“Is it weird? She asks, stifling a laugh. “To realize that?”

“Surreal.” He admits with a sigh. “I don’t know what to think. I went from being too old to have a six-month-old, to being the dad to a grown ass woman.”

“I was teasing Mom about wanting a little sister last night,” Rachel admits with a groan at the irony. “Shows me right.”

Frankie smirks slightly and shrugs. “Isn’t life sometimes a kick in the teeth?”

******

“What a Fucking kick in the teeth.” Will pushes out a sigh in the backyard, cracking open the beer he grabbed from the cooler Fish brought.

“Yeah.” Pope frowns at the grill, pushing the perfectly aligned burgers with the spatula. “Who would have thought?”

"What are you gonna do?" It's not as though Pope has had a lot of time to think, but Will knows him long enough to know that the wheels are already spinning. They have all heard Fish talk about his gatita, and now that they know who she is? It at least warrants a reaction.

Pope glances over at Will before he looks back at the grill, his movements a little stiffer than just a moment before. “What can I do?” He asks rhetorically. “She was his first.”

"Just because she was his first doesn't mean that he has to be her last," Benny offers, not quite sure what else to say. They all know that Pope had been starting to fall for you, even if it had never been said. Now he is very obviously pulling back.

"No, but she would want him to be." He admits quietly. "She had told me about her first love. She didn't tell me his name." He says pointedly when Benny opens his mouth to ask the obvious question. "But she told me enough to know that she's still in love with him. And we know that Frankie never got over her."

"So it's not about stepping back," Will observes, sipping his beer in the hot Florida sun. "It's about letting them be together."

Closing the grill, Pope sighs, hands on his hips as he looks around the backyard and comes to his decision. "Don't you think Fish deserves to be happy?" He asks quietly.

"Of course he does." The idea that Will might think otherwise practically makes him clutch his proverbial pearls.

"And fuck knows we want Marie gone," Benny huffs under his breath.

"His gatita is the one to make both of those wishes come true." He's sure of it and he will bow out like a gentleman. It's the least he can do since the last half year of hell in his personal life is partially his responsibility. He had pushed Fish to come to South America. Pope looks back at both of the other men. "Want to help me fix Fish's life?"

Benny is the first to smirk, clapping his hands together and rubbing them dramatically. "You gonna pull a binder out of your ass or are we talking this one through?"

"First, I'm going to get really drunk and pretend like I'm not falling on a sword." Pope snorts, snatching the beer out of Will's hand and taking a drink. "Then, we're gonna figure out how to get Fish custody of Luna." He tells them quietly. "That little girl is the reason he's still with Marie."

"We just need proof that she's the one with the drug problem." Will mumbles, not wanting to say those words too loud. "And we need his hearing to go through so he can get his damn license back."

"Yeah." He sighs and points at Will. "Can you talk to your ex?" Pope asks, knowing it's a big favor. "She's still working in the DA's office, right? Maybe she can help us? Or know someone who can?" Being a paralegal isn't the same as being an assistant DA, but she knows people.

"I'll see if she can at least point me in the right direction," Will nods in agreement, knowing that as uncomfortable as talking to his ex-fiancée will be, it's definitely the right course of action. "She always like Fish. It shouldn't be too hard to get her to give an e-mail or phone number of who can help."

“Marie isn’t going be happy learning about Rachel.” Pope glances at Benny. “You know that.”

"She's going to be furious." Ben agrees, wiping his hand through his hair and blowing out a raspberry. "She's gonna think Fish kept it from her on purpose."

“Poor bastard looked like he was about to fall over.” Pope sighs. “I hate this.”

"We're gonna make it work," Benny promises him. "Sorry you got shoved into the middle of it, though."

“It’s okay.” It wasn’t and it actually really hurt that he was going to have to end things with you and pretend that he’s just friends with you, but his brother is worth it.

"Better to find out now than a year from now," Will offers, knowing it isn't a whole lot of comfort. But at least it's honest.

“Yeah.” You walk out of the house and he immediately turns to watch you. “Better now.” Santi murmurs, his heart aching.

******

Most people leave around dinner time, splintering off to nighttime plans or to go home to their families. Santiago, Frankie, and the Miller brothers stayed long enough to help you clean up and Rachel is loading the dishwasher when you realize Santiago has gone temporarily missing. On a hunch, you go down the hall to your bedroom and frown to see him there, tucking things back into his duffel bag.

"Decided not the stay the night?"

He hates that you caught him and he stands tall after shoving in a t-shirt and tamping down the guilty feeling. “It’s been a…surprising day.” He tells you. “Figured it might be better to change the plan for tonight.”

"Just for tonight?" You have a feeling you know the answer, but you want it out in the open. No questions or doubts.

His eyes slide away from you and for a moment, he falters. Wondering if this is the wrong thing to do. “No.” He admits, walking over to you and cupping your cheeks in his hand. “I am— was— falling in love with you.” He won’t lie to you. “But you’ve been in love with Frank for far longer than you’ve loved me.”

It's enormously frustrating for him to be both presumptuous and right. The last thing you want is to admit it, especially as tears press at the back of your eyes, and so a protest comes out of your mouth instead. "He's with someone else," you point out, knowing that someone mentioned it earlier. One of the Miller brothers, you think. "He's—he's—it's so complicated, Santi."

“I know it is.” His brow pinches together and he leans forward to kiss your forehead. “And if it’s too complicated, I won’t let you twist in the wind.” He promises. “But you deserve to find out if your love for him is still there.”

"This isn't how I saw today ending." Overwhelmed and next to tears was definitely not on the docket, but you're not going to beg him to stay. That's not the kind of girl you are anymore. You haven't been in a long time. "What a shitty birthday."

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” Pope closes his own eyes and leans his forehead against yours. “I can stay if you want.” He offers in a whisper, feeling guilty all over as his resolve crumbles.

"You'd feel guilty if you did." He's a good man, that's why. It's part of what you liked so much about him when you met, and part of what's grown on you. "Like you were betraying Frankie."

“I would still stay.” He promises.

"You'd feel guilty and then you'd start to resent me." The defense mechanism of crossing your arms over your chest might guard you in spirit, but it doesn't stop you from feeling like utter dogshit in this moment. "Just...know that this isn't how I wanted things to go between us. That's all."

“I know.” He murmurs softly, the slight smile on his lips ironic. “I know, baby. I didn’t want this either.” He admits. “But I’m still going to be here for you. That won’t change.”

“Could I just ask you one favor before you go?” All things considered, it’s very minor and sort of the least you could possibly ask.

“Anything.” Pope would do anything for you, he’s proving that, but he wouldn’t deny you simple request if it’s in his power to take care of it.

“I don’t know if you’re going to see them at all tonight or not but just…don’t tell Rachel yet? She’s going to spend the night with Ben again and I know her. She’ll come straight home to be with me instead. I don’t want to ruin her night.”

He chuckles softly, aware of what that says about you as a mom. “You are a good woman.” He murmurs, leaning in kissing your forehead again. “I won’t say anything to her.”

“I’ll tell her tomorrow.” You promise him. It’s not that you want to hide things from her — it’s that you know she’ll act rashly out of loyalty to you if she finds out tonight. She might even break up with Ben, which is the last thing she actually wants or that you want for her.

“When you tell her is up to you.” He would never think that he should have an input on your relationship with Rachel or when you tell her. “Whenever you are comfortable.”

“Well…” A shrug and a half sigh are the best you can do, not really sure of what else to say. Maybe you’ll get on Pet Finder tonight and look for a cat. Or three.

“Oh…” Pope reaches into his bag and pulls out your gift. “I didn’t want to give this to you in front of everyone.” He tells you quietly. “But this is for you.”

“You didn’t have to.” Especially now. Especially with everything that’s happened today. But you still smile weakly and accept the bag. Yup. It’s gonna be me and three cranky, elderly cats. That’s my future. “I—um, thank you. It’s…very sweet of you. You’re a very sweet person.”

“No, I’m not.” Pope snorts as he steps back. “But you are worth the effort.”

Impulsively, it does make you want to ask why he’s leaving, then. But you know the answer. You know this is about you and Frankie having a past and that nothing is going to change Santiago’s loyalty to his best friend. What’s even more annoying is that you like that about him, it hits harder and hurts more. All you can say without letting the emotions through the floodgates is just to excuse yourself to grab the book of his that you borrowed because it’s downstairs in the living room.

Staring at the door, Pope sighs and pulls his phone out of his pocket to text Will. Deciding that he needs a drink after the emotional rollercoaster of the day.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

My Masterlist!

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 5 months ago

Text

It Takes A Village

Dean Winchester & daughter!reader

Included characters: Sam, Rowena, Gabriel, Crowley, and Cas

Synopsis: you’re turning nine, and the whole gang has rolled up to celebrate

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, it’s super short

When Dean went to visit Lisa on Ben’s birthday, there were a lot of things he didn’t expect to happen. First of all, he didn’t expect she’d have a son. Second, he certainly didn’t expect that son to (quite possibly) be his. And third, he definitely didn’t expect to make another child. But that’s what happened, and here he is nine years later with a little girl that’s growing up way too fast.

“When did you get so big?” Dean surprises himself by speaking out loud what he’d been thinking. You turn in surprise, your brow arching.

“Dad? You’re not gonna get all weird on me, are you?”

Dean rolls his eyes, trying to wave off his moment of nostalgia.

“What? No, of course not. No, it’s just…I mean, it feels like you were turning one yesterday and now you’re—“

“Oh for heavens’ sake, Dean, leave the girl alone. She’s turning nine, not ninety.” The Scottish accent proceeded the red head of a certain witch as she entered the bunker.

“Auntie Row!” You yell, running to the witch and hugging her despite her protests that you would “wrinkle her outfit”.

“Yes yes, hello sweet thing,” Rowena greeted. “Happy Birthday.”

“Did someone have a birthday today?” Several eyes rolled at the introduction of a certain archangel. “Oh, that’s right, my favorite Winchester!”

“Uncle Gabe!” You greeted the archangel just as eagerly as you had the witch, only Gabriel returned your hug without complaint.

“Hey, gummy bear! You having a good birthday?” At your eager nod, he continued, “Well, it’s going to be even better now, because the real party is here!”

“Is that what you’re calling yourself now?” Castiel scoffed as he entered the room bearing an armload of presents. “And since when did I become the gift-bearer?”

“Since none of us wanted to carry in our things,” Rowena stated. “So thank you for volunteering.”

Cas grumbled something about not volunteering, and you giggled.

“Thanks, Uncle Cas!” You said.

“Now now, he’s not the only one helping out here. I mean, what’s a party without the cake?”

“Uncle Crowley!” Sam took the cake from Crowley’s hands just in time for you to slam into him. Crowley staggered for a moment before hugging you back, trying not to look too pleased at your warm greeting—he had a reputation to keep, after all.

“Hello, little demon,” Crowley greeted, and for once Dean bit his tongue—he’d already told Crowley a million times not to call his daughter a demon, but he didn’t want to start a fight on your birthday. “You didn’t start the party without me, did you?”

“Of course not,” you assured him. “Can we have cake now?”

“Cake before presents?” Rowena asked. “Now sweet thing, don’t you want to see what you’ve got?”

“Hey, if she wants cake it’s fine by me,” Dean spoke up, eyeing the mountain of frosting in front of him.

One wave of Crowley’s hand had the lights out, and a wave of Rowena’s had the candles on your cake lit.

As Dean sang, he looked around at the strange group singing with him. Somehow along the way, he had found coparents in his brother, an archangel, the king of hell, a fallen angel, and a witch.

It was an unusual crew to be sure, but he knew that everyone around him would do anything to protect his baby girl.

He could think of a million safer worlds for you to grow up in, but he knew that you wouldn’t pick a single one over this family.

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee

#the winchesters #dean winchester #dean and sam #supernatural dean #sam winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #winchesters x reader #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x daughter!reader #sam winchester x niece!reader #dean winchester x daughter #supernatural sam winchester #Castiel #rowena macleod #crowley

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winchesterwild78 · 4 months ago

Text

Cranky

Characters: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Reader

Warnings: Ben being a dick (I mean he is Soldier Boy), Language, insecurities, Fluff, SMUT, unprotected sex (wrap it up people)

A/N: This idea came to me earlier today when I was fighting a bad headache and got a bit cranky. 😀 I wrote it in a matter of hours and didn’t edit it well. Please overlook any mistakes. Afterall, I had a headache and was cranky. 😃

All work is my own, don’t take it!!

Minors DNI 18+

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

“Leave me the fuck alone, Ben! It’s over 100 degrees, the fucking air conditioner isn’t working right, and I have a damn headache. I don’t need your bullshit too! Go cook your own damn dinner.” You shouted as you slammed your shared bedroom door. “Woman, you have some nerve speaking to me like that, and don’t slam my fucking doors.” He growled as he pushed open the door. “YOUR doors?!?! Fuck you, Ben! I thought this was our place? At least that’s what you said when you begged me to move in here. I guess your true colors are showing aren’t they?” “I didn’t beg you to do shit. I’m Soldier Boy, I don’t need to beg for anything, food, drugs, pussy. I get what I want when I want it, doll.”

Your eyes went wide when he said that. You can handle his puffed up ego, his occasional drug use, even though it’s not as bad as it used to be, hell you can even handle his occasional misogynist views, but you couldn’t handle him talking about being with other women. The thought of him with another woman now just broke your fucking heart.

The two of you had been together for about a year and a half. You two decided to move in together about six months ago. Most of the time it was fine. There were however days like today when everything hit a boiling point. You loved Ben and you knew he loved you. Sometimes he forgot you were in his corner and he would lash out at you, and sometimes you would forget he couldn’t help the way he is and you would push his buttons.

You sat down on your shared bed and a single tear rolled down your face. “I need you to leave me alone right now. My head is hurting and I think we both have said some things we will regret later.” You spoke softly. Ben started to protest but was still pissed. He grumbled something under his breath and stormed out of the room.

You heard the front door slam and you crumbled. You laid in your bed and cried until your head hurt worse and you fell asleep from exhaustion. You weren’t sure what time it was when you woke up. It was dark in the room and the sound of the front door shutting woke you up. You sat up in bed when you heard Ben’s voice and what sounded like another voice.

You looked over and saw it was after 2 in the morning. You made your way out of the bedroom and down the dark hallway. You froze halfway down the hall when you heard two female voices and Ben’s. “Oh Soldier Boy, I want to show you how much I appreciate your service to our country.” One of them said. “I want to see if I can handle a big supe like you.” The other one said. You rounded the corner and found two, very young, very hot women hanging on Ben, who was dressed in his Soldier Boy uniform.

You made eye contact with Ben as tears pricked your eyes. How could he betray you by doing this? You’ve given him everything, given up everything to be with him. The women saw you and were startled. “Who’s she?” One of them asked. Ben looked at you with a strange look in his eye and said “She’s nobody important.” Your mouth fell open and your heart shattered. The two women giggled and you turned to walk back to the bedroom. Ben knew what he was doing was wrong. He loved you but he was pissed, hurt even.

Once in your room you grabbed a bag and started putting things in it. You hoped Ben would come to the room and beg you not to go, but he stayed in the living room with them. You heard giggles and squeals. Each one was like a knife to your heart. Ben was tough, but he was playful, loving and kind too. You finished packing some stuff and walked out of the room. You stopped long enough to see the women kissing Ben and rubbing on his body. You felt sick.

Ben saw you with your bags. As you got to the door you turned around and said “Goodbye Ben, I love you.” Closing the door you sobbed all the way to your car.

You drove to one of the closet hotels and checked in. Once in your room you took a shower and crawled into the bed. You curled into a ball and sobbed. You love Ben, you thought he loved you too. Talks between you two involved talking about the future. Marriage, children, retirement, normal life. When the two of you got together the sex was hard and rough, hot. Now it was softer and more loving. You were afraid this was what drove him into their arms. Was your life with Ben too boring, normal now?

As you drifted off to sleep your phone rang. You looked at the screen and it was Ben. You ignored it. He hung up and called back several times. Finally after ten missed calls, and over a dozen texts you finally answered the phone. “What do you want, Soldier Boy?” You hissed. Ben’s mouth dropped. “Baby, please come home. I’m sorry. I made them leave. Nothing happened. I promise.” Ben said. “I don’t care what you do anymore Soldier Boy, fuck all the bimbos you want. Maybe you’ll find one who will suck your cock and cook your dinner all at the same time.” You seethed. “Please stop calling me Soldier Boy. It’s not my name, it’s not who I am.” Ben pleaded. “Not who you are anymore? Then why were you in the bar picking up women in it? Oh that’s right. Women drop their panties for Soldier Boy. How many of them drop their panties for Ben?” You hissed. Venom dripping with each word. “I’m exhausted Ben, I’m going to sleep. I’ll be by tomorrow for the rest of my things. If you’re still there I’ll be quick so I don’t disturb your plans with whoever is there with you. Good night, Ben. I hope you know how much I loved you.” You said quietly. “Baby please don’t leave me. I’m sorry. I love you too.” You could hear his voice crack. You knew he was crying.

You hung up and turned your phone’s ringer off. You cried harder. Your heart was broken. You loved him so much and wanted to marry him. You finally fell asleep. You would make a plan tomorrow morning, right now you just wanted to sleep. A few hours later the phone in your hotel room rang. “Hello” you answered groggily. “Hello, Miss. Y/L/N, this is Sarah at the front desk. There is a man here saying he’s your husband. He’s very intoxicated and demanding to see you. If you need me to, I can call the police.” She offered. “No, that won’t be necessary. I’ll be down in a minute.” You sighed and hung up. Grabbing your shoes and robe you made your way down to the lobby.

There Ben was. Drunk and just an absolute mess. His hair was all over the place, he was dressed in his t-shirt and gray sweatpants. He looked like your Ben. Your soft, kind, loving Ben. “Where is my wife? I know she’s here. Bring her to me. I need to tell her I fucked up and I love her more than anything. Please, bring her to me. Please.” He collapsed on the ground crying.

You walked over to him and touched his shoulder. “Ben, honey. Come on, get up. Let’s get you upstairs.” You softly said.

Ben looked up at you. His beautiful green eyes were bloodshot and red. From booze and crying. As he stood his big arms went around you pulling you into a tight hug. He started sobbing. “Baby I’m so sorry. Please don’t leave me. I love you. I’m a fuck up. I know I don’t deserve you or a second chance, but please don’t leave me. I swear nothing happened with them. I made them leave as soon as you left.” “Ben, honey come on. Let’s go to the room. We both need sleep.” You took his arm and led him to the elevator. On the elevator he held you tight. You tried not to melt into his touch, but you couldn’t help it.

Once in the room you helped remove his shoes and his clothes down to his boxers. You knew he got hot at night so you wanted to make sure he was comfortable. Thank goodness the air conditioner in the room was working, because Ben was a furnace. Sleeping next to him was always hot. You crawled in bed next to him but kept your distance. You wanted to hold him or be held by him but your heart was still broken. Both of you laid in the dark in silence. Then Ben broke the silence.

“Y/N, I love you. I know I hurt you and I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I just need you to know I have never nor would I ever cheat on you. You’re everything to me and I want to marry you and have children with you. I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. If tomorrow you still want to leave, I’ll help you pack.” He leaned over and kissed your forehead softly. You leaned into his kiss.

“Ben, I love you too. You broke my heart. Seeing you with those women and you telling them I was nobody important shattered my heart. I saw a future with you. Marriage, children and a happy life. I know you didn’t sleep with them. My Ben could never do that. You might be a hothead, but you’re not a cheater. I know that. I don’t know what to do. How can I be sure when we get into an argument you won't repeat tonight?” You asked him

Ben sat up and turned on the bedside lamp. He turned and looked at you. “Baby, I will spend the rest of our lives proving to you how much I love you and how much you deserve.” You sat up and cupped his face. “I love you Benji.” You placed a soft kiss on his lips. He pulled you in tighter and kissed you deeper. His hands went to the back of your head and pulled you down to the bed.

