#we come a long way and thank goodness for it

[schoolofpracticalskills]

We can encourage this as consumers by making deliberate choices with our purchases - it starts not just with "can I reuse the packaging?" but also "can i support more sustainable packaging materials that aren't designed to go straight to the landfill?" If people stop choosing them, companies will switch gears.

By which I mean, where you are able and can afford to do so,

-LET GO OF BRAND LOYALTY. It's fine to have favorites, but be willing to try things out when you find something promising -avoid buying things that are sold shrinkwrapped -Buy the TP and other paper goods that come in paper packaging instead of plastic wrap. Use the paper to wrap gifts - you can draw or paint on the paper to change the appearance if you want. -if you want to buy pretty giftwrap, look for paper that is fully recyclable/biodegradeable - a lot of gift wrap has plastic, foil, or glitter that makes it landfill-destined. -new clothing is shipped in single-use plastic, individually wrapped before it ever lands on the rack - thanks fast fashion :) if possible, look into brands that are working to reduce their use of plastic, or buy second-hand. So much new clothing is such poor quality it falls apart in 3-4 washes anyways. -paper egg cartons can be used to plant seedlings, and I also shred them up to go in compost as brown waste. Avoid styrofoam or plastic egg cartons. -if you like to camp or picnic, use cardboard milk cartons to freeze blocks of ice for your cooler rather than buying bags of ice cubes (they also last longer that way, and filling the empty spaces in your freezer with ice makes it more energy efficient - less space for warm air) -opt for paper bags over plastic whenever given the option -Make/acquire reusable shopping bags that are washable fabrics like canvas - opt for the thickest & sturdiest you can find! -If possible, look for locally grown/made & sold - shipping long distances means more packaging in transit -we try not to buy soda in plastic bottles either - glass or cans are preferable! it's more expensive, but between cutting back on how much soda we drink and the difference in plastic waste (plus glass bottled sodas tend to be the better quality brands) we figure the exchange is worth it. -Buy food/candles/etc. that comes in glass jars rather than plastic (pro-tip: look for thicker glass, esp. on the bottom - it's less easy to break) Select jarred/bottled goods that have good/interesting shapes and sizes. I use them for things like vases, decor, organizers, etc. I use old herb jars to start plant cuttings in water, and my favorite mini-vase is an old saltshaker i got from my bff when he was moving! -if you are crafty, learn how to safely cut glass - it will open up new options for what you can do with glass bottles and jars -a lot of new sheet sets come with drawstring bags made from the same material - I like using the sheet bags as laundry bags when I travel, but they could also work for produce shopping bags instead of the plastic film ones the grocery store provides

Generally I prefer to avoid plastic as much as possible, but currently this is difficult. So for now, I try to make use of it as long as I can - lunch meat boxes as tupperware, jars for storage, misc plastic for crafting supplies - any way i can keep it out of the landfill and the environment. I'm looking into eco-brick making but I don't know much about it yet and I'm leery of potential leeching into soil and groundwater. If anyone else has sources to learn more, I'd appreciate a share!

And finally, and this is important if we want to see change from the source, send feedback to companies! Look for their website and send them an email, a phonecall, even a letter. If they have better and more sustainable packaging, tell them you approve and appreciate the attention to detail so that they know it's noticed by consumers. If you have problems with it (like that it's flimsy, or made of plastic, etc) tell them that you are disappointed, or that you will be looking for alternative options. ASK THEM to consider switching to non-plastic options.

If customer en masse start buying from the other guy, companies will start looking at what the other guy is doing that customers like better. If lots of the customers start saying hey, we love the shape of the jar you use, the company is less likely to change it because now they know it's a selling point. Send them pictures of the kinds of things that you're doing with the packaging. Post those pictures on social media. Share other people's creative projects and uses. If companies see that people are interested in these things, it becomes a marketing avenue for them - yes we wanna be suspicious of greenwashing, but we can still use their goals to help push them to change.

Ethical consumption under capitalism is impossible, but we do the best we can. And one more great way to start is to learn patience in your spending and acquisition of goods - are you buying something because it works in a pinch and you want it fast? Is it something that you can wait to buy the thing that exactly suits your needs rather than suffices for now?

You know how companies used to make flour sacks with pretty flower patterns on them because mothers would make dresses out of them for their daughters? We should bring that back. Paper bags designed to be reused as wrapping paper. Jars of jam designed to look nice filled with pencils or homemade sauces. Fabric that's high quality enough to use as a patch.

Give things a second life!!

[pboogerswbb]

SO IT GOES - chapter 1

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, drinking Wordcount: 5.4K A/C: another pregame treat!! need my girls to deliver tonight!! anyways, here is chapter one, this one is about to start a little slower and i'm sorry about that but i promise it'll pick up and get more interesting, i got big plans for this one y'all!! anyway please leave feedback/thoughts/reviews whatever for me, i love them :)

-

Before London

The Dallas roads are busy, stretching out for miles out into the horizon as I stare out the window. My lungs craved fresh air, itching to open it. But I knew the air outside would bring no such relief, the humidity of this time of year already bringing me one step closer to packing my bags and making my way back to Connecticut. Everyone told me to turn the AC on, but I was much too stubborn and stuck in my ways. My dad would have come over himself and turn it off if he knew I was considering turning it on in April - much too early for his liking.

I had been here for a week now, seven long days. Each one making me more homesick. I missed my girls. I missed my team. I missed the normal weather and the East Coast. It was so bad I was on the phone with my dad every night, complaining. I knew as much as he loved me, he was getting sick of it.

“Paige, let’s figure this out,” Britt’s voice comes through the speaker phone, five garment bags sent by her laid out on the bed, ready to be opened.

“What do you even wear to this sorta thing?” I ask, speaking into the phone. My hands are opening one bag after another.

“Baby I dunno, you just gotta pick something. What kinda vibe do you wanna give off?” Brittany asks sweetly as I place my phone on the bed in front of me, pulling my shirt off over my head.