You moaned and could feel your arousal starting to grow. Ben stopped and looked at you “so beautiful. My beautiful girl.” You blushed and he kissed you again. His lips set your soul on fire and his touch drove you wild. He pulled at the hem of your shirt and you leaned up helping him remove your shirt. Your bra was already off so your bare breasts were exposed to the cool air in the room. Your nipples grew hard with every touch of Ben’s fingers. His lips trailed down your neck and to your collarbone. One of his calloused hands grabbed your breast and his lips sucked on the other. You tilted your head back and moaned his name. “Mmm, Ben. Please take me now.” You moaned.

Ben hooked his fingers in the waistband of your pants and pulled them down along with your panties. You lifted your hips to help him take them off. You could see his arousal in his boxers and you bit your lower lip. Ben was large and thick. He was bigger than any other man you’d been with. When you first started sleeping together his length and girth hurt, but now it curled your toes. Ben stood beside the bed and removed his boxers, letting his hard length spring free.

“You ready sweetheart?” Ben asked seductively. You shook your head yes. Not trusting your own voice. “Words, baby girl. Use your words.” Ben said. “Yes, Ben. Please. I need you.” You moaned. Ben climbed on the bed and parted your legs with his. He kissed up your thighs stopping at your dripping wet folds. He used his calloused fingers to separate them, feeling the wetness and heat. He swiped his fingers over your swollen clit and you moaned, bucking your hips. “Don’t tease me, Ben.” you moaned. “So needy, aren’t you sweetheart.” He grinned.

Ben pumped himself a few times before lining his swollen cock to your dripping wet entrance. He slowly pushed in, you both gasped. You bucked your hips and wrapped your legs around his waist trying to push him in. He took the hint and bottomed out deep inside. “Oh Ben!” You gasped and dug your nails in his biceps. He smirked and pulled almost out before thrusting in again. Each thrust, each moan pushed you closer to the release you were chasing. Ben leaned back, took his thumb and started to rub circles on your clit. You moaned loudly and pushed yourself into his thumb. “Play with yourself baby. I want to feel you cum on my cock. Squeeze my cock with your tight little pussy.” Ben whispered in your ear.

You reached your hand between the two of you and started rubbing your swollen clit. Ben grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted your legs onto his shoulders. He started to pick up the pace as he was helping you chase your release, he was chasing his too. “Ben..I’m..close..I’m gonna..” “Cum for me sweetheart. Cum all over my cock.” Ben urged. “Oh fuck! BEN!!” You screamed his name as you came hard and your walls clenched around his cock. Ben stopped his thrusts and buried his face in the crook of your neck. You cumming like you did almost made him cum too.

He leaned back up, kissing your lips as he got back in position. He began thrusting in you again. You could tell he was close. His movements became more determined and deeper. Your nails dug into his large biceps and your fingers danced lightly over his toned chest. This man was a god among men and he was all yours. A single tear slipped out of your eye. You weren’t sad, in that moment as you were looking up into his green eyes you knew he meant what he said. He loved you and he wanted only you. Looking deep in his eyes you whispered “I love you, my Benji. Always and forever.”

Ben leaned down and captured your lips with his. The kiss was soft and full of love. “I love you too, my y/n/n, Always and forever.” His thrust began to get sloppy and you knew he was close. “Cum Ben, please cum in me. Fill me up with your seed. Put a baby in me.” You said breathlessly. That turned Ben on more than you realized. He growled and started to thrust harder. Then with one final thrust he came hard with a loud grunt. You could feel him coat your womb with his seed. As he finished he pulled out. A little of his cum seeped out of your used pussy.

Ben went to the bathroom to grab a washcloth to clean you both up. Once you were both clean he tossed it to the side and pulled you close. He kissed your head and both of you let out a contented sigh. “I love you so much, Y/N.” “I love you too, Ben. Let’s enjoy this cool air and get some much needed sleep.” You said as you yawned. “I agree, but answer me one question before we go to sleep.” He sat up. “Sure, Ben, what is it?” You asked, closing your eyes. “Will you marry me?” Ben asked. Your eyes opened wide and you sat up. “What?!?” “I want you to marry me. Will you marry me?” Ben questioned again. You sat shocked. “Ben, I would love nothing more than to marry you.” You replied and smiled. He pulled you into a kiss and both of you laid down.

You placed your head on his chest, hearing the steady beat of his heart. His arms were wrapped around you and he was letting his fingers draw delicate patterns on your skin. You felt safe in his arms. Regardless of everything that happened today, you knew he loved you and you loved him. You understood that sometimes we all can get just a bit cranky.

Tags: @nescaveckdaily @kr804573 @k-slla @jackles010378 @jawritter

@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @roseblue373 @cheynovak @jassackles @chriszgirl92

@suckitands33 @arcannaa @n-o-p-e-never @ladysparkles78 @smoothdogsgirl

@hobby27 @manicjk @stoneyggirl2 @stoneyggirl2

#hes gorgeous #jensen ackles #so damn sexy #jackles #jensen ackles smut #soldier boy

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cruelyear · 1 year ago

Text

Been trying to work out why internally the card deck scene felt like it did i think it's maybe. It's so primal already. like they're gonna be out there for at LEAST another year. and so part of me can't believe they're silently drawing cards to see who's going to get eaten bc how can it get any worse? While the other part of me KNOWS that it definitely is going to get worse BECAUSE THIS IS WINTER ONE OF TWO. AND THERE'S LITERALLY NO OTHER OPTION. The girlprophet who by now they all (save for nat and maybe ben) believe has some commune with the forest gods and who's image has become synonymous with things like Hope and also Food is bleeding to death upstairs cause shauna went rabid on her and it's snowing and it's been snowing and it's going to keep snowing and akilah and mari who's characters have in all of the insanity become comforting if not tragic reminders that these girls are truly just GIRLS (akilah studying for the SAT's because she'll still be a junior when they get back and mari's textbook teengirl deadpan one-liners) are so hungry they're hallucinating (akliah's rat has been dead for who knows how long and mari's seeing the walls bleed) so of course they are going to eat somebody and of course out here where the rules of their internal society bent so far they broke the night jackie slept outside and then the rules of ALL society shattered the night they ate her barbecued corpse they're going to decide who's on the chopping block by drawing straws (they're KIDS) via the card deck (no queens) one of the many talisman's of the religon they created (via girlprophet aka lottie matthews's unmedicated schizophrenia) in an effort to derive some sort of meaning from all of this because when laura lee blew up she took god with her AND ITS SO DEVASTATING. BC EVERY SINGLE THING THAT HAPPENS IN THE WILDERNESS THIS EARLY IN THE TIMELINE ALWAYS HAS THIS UNDERCURRENT OF DREAD BC THIS IS WINTER. ONE. OUT. OF. TWO.

#LIKE DO U GET IT.#The neverending impending doom #yellowjackets #posts #yj #all of my devotion turns violent

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 2 years ago

Text

Tethered.

The lines of friendship blur when you’re this close. Also known as - each of the times you’ve kissed Benny, Frankie, Santiago and Will.

Pairing - Benny Miller, Frankie Morales, Santiago Garcia, Will Miller x female reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - Cursing, sexual content, mentions of sobriety

Word Count - 5523

Author's Note - by popular demand!! thank you to everyone who voted in the poll, it was so helpful!! don't worry, there is still a stewy hosseini fic coming very soon. i love writing for the triple frontier boys, so if anyone has any requests or particular thoughts, please send them my way. i'm also a total will girly, if you couldn't tell. as always, lots of love <3

my other triple frontier fics - Time, Tranquility and Home Is Where The Heart Is.

Masterlist. Requests.

Will’s strong hand rubs steady circles into your thigh under the table as you all hunch over laughing.

Benny’s telling the story of his bad date from the night before. The combination of his masterful storytelling and the whiskey that seems to be refilling itself is making you giddy, all of you high on the joy of being with your best friends. There’s no feeling quite like it, laughing until you cry.

“Wait, that doesn’t explain why she slapped you!” Santiago exclaims from opposite you, clapping Benny on the back.

“She slapped me because, it turns out, I’d kissed her best friend a few months ago. She called me a dog and everything,” he laughs, tears escaping from his eyes. “She had a strong hand!”

“Did you know who she was when you saw her?” Frankie asks, genuinely intrigued.

“I realised as soon as I sat down. I didn’t know it’d be a problem! Man, fuck blind dates,” Ben chuckles.

“Am I crazy for not seeing the issue here?” Santiago asks, looking around the table.

“I didn’t see it either, apparently. It’s not like me and Lucy ever went anywhere. It was just a kiss.” Benny’s face is scrunched up in confusion. It makes you want to smooth your thumb over the crease between his brows.

“She was giving me the look, I swear,” he continues. “So I went in for the kiss, and she hit me.”

The boys are all laughing again, and as guilty as you feel, you can’t help but join them. Benny has such an animated, expressive face, that even the most boring of stories are entertaining when being told by him. It’s a gift. He just has a way with people.

“What do you think, hermosa?” Santiago asks, looking at you pointedly. “Would you kiss someone your best friend has kissed?”

“I don’t know,” you reply carefully. “Depends on the situation, I guess. I’d try not to, I think.”

Will’s looking at you with amusement in his eyes, slight smirk on his face. It’s clear that no one is putting the pieces together.

“Would you, Santi?” you question, lips quirking up at the corners.

“Probably not. I’d avoid it, if possible,” he replies.

The whiskey is making you braver than usual, a warm buzz running through your veins. Without thinking, you laugh,

“Too late.”

Everyone looks at you, brows raised in confusion. Will’s grinning now, chuckling to himself quietly. You’re giggling at their faces, their naivety making you smile.

You watch as Frankie looks slowly around the table, and then back at you. Shaking his head, he catches your eyes and snickers.

“Minx,” he mutters, still smiling.

“Am I missing something here?” Benny asks, surveying the silent communication happening between you, Frankie and Will.

You sigh sarcastically and throw your drink back, downing it in one go. Well, we’re doing this, you think.

“I’ve kissed every single person at this table,” you start. “Which means you’ve all kissed the same girl your best friend has kissed.”

Santiago and Benny go silent for a moment, processing this new information. Will and Frankie are still smiling, already a step ahead.

“Wait, what?” Santiago finally speaks. “You have?”

“Oh no. Pope thought he was special,” Frankie laughs, head thrown back.

“Stop it, Francisco! You are special, Santi. It just so happens that they are too.”

You point generally at the other boys, all of them with their eyes fixed on you. You can see that Benny is still figuring things out, the alcohol making his brain work slower than usual.

“I’ve known you guys for years. We’ve been through a lot together. And you’re like, the four most gorgeous men I’ve ever seen! It was bound to happen sooner or later,” you justify.

Everyone’s laughing now, the final piece finally being put into the jigsaw. You can tell they’re all thinking back to their kisses – you are too.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Benny had been the first one to kiss you.

It happened right at the beginning of his boxing career. He’d started working out religiously, meal planning, prepping for his first big fight. He set strict rules for himself – no alcohol, no women, no sex. You were glad he’d found an output for his energy, glad he was taking something so seriously – even if the idea of him getting hurt did terrify you.

The four of you had gone to support him, eager to see him win after months of watching him train and prepare. He’d really committed to the process, which was a surprise – Benny was a notorious ladies man. He loved to relax with a beer. But he’d never broken his self-made rules, not once. No matter the outcome of the fight, you were insanely proud of him. All of you were.

The atmosphere in the warehouse was electric. It was a big venue, with hundreds of people gathering to spectate. You hadn’t realised this was such a popular event. Adrenaline buzzed through the air, making you antsy with anticipation. You and the boys had front row seats by the ring, allowing you the perfect view, the ideal place to support Ben.

“I’m gonna go get us some beers,” Santiago yells over the noise.

“I’ll come help you,” you shout back, linking your hand into his so you don’t get separated.

You make your way out of the double doors and down the hallway in attempt to find the bar. On the journey, you spot a sign that points to the locker rooms.

“You order, I’ll be right back,” you tell Santiago, before following the directions.

You push open the door and step into the locker room. Benny is sat on the bench, headphones blasting music so loud you can hear it from 10 feet away. You make your way over, and touch him on the shoulder gently. He doesn’t startle.

“I don’t want to disturb you, Ben. Just wanted to say good luck,” you say quietly.

He grabs your wrist and pulls you to sit next to him.

“You could never disturb me, honey. You’re my good luck charm,” he winks, and the cheekiness of it warms your chest.

He pulls you in, wrapping his arms around you, breathing in the scent of your strawberry shampoo. You inhale with him, and soak up the heat that’s seeping into your skin.

“It doesn’t matter what happens out there,” you tell him. “I’ll love you no matter what.”

You press a kiss to his cheek, and throw a beaming smile at him before leaving. You find Santi at the bar, and help him carry the beers back to the boys.

You’ve never seen this side of Benny. He’s throwing and dodging punches like it’s second nature. The man moves like ocean waves, fluid and constant, never once caught off guard. There’s a lot to be said about the pastime of men fighting each other, but honestly, Ben has found his calling.

Electricity crackles through the air as Benny swings his last punch. His opponent falls to the mat as you rise from your seats. All of you instantly begin screaming, roars of celebration filling the space. Ben throws his fist in the air, signalling his victory. It’s rare, this feeling. The five of you don’t win very often. This needs to be savoured.

Eventually, the cheering dies down, and Benny leaves the ring to go and get changed. The boys are all ecstatic, chattering with pride in their voices about their brother, their teammate, their best friend.

“Be right back,” you tell them, moving to slip out of the doors and down the hallway.

You strut into the locker room, eyes scanning the space for the man you’re looking for. You find him stood, unwrapping his hands. Before you know it, you’re running into him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he spins you. His bare chest is dripping with sweat. He’s covering you in it, but you couldn’t care less. You’re both laughing, joy and love filling the air.

“I’m so proud of you,” you breathe into his neck, still in his arms. Your feet finally find the floor, and you lean back slightly to stare up at him.

“Couldn’t have done it without you, pretty girl,” he beams at you.

You can feel the energy coursing through his veins. He’s thrumming with it, buzzing with adrenaline – it feels like he’s going to burst. He’s practically vibrating.

Before you can even register what’s happening, Benny pulls you back to him, smashing his lips onto yours. He skims his hands down your back to grab at the backs of your thighs, lifting you up effortlessly. You wrap your legs around his waist and press yourself into him.

The kiss is needy, desperate, pulsing - all teeth and tongue. Benny walks you backwards to slam you against the lockers, using the pressure of his body to lean forward into you. Your hands thread through his hair, pulling forcefully. He groans, deep and guttural, and it’s one of the most gorgeous sounds you’ve ever heard.

He’s grabbing at your ass as he dips his head down to leave open mouthed kisses on your neck, biting at the column of your throat. Your dress is practically around your waist, and you roll your hips forward, searching for friction. It’s your turn to groan now.

“Fuck, honey,” he murmurs. “Prettiest sound I’ve ever heard.”

He holds you up with one arm, and moves the other hand to twist into the waistband of your underwear. He’s pulling them down when someone bangs on the door, startling you both.

“Benny! Champion! Get out here, man, or we’re coming in!”

It’s Will’s voice, that deep tone instantly recognisable.

You pull your lips from Benny’s, your head dropping back against the locker with a clang.

“Shit,” he chuckles, gently pressing a kiss to your sternum.

“Shit,” you repeat, giggling gently.

Benny puts you down carefully, smoothing down your dress with those big hands of his. He fixes your hair next, sweetly moving it out of your face and tucking it behind your ear. He runs his thumb under your bottom lip, wiping where your lipstick has smudged.

“Do we look like we just made out?” you ask him, amusement evident in your tone.

“You do. I look like I just won a fight.”

He smiles at you, and you can’t help but smile back. God, this man. One minute he’s got you whining against the lockers, and the next he’s got you giggling like a schoolgirl.

“Come on,” you urge. “They’re gonna come busting in here any second.”

Right on cue, the door swings open, three men barrelling inside. They all jump on Benny, ruffling his hair and pulling him into a headlock affectionately. You watch from a short distance away, smile still etched on your face. You love them so much you’re worried your heart is going to burst out of your chest.

You look at Will, and find him smirking at you. Always a step ahead. Frankie grabs your wrist and pulls you into their celebrations. You’re being thrown around like you’re in some sort of whirlpool, dizzy with the joy of being with your best friends. You wouldn’t change a thing, even if you are a little lightheaded.

You catch eyes with Benny, and he winks. You know that the events of tonight aren’t going to change anything between the two of you. Your friendship is so solid, you’re convinced it can withstand anything. The five of you are connected, somehow. This unexplainable, invisible tether, binding you wherever you go. The kind of friendship that they write books about.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Frankie was the next person to kiss you.

Or maybe you kissed him. You’re still not sure.

The five of you were at a bar downtown, drinking and laughing. The boys were a few beers deep, muscles relaxing and minds quietening.

But not Frankie.

When he’d made the decision to get sober, he’d included everything. He wasn’t a man who believed in partially sober, or ‘California sober’. If he was going to commit, he was going to commit fully. Alcohol included.

Usually, it didn’t bother him. He could go to bars with his friends, happily crack open beers for them when they watched a football game, make a mean margarita when they hung out at his pool in the summer. But that night, he was on edge. He didn’t know why, couldn’t pinpoint any reason specifically, but he was on overdrive. His mind wouldn’t slow down - thoughts barrelling into him at a hundred miles an hour. He was debating going home to bed, before realising that he was designated driver. So, he’d sat back in his seat, taken a deep breath, and tried to pretend like he wasn’t about to combust.

You’d noticed. Of course you had. You, with your observant eyes, your careful gaze, your genuine smile. You’d noticed.

Will had too. He was keeping an eye on Frankie from across the booth, but he wasn’t worried. He knew you were watching him like a hawk. That reassured Will to no end.

“Oh yeah? Come on then, old man, put your money where your mouth is!” Benny’s yelling at Santiago, grabbing him by the bicep, up and out of his chair. You watch as he drags him over to the pool table, determined to prove himself.

No matter where you were, or what you were doing, somehow, Benny and Santiago always managed to turn it into a competition. You, Will and Frankie were always happy to watch – you usually ended up playing referee, only interfering when someone cheated or got too rowdy.

The two of them began setting up a game, leaving you at the booth with the other two.

“I’m gonna get some air,” Frankie says suddenly, standing up and making his way out of the door.

Will gives you a look of concern.

“I got it. Just make sure those two idiots don’t kill each other with pool cues, please,” you joke.

Will chuckles and nods, squeezing your waist as you move past him to follow Frankie.

Outside, you find him around the side of the bar, leaning against the brick wall. He’s breathing heavily, clearly trying to get a handle on things. You watch as he takes off his hat and runs his fingers through his hair. He slides down the wall, sitting on the cool ground, legs bent in front of him.

You walk over and sit down next to him, ignoring the feeling of the cold concrete underneath your bare legs. You lean into him slightly, placing your head on his shoulder. He breathes you in, and you feel some of the tension melt from his muscles.

Eventually, you speak.

“You okay?”

He wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you in closer.

“Yeah, cariño, I’m okay,” he murmurs. “I’m usually fine in bars, it doesn’t bother me. Guess I’m just anxious tonight.”

You hum in understanding, before realising something.

“What’s today’s date?”

He looks at you with puzzlement written all over his face, but answers you anyway.

“March 16th.”

“Happy one year of sobriety, Francisco.”

You can see it all clicking into place in his head. The reason he’s been on pins all day, the reason he’s been so wound up tonight, unable to settle. You figured it out before he could. Clever girl.

“And I’m celebrating it in a bar, apparently. How appropriate,” he laughs. It’s a real, hearty, genuine laugh. You love when he laughs like this – so hard that he starts wheezing. It’s so endearing, it makes you want to cry.

“I can’t believe I forgot. A year ago, it was like, the biggest milestone ever. And I forgot.”

You can tell he’s almost disappointed with himself. But you’re not. No, quite the opposite, actually.

“You see how great that is though, right?” you ask him. “You’re so busy living your life now, working, being the best dad ever, that you didn’t even have to think about it. It’s not a bad thing that you forgot about it, Frankie.”

He pulls you closer, both arms wrapped around you, your head pressed into the crook of his neck.

“How do you do it, hermosa?”