“I can’t think, it’s too hot,” I complain, rubbing my face. “I hate it here, wanna come back.”

“Paige, you gotta push through this. Try and look at it differently, at least you like your teammates!” 

I whine and lie down, my back hitting the soft cotton of the sheets. “Do you think they’d let me take my sixth year?”

“Oh my gosh girl you gotta pull yourself together,” Brittany laughs, which in turn makes me laugh too. I knew I was being dramatic, my team was great, the coaching staff seemed amazing. But it was my first time living alone, I didn’t know what to do with myself and all this energy I had. I felt like I was two days away from jumping off the walls.

Lou and Arike had both taken me under their wing, and the few joint practices we’d had with the team the past week seemed promising. Not good, but like there might be potential for something with hard work. I was well taken care of and grateful for it, but the thing is at Uconn I was spoiled. I got to live with my best friends. To spend every moment with them, get on their nerves and not worry because in the end they were my sisters.

“Where are you going?” Britt asks.

“Some sorta steakhouse,” I answer, rubbing my eyes.

“Boujee or like… Texas?”

I snort, grabbing the phone from beside me.

“It’s a nice place I heard. But Rike been here for so long she mighta forgot what nice is,” I joke sitting back up.

“Then go with the blue bag.”

Unzipping it, I find a pair of black shorts, and an oversized dark green crewneck sweatshirt. 

“Ion know about this Britt it’s a lil… boring,” I mumble looking over the outfit. When did I last wear dark green anyway.

“That’s why you dress it up girl! Wear a collared shirt under it, put on some chains, some nice shoes, trust it’ll fit the vibe, you don’t wanna be doing too much. Have I ever let you down?”

I sigh. I could see the vision the moment she started talking. “No you have not,” I reply. “I gotta start getting ready. Thanks again.”

“Anytime Paige,” she answers and we hang up. I know silence can’t echo, but it’s so overwhelming it almost feels like that’s exactly what it’s doing. Storrs was always loud, lively. Now I had it so bad I was even missing KK’s neverending rambling. 

Quickly putting on a playlist to get rid of the aching pressure on my chest, I begin to get ready, rapping along to a Drake song loudly - but who cares I live alone now. I sleek back my hair, pinning it into a bun - the one hairstyle I knew how to do. I put on some diamond studs, and take my time picking accessories, choosing just the right silver rings to match the chain on my neck, a cross hanging from it. Of course, Brittany had been right. The outfit was great, not too much for a nice restaurant but still totally me.

“Shit,” I mumble to myself when I check the time, realising Lou must be waiting on me downstairs. Grabbing a white cross-body bag I run out the door, quickly making my way down where, just like I thought, the brunette was waiting, tapping on the steering wheel impatiently.

“Sorry I’m late,” I yelp climbing into the passenger seat. Since I barely knew Dallas, Lou had decided it was best if she drove both of us.

Shaking her head, the girl driving merges onto the road swiftly. “Not gonna be making a good impression if we bring our rookie to the party late,” Lou complains.

I scoff, leaning back against the seat and tapping on the back of my phone, feeling butterflies grow in my abdomen. I knew I made good first impressions, that people seemed to like me. I wasn’t called the ultimate rizzler for nothing. But it was still daunting, I was about to meet all the people who worked behind the team, behind me just so we could do what we do. 

The past week had been so strange.The change in dynamic was drastic. I had become so used to being the older one, the one to call the shots, to have so much wisdom to give. Almost naively so. All of a sudden I was back to being the baby - the one who didn’t know anything, who had to depend on others. I thought I was prepared. But the transition was hard to navigate. I didn’t quite know how to act, if I was honest.

“Yo chill, I’m not even that late,” I chuckle lightheartedly, looking out the car window, my eyes trying to find something worth changing my mind about Dallas for.

“Ten minutes is too much, we gotta pick up Rike too,” Lou complains, hands on the wheel. It was only April but the humidity made it feel like summer. “Were you late talking to that girl?”

“What girl?” I ask.

“That girl from last night!” Lou laughs, elbowing me.

I shrug, like I had no clue what she was talking about. A complete lie. I hadn’t been thinking straight ever since I saw her.

“Ohh you mean that girl downstairs!” I say sarcastically. The brunette next to me sees right through it though.

“Never heard your voice get so quiet and shaky I swear,” Lou says, a blush setting on the apples of my cheeks thinking back to last evening. “You were fully stuttering.”

“No way bro!” I groan, biting my lower lip so as to not laugh. Though I knew better. I was definitely stuttering.

I hadn’t seen much of the girl, just her face poking through the door into the hallway. But something about her took my breath away, I couldn’t look anywhere else. It was Lou finally elbowing me that made me realise I had been staring at the dark haired girl. She was so beautiful it physically pained me to look away, but with a struggle, I had done so. 

But then she spoke. And if I wasn’t trembling before, the lilt of her voice had me weak in the knees immediately. It was deep, yet simultaneously sweet. Nevermind the accent that hadn’t left my head all night. Lou made fun of me relentlessly all night because apparently, my voice was shaking when I talked to her. I think she was full of shit.

“You were, I don’t blame you,” the brunette murmurs. “She was hot.”

I kiss my teeth, looking out the window. “Don’t matter, she could be Zendaya and I still wouldn’t get into all that.”

Lou looks bewildered, eyes flickering between me and the road.

I grin at her, shaking my head. “Nah I’m staying celibate. Scout’s honor. Got me that Natty last season.”

It was true. For the first time last season I had not been involved with any girl - and it worked out pretty well in the end. It got me the ring. Adapting to a new team, new city, new life was already hard enough without fucking around. Girls had a way of making everything complicated.

“You? Celibate?” Lou asks, her tone skeptical. I suppose she remembers a different Paige from when we were both Huskies. I had changed a lot though, grown up.

“Trust,” I nod as we park in front of a nice apartment building, Arike making her way out and into the car.

“Yo,” she greets us, and I nod into the rearview mirror, meeting her gaze.

“Sup my rookie!” Arike grins and squeezes my shoulder. “You ready for tonight?”

“Aren’t we just gonna eat and go home?” I ask but Lou and Rike are quick to shake their heads.

“Nah these things don’t end till late, we know how to party here you know what I’m sayin?” The girl in the back grins.

“Don’t blame you, nothing else to do here,” I complain half-jokingly. 

“Yooo not too much. You’ll grow to like it,” Arike laughs, grabbing her phone. “Just don’t drink everything people offer you today, got it?”

“Yeah, everyone’s gonna be trying to get you drunk,” Lou chuckles. “My rookie year they had me almost blacked out.”

“Almost? You were blacked out. We had to carry you to bed.”

I laugh and sigh, rubbing my jaw, my nerves stirring within my abdomen. “Great.”

-

The restaurant is buzzing with people, an entire second floor reserved just for the Dallas Wings employees. Arike, Lou and I show up fashionably late, but to my pleasant surprise everyone’s too busy huddling around the bar, lining up for drinks. I smooth over my green sweatshirt, already feeling the heat get to me. How the hell was I supposed to dress for weather like this? It wasn’t even summer yet.

I walk over to Satou, who’s grinning widely at me.

“Look at you, our baby rookie. Let’s get you a drink!” She smiles convincingly. I glance at Arike and Lou behind me, snickering amongst themselves already. So it begins.

“Feels wrong to drink at a team event like this,” I tell the taller girl, guiding me towards the bar. I was more used to sneaking drinks into hotel rooms, doing our best to hide them from the coaching staff. Guess this is what growing up feels like.

“Nah, don’t worry. Everyone’s chill here,” Satou laughs and orders us two beers before I have the opportunity to interrupt and ask for a Shirley. Reluctantly I grab the beer, cheering with the girl next to me.

“To the saviour of the Wings!!” She jokes and I roll my eyes, shaking my head.

“Sorry, but could you check if they are Manzanilla olives?”

The accent. I immediately turn my back on Satou, my body working before my mind can as my eyes scan the room. And then I see her. The girl from the apartment underneath mine.

She’s standing at the other end of the bar, holding a black clutch in her hand as she talks with the bartender. Her dark hair is down, in perfect waves, not one strand out of order. The dress she’s wearing isn’t red, but more maroon, shade matching the red of her lipstick to the hilt. The one-shoulder dress leaves her left one completely bare, and the golden jewelry sitting against her light brown skin makes her sparkle in the moody lighting. No words would do justice, I know that much. My knees nearly buckle at the sight of her. This strange girl whose name I didn’t even know, yet kept haunting my existence here in Dallas.

“Oh they’re not? Then nevermind the martini, could I just get a glass of Chardonnay please?”

If I had been nervous before, then it was nothing compared to the way my stomach was stirring now. Which is insane considering I didn’t even know this girl’s name. Hell, I better just avoid her tonight. I’m not on my a game. I should just keep my distance.

“Paige! That’s the girl!” Lou is half whispering, half screaming over the crowd, incredibly obviously pointing at the dark haired girl. To my relief she doesn’t notice, too busy swirling the wine in her glass around and sniffing it. 

“Shut up,” I mouth to Lou as she walks up to me, Arike on her tail.

“What girl?” Arike whispers, already eyeing every woman over my shoulder.

I give Lou a look, widening my eyes and telling her to keep her mouth shut. But of course, it fails. I had no power here.

“We ran into this hot girl in Paige’s building yesterday and Paigey here got all shy and nervous.”

Arike bursts out laughing, and I’m pretty sure my face was going completely pink at this point. So I sip half of my beer quickly, letting the girls get over their laughing fit.

“You done?” I ask in annoyed, eyeing the girls.

Gasping for air, Arike nods and grins at me. “Well go get her.”

“She can’t, she’s celibate,” Lou answers. The shorter girl standing next to her scoffs, clearly finding amusement in that.

“Yeah, good luck with that. You’re the new hooper in town, gon’ be drowning in pussy. I was,” she says, sipping her beer. “The rookie year is crazy.”

“Oh trust, she was drowning in it at Uconn too-”

“Okay okay, chill guys,” I interrupt the conversation, Satou standing next to us quietly and chuckling to herself. 

“So which one is it?” Arike asks. Glancing over my shoulder I see the girl from downstairs talking to some guy around the same age as her. Just as I’m about to point her out, Satou and Arike are waving that exact guy over.

“Yo Trey!! My guy!!”

All of a sudden he’s walking over with her. I feel my face going red, my breathing growing ragged, my eyes quickly flicking to the floor. She was like the sun, as much as I wanted to I couldn’t look directly at her - it might blind me.

“What’s up, my favourite girls!” The guy - Trey, apparently - says brightly and dabs all of them up. 

“Ahh and the prodigy!” He grins, turning to me. I lick my lower lip and smile back, offering my hand. “I’m the guy with the camera, you’ll see me around. Trey.”

I dab him up, ignoring the tingling on the left side of my body where the dark haired girl is standing, evidently feeling as awkward as I was. Except she was better at hiding it, looking around the room with an air of confidence.

“Well I’m the one with the basketball, you’ll know where to find me. I’m Paige,” I flash him my most charming smile. Everyone laughs at my joke, except the girl beside me. I quickly decide that perhaps getting drunk wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“Oh this is Zari, she’s new from England, Linda finally hired someone to work on the social media shit,” Trey explains, pointing to the girl between me and him. I blink stupidly when I look at her. Somehow she was more beautiful up close which made my throat feel tighter. I quickly sip my beer again, looking to the ceiling. Fuck, pull yourself together. I wasn’t this superficial - feeling like this just because someone was hot. Who knows, she might be the worst person you’ve ever met.

“That would be me, hi!” She says when I realise I was barely listening to Trey before, completely not making note of her name. She shakes everyone’s hand, smiling kindly. Fuck, are my hands sweaty? Better wipe them on my shorts first. I gotta make eye contact - I’m sure a couple seconds will be enough. It might be all I can bear.