“Do what?”

“Always know exactly what to say.”

“Years of knowing you, probably. Years of loving you,” you answer.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, but you hear him clear as day.

“No, I don’t deserve you. I’m so proud of you, Francisco.”

He pulls away from you to look at you earnestly. He smiles at you, and you grin back at him. If love could lift you up, you’d be floating, both of you levitating with it.

Frankie leans in closer to you, and you mirror the movement. You’re not sure who kisses who, but suddenly his lips are on yours, his hands moving to cradle your face. It’s careful, and it’s gentle, and it’s so full of gratitude and history that it takes everything in you not to break out into a grin. One of his hands moves through your hair as the other one caresses your cheek. You can’t remember the last time you were kissed so tenderly. Neither can he.

Unbeknownst to you, Will has come out to check on you both. He stops in his tracks when he sees the two of you wrapped up in each other. His heart swells in his chest, and he can’t help but smile. He knows that this won’t change anything between you and Frankie. It’s just the comfort he needed – you both needed. He makes his way back inside quietly, grateful for the both of you and the way you look after each other.

Eventually, you both pull apart. Frankie rests his forehead on yours, and takes the first full breath he’s taken all day. His shoulders relax, his jaw unclenches. He’s okay, thanks to you.

“Thank you, cielito,” he murmurs.

“For what?”

“Everything. Knowing me better than I know myself. Knowing all of us better than we know ourselves.”

“Someone’s gotta keep you all alive,” you grin, and he chuckles, the vibration of it settling into your bones, warming you up from the inside out.

He pulls you back against his side, wrapping his arms around you. You both sit against the red brick, cold ground underneath you, for what feels like hours.

“There they are!” Santiago yells when he spots you both.

“Mom, Dad, can we go home?” Benny jokes, clearly down one drink too many.

“Of course we can, baby,” you smile, pulling Frankie to his feet with you.

You all clamber into Frankie’s truck – you riding shotgun, the other boys crammed in the back. You reach for your drivers hand, and interlace your fingers, resting your palms in your lap. You hold onto him all the way home, and can’t help but notice how much lighter he seems.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Santiago kissed you next.

The five of you were having a pool day at Frankie’s, trying to cool down in the Texan summer heat. It was rare, for all of you to have the same day off, so you planned to make the most of it.

The four boys were already in the backyard when you arrived. Letting yourself in, you made your way through the house, briefly stopping in the kitchen to put your popsicles in the freezer. You’d purposely picked the strawberry ones, knowing they were Frankie’s daughters favourite. She was at her mom’s house for the week, but you knew she’d be back at the weekend.

“Hey, honey!” Benny yells when he spots you at the back door.

All of them turn to look at you, and you’re slightly taken aback by all the golden skin on display. Benny is wearing swim shorts with an inseam that can’t be any more than 5 inches, strong thighs just begging to be bitten. Will’s navy shorts compliment his blond hair beautifully, and Santiago’s green ones bring out the dark brown of his eyes. Frankie still has his shirt on, but it hugs his biceps just right. Damn, you think. I might just have the most attractive best friends in the world.

They’re all grinning at you as you survey each of them. You know they don’t mind being ogled just a little.

“Eyes up here, princess,” Santiago teases, no seriousness whatsoever in his voice. You scoff and throw your head back in a laugh, all of them simultaneously joining you in your amusement.

You put down your bag and kick off your shoes, before grabbing the hem of your dress.

“Give us a show, Miss Supermodel,” Benny whistles, winking playfully.

You peel your dress over your head slowly, wiggling your hips as you go. You’re left in a little black bikini that admittedly doesn’t leave much to the imagination. You don’t mind. You’re safe here.

They’re all whistling and cheering, make you laugh. You never feel more appreciated than when you’re with these boys. It’s everything. They’re everything.

“It’s like Sports Illustrated in real life,” Frankie grins, bumping your shoulder with his.

“Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” Will says quietly when you catch his gaze. You roll your eyes playfully, but smile at him genuinely, silently thanking him.

Your eyes flicker to Santiago. He has a look in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. It’s more than his usual appreciation. It’s hungry, hot, burning. It makes your skin prickle, the hairs on your neck standing up. You have to get away from his stare before you jump his bones right in Frankie’s backyard.

“Want me to make you a margarita?” Frankie asks, innocently breaking through the moment.

“Yes, please. That sounds amazing.”

He smiles at you before retreating to the kitchen, Benny following him in search of beer.

The heat doesn’t ease up all day. It’s sweltering, covering you all in a sheen of sweat that can’t seem to be wiped away.

Santiago’s gaze doesn’t help your warmth. Every time you look over, he’s surveying you carefully, eyes raking over your body in a way that makes your breathing quicken. There’s always been chemistry between you, sure. You have chemistry with all of the boys. But it’s never been like this with Santiago. Yes, you flirt with each other – it’s in both of your natures. But this is different. This is real.

You spend all day lounging around. Frankie keeps you topped up with margaritas as you make trips in and out of the pool, messing around with the boys. Benny hoists you up onto his shoulders in the water, throwing you up into the air as high as he can and laughing when you splash back down. You and Will throw a ball back and forth, doubling over when he overshoots and hits Frankie, who’s soaking up the sun in a lawn chair. In the late afternoon, Frankie fires up the grill, preparing to barbeque for dinner.

“Pope, you gonna help me?” he shouts from the deck.

Santiago looks at you, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip, before joining him. You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. There’s anticipation bubbling at the pit of your stomach, butterflies swirling. Warmth has settled in your core, and Santi’s heated glances are only fuelling the fire.

The sun finally gives you some respite in the early evening. You all settle on the grass, drinks in hand, laughing about nothing and everything. Benny’s telling you about his next fight, describing his opponent in hilarious detail. You look down, and realise your glass is empty.

“I’m gonna get a refill. Anyone want anything?” you ask, smiling as you watch Benny jokingly pretend to box his brother.

“Can you grab me a beer, princesa?” Santiago asks, pointed gaze trained on you.

You nod and make your way inside, praying that it’s cooler in the kitchen. The sun might have gone in, but the warmth in your core hasn’t left.

You reach into the fridge for the jug of margaritas that Frankie made earlier. You’re rising onto your tiptoes to fetch a new glass from the top of the cabinet when you feel a presence against your back. Santiago grabs one from the shelf and places it on the counter in front of you, leaning forward as he does it. His lips are brushing the shell of your ear, and you shudder out a breath.

“So you’re feeling it too, mi amor?” he murmurs.

“Yes,” you breathe. You’re worried you might combust if he keeps speaking to you in that deep, low, raspy tone of his.

“Don’t know what’s gotten into me. Can’t keep my eyes off you,” he whispers. He feels a shiver wrack through your body and chuckles.

You turn around to face him, and he steps forward, caging you in against the counter, arms on either side of you. You can’t go anywhere. You don’t want to.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he practically purrs.

He runs his thumb across your bottom lip, testing the waters. You catch it with your teeth and pull it into your mouth, biting down gently before sucking, not once breaking eye contact. He groans and tilts his head back, exposing his throat to you. You tangle a hand in the hair at the nape of his neck, and give him a look that says I dare you.

Santiago surges forward to capture your lips with his. It’s desperate and needy - a perfect representation of both of your states all day. He slips a strong thigh between your legs and pushes upward, making you whine. You’re pressing yourself into him, trying to get as close as possible. His hands are everywhere all at once – your hips, your hair, your back, your ass. He wants to feel all of you, and can’t decide where to start.

You feel drunk off of him as he kisses you. His tongue is making you melt, his steady hands the only thing keeping you upright. You could kiss him like this for hours, surrendering yourself to this man you call your best friend. This man you’ll love forever.

You’re so lost in each other that you don’t notice Will entering the kitchen. He clocks the situation in front of him and tries to exit silently, walking backwards out the way he came in. He knocks into the recycling bin, startling you and Santiago, causing you to jump apart and hit your head on the cabinet behind you.

“Shit, sweetheart, you okay?” Will asks, genuine concern etched on his face.

Santiago cradles the back of your head as he looks at you, eyes searching yours for any signs of pain.

“I’m good, I’m good, don’t worry,” you reassure them.

Will smirks at you and winks cheekily before he leaves, grabbing a beer on his way out.

“Oh god,” you groan, leaning forward to rest your head against Santiago’s chest. He strokes your hair lovingly, a laugh rumbling through him.

You both know Will isn’t going to say anything. He’s the most trustworthy one of them all. Always observing, never gossiping.

“Love you, hermosa,” he chuckles.

“Love you too, Santi,” you reply, wide smile painted on your face.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Will was the last to kiss you.

It had been a long time coming.

Some people think Will is hard to read. He’s introverted, quiet, a wallflower of sorts. But he isn’t hard to read. Not really. You just have to know what you’re looking at.

He’d called you up one Sunday morning, asking if you had plans. When you’d told him you didn’t, he invited you over for a day of pancakes and terrible movies. It sounded perfect.

Which is how you found yourself lying on Will’s couch, legs tangled together, your back to his chest. His strong arms have found home on your waist, wrapped around your middle. You’re not sure how you ended up here, as you started the movie on opposite ends of the sofa. No one’s complaining.

It’s rare, this kind of intimacy. Casual, effortless, easy. No thought goes into it. You just fall into each other as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Will’s always had that gift. He makes people feel comfortable. No matter where you are, or what you’re doing, one look from those big blue eyes is all it takes to calm you down. It doesn’t matter if you’re being shot at on a battlefield, or just getting overwhelmed in a supermarket. Will’s there, and he knows exactly what you need. You’re convinced the man might be a mind reader, honestly.

He’s not, in fact, clairvoyant. He’s just a listener. No matter what you’re talking about, Will’s looking at you like you’re the centre of his universe. He’d be perfectly content to listen to your voice, to watch the way your eyes light up when you tell stories like this forever. You feel like the only girl in the world, as you lay here in his arms.

You’re deep in thought before you decide to break the silence, voice floating through the warmth of the room.

“Have you ever wanted to kiss me?”

You feel him hum from behind you before he answers softly.

“Every day since I met you.”

You nod gently before relaxing back into him, sighing in contentment.

“Have you ever wanted to kiss me?” he asks, mirroring your question.

“Not a day goes by that I don’t think about kissing you, William,” you murmur.

His arms tighten around you slightly, pulling you impossibly closer. He presses a kiss into your hair, and another to your bare shoulder.

You sit in the silence for a while, letting the questions hang heavy in the air. It’s not awkward – no, it’s the exact opposite. It’s comfortable.

“I’ve kissed Benny, Frankie and Santi,” you confess quietly. You’re not sure why, but it just feels like something you need to get off your chest. You don’t want him to judge you.

“I know,” he speaks softly. He knows. Of course he does.

“Does it make you think differently of me?” you query. You almost don’t want to know the answer.

“Of course it doesn’t,” he replies earnestly. “Why would it?”

“I don’t know. Just doesn’t look good for me, I guess.”

“That’s not true, sweetheart. They’re your best friends. You love them. A kiss doesn’t have to change anything - not always, anyway.” He pauses. “Do you regret any of it?”

“Not at all,” you whisper.

“Exactly. We all think the world of you. You should know that by now.”

You shift and turn so that you’re sitting in between his legs, facing him. You press your forehead into his, and he smiles gently.

“I love you,” you say softly.

“I love you too,” he replies, grinning widely.

Suddenly, he jumps off the couch, pulling you up with him.

“Let’s go outside,” he prompts, dragging you out the door behind him.

“Will, it’s raining!” you squeal as he practically carries you into the backyard.

He grabs you by the waist and spins you around, both of you laughing. The downpour has drenched you both, clothes sticking to your skin, hair dripping. He puts you down and looks at you as if he’s reading the words off the very surface of your soul.

Gently, he pushes the hair out of your face, moving it to behind your ears. He uses his thumb to catch a raindrop that’s making it’s way down your cheek, swiping it away. You’re both soaked through, but you can’t feel the cold. You feel the warmest you ever have, love illuminating your bones.

Will leans down and presses his lips to yours. His hands are on your waist, and he pulls you closer, plastering you together. It’s tender, and it’s sweet, and it’s a perfect amalgamation of Will. You’ve never felt more at peace.

When he pulls away, you remember his words from earlier.

“Does this kiss change anything?” you ask, megawatt smile etched on your face.

“Everything, sweetheart,” he replies, grinning widely. “It changes everything.”

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

“You saved the best until last,” Will beams, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek.

The boys all scoff, laughing as they do it. You smile broadly, moving to peck his lips tenderly.

“Sure did.”

Benny and Santiago roll their eyes jokingly, while Frankie jabs them both with his elbows.

“Idiots,” he murmurs, still chuckling.

Will’s hand finds yours under the table. His fingers twist the ring you’re wearing absentmindedly, and he leans in to whisper in your ear.

“I love you, Mrs Miller.”

“I love you too, Mr Miller.”

“Guess I just had to kiss a few frogs to find my prince,” you wink at him, the whole table erupting into protests. You throw your head back in a laugh, your whole body vibrating with it. All four of them agree it’s their favourite sound in the world.

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dragonzfanfics11 · 2 months ago

Note

Hey!!! You can probably guess who(if not that’s fine!) Was curious if you were up for writing SBG main six with S/O wearing there clothes? I honestly LOVE everyone in SBG’s style and would 100% steal there clothes whether it’s there shirts, jackets/hoodies, skirts, pants, or literally a whole outfit(s). Also in case this is important somehow cause I know it is to some writers im 5’0.

P.S: Hope you have a great day!! And make sure you take breaks and don’t overwork yourself!! Drink plenty of water and eat when needed!!! Go asleep when tired(I know sometimes it’s hard but try!!!) we need you in good health!!!

hiii again!!! :D i just wanna say how much I love the little comments and reminders you put at the end of the requests it makes me smile knowing someone who barly knows me cares so much about my wellbeing 😭 it actually means so much to me

Summery-sbg charicters seeing you in there clothes for the first time

Warnings-fluffy, def spelling errors, all are set when you spend a night at there place, your already dating them in this!

Sbg x reader!

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Ashlen

You where staying at her house for the night to try and help with the stress of the phantom realm

It was getting late and she let you shower before her which you happily agreed to

After you got out of the shower she went in letting you get changed, you where already tired from the warm shower and the stress from the phantoms and school so you just throw on a pair of your pants and one of her shirts

Your just sitting on her bed on your phone when she come put of the shower already changed because she brought her clothes with her, and immediately noticed that your wereing her shirt and blushes

"Is that my shirt..?"

"Ya.....is that ok with you?"

"Uh ya, ya you look good in it anyways"

she layes next to you hiding her blush pretty good honestly, and then you both fall asleep soon after, aiden definitely teases you both about it in the phantom dimension lol

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Aiden

He stays over at your place or invites you over to his place often and for some reason which you have no idea why he seems to always leave his sweatshirts at your place every single time

You've asked him about it before as you bring each one back and he just says he's forgetful and has plenty more (totally not because he wants to see you wearing one of them-)

Aiden stayed over the night before for a bit just to hang out and you woke up groggy due to last night's events in the phantom realm and you where to tired to really pick a great outfit and hurried off to school not even realizing you where wearing audens sweatshirt he left the night before

"Hey there you ar-"

He immediately stops seeing you in his sweatshirt a blush forming on his cheeks

"What?"

"Nothing- you look great!!"

He says in his normal cheery stat having a whole party in his head as his mission was complete to get you wearing one of his sweatshirts

It wasn't until later you found out you where wearing his sweatshirt when either taylor or tyler point it out and he refuses to take it back because it was a 'cold day' and he didn't want you getting sick

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Ben

You where staying over at his place just to hang out because you two don't do that often with the phantom realm and just always being with the while group so it was nice having a peaceful night to yourselves (other then aiden interrupting you constantly)

He went to go take a quick shower and he told you that you can change into some comfortable clothes before going to sleep

You where half way through changing looking for a shirt to were when you find one of beans big shirts laying around and you thought it would be super comfortable to sleep in so you put it on

It was obviously big on you he's a pretty big guy so it was like a night gown honestly- lol

He comes out of the shower already dressed and immediately stops when see sees you in his shirt a deep blush forming on his cheeks

He dosent really mind though he just never thought of you in his clothes

Then you just hang out the rest of the night watching some movie or listening to music

(Also aiden definitely teases you both about it-)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Tyler

Yor over at his place to catch up on some homework and spend the night and you both are mostly just hanging out until it's time to go to bed

He lets you change first because he still needed to do something and you accidentally grabbed one of his shirts instead of your own you lit it on because you've got nothing else to wear

"Hey Tyler have you seen my shirt?"

You say as you look around for it when he walks in he stops immediately his face turning red

"Tyler?"

".....ya?"

"You ok?"

Hes just staring at you surprised and blushing from how good you look in his shirt and he just walks over and wraps his arms around you after a minute

"Tyler your supposed to be helping me find my shirt"

"...just sleep in my shirt it's probably more comfortable anyways.."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Tayler

Youd be staying over at her place to just hang out for once without the others and the phantoms even tylers actually leaving you both alone (after a lot of bribing from taylor)

It was getting late so she let you change in her room and she changed in the bathroom

You where almost done changing when you seen one of her shirts on the ground and thought I'd be fun to see her reaction if you wear it

So you quickly slip it on before she got out of the bathroom

When she sees you she has to stop and process it for a moment noticing that your wearing her shirt before a huge grin spreads on her face

"OMG!! You look so good I should let you take my clothes more often!"

She'd probably lt you wear about anything of hers after that lol

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Logen

You where at his place just chilling after the events with the group and phantoms it was actually a very peaceful night

He let you take a sower first so you did and grabbed one of his shirts instead of your own because why not?

When you got out of the shower his shirt was slightly big on you but it was actually really comfortable compared to your own

"I-is that my shirt-?"

he completely short-circuited his face bright red seeing you in his shirt

"Ya that isn't a problem is it..?"

"N-no y-you look good in it"

he was shuddering and blushing a good hour or so after that before you guys went to bed and he probably will still blush every time you do it after that

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Dont worry I took my time with this one lol I hope you liked it!!

#school bus graveyard x reader #aiden clark #aiden x reader #ashlyn banner #ashlyn x reader #ben clark #ben x reader #logen fields #logen x reader #taylor x reader #taylor hernandez #tyler x reader #tyler hernandez #sbg x reader #sbg (webtoon)

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alltheboysandgirlsiloved · 22 days ago

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There are many reasons why I love the entire camp cretaceous series so much but while I was watching Choas Theory season 2, I was hit with yet another one!

JWCC and JWCT consistently develop the characters's psyche. They keep evolving and growing, nearly every single experience changes them a little bit in such a compelling and human way. What more important - those changes become entwined with the characters' personalities - not forgotten. And the show just. Keep. Doing. That. (spoilers for season 2 ahead).

First, we have Darius who lost his father pre-season 1 jwcc and this experience changed him for life. Although by now he has made peace with it - notice how he reacts to Kenji's joke about Daniel's death in the current timeline. His expression is completely different from the expressions of other characters because being half-orphan is one of the things that shaped him as a person. And the show doesn't forget about that.

We also have Ben who - as we all know - went through a severe trauma on Isla Nublar. Who's "glow-up" was essentially a trauma response. I said it before and I'll say it again - JWCT is handling him perfectly. He is the perfect blend of that shy little boy from jwcc season 1, the boy who survived in the jungle on his own, and the boy who understood that there's still space for him to keep changing. I love it so much when the show runners remind us that Ben used to be that shy, awkward boy, who was unsure how to handle emotions, but always tried to voice them out. I love that he is conflicted so often - that's just our Ben. Most of his battles have always been on an emotional level - and putting him in the situation with Brooklyn in season 2 just proved it once again.

We have Yas... Oh, I could talk about her for hours. A girl who openly acknowledged her trauma. A girl who went from being socially awkward to a woman who recognizes destructive patterns in others and sees her old self in them. A girl who learned how to be emotionally and socially smart and isn't afraid of using those skills - because she has always been capable!