The girl turns to me, her right hand extended. I glance at it, gripping it gently. Her hand shake is surprisingly firm, but I barely notice, feeling as if my skin is on fire. The moment our eyes meet I look away, knowing that everyone and their mothers could tell I was blushing right now.

“I forgot your name,” is all that comes out of my mouth, so clumsily I wanna hide behind the bar and never come out when I realise how rude it sounded.

To my shock she’s not taken aback at all by my bluntness, instead holding herself with an almost regal air. I wasn’t sure if I was intimated or turned on - either way I was overcome with a desperate need to make her like me. Surely I was off to a horrible start.

Our eyes meet again. Hers are dark green, deep and rich like the pine trees back home. I can feel myself wanting to sink in deeper, to bask in their familiarity. To feel the sting of cold air and smell the snow falling from the sky and to bask in the scent of pine all over me. Before I know it I notice her glossed lips move, but my ears barely pick anything up. An I? And I think there was an A at the end? You gotta be kidding me.

“I- Ivanna?” I stutter. She chuckles softly, as the others around us snicker amongst themselves. Bitches. 

“No, darling, let’s try again,” she smiles, her tone so sweet it’s bordering on condescending. I fucking swoon at it. “Izara.”

I nod, not sure if the heat on my face is from how hot and humid it was inside the restaurant, or from the public humiliation in front of this gorgeous girl. I chuckle mostly to myself, rubbing my jaw and looking around to break eye contact finally. Far too distracting.

“Izara,” I repeat, noticing Satou, Arike, Lou and some of the others laughing at my clumsy behaviour. I was just begging Izara didn’t make note of why I was acting a fool. 

“Zari is better,” the brunette says, a slight teasing tone to her voice. I breathe heavily out my nose, trying to get the blush to settle from my cheeks.

“Zari, got it.”

“Took you long enough,” Arike teases, making everyone laugh, except Zari who just smiles at me.

“Guys, not all of us are used to the Texas heat. It messes with your head,” she says with enough authority in her voice to make everyone around us stop laughing and give me sympathetic looks.

“Uhh yeah, it’s hot,” I answer bluntly, my voice shaking a little as I rub my neck. On top of the mess I was, I could feel myself sweating. I have to get home as fast as possible. Or not home. But back to the apartment I was staying in for now, until the moment I could go back home to the East Coast.

“Shit, I’m Paige by the way,” I say, realising I never introduced myself to Zari. She scoffs, waving me off.

“Paige, it’s my job to know who you are,” she points out. It’s funny, and I want to laugh. But nothing comes out of my mouth, I’m simply unable to, her proximity leaving me completely discombobulated. So I just sip my beer.

“Right.”

-

Paige Bueckers hates me. The moment she met me I could tell. Maybe she was offended by the fact I didn’t recognise her last night. Figures, a star like her would have a huge ego. Still, I had one job tonight. To make her like me. And I had done the exact opposite. I could tell by the way she avoided my gaze, the way she barely wanted to shake my hand, abruptly pulling it away from my grip. She barely talked to me, wrapped up in a conversation with everyone besides me. I couldn’t afford to disappoint my boss, if I did it would be bye bye Dallas and hello London. 

I’m sitting between Trey and another colleague, Ava, both caught up in a lively conversation as I cut a piece of my steak, wrapping my lips around the fork and chewing on it. Glancing up from my plate, I see Paige throwing her head back as she laughs with her teammates, her entire demeanor so much more lively now that I wasn’t close to her. A slight irritation was growing in me, watching the carefree way she’s joking around with the people around her part of the long table. Who was she to make up her mind on whether she liked me so fast. I was the kind of person you grew to love. I’m sure she would as well.

“Okay everybody!” Curt Miller stands up clinking his glass with the cutlery. Suddenly everyone goes quiet, including the blonde. For a second our eyes meet, sending a strange jolt around my body. Blinking, I shift my gaze to the man, clearly ready to give a speech.

“Alright alright,” he laughs, “I just wanna thank everyone for coming here tonight. I was never good at these so let me keep it short. This is gonna be a big, exciting year and I’m so grateful to the Wings for giving me this opportunity. I know I’m a new face to some of you, but I’m in great company,” he grins and points to Paige. “And Linda here mentioned something about a new media employee too!”

Like on cue Linda stands up a few chairs to the right of me, nodding. “Yes Curt, we’ve got some young blood to help this year all the way from England. Izara here, should help us grow our social media reach.”

I smile, trying to focus on appearing together and poised, some people glancing towards me. 

“Awesome news!” Curt grins as Linda sits back down. “With two young talents I’m sure we’re gonna have a hell of a year,” he says, glancing at both me and Paige. I see Arike rub Paige’s shoulder, clearly excited and happy about how the lottery turned out for the Wings this year.

“Now since I’m boring everyone out of their minds why don’t you two say a few words.”

Pause. I feel a panic rise from somewhere deep in my abdomen. Don’t get me wrong, I had no issue with public speaking, no issue with performing. What I did have an issue with was improvising. I was the girl who planned, who made lists, who used to finish her essays the day before a deadline. With a plan I was golden, but to expect me to say anything, planless, was causing jitters. I was just hoping it didn’t show on my face.

Mine and Paige’s eyes meet, and I immediately know that I wasn’t as composed as I wanted to be. That she knew I was panicking. Bet this is just gonna make her hate me more.

Instead, to my surprise, she clears her throat and begins speaking with an easy confidence.

“Uh well, way to throw us under the bus Curt,” she jokes, immediately making everyone chuckle, including me. “Guess I know what kinda season this is about to be.” Another round of laughs around the table giving her time to scratch the back of her neck as she thinks. With a slight smirk on her face she continues.

“This is a big moment for me. I grew up with the sport, already knew I had a chance to go pro when I was eight. I’ve been waiting for a while to get to the league and to finally be here… It’s surreal. I feel really blessed, really grateful,” she says looking at her plate and then letting out a sly, quiet laugh. “Crazy that I’m drinking with the coaching staff right there, I’m so used to having to hide it.”

I chuckle with the rest of the group. There’s something about her, a smoothness, a charm that makes it impossible not to like her. Even improvising like this she seems completely in control, like she knows she’s got everyone wrapped around her finger. It’s impressive. I can’t look away.

“Geno didn’t let you drink?” Curt asks lightheartedly, making Paige’s blue eyes widen.

“He would’ve put belt to ass, lemme just say that.”

More laughter. Paige looks around meeting my gaze.

“Zari, I know you got that cold right? So maybe I should just speak for you so you have a voice tomorrow?”

Huh? I furrow my brows looking at her confused, but her eyes won’t budge, boring into mine. And then I realise. She’s trying to let me off the hook.

“Yes please,” I smile back, looking down to my lap. Something about the way she did that all for me, picked up on my nerves, found a way to get me out of it, was making my insides flip. You wouldn’t do that for someone you hate I suppose.

“I gotchu,” Paige grins, looking back to everyone around the table. “I think we’re both just really grateful for the opportunity and really excited for the season. Anyway, thanks guys.” 

Everyone claps and I do too, my heart warming at the way Paige Bueckers had just saved me. 

“Wait, you're sick?” Trey whispers. 

“Uh, a little.”

-

“Hope you feel better Zari!” Ava says as I wave bye, walking towards the exit.

“Thanks guys, I’m sure I will,” I say, knowing I felt just fine. Great even, after a few glasses of wine. As I step out into the evening, I hold my fur coat in my hands, too hot to put it on. To my surprise I see Paige standing right outside the restaurant, scrolling on her phone. Interrupted by the tapping of my heels, she lifts her gaze, the intensity of her blue eyes surprising.

“Hey,” she smiles, avoiding looking at my face again. She was really giving me mixed signals.

“Hi there,” I say, walking closer. “Thanks for rescuing me earlier.”

She looks at the parking lot, a sly smirk spreading across her face.

“Nah, you’re good,” the blonde grins, diamond studs in her ears sparkling. “Not a fan of speeches?”

I shrug, taking that as an invite for conversation. “No I can certainly be… If you give me approximately two weeks to prepare. Minimum.”

Paige chuckles, nodding to herself. “You’re that kinda girl huh?”

“Desperately so.”

She shifts on her feet, looking for something to say.

“That’s a good trait to have, I try to plan too but usually doesn’t last for longer than a week or two,” she explains. I nod knowingly.

“My brother’s a bit like that,” I sigh. I was already missing him.

Paige turns to me, looking for my gaze.

“You got a brother?”

I nod, “Yeah, he’s younger. Your age.”

She’s taken aback. “Hollup how old are you?”

“Turned 25 last month.”

“Damn,” she says before thinking. I scoff, my eyes widening, though finding amusement in her reaction

”Are you calling me old?” I ask with a serious tone, her face immediately going bright red. 

”No, no no, not at all. You look… great.  Amazing, and like. That’s not even old, I'm just trippin’. I just assumed you were my age but like a year is nothin-” she rambles, tripping over her words.

”Paige I’m taking the piss,” I laugh. She stops, looking at me confused.

”You’re what?”

Oh right, Americans. ”I’m joking around.”

She laughs. ”Taking the piss?”

I laugh too, the air immediately easing between us.

”I’mma start using that,” Paige chuckles, glancing at me. 

”You’re welcome,” I grin.

She scoffs. ”I didn’t say thank you.”

”You should,” I demand, more seriously, meeting her blue eyes. She immediately folds, blinking her long lashes.

”Thank you.”

I suddenly feel hot, warmth rising to my cheeks. I quickly look back to the ground, the intensity of her gaze too much right now.

”Hey, uh… I think we live in the same building,” she murmurs, watching the sky. Shit, she had recognised me, of course.

”Yeah… I’m sorry I didn’t recognise you. I really should have,” I quickly explain, feeling a little abashed but trying not to let it show.

”No, I just meant, I ordered an Uber. You need a ride?”

Oh. So she wasn’t mad. She was offering me a ride.

”I’d love one. Are you sure?”

”Totally,” Paige answers, smiling at me softly. She fans her own face, trying to find any relief for the heat. 

”Shit it’s hot,” the blonde groans. ”Do you mind if I take this off? I got a shirt underneath.”

”Oh, no go ahead darling,” I tell her.

With a sigh, Paige’s hands grip the back of her green sweatshirt, pulling it over her head. As she does my eyes can’t help it, flickering over her lower abdomen where both shirts have hiked up, showing a sliver of pale skin and black boxers peeking out of her shorts. Something about it makes my throat go dry. I’m not exactly sure what. The feeling almost unfamiliar to me. 

”That’s so much better,” Paige groans with relief, fixing the white oversized button up, chains resting against her chest. I feel my ears growing hot, quickly averting her gaze.

-

She’s not horrible, on top of being gorgeous she’s fucking great - funny, sweet, charismatic. Would be so much easier if Zari was an asshole like I had hoped earlier. I could feel butterflies in my stomach every time she looked at me. That familiar warmth that I knew too well.

We walk to the Uber together, and I make sure I open the door for her - I didn’t know her that well, but I could tell she was classy. On a whole different level than me. 

I climb in after her, unbuttoning more of my shirt for some airflow. For a second I think I catch her staring, but I knew it was unlikely. She was definitely giving me straight girl vibes. Of course my stupid ass was ogling after a straight girl - nothing new to me. My eyes immediately land on her thighs, her legs crossed and pressing together as she sits next to me. Okay, get a grip Paige.

”So… How you liking Dallas?” I ask, unable to take the silence in the car. 

”I haven’t seen much of it, just moved the other day,” she answers, her voice low but smooth, I could’ve listened to her talk all night. ”It’s very humid.”

”Damn that jetlag gotta be hitting hard huh?” I ask, looking at her.