Sammy... don't piss me off. That's my girl through and through. A girl who would do anything for her loved ones! Every single time when she spent time with Aminata in season 2 - we could finally see how she probably used to interact with her family. We also could see how - even tho the camp fam are her family - she misses her family still. That was such a powerful move - a move that reminded us what Sammy was capable of in jwcc season 1. A move that reminded us that she is willing to take those risks - which she wanted to do again in season 2 when she and Yas were separated.

Brooklyn is...- As I was watching season 2, I found myself growing more and more hungry for her screen time. I wanted to see her, hear her. I was cautious of her every word. Did she change? Yes. But she was always madly determined. Ever since the beginning of the jwcc - once she set her eyes on something it was hard for her to focus on other stuff. Remember the frozen flowers in jwcc? Remember her obsession with going "behind the scenes"? That's the same determination right now. She has never lost it, it only evolved into something more dangerous, and who could blame Brook for that? the world, in fact, is more dangerous than 13-year-old Brooklyn thought.

I left Kenji for the end. Because both season 1 of JWCT and season 2 blew my mind when it comes to his character. He is. perfect. Currently, in terms of character development, he is probably my favorite. His daredevil-like tendencies in season 2? shut up. his interactions with his father in season 1 and everything Daniel's death followed? This is peak character writing and I mean it. I have never expected the show to go that deep but god lord, I should have seen that one coming. Kenji who in jwcc learned how to love and appreciate people properly, lost so many of them in jwct? of course, it damaged him on levels that are hard to imagine. At the same time - his behavior isn't completely out of character - even Darius points out at some point that (in season 2) Kenji acts "beyond" the way he behaved in the past. The same trait but Kenji's out of control of it now. Genius.

JWCC and JWCT are shows that are brilliant. Shows that have a clear and very simple message: your relationships with others define you. if you see them eaten, it's going to scar you forever. if you lose them, their shadow will stay in your pocket for a long time.

#jwct #jurassic world camp cretaceous #jwcc #jurassic world chaos theory spoilers #jurassic world chaos theory #jwct spoilers #jwct season 2

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cheynovak · 28 days ago

Text

Complicated

Characters: Soldier boy x Y/N Female character

Summary: Y/N, a young personal assistant to Soldier Boy (Ben) and Crimson Countess, is caught in a whirlwind of events that shatter her sense of stability. After accidentally witnessing an intimate moment between Ben, Crimson, and another woman, she’s left shaken and unsure how to process it. The following day, Crimson casually invites her to join them, which only adds to Y/N's confusion.

Warnings: 18+ hurt pain TRIGGER WARNING: mentioning of rape/ sexual abuse. If you don't want to or can't read this, please skip to next part in this story.

English is not my first language

*This story is my own original story, please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated*

part 6/?

He just opened the door and walked out, leaving me alone with nothing but the empty space he’d left behind.

Weeks passed, and I hadn’t seen or heard from Ben, officially statement: secret mission. At first, I tried to push it out of my mind, telling myself this was just what he did—he came and went on his own terms. But the longer I went without seeing him, the worse I felt. Worse than when I’d left Kevin, even. At least with him, I’d known why it ended. But Ben had left me without a single explanation.

What did he mean when he said, “You are loved”? The question haunted me, playing over and over in my mind. Did he mean he loved me? Was it some twisted way of telling me he cared? Or was he saying that I’d be loved someday, by someone else? That thought was like a knife to my chest—because what if I’d already given my heart to someone who wouldn’t give his back?

I tried to keep my distance from any member of Payback at work, hoping they wouldn’t ask about it, hoping they wouldn’t even notice I existed. The last thing I needed was to be asked why I hadn’t been around Soldier Boy or why he hadn’t been around me. I couldn’t face the humiliation of admitting I didn’t know where he was or if he was even coming back.

As days turned into weeks, the silence between us grew unbearable. So I packed my bags, leaving behind the life I’d been building with him—or rather, the life I’d been building in his shadow. I found a small, cramped apartment on the other side of the city. It was nothing like the glamorous place Ben had provided me. It smelled like damp wood and cigarettes, the walls paper-thin, the floors uneven.

But it was mine. And at that point, I was angry enough to prefer it. Angry at Ben for disappearing. Angry at myself for caring so damn much.

In the middle of that anger, though, there was something else. A deep, aching emptiness. I kept picturing Ben giving his loft to some other girl—someone else to play with when he was bored, someone else who’d wait around for him like I had. Maybe someone who wouldn’t ask for more, someone easier to forget.

I hated the thought of it, hated the idea of being so easily replaced. But no matter how hard I tried to move on, that cold, hollow feeling wouldn’t leave me. And the worst part was knowing that, even though I was furious, I would’ve taken him back in an instant if he just showed up and gave me a reason to.

But he hadn’t.

And maybe he never would.

Tonight was my first night off in ages, and after sitting in my small, smelly apartment for what felt like hours, I knew I couldn’t stay cooped up any longer. I needed to get out. Working for Vought had turned my social life into something non-existent, leaving me with no friends to call up for a night out. But it was 1979, and I didn’t need an excuse to go out by myself.

I pulled on a short skirt and high boots, the outfit giving me a small boost of confidence. I left my place and wandered into town, the neon lights of the city buzzing above me, drawing me in. Eventually, I found a nice pub with good music, a place that seemed alive, filled with strangers dancing and laughing. It felt like the escape I needed.

But as soon as I walked in, I spotted Kevin. My stomach dropped. He was with a group of his friends, sitting at the bar, laughing like he didn’t have a care in the world. At first, I tried to act like I hadn’t noticed him. I didn’t want to run off and look like I was afraid. But I felt his eyes on me the moment he spotted me.

He kept looking, and I could feel the tension building with each passing second. The way he stared, the familiar intensity, sent a chill down my spine.

I tried to ignore it, ordering a drink and pretending like I was just another patron, but the awkwardness became unbearable. I kept stealing glances over my shoulder, knowing he was still watching me. After a couple of drinks, the atmosphere of the pub no longer felt exciting or freeing. It felt suffocating.

I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to leave.

As I pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped out into the cool night air, I breathed a sigh of relief. The sounds of the city felt less pressing out here, and for a moment, I thought I’d managed to escape him. I started walking down the street, eager to get home and forget the whole night.

But little did I know, Kevin had followed me.

Before I realized what was happening, he caught up to me, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me into a small, dark alley. The suddenness of it knocked the breath from my lungs, fear rushing through me like ice in my veins. His hands were all over me, rough and insistent, and no matter how much I pushed or squirmed, he was stronger.

"Kevin, stop," I pleaded, my voice shaking, but he didn’t listen.

I didn’t want this, but he didn’t care. His grip tightened, his hands roaming over my body like he had some right to me. The fear was paralyzing, every inch of my skin crawling as I struggled against him.

I needed to get out of there, needed to fight back, but his strength and his size kept me pinned in place. I could feel the cold, damp bricks of the alley behind me, the rough texture scraping against my back as he pressed me into the wall. Every inch of me screamed to run, but I was trapped.

I tried to scream, but Kevin’s hand clamped over my mouth, silencing me. Tears streamed down my cheeks, my heart pounding in my chest as panic took over. Oh, please, God, no, was all I could think, the words like a desperate prayer echoing in my mind.

In a moment of frantic instinct, I kicked him as hard as I could. My boot connected with his shin, and for a brief second, I thought I had a chance. As he stumbled back, I turned to run, but before I could even take a step, another pair of hands grabbed me roughly from behind.

His friends.

They had turned the corner, and now I was trapped between them, my escape cut off. Fear washed over me like ice, my body trembling as I realized I was completely surrounded. My voice broke as I started begging, the words falling from my lips in a desperate, shaking sob. “No, please… please, no…”

Tears blurred my vision as I backed up, only to bump into Kevin again. His breath was hot against my face, and his voice dripped with cruel satisfaction as he leaned in close.

“Let’s see what you’ve learned over these past months, you slut,” he sneered, his voice thick with malice.

I froze, my entire body going numb. His words were laced with all the hate and control he’d always tried to have over me, and in that moment, I knew what he was planning to do. I tried to pull away, to fight, but the weight of his friends’ presence and the fear coursing through me made my limbs feel weak, powerless.

I was trapped. Trapped and alone. And all I could do was beg for it to stop.

I tried to walk home, but my legs felt like they were moving on their own. My mind kept repeating what had just happened, the memory of their hands on my body, their grins, their laughter—it was twisted pleasure for them. They enjoyed it. I wanted to cry, to scream, but it was like I’d run out of tears. The emptiness was worse than the pain.

Somehow, I ended up in front of Ben’s building. I didn’t even realize I had come this far until I was standing at the entrance. My feet had carried me here, to the only place I could think of. I stumbled into the elevator, leaning against the cold metal walls as it took me up to his penthouse. I didn’t know why I was here. Maybe I just needed to see a familiar face, to feel something other than the hollow, aching void that had settled into my chest.

When I reached his door, I knocked once, weakly.

From inside, I could hear the unmistakable sounds of moaning, women’s voices tangled with each other. I flinched, a fresh wave of nausea hitting me. My body tensed, and I immediately regretted coming here. What was I thinking? Just as I turned to leave, the door swung open.

Ben stood there in nothing but a silk bathrobe, his expression already irritated before he even fully saw me. “What? Miss the luxury already, princess?” he snapped, his voice dripping with sarcasm. His eyes were cold, dismissive, like I was just another annoyance interrupting his night.

I turned my head over my shoulder, trying to hide my face. “Sorry… this was a mistake,” I whispered, or at least I tried to. My voice was barely audible, cracking under the weight of everything.

But as soon as he saw me—really saw me—his expression shifted. The irritation vanished, replaced with something else. His eyes scanned my face, taking in the smeared makeup, the cracked lip, the red, swollen eyes from crying. The bruises that were probably forming under my skin.

He didn’t say a word. His face tightened, his jaw clenching as he turned away from me. “Wait here,” he muttered, his voice low and tense. He walked back inside, and I heard the confused murmurs of the girls still in his penthouse.

A few moments later, the door opened wide again, and I saw them—half-dressed, their clothes hastily thrown on, their makeup smudged from whatever they’d been doing with Ben. They didn’t even get a chance to put their shoes on as they stumbled out, looking irritated but confused, clutching their things to their chests. Ben stood behind them, his face hard, his hand gripping the door frame so tightly his knuckles were white.

Once they were gone, he turned to me, his green eyes burning with something I couldn’t quite place. “Get in here,” he said, his voice rough, but not angry anymore. Not like before.

I stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. But my legs gave out before I could think, and I collapsed into his arms, the weight of everything finally catching up to me.

Ben stood there, his usual cool, detached demeanor gone as he took a long look at me. He noticed everything—the ripped skirt, the bruises on my legs, the smudged makeup. His eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he walked over to the bar and poured me a drink, offering it to me without a word. I took it, my hand trembling as I brought the glass to my lips.

He watched me for a moment, and then he knelt down in front of me, his gaze softer than I’d ever seen it before. “What happened?” he asked, his voice quiet, low.

I couldn’t bring myself to answer. The words were stuck in my throat, a knot of shame and fear keeping them locked inside. I stared at the floor, my fingers gripping the glass like it was the only thing keeping me together.

Ben waited, his eyes searching my face for a clue, for anything that would explain what had happened. But when the silence dragged on, he didn’t push. Instead, after a beat, he asked gently, “Do you want to shower?”

I nodded. It was a small movement, just a slight dip of my head, but as soon as I nodded once, it was like something broke inside me. The tears came all at once, harder than before, and I couldn’t stop them. I shook my head, trying to get it together, but it only made the sobs worse.

Ben’s face softened even more, and he reached out, gently placing his hand on my knee. “Shh, shh. It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, a stark contrast to his usual harsh tone. “You’re safe now, alright? You’re safe.”

I couldn’t stop crying, my body shaking as the weight of everything came crashing down on me.

“I’ll get the water running,” Ben said, standing up slowly. “It’s okay now. Just take a minute.” He paused for a second, looking at me like he wanted to say more, but instead he just nodded to himself, walking toward the bathroom.

The sound of running water filled the silence, but Ben’s words echoed louder in my mind. It’s okay now. But I was not.

I stood there in the bathroom, the warm steam from the shower slowly dissipating, but it did nothing to ease the cold pit in my stomach. When I looked down at my body, I noticed the bruises—dark, ugly marks that trailed up my thighs and near my core. My chest tightened, and before I knew it, tears were streaming down my face again, silent and unstoppable.

Ben had left a babydoll dress for me to wear. Normally, I wouldn’t have thought twice about it, but now… I couldn’t even imagine putting it on. Not after what had happened. Not with these bruises on my body. I stared at it for what felt like forever, unable to make myself leave the bathroom.

Hours passed. I lost track of time, sitting on the cold tiles, feeling more exposed than ever. Eventually, there was a soft knock at the door.

“Y/N,” Ben called gently from the other side. “You okay?”

I hesitated for a moment, then stood up and slowly unlocked the door. When I opened it, Ben stood there, concern etched across his face. He took one look at me, at the towel wrapped around my body, and then at the babydoll dress still untouched.

“Why haven’t you changed?” he asked, his voice soft but curious.

My lip trembled. I wanted to answer, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud. The words wouldn’t come. Instead, I took a step back, my hands shaking. I felt like a small child, vulnerable and terrified, but all I could think was maybe I could show him?

Ben’s eyes narrowed as he watched me. His gaze shifted, and then it happened—he saw them. The bruises. His expression changed in an instant, his eyes widening as the realization hit him. His face, once filled with concern and confusion, twisted into something darker. Pure fury.

“Who?” he demanded, his voice low, dangerous. “Who did this, Y/N?”

I backed away, my whole body trembling now, and I started crying again. I couldn’t stop it this time. The memories came flooding back, overwhelming me, and I couldn’t get the words out. I just shook my head, trying to catch my breath between sobs.

Ben’s hands clenched into fists, his jaw tightening as his face contorted with rage. “Tell me who the fuck did this!” he shouted, taking a step forward. His voice was thunderous, raw, and filled with a burning anger I’d never seen in him before.

I collapsed onto the bathroom floor, shaking my head. I couldn’t tell him. I couldn’t say it out loud. But Ben’s fury didn’t waver. He knelt down beside me, trying to pull me into his arms.

“Please, Y/N, you have to tell me who did this,” he said, his voice quieter now, but still shaking with barely controlled rage. “I’ll make them pay.”

But I couldn’t stop crying long enough to respond. All I could think about was the horror of what had happened, and the terrifying thought of what Ben might do next if he knew.

Ben let go of his anger for a moment, the fire in his eyes dimming as he looked at me. Without a word, he left the room and returned a few minutes later, holding an old shirt and a pair of sweatpants—his own clothes. He handed them to me gently, his expression still tight with restrained fury but softened by something more protective.

"If you tell me where you live, I’ll pick up some clothes for you," he offered, his voice quieter now, trying to keep calm.

I shook my head immediately, panic rising in my chest. My hand clamped onto his wrist, desperate and trembling. "No, please don’t leave me," I whispered, my voice hoarse but clear. It was the first real sentence I’d managed to speak all night, the first words that didn’t feel broken by the weight of what had happened.

Ben’s eyes softened further, and his body seemed to relax as he knelt in front of me again. He reached up, covering my hand with his. "Alright," he said softly. "I won’t leave."

There was something different in his tone now—not the arrogance or the frustration I’d grown so used to, but something steady, grounding. He stayed still, waiting for me to decide what I needed, not pushing, not demanding. Just being there.

The tears slowed, and for the first time since everything happened, I didn’t feel completely alone.

Please like, share or comment when you liked the story. If you liked this, please check out my masterlist for other stories.

Tag list:-> If you want to be added let me know what you like to read! If anyone feels like you're tagged too much, also let me know please. :)

@kr804573@nancymcl@suckitands33@mostlymarvelgirl@globetrotter28 @jackles010378 @hobby27 @winchesterwild78 @deans-baby-momma @soab1967 @livingdeadblondequeen

@ladysparkles78 @whimsyfinny @kamisobsessed @jensens-bonnie-on-the-side @ferrersbiggestfan @spxideyver @kamisobsessed @deans-queen @yvonneeeee @deangirl96 @libby99hb

#fanfic #fluff #the boys #the boys amazon #soldier boy #x reader #jensen fucking ackles #jensen ackles #jensenedit #x y/n #soldier boy edit #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x reader #the boys soldier boy

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tommyxgrace-always · 1 year ago

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Tommy & Ada parallels

Political inclination

Tommy was known to be communist/socialist before the war, dreaming about changing the world. After Grace, he eventually decides to pursue politics.

Ada also shared communist ideologies and is active to an extent with Freddie. When Tommy became MP, she naturally became his political advisor. In the finale, Tommy reiterates the fact that she was born for politics in her family.

Fine things in life

Tommy liked to possess lavish and fine things. His suits for example, In s1, we see how he gets his suits done from the same place as Kimber. In s4, we hear how he gets his suits done by a tailor in London. Similarly he admired Tatiana’s luxurious car in s3 just like the look of awe he gave May’s mansion. Arrow house was decorated with the finest things - paintings, interiors, furniture and his bedroom with Grace too.

Ada’s house in s2 said it all. The interior, the furniture everything was expensive and grand. This aspect of her personality is reiterated in s5, by showing the luxurious redecoration and also her art pieces, vases etc (when finn was too scared to ruin it with his blood)

Love & Marraige

Both married the love of their life inspite of opposition from family. Ada married Freddie even though Tommy and her brothers were against a communist. Tommy married Grace even when Polly was against her.

Both their children were born out of wedlock. When Ada got pregnant there was ambiguity about Freddie’s intentions for her. Just when Ada lost hope and decides to be practical and abort, they have a dramatic reunion at the train station. Their love for each other is validated and they look forward to have their child. Similarly Grace got pregnant with Tommy’s child, there is ambiguity about her intentions and it seems they will go their separate ways again. Just when Tommy seems to have accepted that she will sail away and decides to be practical and be with May, they have a dramatic reunion at the Derby. Their love and longing for each other is re-validated and they look forward to have a life together.

Both lose the love of their life. Tommy takes it way worse because of his already existing war trauma. Ada is normal and emotionally stable so she carries on without getting sucked into addictions, depression and hallucinations whereas we all know how Tommy suffered after Grace.

Both end up being widowers and single parents

Companionship

They never looked for love again. Companions yes but not another love.

We see Ada interested in the Russian spy in s3 and later we see her with Ben Younger. There may be other men whom she saw which we don’t see onscreen. Tommy, we all know went from women to women. Prostitutes, aristocrats, communist, secretary, dead wife’s ghost, ex girlfriend’s ghost, you name it!!!

Ben Younger was Ada’s constant and the longest one we see with her. They seem to share a stable relationship like two “mutually consenting normal people” who respect each other, can share. Lizzie is a constant go-to for Tommy but they share an unequal dynamic where she has been hopelessly in love with him from beginning while he saw her as no strings attached buddy and had other priorities and is done with love after Grace. Thats why that relationship is chaotic and toxic but also convenient and practical for both.

Interestingly they also have a child out of wedlock with their companions. The difference is Tommy had to marry Lizzie as a man who took responsibility of his child. Whereas Ada mentions she wasn’t planning to marry Ben, it’s seen as a bold move.

Ada and Ben’s relationship confirms what Grace fan always knew unlike a certain section of the fandom . Just because a partner is decent and good and you like them does not automatically mean you fell in love. Ada explains in a s5 scene after she hears of Ben’s demise “I didn’t love him. But I liked him. He was decent and good….I wasn’t going to marry him. God he didn’t deserve us”. This is exactly how Tommy and Lizzie were designed too. Due to Tommy’s trauma and unequal feelings for Lizzie, their relationship is more toxic in nature than Ada and Ben’s. But at the core it was companionship. Two people having a convenient partnership that serves both. Tommy also found Lizzie to be decent and good compared to him. She took care of his children and was loyal to him and his family. She didn’t deserve him. He didn’t love her either but liked her. He felt sorry for her as she had to bear the ultimate pain of losing a child.

There is so much more I wanted to cover about their bond. But this post will be too long. So will do a separate post.

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zenless-zideblog-zero · 1 month ago

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ZZZ sexuality headcanons

Because everyone else seems to do it.