”I look tired?” She asks, offended. An immediate panic takes over, my hands gripping the sweater in my hands. Shit.

”No you look fucking great. I would’ve never th-”

”Paige. I’m joking.”

Oh. I let out a sigh of relief, chuckling awkwardly. I look out the window, shaking my head at myself. I really needed to chill.

”Taking the piss?”

She lets out a loud, bright laugh, grabbing my forearm. The gold rings on her digits sparkle as her long, manicured nails dig into the white shirt. Immediate goosebumps rising underneath on my skin tell me I’m completely fucked.

“Exactly!” She gleams, her smile wide. “You did so good.”

That. I need to hear her say that again. I clear my throat to interrupt the bad thoughts, feeling Zari’s hand move off me, skin tingling as the weight of her touch lifts.

We pull up to our apartment building, both of us climbing out.

“I can transfer you some money for the ride,” Zari suggests as I let her into the building, eyes falling on her ass just for a second. Okay, no. Look away.

“No, Ion need you to,” I tell her sternly as we begin to climb up the flights of steps, her heels tapping against the tile of the floor. The sound echoes off the walls until we stop by her front door, silence draping over us, making me painfully aware of the way my heart was pounding in my chest.

“Well,” Zari smiles, turning to me, her green eyes even more prominent with the dark makeup surrounding them. Only then I notice how catlike they are, sharp and alert. Challenging almost.

I wanna say something smart, something witty. Something to make her laugh, or blush. I’m rummaging through my brain for anything coherent at least.

“I’ll see you at work,” she says, opening her door. I was running out of time.

“You’ll know where to find me,” I stupidly let out. Zari turns to look at me one more time and nods.

“Don’t stomp too loud please.”

With that she gets in, leaving me there with nothing to do but blink at the closed door and notice the flutters around my stomach. Rubbing my jaw, I slowly climb up one more flight of stairs, mind spinning around the girl. Completely, utterly out of my league. It only made me want her more.

-

taglist: @wbbgetsmewetter @thaatdigitaldiary @sierrale8ne @lupinqs @lovegalor333 @d3arapril @avvwritesstufff @rosemariiaa @bueckers22 @taylynbueckers44 @unadulteratedcyclepaper @rizzlerbuckets @bueckersfive @wosolipa @bridgetloveswomen @paiges-1vur @slut4uconnwbb @xxloveralways14 @bueckersbitch

[sweetflanfiction]

Assymetrical Symphony - Part 11

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know.

A.N: I am going on a little vacay and I'll probably won't be able to update it as regurlarly, but I'm going to try and schedule this chapter and another one. Good news is more time to write :D

A.N. 2: Apparently the tags have not been wroking. If you asked to be tagged and haven't been, let me know!

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10

• ··········· • ············ •

It was the morning of the day after Viktor had come to the penthouse and taken a twelve-hour power nap. 

You walked into the kitchen with a yawn that stopped abruptly when you saw the three people in the room. Two of its usual occupants: your mother, Wyllah, but also a very tired Jayce. Your eyes shifted between your mother and the tanned man on the table, hunching sheepishly as he sipped from a mug filled with coffee to the brim.

“Jayce?” Your tone is a mix between a welcome and a question, not even bothering to call him by his title.

He mumbled his reply, and you looked back at your mother and Wyllah. They both gave a sad smile and a shrug.

“You left the lab.” You began, trying to get him to talk, and he nodded. 

His hair was unkempt, and his beard was starting to emerge, meaning he probably had not even been home yet.

“I needed to find Viktor.” He said, not looking up from the mug. “Your mother found me halfway out of the Academy.”

“I left one of my security guards at the lab door,” Wyllah explained proudly. “No one is getting in unless we say so.”

“Thank you.” Jayce said, still looking at his reflection.

“Did you two argue?” You asked, knowing the answer.

Viktor would have never just walked out of the lab, leaving his best friend behind, and Jayce wouldn’t look half as dejected if they had parted ways amicably. Although Viktor had probably already gotten over the argument, Jayce liked to mull over it. 

“How…?” he asked. “Wild guess…” you answered.

He sighed, putting his head on his head, finger digging into his unkempt hair.

“What was it about?” You inquired, pouring yourself a cup of coffee, even though you could also guess the subject.

“What do you think?” He snapped, and you sat down in front of him at the booth, grabbing a cookie from the plate one of the older women had placed on the table.

“The great mystery of Runeterra.” You grinned, and he just stared at you, eyes narrowed. “I know it was about the council shenanigans, but what was it specifically about? Gods know you two can fight about a fleck of dust in the window.”

Jayce looked at you and was about to retort but closed his mouth and looked at his coffee before sighing and reopening his mouth.

“I told him I want to give the Hextech freely to the council in exchange for keeping us there as engineers for it, no matter what. I would rather be there to stop them from screwing up than have it destroyed or sold to someone else.” He sighed. “Viktor would rather grab everything and run as far as he can to keep it safe.”

You smiled softly at him gently and touched his white-knuckled hand on the mug. He relaxed his grip and looked at you.

“You can both be right, you know.” “I know, but it’s not that I want to be right… It’s just…” he scoffed, frustrated, looking at the window. “He has stood up for so long, taken so many beatings from topside, kept a straight face throughout everything we’ve ever been through; he has made his mark in this world whether he signs on it or not… And now he wants to run? It feels like a step backward.”

“You both know what hunger feels like, what a wind so cold that seeps through your clothes feels like in your bones. You both know how it is to have nothing and then have everything.” Jayce looked at you both confused and interested. “The difference is Tallis; he knows what happens when you just wait and watch. You get eaten by the big fish eventually. He stood up so many other times because he knew you’d have his back. But right now both your backs are against the wall, and there will be no sorcerer to help you escape the storm.”

There was silence in the kitchen as Jayce searched your eyes for answers all the while trying to assimilate what you said about Viktor.

“How…?” He asked again. “Your past and my present aren’t that different.” 

His eyes widened for a second, and he was about to start talking again when you shook your head.