~Phaethon Sibs~

Wise: Biromantic (slight preference for women) Pansexual, but like Theater Kid Bi/Pan. He IS LGBT+, but he's so dramatic about it the only people he ends up falling in love with are those with big dramatic reveals and backstories (Lycaon, Caesar, ETC.)

Belle: Demi on both accounts. She finds herself falling for girls more often but to be fair, an inordinate amount of the people she's around are Girls.

She has some Trans Vibes™ to me, but also just as likely to be cis.

~The Cunning Hares~

Nicole: Likes Women, and Certain men. Aromantic, but willing to be in a romantic relationship.

Anby: Sex positive Asexual, Panromantic. She only recently figured this out since she escaped her mysterious past.

Billy: Okay, him being a Robot, even a sapient one, makes the whole Sexuality/Romanticism thing weird to consider, but given the fact he has some kind of attraction to Monica that seems to be deeper than an emotional infatuation, so like. Straight? But also I reserve the right to change this in the Future.

Nekomata: Okay, as a bisexual it's hard not to make everyone like both men and woman as a form of projection, but also. Shooting her with the Bisexual Beam™.

~Belobog Heavy industries~

Koleda: Pansexual Demiromantic.

Grace & Anton: I am putting these two together because I cannot begin to fathom what is going on inside these People's heads. Should either of them have a sexual and/or romantic partner, they won't care what their partner is, in a way that is impossible to distinguish between Bi/Pan/Omni/Etc and Asexuality.

Simultaneously, I can also see them both being DEEPLY Homosexual, OR in the vein of "HRT Hit me like Freight Train" trans, but not both gay and trans.

Ben: Either the straightest man ever or the least flamboyant gay man in history, because on one hand he's a Bear (Heavyset Hairy Man) and a Bear (Furry) but also he's the accountant, which means he likely was in Business classes in college. I have never met a gay person good at math.

~Victoria Housekeeping~

Lycaon: I think he is like, pan/Omni/etc, but he's so deeply uncomfortable with being open to those he doesn't know he seems like he's demi.

Rina: Again, as a bisexual it's hard not to make everyone like both men and woman as a form of projection. But also, *Bisexuality Beam*

Corin: She really hasn't put much thought into it, but to seem 'normal' her kneejerk reaction to such a question is to claim that she's straight, even though she's still very much figuring herself out.

Sapphic, with unclear feelings towards men.

Ellen: (BisexualProjection.TXT) Sapphic, but Demi with guys, sort of like how Nicole is described.

~Criminal Investigation Special Response Team~

Zhu-Yuan: Comfortably Pan, terribly single.

Qingyi: Same thing with Billy where it's different because she doesn't have "Organic" Impulses, but also she's lesbian.

Jane Doe: She's so deep into the "Flirty Femme Fatale" Persona that she's forgotten what her actual preferences are. When is the flirting real, and when is it a ploy? If it was real would it actually be for this Guy/Girl?

She lands somewhere between Lycaon and Corin's deals in this way. I don't Think it's that clear to her, let alone to anyone else. She just needs to be allowed to be honest with others to be true to herself, and figure it out again.

Seth: Sex-Neutral Ace, Panromantic. He WILL Cuddle you after and he WILL Make you breakfast in the morning.

~Sons of Calydon~

Caesar: Bi, heavily leaning towards men because that's mostly what she can find in her romance stories.

Lucy: (BisexualProjection.TXT) As a revolution against her dad, she went HARD into being a lesbian, but the freedom and kindness provided by the Sons have let her really consider her options. She does like women a LOT, but sometimes ... she wouldn't mind a guy treating her like the princess she wants to be.

BUT TO BE CLEAR. She is a Disaster Lesbian for Caesar specifically. Caesar is basically the pinnacle of Sexual Attraction to which she bases all other potential partners against. She does not realize this and it is part of the reason she fights Caesar so much because of the Weird Feelings™ She gets.

Burnice: Literal Flaming Homosexual. The MOST Lesbian. If the bad word for gay (F**) didn't already have the hitorical context for it's existence, Burnice would be the origin of it.

Piper: Also a lesbian. She had a wife ten years ago, but they've divorced. This cannot be surprising to anyone.

Lighter: GAY GAY HOMOSEXUAL GAY-

~Misc.~

Soukaku: A Child. Do not bother.

Soldier 11: A Good Soldier's only love is for their country, and their only marriage is to the code by which they live!

The amount of Psycho-sexual issues this Woman will have if she ever uncovers her own personhood will be Deep and Troubling. and HOT.

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invisible-pink-toast · 10 months ago

Text

thinking about how mari is obsessed with heirarchy and making sure she's near the top

early season 1 when jackie is the captain, popular and stepping into a leader role, mari is always trying to get her attention.

trying to be helpful and close and always backing jackie up, wanting to be her no.2 (and stepping in the second there's tension between jackie and shauna)

but after they've been out there for a few weeks, things start to shift. there's no soccer team so jackie being captain doesn't matter. she's not stepping up as a leader because that involves living off the land and jackie has no clue what to do there. and the only popularity is within their group - and jackie not pulling her weight means she's no longer popular.

i don't think at this point mari singles out jackie to make an enemy out of her, they still have some friendly moments. but we all know mari's favourite thing is being a hater and that just comes out. she's treating jackie like they're equals - and in this situation, they now are.

besides, someone else is starting to step up as leader

and when tai leaves on her mission to find help, mari is in the small group that goes. it's worth mentioning that jackie also gave her support in the escape attempt. both leader-figures are in favour, so mari is too.

but tai's stint as leader doesn't exactly go as planned...

their group is attacked in the night when tai was supposed to be on watch. tai fell asleep, the fire went down, and "other tai" slept-walked her up a tree. and while when tai comes to she joins the fight (and kills a wolf with an axe damn), i think that would've broken mari's trust in her as a leader.

the other person who is being set up as a leader, whether she likes it or not, is lottie. before their attempt to leave the woods (after the seance / possession, when everyone is freaked by lottie and only really van is starting to believe her) mari is openly making fun of her.

but after van is more vocal about believing in lottie, and laura lee is advocating for lottie too, there's a shift.

it's not entirely clear whether mari just starts to believe in The Wilderness and lottie's connection to it, or she see's the others starting to believe and agrees to be in the majority. i think it's a combination of the two.

and by doomcoming, lottie is starting to stand out as a leader.

and (especially once the shrooms and booze kicks in) mari is happy to follow along

lottie says they should find jackie and travis, and all the girls follow her into the woods. and guess who's the first one through the door, the first one to go after jackie? mari.

and when they find jackie and travis, they all follow lottie's lead there too - ganging up on jackie, locking her up, and that whatever-orgy-hunt thing with travis. once again, lottie is the one ordering them to go after someone, and they all willingly - eagerly - comply.

and when they have travis on the alter, lottie in her antler queen glory, who's the one standing beside her? who's the one forcing travis' mouth open for lottie to shove the pinecone into? who's grinning like a predator while doing it?

how even after the hunt is over and the shrooms have worn off she's still ready to antagonise jackie, who's setting herself up as an outsider

jackie doesn't believe in the wilderness, or lottie (even after a bear bowed to her and she killed it! metal af! oh and she predicted it!), she didn't eat the stew and go on a non-consensual mindfuck journey like the rest of them. now that lottie is being put on top, and jackie has been alienated from the group, the dynamics have all changed.

jackie orders shauna out, but she doesn't have that power anymore. and while ben and tai try to keep jackie inside, lottie tells ben to stay out of it, and mari is the one who mocks jackie - and further ostracises her from the group.

throughout s2 mari is firmly in team lottie with most of the others. always supporting lottie, going to her morning meetings, participating in the rituals, helping her when she's nearly comatose. so when the starvation and fear and determination to survive wins out, and the group decides to kill one of them in order to save the group, it's agreed it can't be lottie.

but they draw from a deck of cards. whoever gets the queen is the sacrifice. it's random, they're all equals. everyone has to draw a card.

and given that we've seen the first card-drawing-wilderness-choosing session, and the last (so far) in 2021, and they're pretty much the same, we can assume that this is the way it's done all through the rest of those 19 months too.

sure possibly there was cheating, rigging, people trying to save themselves or who they love most. but at this point we don't know.

all we know is that next winter a girl, that is most likely either mari or gen, is hunted down in a ritualistic way before being killed, butchered and eaten.

and as far as mari's character arc goes, it makes so much sense for it to be her.

that she's put all her effort into being in the majority, in being useful and following the leader no matter who they are, so that she can be on top.

only for it not to matter at all. because 'the wilderness chose'

it would be a cruel end for her character (for anyone but specifically) but the show is portraying just how cruel survival and the wild can be. jackie just wants to be loved. she dies alone in the snow. javi wants to help. he dies in nat's place. mari wants to be on top? she dies in a pit.

mari threw jackie aside because she no longer served a purpose for mari, and mari dies wearing jackie's necklace.

it also makes sense because of her constant antagonism of misty - because mari perceives her as being on the bottom, and as long as misty is then mari should be safe. mari is the cook, and after the shrooms incident, she refuses to let misty anywhere near the food

and yet... after pit girl has been turned into food... it's misty that brings the plate forwards. something mari never would have let her do. they all have their roles - for instance, shauna is the butcher, and we know it was her who bled out pit girl (shauna has flashbacks to it when attacking adam). so shauna's role has stayed consistent, if mari was still in the group why would misty be the one bringing the food out? maybe because mari is the food...

and each character has something different going on - lottie has visions, tai sleepwalks, akilah hallucinates a dead mouse as being alive, etc. well mari hears dripping. constant dripping she can't find a source for. until she sees buckets of blood oozing through the walls

"Oh my god! Oh my god! They're dead! They're dead, they're dead, they're dead! They were! No, their blood was dripping on the floor."

Doesn't bode well for her.

#i love mari honestly #but as horrifying as it is it MAKES SENSE for her character #though if she turns out to be the 8th survivor and just shows up to continue being a hater i would be fine with that too sjdflskhflsahf #mari #yellowjackets #pit girl #yellowjackets theory #my meta #my post #tw blood #tw cannibalism

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ofstoriesandstardust · 10 months ago

Text

miss americana & the heartbreak prince (b.r.b.)

note: if this fic looks familiar to you... well, that's because it's been here before. and the response was less than kind but i've cleaned a house a bit since then so it's coming back. remember that this fic is told with intertwining timelines and if you have something mean to say you'll get blocked. enjoy the read (or re-read!) :)

summary: The year Bradley left and the year he returned.

same mistakes

warnings: swearing, alcohol mentions, my general same mistakes warnings

word count: 4.9k

“It’s been a long time coming/it’s me and you”

You slip out into the warm September air from Sarah’s car.

“Bye! Have a good-”

The door shuts as you tug your bag higher on to your shoulder. You take a deep breath, beginning the walk down the stairs to the courtyard.

Almost immediately, the whispers begin.

“Did you hear-”

“Bradshaw won’t speak to her anymore-”

“Feel kind of bad-”

“How could she-”

“I hear her Dad put her into therapy-”

“Heard she kinda lost it-”

“Bradshaw is better off-”

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing to block the words out.

They didn’t know a single thing about you nor your family. They just knew what Bradley had reveled in telling them, with no care to the fact that you had to come back to this place.

You feel someone watching you, causing your eyes to fly open. Across the hall is Sienna and Ben, Matt and Madison, Andrew joining them from around the corner. And there, at the head of the group, is Paige.

Just a year younger than her older brother Lucas, Paige was someone who had spent so much time in your house. Where Bradley went, Lucas followed, and where Lucas went, so did Paige.

While Lucas graduated the year before with Bradley, you and Paige were in the same class together, had been since their family, also Navy, relocated to the Miramar base in the 4th grade.

Paige, who’d sworn she'd be caught dead before hanging out with the likes of Sienna and Ben, after you’d caught Ben cheating on you with the girl who was supposed to be your best friend just less than six months prior.

The bell ringing, signaling the need to head for your homeroom, does nothing to alleviate the weight of the year that you know is in front of you.

Bradley squeezes your hand as you walk up the steps of the house (read: mansion) April had rented for her birthday.

“You excited?”

You shrug, stepping closer to Bradley as an ocean breeze blows through.

“Are you?”

He nods. “It’ll be fucking amazing to see everyone. It’s been a few years since the whole group has been together. I mean I’ve seen Lucas and Paige any time we’re all in town, and Morgan has finally re-located back here, but I haven’t seen Andrew in like six or seven years.”

You swallow, feeling your nerves grow as you walk up the stone steps.

It felt like you were walking towards the death sentence of your relationship, uncertain about what (or rather, who) you would face on the other side of that heavy oak door.

Bradley rings the doorbell as he says, “Actually, Andrew texted me to ask if I was bringing you.”

Your stomach drops as you hear movement on the other side of the door. “Why?”

He shrugs. “The dude’s always been nosy. I think-”

You never know what Bradley is going to say as the front door opens, revealing a grinning April.

“Bradshaw!” She shouts, pulling him into a hug. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Happy to be here.” He says, words muffled into the girl’s shoulder. She lets him go, her smile equally as blinding when she sees you.

“You actually brought your girlfriend. Was starting to think you were hiding mini Mitchell away from us.”

She pulls you into a hug of her own, but it’s not fast enough, you catching Jameson Hall over her shoulder as he pokes his head around the wall to see who’s arrived.

You don’t miss the way his eyes widen and the way he chokes on his drink.

“Maybe you should join the cross-country team, I know tryouts are this Tuesday.” Ice says nonchalantly over dinner.

You raise an eyebrow. “Why?”

He shrugs. “It’ll be good for you to get out of the house, focusing on other… things.”

He says things in such a way that you know really means Bradley but no one was really willing to discuss his absence, not since that last night at Ice and Sarah’s.

“Plus, didn’t you get into running after seeing that grief counselor?”

Your Dad had put you and Bradley both into grief counseling when Carole passed in the spring, but you’d only gone for three sessions before seeing the old dude with an office that smelled like fish and a receding hairline had gotten to be too irritating as he tried to tell you how you were supposed to feel.

The only thing that had come out of the sessions was the suggestion of picking up an activity that allowed you to decompress and focus on other things. And you leaned into running, something that Slider teased you for doing willingly.

They didn’t need to know that every time you went a run, you went running to see if this would be the time you’d run so far you never came back.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Thanks for inviting us, April.” Bradley says, the girl shutting the door behind you as the two of you step into the foyer.

“Of course, I’m happy you guys came. You guys are earlier than the rest, you know how it is. Angelina and Jameson are in the living room-” She pauses as you both see the ill-hidden twitch of Bradley's lips. She holds up a hand, cutting off whatever he’s going to say. “Save it, Bradshaw. I already know.”

He shrugs. “Good.”

“Anyways, they’re in the living room and Alex is in the kitchen. Morgan and Paige are out by the pool, and Lucas and Andrew are on their way. I invited Ben and Sienna as well-”

Now, it’s your turn to raise any eyebrow. “April, that’s not funny.”

She gives you a weird look. “I wasn’t kidding, I-”

You sigh, letting Bradley’s hand fall. “I need alcohol if I’m gonna deal with the two of them.”

“Oh, c’mon, it was like two decades ago-”

“April.” Bradley says sternly as you turn, walking through the door next to you, avoiding the living room.

It takes you a few minutes to find the kitchen in the house, Alex perking up when you do.

“Hey mini Mitchell-”

“Why the hell did April invite Ben and Sienna?”

The question is rhetorical as you wrench the fridge door open, but Alex sighs. “Because my little sister has always cared more about being liked than being a decent friend. Hey, I hear you and Bradshaw are finally together. Congrats, that’s a long time coming.”

“Shut up Alex.” You mumble, popping the can open.

Your skin is sticky with sweat, but even that can’t stop the little skip in your step as you fish through your bag for your car keys.

You weren’t sure why you’d ended up trying out for the cross-country team like Ice had suggested, but it had felt so good to hear that you’d made the team.

Sure, they kind of accepted everyone who could run a decent mile pace but you aren’t sure that really mattered to you.

You finally had something that was yours.

Someone calls your name and you turn, catching sight of Morgan, the captain of the cross-country team for the last three years.

She offers you a beaming smile, tossing her bag into the back of the truck. “Congrats on making the team.”

You run her smile, feeling your cheeks go a little warm. “Thanks.”

She nods. “I’m glad you tried out. We don’t get a lot of upper-classmen trying out and I bet it can be kind of intimidating trying out for the team as a senior.”

You shrug. “Well, my godfather kind of suggested it. He thinks I need an activity, so…”

Her eyes are filled with mirth as she lets out a little laugh. “Makes sense. Say, uh, the other seniors and I are going to get ice cream. Would you want to join us?”

You begin to rock back and forth on your heels. “I don’t know…” You trail off, unsure if the invitation was genuine or a nicety.

Morgan was a leader as much as she was kind, why she had earned the role of Captain as a sophomore. She’d never let anyone feel unwelcome or excluded.

She shrugs. “It’s up to you, but we’d love to have you. If not, you should at least join us at the team barbeque at my house this weekend.”

You swallow. Dad was all about you making new friends and Sarah was always encouraging you to give people a shot so- what did you have to lose?

“Yeah, why not? My homework can wait a few more hours.”

You can hear people filling up the house as you stand in the kitchen, avoiding leaving and seeing people you’d rather not.

“Hey.” Alex whispers, glancing back out towards the source of the sound. “Now, you didn’t hear this from me, but Jameson filed for divorce last weekend. They haven’t told anyone yet.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Wait, why?”

Alex drops his voice even lower. “Apparently, Angelina slept with one of the Chippendales dancers on a trip to Vegas a few months ago. Jameson just found out.” Your eyes widen at the information and Alex nods. “Yeah, sometimes how we get them is how we lose them. C’mon, let’s go join the group.”

You follow Alex, despite the fact that you’re still reeling. “How am I supposed to pretend to be normal?”

He shrugs. “Just play along.”

The two of you don’t get very far before you’re intercepted by someone who looks oddly familiar to you, Bradley at her shoulder.

You blink.

“Senior night is tonight?” Your Dad asks as you step off the last step. You wince, turning to face him, the letterman jacket you’d be instructed to wear suddenly feeling too heavy.

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? This is so exciting-”

“I didn’t think you’d have time to go.”

He deflates at the flat tone in your voice, the paper crinkling in his fingers. “Well, I’d- I’d like to go if you want me there.”

“If you want.”

“Are- are you leaving right now?”

You nod, feeling the keys grow sweaty in your hand as you stare at your Dad, who seems to be growing smaller.

“Yeah. The meet is at 4, senior celebration at 6.”

“Well, I- uh, why don’t I meet you down at the school?”

“Sure Dad.”

“Hey!” The girl says brightly.

“Hi?”

A soft smile plays on her face. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

Bradley sighs, taking your hand. He intertwines your fingers, the rough calluses of his palm comforting you as he does. “You remember Janie, yeah?”

Alex lets out a laugh and an “Oh shit.” from his place next to you, lifting his hand to try and hide it.

“Have you ever thought about minding your own business Alex?” Janie asks, a smile still on her face.

“Have you ever known me to?” He shoots back. “But, alas,” he sighs, “I have enough respect for these two to start now.”

Alex disappears into the crowd, as Bradley’s grip on your hand tightens.

“I was just telling Bradley how happy it made me to hear that the two of you were finally together.”

Janie and Bradley had started dating just weeks before Carole had shared her diagnosis with the two of you. She’d tried to see him through it, coming to the hospital and cooking and getting his missing homework assignments, but after months of things getting worse with no end in sight, she’d broken up with him.

In hindsight, Bradley hadn’t even been all that sad, saying it was a mutual decision, that he needed to focus on his Mom before he could focus on a girlfriend.

“I always kind of hoped, you know, that after Brad and I broke up, that the two of you would figure things out. I always knew you liked him.”

You swallow. “Janie-”

“No, no, it’s okay!” She exclaims, waving a hand. “Really. Even then, I knew, and honestly, I was okay with it. The two of you were meant for each other. It wouldn’t have been right if it had been me and Bradley who’d ended up together. It was always meant to be the two of you. ‘Bout broke my heart when I heard the two of you weren’t speaking to each other.”