“Discussion for another time and place.” 

He nodded, still reeling but quieted down when the telltale sounds of a cane making its way to the kitchen were heard.

“What do I say?” “Nothing…” you whispered back. “He is your friend Jay. He understands the same way you do…deep down…”

Viktor was also stifling a yawn as he made his way to the kitchen, stopping mid-stride just as you did when he saw the other man in the kitchen. 

“Jayce?” He puzzled, eyes still blinking the sleep away. “Hey, buddy! You got me worried there for a second.” Jayce got up from the table and walked towards him, scratching the back of his neck. “Listen…I’m sorry if I said something I shouldn’t.”

Viktor blinked a couple of times and gave him a nod and a smile.

“Do not worry, Jayce. I understand.” He patted the bigger man’s arm and limped to the small breakfast nook, where you sat.

“Thank you, Madame Rainemour, for the hospitality.” He smiled at your mother, and she smiled back. “I don’t think I had any say in it this time, but you're welcome, my dear.”

He shifted his eyes to you, and you shrugged.

“You looked like exhaustion and tiredness had a child and left it out in the rain.” You paused and raised an eyebrow, conveying you were joking. “No offense…”

“None taken.” He smirked and grabbed a cookie from the plate.

“Well,” your mother clapped, and everyone’s eyes turned to her, you noticing a small grin on Wyllah’s face. “Since everyone is now sort of awake and looking less dejected…I have a plan…” “A plan?” Jayce asked, leaning against the door frame. “A plan.” Wyllah repeated. “Should I be scared?” Viktor asked, and both older women shook their heads in sync. “That makes me scared.” “Alright, you two... out with it...” You motioned with your head for the ladies to sit and talk.

Your mother started to explain what she had been doing yesterday after she left you and Viktor. Esther had put on her detective’s hat and gone to investigate the ins and outs of whatever was happening with the Hextech vs. Council situation.

She found that the council was going to make the decision to take control of Talis Lab and Hextech in a week or so, with Councilor Salo spearheading the efforts, being the one that seemingly had lost more in the rocket attack.

He had announced to all of those who wanted to hear him about the dangers of the usage of hextech by those who wanted the worst for Piltover. The topsiders had clutched their pearls and agreed he was right and that the council, the voice of all citizens of Piltover, needed to seize control of the tech.

Jayce bonked his forehead on the door frame where he was leaning, and Viktor rolled his eyes.

“I’m starting to see the beauty of him as a stain on the hex gate’s floor…” you mumbled, munching on a cookie. Viktor looked at you questioningly, and you shrugged him off. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Do not despair, my dears; as I’ve noted, I have a plan.”

Between her and Wyllah, the plan was laid out in front of the three of you. Your mother would rally up all of the investors and get them to stop the tech from falling into the council’s hands. It seemed simple and very straightforward, but knowing the Topsiders, there will be money exchange and drama and fights. Something your mother seemed very willing to do.

Both of the scientists had nodded in agreement to whatever your mother had put on the table, and you realized how much trust they all had in each other. The universe had to find a way to make up for you not being here. It had put your mother in their path so they could have her instead of you. It hurt as much as it elated you. 

“And what do we do in the meantime?” Viktor asked, breaking a cookie in half. “Well, we will need Jayce’s assistance.” Esther pointed at the broader man. “His place as a councillor and one part of the Hextech team will help us get to certain people. But I don’t think that would be your cup of tea, so you can keep securing the lab and the projects, making sure nothing ends up being shown to prying eyes.” “Are they allowing us to work?” Viktor asked Jayce. “No. No hextech projects are allowed to go forth.” Both men sighed. “I’ll stay in the lab with Viktor. I don’t want to get mixed up in that crowd again…” “Again?” Jayce raised his eyebrows, and you matched the expression.

After a while of discussing and more planning, between calculation and scheduling, your head was about to burst, so you excused yourself for a bathroom break and walked to the living room. You sat on the chair that wasn’t Viktor’s favorite place on earth and, drowning out the noise from the kitchen, felt the sunshine on your face.

You jumped at Jayce’s voice calling your name right next to you.

“Holy blue balls of Hextech.” You mumbled, putting your hands on your heart and leaning back on the chair. “Oh, so that’s where it comes from…” Jayce joked. “Sorry…” “Don’t worry about it.” You looked up at him, leaning your elbows into your knees.

“About that thing you said before.” Jayce took a deep breath. “I never told that to anyone but Viktor, and I know he would never tell anyone…” “Like I said, your past is my present. I was snapped here the same way you were.” “Yeah, I got it the first time. I’m as smart as the other co-creator of Hextech, believe it or not.” He grinned. “How? I have searched and researched high and low to figure out why it happened to me, and I never found the answers. Did he appear to you too? The mage? Did some runes in the sky and…new place, new you?”

You shook your head and looked at your hands. He was taking this considerably well, which made sense since he had also lived through something similar.

“I don’t know how it happened; I was there one second and here the next.” “That’s why you ran to the council room; you did know what was gonna happen.” He frowned, his eyes searching the air for connections. “Were you in the council room? Or in the Undercity?”

“I was in the lab when it happened. All was quiet, and then…boom…”  “What changed?” Jayce asked, and you shook your head. “I’m not going to tell you. Not all of the details. You…from there…lived it…you felt it…If I tell you, it might make you do something that would lead to the same path, and…I can’t go through that again.”

He nodded, understanding that the addition of knowledge to a situation can drastically change the outcome. You looked at his wrist, the leather band secured tightly around it and the teardrop-shaped gem encased in it. Stretching your arm, you grabbed his hand, turning it palm up. The rune was different. 

Jayce also grabbed your hand and turned it palm up. A different rune was carved there, not glowing since you had spent most of the night remaking the star rune in case Viktor woke up. You looked up at him and sighed, his eyes searching for answers.

“I think the technical term is Rune Speaker…” You smiled at him, finding amazement in his eyes.