“Thank you, Janie.” You tell her honestly. “That’s- that’s incredibly kind of you to say.”

“Well, I mean every word of it.”

“Yo, Bradshaw!” Someone shouts and all three of you turn to the sound of voices entering the crowded living room.

Bradley’s face lights up, his hand leaving yours as he goes to hug the man. “Andrew!”

“God, you’d think they were dating.” You mutter into your drink, earning a chuckle from Janie.

You and your Dad walk in silence out to your separate vehicles. Any conversation he’d tried to start after the meet had been ignored, you desperate just to get home after seeing who’d be in the crowd tonight.

Why couldn’t they all just fucking leave you alone? You hadn’t done anything, not to them, not to Bradley. They didn’t even like cross-country-

“Hey.” Morgan calls, followed by the sound of a car door opening. “Mitchell.”

You swallow as you turn, gripping your track bag.

“Hi Morgan.”

She watches you with guarded eyes, leaning up against the side of her truck. “You know, when you tried out for the team, I wasn’t sure what to expect. You know, Bradshaw didn’t have a whole lot of nice things to say about you, so I’m pleasantly surprised by how you’ve done this season.”

Your eyebrows furrow as you take a step closer. “You know Bradley? I didn’t know that.”

She nods. “Friends since freshman year.”

Horror dawns on you as your stomach drops. “And you ran to him the minute I joined the team. Everything that I’ve told you this season, everything I’ve confided in you this season as my friend, you turned around and told him?”

As Morgan more or less confirms your words, it feels like the bottom is falling out on your life. You swallow down the nausea rising in your throat, the burning feeling making it all worse.

“Why would you do that? Why would you do that to me?”

“Oh, mini Mitchell.” Andrew sighs, from behind you. “Always with that victim complex of yours.”

“So is it true?” Andrew says with a grin as he pulls away, leaving his hands on Bradley’s shoulders.

“Is what true?”

“You and mini Mitchell, man! Did the two of you finally make it happen?”

Bradley chuckles as he nods. “Yeah, yeah, she came with me tonight.” He takes a few steps back, nodding to you as he does. Andrew’s face lights up, hand outstretched as he does.

“Mini Mitchell! How’ve you been?” Your eyes flicker down to his hand and back up to his face.

“You really expect me to shake your hand, Andrew? Really, after everything?”

His face falls, confusion taking over. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I remember the last thing you had to say to me not being very kind.”

“Damn, it’s been like twenty years, can you not let that shit go? You hold a grudge as bad as Bradshaw. Then again, he’s fucking you, so I can kinda see why he let that go.”

Your eyes narrow as they shoot over to Jameson.

Why in the world was he choosing to get involved?

“Jameson, isn’t your wife cheating on you?” You ask, tilting your head. He falls silent, shrinking back into the couch. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes.”

You turn, spotting Andrew leaned up against his car. His trunk is open, where Ben and Sienna are sat, Paige next to them. Lucas is leaned up against the opposite side of the car.

You shake your head, tears pricking at your eyes. “I’m being ambushed in the parking lot of my own senior night.” You say miserably, throwing your hands up in the air.

“Bradley has had one hell of a lot to say about you.” Lucas comments, folding his arms.

“You guys used to be my friends.”

“Kind of hard to be friends with someone as awful as you.” Paige responds. You can do nothing but look at them, tears already trickling down your face.

This felt like betrayal in the worst way.

And it was all Bradley’s fault.

“Look, the bottom line here, mini Mitchell, is that you’re just a bitch. You’ve done the worst things you could do to someone and you’ve never once taken accountability or responsibility for what you’ve done to him. You’ve never once apologized and you just expect us to let that all go?” Andrew heaves a dramatic sigh, pushing himself off his car. “Then again, everyone has always liked him more than we liked you. You’re like a leech we can’t get rid of. Life-sucking.”

Your feet move before you give them permission, turning as your Dad calls out. Your tears are burning, same as your chest, as you slam your car door shut, throwing your bag into the back with little care as a sob bubbles out.

“Whoa, the tension is high in here.” Ben jokes.

Your throat grows tight at the sandy-haired boy, the shiny ring on Sienna’s finger. Bradley steps back, pressing a hand to your shoulder.

April huffs. “This is what I get for having friends who can hold a grudge like nobody’s business.”

Sienna laughs lightly, moving to give the girl a hug. The tightness in your throat blossoms into your chest as Sienna’s vision pivots to you.

She says your name softly, offering you a smile. “Would it be wrong to give you a hug?”

“Twenty years no apology from you and you want a hug.”

Your voice crackles somewhere along the way as you cross your arms, hoping to protect yourself from her.

“Don’t tell me you're still mad about that.” Ben says.

“How could I not be? My best friend fucked my boyfriend while one of the people who raised me was lying in a hospital bed dying of cancer.”

“Well, if you aren’t gonna put out sweetheart, you shouldn’t be surprised I found it somewhere else.”

Your body fully recoils at Ben’s words, disgust ripping through you.

“Fuck you. You have no idea what I’ve been through, how badly what you did fucked me up. I did not deserve that.” You say emphatically, tears tracking down your face. You wipe at them to little avail, before straightening up. “Fuck this, I’m a fucking one percent Navy pilot, I don’t deserve this-”

“I mean, don’t you?”

It all goes silent in the room as everyone looks at Paige.

“I mean, it’s not exactly like the Navy’s fond of you. There’s a reason why your old team hated you so.” She says, a coy smile playing on her lips. “There’s a reason why that all played out the way it did. You’re no victim in all this, sweetheart.”

“Paige, shut up.” Bradley’s words are sharp. “Don’t you dare talk about her like that. You know nothing.”

She smirks. “I’d bargain I know a hell of a lot more than you do. And I’m sure that we’ll be able to talk about all of that, when you realize what the rest of us do that this won’t last-”

“Okay, wait, that’s enough-” April intervenes, but it’s too late, you already shouldering past the people in the house.

You’re trying to gulp for air when you finally make it outside, fighting off the sobs.

Bradley’s only a few steps behind you, offering hurried apologies. You shake your head, desperately swallowing around the lump in your throat.

“Please just take me home Bradley.”

You’re unable to stop the flow of tears as you dial the number scrawled out in Ice’s handwriting on the scrap piece of paper.

Ice had tracked down a number for “emergency purposes” though you aren't sure how. Still, now though, it didn’t matter as you sink to the floor of Ice’s study, unable to take it anymore.

You hear the line come alive and a muffled, groggy “Hello?”, a voice you never thought you’d hear again.

“Bradley.” You whimper. “I want you to come home. Please come home. I don’t want to fight any more. No one is gonna win here. Please, please, please God, please just come home.”

You hiccup as your sobs catch up to you and you think you can hear him let out a breath from the other side.

“Please B, I’m so sorry for whatever it is I did, please you have to believe me. Plea-”

The line goes dead.

“Why are you people always in my house?”

Fanboy turns, grinning at you as he clutches the spatula. Bob is next to him, stirring something on the stove. Your eyes flash over to Javy, who’s sitting at the kitchen table.

“You know when I gave you a key, this is not what I intended.”

“We’re making you breakfast, at least try to be grateful.”

You roll your eyes, giving him a look before joining him at the kitchen table.

“So how was the party last night?” Bob asks, wiping his hands on a dish towel.

You make a displeased sound in your throat, shaking your head. “Awful.”

“What happened?”

“Just… stupid shit. A bunch of kids from my high school were there, including these two Navy brats I grew up with and one of them said something kind of fucked.”

“What’d they say?” Bob asks curiously.

“Just something to the extent that I deserved what I got from my old team.”

Bob shakes his head while Fanboy pulls a face.

“Where do you keep finding these people?” Javy asks incredulously.

“They’re Bradley’s friends.” You say with a shrug, watching Bob and Fanboy turning back to the stove.

You realize belatedly they’re making eggs benedict, a favorite of yours.

“What did they say?” Javy asks, his voice a little lower.

You shake your head, signaling to him that you don’t want to talk about it. You chew your lip for a few minutes before you lower your voice, watching Bob and Fanboy carefully.

“I did some digging last night on the girl who said that, where she’d been stationed where she might have heard about that.” Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Javy nod, showing you that he’s listening. “Her brother has always worked as an engineer, followed in their Dad’s footsteps, but she went a different route and worked in communications.” You swallow, looking at Javy. “She was there, on that aircraft carrier when we went down. She knew what they did.” You all but whisper as the pieces fall into place on his face. “It’s all still following me.”

The dinky little cell he’d gotten when moved out to UVA buzzed against his cheek. He blinks a few times, barely lifting his head up from the pillow to glance at the screen.

He didn’t recognize the number, but he knew the 619 area code meant it was a San Diego number.

He felt a tug in his gut against his better judgment and answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“Bradley.” She whimpers. “I want you to come home. Please come home. I don’t want to fight any more. No one is gonna win here. Please, please, please God, please just come home.”

Please don’t cry, he thinks. Please don’t cry, because if you cry, I’ll cry-

She hiccups from the other line and his chest begins to ache.

He lets out a breath, mind whirring as he searches for something to say to her to make it all better.

“Please B, I’m so sorry for whatever it is I did, please you have to believe me. Plea-”

And then he remembers.

His fingers move before his heart realizes it, ending the call.

The screen goes dark as he slumps back against his pillows.

You hear the Bronco before you see it and you hear Bradley before you see him.

You’re standing in the kitchen, cleaning up the dishes from breakfast, the boys long gone.

You pause in your movements, as you wait for Bradley to say something, but he doesn’t.

“B?” You toss out cautiously, setting the soapy sponge down. “Is that you?”

He appears in the kitchen a moment later, looking haggard, though you can’t say that you probably fare much better at the moment.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispers hoarsely. “So sorry.”

Your eyebrows furrow as you wipe your hands off on a dishtowel, walking over to him.

“What? What are you sorry for?”

“I’m sorry that I hung up on you that night. You were in so much pain and I- I had no idea how awful they were to you. I had no idea what they had been saying and- and- and- here you were asking for help and I just ignored you. I was being selfish and I-”

“Bradley.” You whisper, reaching out for him. “What- Where is any of this even coming from? I’m not angry at you for that any more, you know that.”

“But I’m angry at me. And you should be too. What I did was fucked up and you just forgave me-”

“I did not forgive you overnight, you know that.” Your eyes search his, finally deciding to take his hand and intertwine your fingers. “B, I’m- I’m kind of lost. Where is any of this coming from?”

He heaves, his chest shuddering. “April called me this morning. Apologized profusely for how last night went, that she knew better than to stick you in that room with those people, that she should’ve known how badly they hurt you. But I didn’t- I didn’t know about them-” His breath keeps catching on his words and your concern grows. “I didn’t know about them showing up at your senior night.” He finally lets out in a hushed whisper. “I didn’t know.”

Your face falls as you squeeze his hand. “Let’s- let’s go sit on the couch.”

Bradley nods and you follow him out to the living room. He wipes at his eyes before sitting on the couch, you following behind him.

“I didn’t know what Andrew said. I had no idea they’d shown up there to taunt you. I- I- I- never would have let them get away with saying it.”

“They weren’t the only ones saying it.” You whisper. “Bradley, they just repeated what the whole school was.”

“And it was all my fault-”

“Bradley.” You say sternly. “I’m not going to sit here and say you don’t carry some responsibility in how it all played out. But I forgave you for all that. Neither of us were kind to each other in those years, you have to know that. I carry just as much responsibility as you do. And you’ve apologized, recognized that you hurt me. I’m not mad anymore.”

“So you can forgive me, but not them?”

“For the record, none of them except Morgan has ever offered me an apology. So I don’t know why I'd forgive them for things they aren't sorry for. Second of all, they have done and said things to me that you would never dream of doing and that’s what sets you apart. And yeah, maybe they’re right that I do know how to hold a grudge. I know that I hold what Ben and Sienna did to me a little too close to my heart, that them turning their backs on me cut deep. But I don’t hold that against you.”

Your fingers rest in Bradley’s curls as he sniffs. “I should’ve been there-”

“You’re here now. That’s what matters to me.” You take his hand again with your free one, gently kissing his knuckles as you do so. “I love you.”

His eyes water before he swallows, his adam's apple bobbing. “I love you too.”

You smile softly at him, pressing another kiss to his hand. “I know.”

The two of you sit there for a few minutes before you sigh. “Fanboy and Bob broke into my house to make eggs benedict this morning and there’s some leftovers I just put in the fridge. I can warm you up some if you haven’t eaten yet-”

“I don’t want you to think that we aren’t going to last.”

You pause, halfway up from the couch. “What?”

“What Paige said last night. That they think we aren’t going to last. I don’t think that and I don’t want you to think that either.”

You falter, sitting back down on the couch. “I-”

“It was bullshit and it’s not what I believe. I want us to last, more than anything else in this whole world. I know it’s only been just over a year but-” Bradley takes a shuddering breath. You’re my best friend in the whole world. I want you as long as you want me here and I know we’ve had our shit over the last year, we’ve had our fights and our people from the past but I don’t care about any of that as long as it’s you and me.”

“It’s always gonna be you and me.” You pause before sighing dramatically. “Well, maybe you, me, and a dog. If that’s okay.”

The corners of his lips twitch upwards, giving you a ghost of a smile. “Perhaps.”

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fic #top gun: maverick #top gun: maverick fic #same mistakes

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burstanddecay · 2 years ago

Text

Green Green Dress

Pairing: Will "Ironhead" Miller x named F!Reader (Sunny) Summary: Will thought his night was unfortunate: single during the holidays, left alone at a bar by his brother and facing the prospect of walking home for an hour in the biting cold. However, the first date taking place right behind his seat reaches a level of shitty he never considered to be achievable. Wordcount: 6.7K Contains/Warning: a shitty date, mentions of a life changing accident (to an outside character), general assholery from a man, attempted sexual coercion, a whole lotta fluff. In addition, the perspective shifts between 2nd and 3rd person. This fic mentions characters from Cold Is The Night: you don't have to read that fic to understand this, but this is an accompaniment to that, as Will and Benny are brothers.

He’s not listening in on purpose.

Really.

It’s just that the conversation happening right behind his back is like a car accident that caught on fire after the initial crash.

And then exploded.

All without the guy noticing.

So far, Will has deduced that it’s a blind date (mistake one), the guy thinks very highly of himself (mistake two), and barely lets his date get a word in edgewise (mistake three).

He catches the eye of the bartender, lifting his nearly empty scotch glass to indicate the request for a second, even though he told himself that he was only finishing the one drink before heading home. The plan had been a night of drinks, but Benny left him alone merely a few minutes after Peach arrived.

Those two have been circling around each other, possibly since day one of meeting. Where Ben went, Peach went. The affection between them was palpable, and even though he never told anyone, Will knew Benny carried a folded up letter she wrote close to his heart whenever they were in the field, back when they were still active duty.

He just really hopes they finally figure out the feeling was mutual one of these days.

“Your friend leave you alone?” the bartender asks, appearing in front of him as she places a new glass on a coaster in front of him.

“Brother,” he politely corrects her. “He did.”

A joking tsk slides past her lips as she smiles at him. “And that on Christmas eve.”

Will shrugs in reply. “No harm, no foul. Friend needed him more than I did.”

“The girl that came in? She looked it.”

The remark bristles against him, setting him on edge as he silently eyes the woman in front of him. He feels defensive of Peach: she’s like a sister to him. An extension of Benny, a part of him in a soft sense: tethering his soul to the empirical earth.

He understands the danger of tying your being to another person, but those two were connected in a way that extended past his comprehension. Connected in a way he never was to Stephanie: probably one of the reasons the marriage crashed and burned when it did.

“Oh! I just meant that she looked like she needed a friend. I’ve seen that face before, is all,” the woman in front of him continues, smiling carefully. “Didn’t mean anything by it.”

Then why remark on it, a voice in the back of his head provides. He doesn’t voice the thought, instead pressing his lips together in a half-smile before finishing off his first glass.

He can see the hesitation in her frame, wanting to dig herself out of the awkward moment, but instead she pours him a new scotch, reaches for his old glass and wordlessly moves down the bar, dunking the glass in the sink before moving onto the next customer, ending the conversation between them.

The bar is a cacophony of many things happening all at once: a game of darts on the other end of the bar, some sort of bet on the line as made clear by the loud cheering. There is a group of guy guys—soldiers, their ramrod straight posture tells him, trying to hit on a several women around the bar, couples and small groups chatting as they occupy the tables scattered around. Suddenly, out of nowhere the music is turned down. Loud, unintelligible protests pipe up around him, until the other bartender turns the stereo back up and the chorus of the song burst through the speakers, immediately prompting the other patrons join in, singing the lyrics at the top of their lungs. He chuckles, taking a sip of his new scotch, vouching to himself that he would leave—

He groans at the realisation that hits him.

Benny picked him up earlier. He doesn’t have a car here. He’ll have to walk home. Doable, but not desirable. He lowers the glass, placing it back on the soaked cardboard coaster, rubbing slightly at his jaw as he shifts on the unsteady barstool, trying to figure out the best course of action.

He debates sending Benny a text, but he knows he won’t read it: his body had been taut as he watched Peach rush out of the bar, jaw clenched so tightly that Will almost joked about it, if it hadn’t been for the pained expression in his eyes.

Still, despite the unfortunate situation, not all was lost. He had definitely been in worse situations. He’ll finish his drink, walk home, put on a movie he won’t really watch and head over to Benny’s in the morning for a day of watching Lord of the Rings and eating take out, letting Christmas pass without giving it much attention.

The song ends with a loud cheer and the volume of the stereo system gets turned back down, the bar reverting back to conversations. He catches different topics around him: what gifts people had gotten their kids, what the plans were for tomorrow. The standard things you’d expect around the holidays. Yet there was one conversation is his direct vicinity that stood out to him: the first date happening behind him, that somehow seemed to be hurdling down a cliff even more that it already was.

“Wait, where do you work?” you ask with a frown, trying to figure out if you heard him correctly. You’re pretty sure you are. It’s just fact checking at this point, if he ever let you get a word in.

“Oh, down at Clark and Bennett. Product development. As I was saying though, in college—”

“No, I’m sorry,” you say, frowning heavily as you eye the man sat opposite you. From the moment you walked into the bar, you knew showing up was a mistake: he had seemed perfectly nice on text but gave off nice guy energy that was palpable from the other side of the room, sloppily pressing a kiss to your cheek before you sat down.

That, of course, was to blame on the semester he spent abroad when he was in college, something he managed to tell you before you even sat down. It’s how they do it in France. Rude people though, y’know? Barely speak any English.

You’d almost think it’s because they speak French as their mother tongue instead. You weren’t planning on being the one to tell him that, though.

The complete horror of your current situation didn’t settle in until he named his employer, puzzle pieces clicking into places you really did not want them to.

Clark and Bennett. The same company your oldest brother worked for, before the accident.

You repeat the name, leaning back in your seat. “My brother used to work there.”

“Oh shit, really?” he asks, suddenly eyeing you with renewed interest. His eyes had been raking over your body the entire time, eyeing you like a piece of meat he couldn’t wait to devour. Not that you were going to let him: you have been carefully planning an exit strategy since about two minutes into the one sided conversation. But this, the reveal of a connection between the two of you, seemed to spur him on. “Who’s your brother? Maybe we worked together.”

“Daniel Jones,” you tell him.

“Wait, does he call you Sunny? You’re Sunny?”

Sunny. Not the name on your passport, but the one people close to you used.

We called you sunshine as a baby because you looked perpetually angry. It was endearing, such a little thing that looked at the world with that much despise.

Sunshine then morphed into Sunny, the name used far more often than your actual name. You knew you were in trouble when it got hurdled down the yard or up the stairs with volume that would put a drill sergeant to shame (a fact you only know thanks to your youngest brother, who came home from basic training, dropping his bags on the floor and promptly proclaiming I swear to God, my drill sergeant was like a kitten compared to mom when she’s angry).

As you grew older, you introduced yourself as Sunny in most casual settings, but at school (and later work) you went by your legal name. A blind date suggested by your co-worker turned friend seemed like a fun idea, something to talk about at the new years eve party this year, but the reality was turning out a little different.

As soon as you were able to leave, you were calling Tiffany to ask her what had possessed her when she thought this would be a good match.

Still, you were at least thankful she had apparently used that name when setting this up, as you bristle at the nickname past the lips of a man who doesn’t deserve to use it.

“My friends and family call me Sunny, yes,” you stiffly reply as the guy—Kyle, you remind yourself, grins lazily, slumping in his chair with one arm propped on the backrest.

“Man, Daniel. Dan the Man. The accident was a real shock, let me tell you that.”

Let me tell you that, as if you weren’t the one biting your fingernails down to stubs as you sat waiting for the results of the CT scan, holding your brother’s hand as you repeatedly called his wife, all while trying to stay calm for his sake even though he definitely could not move his legs.

You open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off, continuing his pattern of not letting you speak.

“How is he doing? I think he came to the office once after, but that was it.”

You know he doesn’t mean harm, that no one does when they ask that: the questions usually come from a good place, one of genuine interest. Maybe sometimes from a place that’s looking for sensation, something to relay to friends. You should hear what happened to-

Still, the question is one that gets asked almost weekly, and it was a little tiring to continuously answer, especially when they could call or text Daniel to ask him themselves.

“He’s okay,” you reply, reaching for your drink. “Still in therapy, but he’s looking at getting back into work.”

Kyle nods solemnly. “Word.”

A short silence washes over you as you sip from your drink, the ice cubes hitting your nose. You resist the urge to wipe your nose as you lower the glass, placing it back on its coaster.

“Y’know,” Kyle immediately starts back up, shifting positions and resting his elbows on the table, leaning into your space. You have to stop yourself from scrunching your nose as an overwhelming waft of cheap cologne hits you in the face like brick, leaning as far back as the unyielding backrest of your seat allows. “That accident was like, a real fucking shock to everyone at the office.”

“Right,” you reply slowly.

“No because it’s like… that’s my co-worker, right? Like he was fine one day, and then he suddenly he’s like, paralysed from the hips down. It was really shocking to us. It like, really shook me to the core if I’m being honest. It took a while before we all were like… Chill with it.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up in your chest, slipping past your lips at the absurdity of his statement.

You get it: of course it’s shocking when something like that happens in your direct vicinity, to someone you know.

But you also know that Daniel rarely interacted with the product development team, the times he did talk about them usually overflowing with frustration at the employees running that particular depart.

The accident had been devastating, a blow to your family—your sister in law especially, leaving you to feel helpless as there wasn’t anything you could do but support them, take Dan to his appointments when his wife wasn’t able to take more time off work, help them adapt their house to make it wheelchair friendly.

It was funny, sitting across someone that was so far removed from your family and having him claim something that changed dynamics, even if just for a while as things adjusted over time, for himself.

You’re not even angry about.

It’s so absurd that you can’t help but laugh.

Kyle frowns, tapping the stack of cardboard coaster on the table. “I don’t think it’s that funny.”

You stifle the chuckle lodged somewhere in the back of your throat. “No, you’re right. It isn’t.”

“It was pretty traumatising.”

“You’re telling me.”

He leans back in his seat, lips pressed together tightly as he continues to tap the coasters on the table. “I mean that could’ve been me, y’know? It was some heavy shit.”

This has to be a dream. There is no possible way that, even on this hell hole of a planet, this is actually happening. It can’t be. A person surely can’t be this thick in the head.

Yet there is Kyle, who is looking at you with an expression that rests somewhere between despise and the same hungry look he had earlier, practically tearing your dress away from your body with his eyes.

Subconsciously, you pull at the skirt of said dress, shifting in your seat and supressing the urge to look at your phone in search of an out.

“Anyway, I’m gonna smoke and take a leak,” Kyle says, his chair screeching in protest as he abruptly stands up. “Order me another beer, will ya? I’ll back in a few.” He doesn’t wait for a reply, instead leaving the table and immediately knocking into the shoulder of a man sitting on a bar seat just to the right of you, spilling his drink everywhere.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t apologise, but just continues knocking into people as he works his way to the exit, leaving you to turn in your seat as you watch in mild horror as he finally pushes past a door, disappearing out of sight.

It takes a moment for the realisation to hit you, but when it does, you scramble off your chair, almost toppling over as you do. The plan is easy: pay for the drinks, rush out and fake a frantic phone call as you rush past Kyle, get in the car and head home. Once home, you’ll put a cosy sweater on and sit down to start your annual reread of The Hobbit, hiding away from the world until the following morning to drag your ass to your youngest brother’s house for a full day of activities. His fiancée had insisted on being the ones to host Christmas this year, and you were more than happy to let her: you just moved into a new place about a month ago and though almost everything was finished, it wasn’t quite there yet. The fuss that comes along with hosting wasn’t something you wanted on top of that, so you are more than happy to stick with the one tradition you uphold for yourself: baking enough cookies to feed a small village. A tradition that garnered family wide attention over the years, requests for specific recipes now pouring in as early as Halloween. The excitement you’re met with as soon as you pass the threshold of whoever’s hosting that year is well worth all the time and effort you have to put into it.

You pause for a brief second: the man Kyle bumped into is sat with his back towards you, his blond head bent down. Even though it’s not your fault, mild guilt builds in your chest as you slide past him, onto the empty seat to his left.

Even seated, you noticed he is built, muscular in a way that is noticeable even through his faded flannel. If it wasn’t for the mild expression on his face as he dabs at his pantleg with an already soaked napkin, you figure he could been seen as intimidating.

“I’m so sorry for my… friend,” you say, turning towards him, the last word accompanied by a pained smile. “Can I replace your drink?”

The guy pauses and looks up, his stark blue eyes locking you into place. “You’re saying sorry for him?” he asks, his voice pleasantly rough.

You helplessly shrug. “Someone has to. It’s a waste of a perfectly good…” you squint, trying to figure out what the remaining liquid in his tumbler is. “Bourbon?”

“Scotch,” he corrects with a smile. “No worries, I should be heading out anyway.”

“Oh. Okay. You sure? It was really rude of him, I’d be more than happy to pay for it regardless.”

You can tell there’s something he wants to say but keeps to himself, hesitantly shifting in his seat.

“Last chance,” you smile, leaning forward in your seat to see if you can spot one of the bartenders. “To get that drink paid for or say whatever it is you wanna say.”

He laughs, the sound sudden and warm. “Nah, it’d be rude,” he says, smile still on his face. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, now I’m curious.”

You can’t help but notice that he’s handsome as you shift in your seat, facing him as you do. He exudes a calm and controlled energy that, much like his stature, could be seen as intimidating in different circumstances. The way he’s holding himself does a lot: something tells you that everything about him could scream danger if he needs it to, but the relaxed shoulders and open expression on his face tell you that there’s nothing to worry about. His eyes quickly shoot across your body, the way he does a world of difference compared to how Kyle has been looking at you: this guy looks back up at your face rather than halting at chest height and keeping his gaze there.

“Your friend,” he starts, catching you a little off guard. You didn’t expect him to actually voice his thoughts, but there he went. “It’s a date, right?”

“Blind date,” you correct him. “My friend set us up.”

“I think you need to rethink that friendship.”

There is a short moment when someone fires a gun in the field, where time both seems to speed up and slow down all at once, creating a horrific vacuum where the outcome is uncertain.

Will is the calm, collected one: the voice of reason in a lot of situations, acting when others freeze. In this moment, he’s none of those things. The sentence itself is many things: a blunt, careless remark, a poor shot taken without any thought, ricocheting away from him with zero control as a result.

His breath halts and he freezes in place, eyes on the woman sat in front of him as soon as he realises he actually told her what he thought. It feels like hours, but then she suddenly barks out a laugh, the sound clear and carefree. Her eyes crinkle at the corners as she covers her mouth with one hand, the other on her lap, bunching the green satin fabric of her dress.

“You’re not wrong,” she replies between giggles. “How much of it did you hear?”

“Enough,” he merely replies, unable to help the smile that seems to be stuck on his face. He can’t recall the last time he actually said his thoughts out loud to anyone, but he seems unable to stop as words tumble out of his mouth before he even realises it’s happening. “He really likes to hear himself talk, doesn’t he?”

“Oh my god, you have no idea,” she sighs. “It’s been…” she turns towards the clock on the wall. “Forty-five minutes, and I think he only paused to ask me something once, and then also made that about him.”

He overheard the conversation but missed chunks. Despite that, he can’t even begin to wrap his head around even half the stuff her conversation partner had said. Maybe it was his years of working with the VA but claiming someone’s reality and making it about yourself when they’re the ones dealing with it, seems like an obvious no-go. He tells her as much, and she softly smiles in reply, the expression almost bashful.

“I’m used to it. I don’t know how much of you caught it, but my sister in law has it so much worse. People look straight past her, usually, even though they mean well when they ask about Dan—my brother,” she clarifies the name. He still doesn’t know hers: a piece of information he missed, either not mentioned or drowned out by the impromptu karaoke moment from earlier.

One the bartenders, the same woman from before, walks straight past them, a frustrated noise audible as the woman next to him sags back in her seat at the failed attempt to catch her attention.

“Just because you’re used to it, doesn’t mean it’s okay,” he tells her, finishing the remaining sip of scotch. He looks at her, taking note of the knotted eyebrows, her glittery eyeshadow that sparkles in the shoddy bar lighting as she blinks, processing the words. She looks lovely, but the expression on her face somewhat tugs at his heart. He’s unsure what to say, not wanting to linger on the subject, but dismissing it completely also doesn’t seem right.

“Thank you,” she smiles. “I’m Sunny, by the way.”

She extends her hand towards him, her palm completely disappearing in his hand as he shakes it.

“Will.”

“You’ve been a better conversational partner in the three minutes that I’ve been talking to you than the guy I’m with has been the entire time,” she jokes, turning away from him and leaning forward in her seat, still attempting to catch the attention of a bartender. “But I really wish I could just pay and run, because I cannot deal with this for another hour or so. This being my date,” she clarifies, looking downright horrified as she catches his eye. “Not you. You’re being lovely.”

The compliment burrows in his chest, warm and welcoming. He doesn’t read into it: this isn’t that kind of situation, but it’s welcome nonetheless.

“Sup,” a voice pipes up beside him, a hand sliding onto Sunny’s back. She almost recoils at the touch, cringing as her hands form fists on her lap. Cheap cologne hits Will before he even sees the guy, who then presses himself between the two seats with his back turned towards him. “No luck with the beer? You gotta be direct with these people, sweetheart.”

He snaps his fingers, whistling to get their attention.

In his 40 years on this planet, people still manage to surprise Will, just solely with their disregard for anything that isn’t in their own interest. This is one of those things: if his mom taught him and Benny anything, it was to put out the same amount of respect you wanted in return, be polite to service workers and perhaps most of all, be mindful of what others are telling you, whether it’s verbal or not.

This guy managed to somehow not do any of those things. Even with his back turned, Will can tell that he carries himself with an ego that stretches a mile wide, putting himself above others no matter the circumstances, the kind of person that would turn his back on you in the field for the right price.

Over the man’s shoulder, he catches Sunny’s eyes, a cocktail of panic and helplessness apparent in them as the guy in front him whistles again, snapping his fingers in annoyance.

Kyle’s hand feels like it’s burning straight through your dress, and not in a good way. Though it’s been a while since you last slept anyone, you can clearly recall what is feels like when it’s right: electric, comforting, grounding you to the here and now.

This touch, however, feels like it could instantly decay anything it comes in contact with. You’re somewhat surprised your flesh is still attached to your bones.

His fingers dig tightly into your side as he whistles again, the sound sharp and shrill alongside the snapping, catching the attention of other patrons that look at him with disgusted expressions on their face. You flush in embarrassment, unable to stop yourself. “Please stop that. You’re being rude.”

He pauses, lowering his free hand and frowning at you. “I’m being rude? That bartender is ignoring you. You’re a paying costumer, they should be serving you without it taking hours,” he shouts the last word, leaning onto the bar. You cringe, praying for the ground to swallow you whole, or to come to the sudden discovery that this is, in fact, just a nightmare.

“I think we should just pay,” Kyle continues, his hand sliding down, dangerously close to your butt. “And get out of here. My apartment is close, I could show you what a good time looks like.”

“Oh,” you laugh nervous in reply, leaning away from his touch and scooting as far back as the wobbly barstool allows you to. “Uh, I…”

“C’mon,” he urges. “It’s like, a fifteen minute drive— “

“Actually, I’m just gonna go home if we’re leaving,” you tell him bluntly. If there wasn’t an option for a smoother out, kicking down the door works just as well.

“Really?” he asks incredulously, dropping his hand off your waist. “You’re just gonna bail? God, you prude bitches are all the fucking same these days.”

You let out a surprised laugh, looking at him in disbelief as you struggle to believe this is a reality you’re living.

“It’s not funny,” he snaps. “Literally no one puts out on the first date anymore. It’s not even like you’re that hot. You should be lucky I didn’t leave as soon as soon as you came in.”

“Okay,” you merely reply, watching in amusement as his face turns red and he steps aside.

“If you’d been reasonable, I would’ve paid, but you’re not even gonna blow me?”

“Is… is that a question?” you frown, biting on the inside of your cheek to stop from laughing.

“So that’s a no. Well, I guess that means you’re the one paying today. I hope you have a shitty Christmas.” With those words, he storms away, pushing past others as he makes his way out, leaving you to stare in disbelief until he makes it out the door. Unable to hold it in any longer, you burst into hysterical laughter, clutching your sides as you try to stop the inevitable snort that ends up making it’s way out. You were the one paying anyway: it was your card on the tab.

“Honey, would you like to order an angel shot?” Finally, standing in front of you is one of the bartenders: a young woman, barely 21 by the looks of it, looking at you with a concerned frown, wiping her hands on a towel.

“I’m good,” you tell her sourly. “Little late for that. He left. I just wanna close out my tab.”

“Actually, add hers to mine,” Will says, shifting to grab his wallet out of his back pocket. “I wanna close out, too.”

“You can’t do that,” you sputter in protest, looking between him and the bartender. You didn’t even realise he was still sat there. “Right? Tell him he can’t do that.”

She shrugs. “I don’t care who does, just that it happens.”

“Put it on mine,” he tells her. “Honestly, I overheard most of what went down and it’s the least I can do,” he says as he pulls a few singles out of his wallet and folds them, placing them under his empty glass. “Especially after that display.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to,” he shrugs, sliding off his barstool. “Really. See it as an early Christmas present. Pay it forward, if that makes you feel better about taking it.”

You eye the blond as he stands behind his seat, towering over you with none of the possessiveness your sorry excuse of a date seemed to have earlier. He smiles and opens his mouth to say something when he gets interrupted.

“Here you are!” a cheery voice pipes up, holding out two cards and a receipt. “Your cards, and a receipt. I hope y’all have a happy Christmas and see you soon. Have a lovely night.”

You don’t reply, instead sliding off your seat without a word, tucking your credit card back in the cardholder that had fallen to the bottom of your clutch, pulling out your car keys as you do. You look up at Will, who stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“Walk you to your car?”

You nod and he lets you take the lead, his hand lightly coming up to touch between your shoulder blades as you make your way out, eventually pushing past the door into the wintery cold. You shiver, the satin dress your wearing being one of your favourites but absolutely not cold friendly. Your coat is in your car: the hassle to bring it in and keep track of it not being worth the minute of cold as you make your way in or out. You notice Will is also not wearing a coat, something he also seems to realise as you see him supress a rolling shiver at the initial cold.

“Where’d you park?” you ask, an amused smile ghosting on your lips.

“No clue.”

“You don’t know where you parked?”

“Ah, it’s not that,” he sighs. “My brother drove us here, but something came up and he had to leave. He took the car with him.”

“Oh,” you frown. “Nothing serious, I hope?”

“No,” Will breathes. “No, just a friend that needed him there. I told him to go, not thinking it through.” He smiles at you, his mouth ticked up at one corner. “Gonna walk home.”

The sentence that rolls out of your mouth makes you feel like your mother, scolding your brothers and yourself as you raced out into the yard in the dead of winter when you were small.

“Without a coat?”

He laughs, the sound warm and sincere. “Yes, without a coat. Left it in the car. It’s not too bad, though. Definitely went through worse weather without one.”

“Oh, fuck that. It’s like, maybe 40 out. And that’s taken liberally.”

“It’s just 8 miles away from here, I’ll be fine.” The smile is still present on his face, his eyes soft as he looks at you. In the dim light of the parking lot, you see a chain peek from underneath his collar. A familiar sight: you recognise the chain to be the kind that’s attached to dog tags.

You pause for a second as you look at him, really look at him at that discovery. Your gut feeling was something you learned to listen to over the years, whatever it was said usually scarily accurate. It weeded out the creeps in bar in your college days, bad friends, but also brought a sense of comfort when it recognised safe people. As if a big blanket was draped over your shoulders and the universe was telling you it was okay to let those people in.

“Pay it forward,” you eventually say, nodding towards the silver Prius, the keys jingling in your hand as you gesture. “Get in the car, I’m dropping you off.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to,” you parrot with a smile. “C’mon. It’ll take me what, maybe 20 minutes to drop you off? It’s nothing.”

“You sure?”

“Just get in, Will.”

Cars always smell like their owners, or their owners habits: Benny’s smells like the spearmint gum he carries everywhere, alongside the sweet vanilla coffee he drinks with zero shame. Stephanie’s used to smell like her sugary sweet perfume, the one that always made his nose itch, until the scent disappeared entirely from her car, replaced by a strong car freshener. It should’ve told him right then and there that the relationship was over, but that was something he denied to himself for a long time.

Sunny’s car smells like the leather jacket she just put on, alongside perfume he caught a whiff of earlier: a green scent, one that reminds him of hiking in the woods after a rainstorm. It’s comforting and seems to suit her: Will prides himself on being able to read people around him, something that was learned out of necessity, but a welcome skill despite that. Short conversations usually tell him more than enough about a person to make an accurate assessment. If it wasn’t their words, their body language would tell on them.

Everything about her told him she was a grounded person: someone that was comfortable in their own skin, that could stand their ground and understands their worth. She wouldn’t take shit from anyone, and he’s well aware that she’s calling the shots right now.

In result, he’s aware of every single goddamn breath he’s taking, the sensation of it being weirdly calming, rather than overwhelming.

He reaches for his seatbelt as she slides into the driver’s seat, now wearing a leather jacket, the engine eerily silent as she starts the car.

Will doesn’t consider himself a country boy in anyway, but electric cars never fail to throw him off. He test drove one a while ago, but missed the steady sound a gasoline engine provides, eventually choosing a truck similar to his old one, just a newer model.

“So,” Sunny starts, turning her head towards him. “Where to?”

“Turn right when you get out of the parking lot,” he instructs. “’s just a straight road from there most of the way.”

“Really?”

He pauses for a second, caught off guard. “I… Yes?”

“No,” she laughs. “No, sorry, I don’t doubt it, it’s just that I live that way, too, and it’s not a very populated area. For me, it’s straight drive for about 15 minutes—”

“Then a left onto Millwood Drive.”

She pauses, the turn indication clicking on and off as she’s stalled in the exit of the parking lot, turning to him as much as she could. “Get the fuck out. Millwood Drive?”

“Yeah.”

“You got new neighbours about a month ago. The place where the fence used to baby blue.”

Not a question. A statement.

He frowns, thinking it over. He’s never been the type of person to keep tabs on his neighbours, picking a place that wasn’t faced towards other houses, but instead looks out onto the woods they were surrounded by, the small neighbourhood so quiet you can hear the water flowing in the creek 100 feet away.

“That’s me. I moved in there.”

“No shit,” he laughs in disbelief at the coincidence. “That’s next door to me. You’re the one that finally replaced that god awful fence?”

“No shit. And yes, I did. Can’t believe someone would live on the edge of a forest and paint the fence baby blue.” The words come out with disdain, her nose crinkled. “Out of all the colours you can pick.”

“You replace the whole fence, or paint it over?” It’s something he probably should’ve noticed, but the weeks between thanksgiving and Christmas were exceptionally busy at work. It’s wasn’t until earlier in the week that he even noticed the blue fence was gone. He somehow completely missed her moving in, or the old neighbours moving out in the chaos that those weeks brought along with them.

“Well, the plan was painting over, but the posts were rotting near the soil, so I ended up having to replace it. Can’t complain though, the house was pretty well maintained. Was shocked to find genuine hardwood floors under the carpet, which was a nice surprise, so it was just painting everything, or replacing the wallpaper,” she smiles. “I want to redo the kitchen and bathroom at some point, but it’s no hurry.”

“I didn’t even know someone new moved in,” he says, feeling a little shameful at the confession. “I’m sorry for not saying hi.”

She shushes him, waving her hand. “Doesn’t matter, you’re all good. It takes me a while to get settled in new places, so you probably would’ve met a version of me that’s like, less than ideal. Wouldn’t wish that upon anyone.”

“The move far from where you were before?”

“No, actually,” she laughs. “It was just across town this time. I’m not actually from here, we moved down when I was like… 16? But we moved a lot when I was a kid.”

He shifts in his seat, looking at her with interest. There’s several reason why people move a lot, but there is one reason that would bring them to this area specifically.

“Army brat?” he tries.

“You know it.” The wink she gives him makes his heart uncharacteristically skip a beat. “I saw your chain in the parking lot, though.”

His hand comes up to the ball chain hanging around his neck, the tags shifting under his shirt as he adjusts it. “Force of habit. I got out a few years ago. Did some private work after that, they asked us to wear them as well. I just never stopped wearing them after, for whatever reason.”

She shrugs. “No harm in it, right?”

The drive is filled with easy chitchat, going back and forth between what they do for work, talk about the neighbourhood. He feels a pang of excitement when she offhandedly mentions her dog when asking about the best places to go for a hike.

“What kind of dog?” he asks.

“Aussie shepherd. Got him from the shelter, the poor thing was put up for adoption because he was too high energy,” she finger quotes the last few words. “I’ll show you a picture when we get home.”

The conversation flows easily, as if they’ve known each other for years rather than barely an hour. It’s not long before she pulls into their street, onto her short drive way. As soon as she’s parked, she reaches for her phone, turning it towards him to show him a short video of an Australian shepherd zooming back and forth in a fenced in backyard.

“His name is Pippin,” she tells him with a soft smile. “If you want, we should go on a hike sometime soon. Take him with us, on a trail where he’s allowed.”

“I’d love that.” He does: it’s not an exaggeration. He loves hiking, but usually ends up going alone because none of the guys really enjoy it as much as he does. Benny makes the rare exception, but usually only when he’s dealing with a lot and seeks out nature to ground when the gym fails him. He’s been longing for someone to go with, and the universe presented him with an answer, wrapped in a pretty satin green package that smiles at him with excitement sparkling in her eyes.

She nods, as if confirming it, before getting out of the car, leaving him to follow suit.

Somehow, the air is a little less cold here than it was at the bar, the breeze not as sharp as it had been there.

“Well,” she says, smoothing the bottom of her dress. “Thank you for turning my night around. Have a good night, Will.”

“Good night, Sunny.” He waits for a moment, until she’s inside, before heading towards his own front door.

He kicks off his shoes next to the door, turning on the light as he makes his way to the kitchen for a glass of water, leaving his flannel across the back of one of the stools at the breakfast bar.

The doorbell catches him off guard, cursing softly to himself as he spills some water down the front of his shirt. He calls out as he makes his way to the door. “You’ve got a key, Benny, use it—”

He’s not met by the face of his brother: instead, it’s Sunny, holding a tin in her outstretched hands. “I made them this afternoon, and I wanted to say a proper thank you.”

“You didn’t have to,” he says, taking the tin from her.

“I know. Merry Christmas, Will.”

She walks off before he can reply, and he’s left to stare at the tin that has a sticky note attached to the top.

Text me about that hike?

Love, Sunny.

Her phone number is listed underneath her name, and he smiles to himself as he closes the door, cracking open the tin and finding at least a dozen cookies, biting into a random one he pulls out as he puts her phone number in his contact list.

Maybe his night wasn’t too bad, in the end.

#will miller x reader #will ironhead miller x reader #will ironhead miller x female reader #will ironhead miller x f!reader #will miller x you #triple frontier fanfiction #will miller

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spencerreidswhore187 · 1 year ago

Text

Checkmate (The Final Part)

By @spencerreidswhore187 for @sackofpissandshit (who has been harassing me for this fic all week)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Summary: Spencer finds out that reader is not who he thought they were. (Lots of angst)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Unsub (g!n) Reader

Word Count: 3.1K

TW: Death, kidnapping, mentions of assault, blood, strong-ish language, mentions of suicide, mentions of self-harm, severing of a limb, fire.

A/N: Hi! Thank you to everyone who liked, commented, reblogged and followed Checkmate, it means the world to me. Sorry this has taken me a while to write, a fun fact about me is I currently have a kidney infection - my doctor told me this on the one year anniversary of my last kidney infection. Anyway, enjoy me, an extremely British person trying (and failing) to be American.

P.S. There is a Star Trek reference in this that killed me to write.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a foolish thing to fall in love with hope. Hope was dangerous. Hope was irresistible. Hope would inevitably kill you.

You had hoped you'd survive this but knew it was impossible; as you ran, you felt it die - that spark, your soul. There was no Y/N, not anymore. Only the Phantom Menace remained.

Y/N will not be able to save Spencer, but the Phantom Menace could.

You hated that name (not that it mattered) you had no say in it. You were a ghost Ben had told you, a monster. You needed a name that mirrored that.

You were like a shadow all those years ago. You disguised yourself in the dark, letting gloom envelop you. You felt safe when you became the ghost.

It was like you did not exist. All your problems went away and you allowed yourself to be someone else - something else. You had scaled the coarse brick wall of a manor house dreaming of your future. When you silently slipped through the window, you thought about love.

It was unbecoming to believe a person could ever fall in love with someone like you - a killer, the creature that lurked under children’s beds, haunting their nightmares.

Still, your mind chased the foolish fantasy.

Love was what let you dissociate. Love was what let you drag a blade along a stranger’s neck. And, when you returned like clockwork to the Ivylands without a drop of crimson blood on you, you would walk alone through the woods to the cabin by the lake.

You had been instructed to go there after every mission.

Ben would stroke your hair, calling you beautiful and shower you with praise. Once upon a time, you thought that was what love was...you knew better now. Thanks to Spencer.

Spencer was your everything and you would not let yourself lose him.

That meant killing the gentle thing you’d become. You wished it was harder than it was to do so.

“Left,” you murmured, heading to the cabin was like listening to your old favourite song: it had been so long, yet, you still knew every single word.

You knew this is where Beth had taken Spencer; She hated that place. She wasn’t like you, Ben’s rare, kind words did not fill her with life - they made her sick, they made her angry. You used to wish you were more like her: she was confident and proud, not some kid who did whatever was asked of them. Still, Beth would wipe away your tear after every kill. “Never let him see you hurting,” she would make you promise “because even if Ben tells you he feels bad for what he did, I need you to know that deep down he has a sadistic smile knowing he broke you. Don’t let him break you, Mouse.”

Ben never saw you cry, not until he killed Beth. He laughed at his pretty little murderer as tears streamed down your cheeks. You stopped feeling that day - you became numb. That is, until, him.

Spencer made your heart start beating again.

At last, you stopped running. The cabin was ancient, constructed of rotting moss-stained wood. You had no idea how after all this time, it was still standing.

The porch groaned as you hesitantly approached the door; you gripped the brass handle and twisted it. Your hands were shaking.

It was useless trying to be discrete. Beth knew you were coming, she likely knew you were already here.

The door screeched as it opened, though, you could barely hear it - your heart was pounding in your ears.

Nothing prepared you for the sight of Dr Spencer Reid handcuffed, sitting crossed-legged on the floor, with Beth aiming a gun at him.

Beth had a warm smile plastered on her face as you walked through the threshold, “Hello, Mouse.”

You hated the nostalgia that stupid nickname made you feel. All the others had called you that behind your back, you used to pretend like you didn’t hear. You like it when Beth said it, though.

It made you feel special.

Not anymore.

You raised your gun at her, “Let him go.” You kept your gaze focused on her, not allowing it to slip back to Spencer, who you could see watching you out of your peripheral.

Part of you was shocked that he didn’t grimace at your appearance; blood and mud coated your entire body. But Spencer wasn’t like that, it did not matter who you were or what you looked like, to him you would always be the most beautiful person in the world. Sometimes, when he held you under the covers of your bed, whispering sweet nothings, you would believe him.

“Put the gun down, Y/N,” Beth ordered. She pushed it against Spencer’s temple.

You could hear Spencer’s rapid breathing. You didn’t let it distract you. Instead, you took a step closer to them.

Beth didn’t like that. “Don’t fucking test me, Mouse. I will kill him.”

“No,” your voice was confident, steady, even, the Phantom Menace was talking now, “you won’t.”

You cocked the gun and fired without hesitation.

Beth’s wicked cackle flooded the room as you missed, shattering the window behind her.

Shards of glass scattered across the floor, distracting you. Your idiotic mistake allowed Beth to steal your gun.

You focused on Spencer’s hazel eyes as she roughly pulled your hands behind your back. As you felt the cool metal of handcuffs around your wrists, you mouthed to Spencer: “It’s okay.”

Beth grabbed your hair, using it to pull you to the floor. You didn’t even wince as you fell onto a pile of jagged glass, you watched Spencer rapidly search you for open wounds.

You sat opposite him as Beth sat down at the dining room table. She raised her gun again.

“I have some questions for the two of you,” she taunted. “You are both going to do whatever I say, correct?”

Neither of you answered. This angered Beth; she fired the pistol twice, a few metres from where you lay. “Correct?” She repeated.

Spencer replied instantly, “Yes.”

You refused to look at Beth, “yes,” you muttered.

“Wonderful,” she laughed, “Checkmate.”

—————————————————————————————————---

When the unknown number started calling, Penelope Garcia was already on the phone.

“Pen, Penelope. I need you to calm down okay?” Emily tried to reassure her.

“I don’t - I can’t breathe. Oh my god Luke. Emily! Please, I don’t know what to do. First Spencer and now my newbie? I-”

“He’s alive, Penelope. Y/N didn’t kill him, she missed his heart. Luke is on his way to the hospital, and Rossi and I are on our way back to headquarters.”

“I don’t understand, Emily, you saw Y/N L/N try and stop the bleeding?”

“Yes?”

“Then how do you they shot him?”

“No one else was with them and Spencer is gone. I can’t explain why they did it. We know they poisoned and then tried to save Reid, perhaps they have a saviour complex…what is that ringing?”

Garcia spun around in her chair, reaching for her work phone.

“Some unknown number keeps calling.”

Emily’s voice filtered through the mobile instantly, “answer it. Now,” she ordered.

“…you don’t think it’s-”

“I do.”

Penelope answered immediately, placing her other phone on her desk.

“Is this Agent Penelope Garcia of the BAU?” Asked a distorted voice.

Penelope replied anxiously, “Speaking.”

“I have something you might like to see.” The call disconnected as a hyperlink came through on her computer.

Rossi and Emily entered the room as soon as Garcia clicked on the link.

“What on earth…” She gasped.

A live video appeared on the screen showing Y/N and Reid both handcuffed, sat on a wooden floor.

“Someone tell JJ to look for a log cabin. Immediately.” Instructed Emily.

“Dr Reid,” a voice from offscreen purred, “why don’t you go first? Tell your dear girlfriend about Meave.”

————————————————————————————————————-

Meave. You recognised that name but for the life of you could not figure out why.

“Ignore her,” you pleaded.

Beth scoffed, making a show of cocking the gun, “wrong answer. Try again.”

Spencer inhaled deeply. “Meave died because of me.”

“You can do better than that, Reid.”

“She, um, was my girlfriend. She was being stalked by this girl Diane Turner. It was a murder-suicide.”

“Don’t forget to tell our Y/N when this was,” Beth taunted.

“N-nearly four years ago.”

Right before he met you. The grave you realised. It all made so much sense. She was why Spencer was in the cemetery, Meave was who he was coming to see.

You could tell Beth wanted to make you jealous but you felt nothing at all. Your heart broke a little for Spence, you could see why he lied about being a doctor.

If Beth was irritated by your silence, you couldn’t tell. “Your turn Mouse!” She sang, “If you answer honestly then you can ask me a question.”

You closed your eyes briefly, already knowing what she was going to ask.

“Who’s August?”

“No,” you whispered.

Her hand slapped your cheek with a powerful force. You weren’t surprised, Ben had taught you how to inflict pain oh so well.

“Who. Is. August.” She repeated.

You corrected, “Was. Who was August.” You regretted ever telling Beth about them.

You fidgeted against the restraints. “August was the first person I loved. They were kind and caring and I killed them anyway.” You turned your head towards Beth, “How did you survive?”

“Are you sure that’s what you want to ask? It’s such a boring question.”

“Answer it then.” Beth rolled her eyes.

“The fucking bastard missed my heart when he shot me. Just like I missed SSA Luke Alvez’s. Ben’s assistants through my body into an open grave and left me there, didn’t even bother to check my pulse,” she sniffed, “Your turn again, Reid. What was it that you purchased last week when you pretended to be sick to avoid going to work?”

Spencer turned slightly, staring right at you as he said it.

“An engagement ring.”

“Spence…” You breathed.

Beth was beaming. Spencer looked like he was going to throw up.

“It was a really beautiful ring, Mouse, so simple, so plain. Just like you,” she teased.

“Why are you doing this?”

Beth kissed her teeth, “It’s not your turn, honey. Now, explain why you poisoned your precious boyfriend, or, better yet, pretended to be his wife when you called for an ambulance.”

“I don’t know why,” you lied.

“Yes, you do!” Spencer couldn’t breathe. “It’s because you do whatever your master, Ben, tells you.” Shouted Beth.

“Then it’s a good thing you killed him,” you spat.

You repeated your earlier question. “Why are you doing this.”

Making sure Beth was distracted, you slowly, discretely, reached for the jagged shard of glass on the left of your right hand.

“It’s not fair,” she seethed, “I trusted you and you fell in love with one of them. You hated police officers, remember? They are the reasons we became monsters! If they hadn’t stopped looking for us, we never would have ended up here, in this house, in this cabin. If-if it wasn’t for them, my family would still be alive.”

You grasped the glass shard tightly, blood trickling down your palm.

“If my family has to be dead, then so does yours. There’s only one person you care about…him.” Beth gestured at him with the gun.

“Last question before I kill you both-”

“Y/N,” Spencer edged towards you.

“Enough, pig. Do you love them?” Beth tapped the gun against his head.

Spencer didn’t bother hiding the truth, if you were both going to die, he needed you to know. He looked into your eyes, Spencer would happily drown in the [your eye colour] of your eyes. “I love you,” He vowed.

“Even now? She is a murderer, after all, the very thing you’re hired to destroy.”

“You are the knife I turn inside myself; that is love. That, my dear, is love.” He quoted.

Spencer must have read Kafka’s ‘Letters to Milena’ a thousand times since you met, every time he opened the cover of the novel, he was brought back to the day he met the love of his life.

“You are poetry material, Spence; You are full of cloudy subtleties I am willing to spend a lifetime figuring out. Words burst in your essence and you carry their dust in the pores of your ethereal individuality.” Immediately you were engulfed by pain, you pressed the glass shard against the base of your pinky finger and pushed and pushed. You tried your hardest to keep your breathing steady when finally you severed the finger.

You saw Spencer notice the blood pooling behind you. You subtly shook your head as he opened his mouth to protest. Angling your hand just right, you were able to agonisingly force your hand out of one of the cuffs.

Beth slowly walked towards you, “Well wasn’t that romantic. Oh, wait, I mean pathetic.”

Without hesitation, you tackled her to the ground, reaching for the gun in her hand.

“Y/N!” You heard Spencer cry as Beth’s elbow collided with your chin. You were blinded by pain but that did not matter, you needed that weapon. You notice a small triangle of glass to your right, you reached for it and plunged it into Beth’s side.

Beth screamed, immediately reaching to pull the glass out. This allowed you to capture the gun.

How the tables turn, you thought, as you pressed the barrel against her temple.

“Spencer,” you instructed slowly, “go.”

He stood up and took one step towards you, “Spence, please,” your voice cracked, “I need you to go.”

“I’m not going to leave you Y/N.”

“Please, Spence.”

“Y/N-”

“I love you. Promise me you’ll run as fast as you can. Don’t turn back. I’ll be right behind you.” You both knew it was a lie.

Beth squirmed in your grasp.

“You’ll be right behind me?”

“Scout’s honour.” You did the Vulcan salute for good measure.

You made sure to drink Spencer in one more time, he was so beautiful. You wished you could have told him more.

Spencer turned back around one last time before leaving.

“You lied.” Beth gave a cold, wet laugh - blood dribbled down her chin. “Neither of us is getting out of this alive.”

You stood up, brushing the dirt off you. Your hand was throbbing. “Did Ben seriously not remember you?”

Beth looked at you, face painted with confusion.

“Power of hair dye, I guess.” You shrugged.

Beth remained on the soiled ground as you walked towards the set of drawers. You rummaged through the mess till you found what you were looking for. Tentatively, you pulled one out of the box, dragging it along the side.

“You’re crazy,” Beth breathed.

You held the match near your face, examining the orange flame.

“Checkmate,” you mocked as you let go.

——————————————————————————————————

Spencer ran and ran and ran. If he stopped it became too real. He refused to believe it. He kept running through the woods until he collided with someone else.

“Spencer!” Exclaimed JJ, pulling him in for a hug. Spencer rested his head on her shoulder, he couldn’t help the sobs that escaped him. “It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re okay,” JJ soothed, rubbing his back.

“I have to go back,” Spencer whispered into her shoulder. “I need to help them, they-”

“Spencer,” Tara said slowly, gently, “what do you mean?”

“Spencer pushed away from JJ and started explaining “They’re still…no. No. NO!”

He turned around and watch the melancholy smoke rise, dancing above the horizon. The amber flames taunted him, reaching for the stars in the distance.

Spencer thought he knew heartbreak…it felt nothing like this. Pain didn’t do this feeling justice. He felt like he was dying.

——————————————————————————————————

It had been a week since you died; Spencer had only left the headquarters once.

The team had tried to coax him away from the reports but it was to no avail. Something was wrong, he was sure of it. You couldn’t be dead. You couldn’t.

Emily had shown Spencer the footage from the live stream with Beth in hopes it would give him closure, it just made it worst. He replayed the last five seconds of the clip again and again.

There was something malicious, something cunning, about the way you stared at the camera as you dropped the match.

It was like you knew it was there all along.

“Reid…” Emily tried, but Spencer ignored her. She didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but you.

Your funeral was the day before. No one went but Spence.

He had traced your name in the granite on your gravestone where Y/N Reid was engraved. He knew you hated your last name. He held his treasured copy of Letters to Milena and spoke for the first time in days: “If a million loved you, I am one of them, and if one loved you, it was me, and if no one loved you then know that I am dead.” He left the novel, along with his broken heart and shattered soul, at the grave.

Spencer reached for the fire report once again.

He had memorised every word but still, he would read it again and again until he found whatever it was Spencer was looking for.

He ran a long, thin finger along the printed words.

Two bodies had been found in the ruins of the cabin. Both were too burnt to be identifiable, not that it could have been anyone else other than Beth Gallagher and Y/N L/N. One body had a deep cut on the left side of their stomach and the other was covered in shallow cuts. Other than that, no wounds. No wounds, Spencer repeated to himself, both bodies had all ten fingers and all ten toes.

No..it couldn’t be possible.

But Spencer knew what he saw, the memory was tattooed on his brain. He watched you cut your finger off.

You were alive.

A/N: Thank you for reading! This is the final part of the Checkmate series (sorry for the cliffhanger) I hope you enjoyed it. I did write an epilogue in addition to this part but I'm not sure whether I'm going to post it or not ◡̈

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