• ············ •

It didn’t take the group long to have a sort of guarding schedule around keeping the stuff in the lab from prying eyes. Because it was involved in council business, the boys couldn’t work there, but they refused to leave anything unsupervised. And that’s why they had looked like exhaustion itself.

Between the two of them, yourself and some of Wyllah's personal security, it was manageable, although Salo had shaken his fist at having the unknown guards at the door. To which your mother promptly told him she had more money invested in that lab than he could count; she was merely securing her investment.

Your endeavor to enter the orchestra was still in full swing, so you took the time at the lab to write out some of the music you were composing. You had an outline of the piece, but it needed tweaking and cleaning up.

You were not a composer. You hated writing your music. It felt strained. You’d rather just sit at the piano and play something from the top of your head. You were good at that. This was hell for you.

Groaning, you laid your forehead on the cold lab table and groaned. A hand patted your arm, and instinctively you jumped back as far as you could.

“Eh. It’s just me, good old Viktor.” the scientist announced, limping around you and placing a cup of tea and something wrapped in a cloth on the table. “One of those days, huh?”

He sat down next to you and peered at what you were doing. 

“Looks complicated.” He said, taking a book out of his shoulder bag, and you look at him sideways, glaring at the man. You pointed to the chalkboard that now has a sheet covering it and raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve seen what you do…” you mumbled. “Numbers. I crunch numbers. Calculation and variants. It’s easy. I see them in my mind. Some are more complicated than others, but… It’s easy. This…?” He touched the clean sheet of music and made a negative sound with his throat. “Cannot comprehend.”

“Remind me to teach you the scale at some point. My mother is catching on pretty quickly. I fear she might get the position faster than me.” “Position?”  “I’m trying for the orchestra. I’ve learned that being a stay-at-home Piltie is not for me.” “Piltie?” He frowned at the nickname the Zaunites gave the topsiders. “How very uncivilized of you.” 

You both chuckled at his joke, and he nudged your shoulder in a friendly manner. He mentioned the wrapped thing with his chin, and you grabbed it. A small little cake was inside. A round little creamy thing with a slice of strawberry on top.

“Don’t expect much.” He said, opening his book. “It’s from the Academy’s cafe.”

You took a bite out of it. It was a little dry, but it was sugar, and you welcomed the feeling of something sweet in these desperate times.

“Where's Jayce?” You asked after you finished with the pastry. “I thought he was supposed to come with you.”

Viktor took a sip of his cup of tea and shook his head, rolling his eyes in the process.

“Councilor Medarda asked to see him.” He scoffed. “Confraternizing with the enemy, more like it.” “Spending time with his significant other.” you corrected, smiling when he made a ‘yeah yeah’ face.

Silent took over the lab while the two of you both got entranced by your tasks; only the scratching of pens on paper was heard. It was a friendly silence, with both of you sitting close enough that your knees would bump occasionally. Sometimes you would hum the melody you were writing, and he would stop writing to listen to it.

After a while Viktor stretched, moving his arms up to the ceiling. You looked at him and mimicked the movement but stretched your arms in front of you. The two loud ‘aahs’ of pleasure came from both of you in sync, making you both snort.

“I have been thinking…” Viktor began relaxing on the table, his shoulder hunching over. “The other day, you kept having to remake the rune.”

“You noticed?” You looked away from him, slightly embarrassed. “I thought you were sleeping.” “I caught you once or twice. It was a nice gesture, so I kept quiet. In any case, you had to keep redoing it. And well, we have had the same problem with the cores.”

“Vik…” you warned, but he raised his hand, stopping you.

“I know, but technically I am not using your magic for Hextech; I’m using Hextech for your magic. We solved that problem by introducing an artificial rune to the process.” He drew two squares touching on one corner, a crude infinity symbol. “That sustains the power of the core indefinitely. If we work at this the same way we work with Hexcore, your rune ‘push’ simply means you have no other inputs to add to it, and that means that inputs can be added.”

You remembered the rune circle in the council chambers. Going by what Viktor was saying, it made sense; the magic didn’t happen until you had pushed it forward, waiting until you finished the whole rune circle to work and slamming your hand on it to work.

“Could work, but if you tell it to keep going indefinitely, how do we stop it?“ You looked back at him and saw him scratch his neck.

“Usually we have buttons and dials…sometimes an emergency lever.”He placed his head on his hands and looked around for inspiration to strike.

You looked down at your music sheet and rolled your eyes. The answer was right in front of you. You slid the music sheet towards him.

“When you want to bring your composition to an end, you add this…” You pointed to a circle enclosing a crosshair.

“The runes are a language, and languages are fluid. New words are being introduced every day. We can keep adding to it until it works…” Viktor continued excitedly. “We have to test this theory.”

“I’m not going to test something that has a possibility of permanently staying in your lab. I don’t think a never-ending whirlwind is very discreet.” 

His shoulders slumped for a second, and then he pointed to a small door next to the front door. That was a cleaning supply room spacious enough for the janitor to keep his cart there, but it was closed off so that if something were to happen in there, it would be contained.

“Alright…Let’s test this out.” You rolled the stool away from the table and slapped your hands on your thighs, watching Viktor move with efficiency.

• ············ • ············ •

@marshy-moo @victormydarling @blueesmiski @th3stup1dcat @22carolina08 @httpstes @that-one-shitty-blog @disa-pointment @sseleniaa @moons-lighttrail @aysluxe @fae-doodle @kitewa @local-mr-frog @bakusquadobsessed @cherry-cola-100 @optimistic-but-very-realistic @seeksrsnn @thecordelialetters @notsaelty @lansy-4 @ayupfrogg @sammypotato @wnbrw @lucycarlisleswife @noxturnalmoth @ren-ren23 @furblrwurblr

[revelboo]

Me at your post:

Question. Have you ever thought about writing for the Constructicons? (Not with Prowl though). I think it would be hilarious.

Rewatched their G1 episodes today. Title is the song ‘Drive’ by The Matches. An attempt was made

Drive

Constructicons x Reader

• “I’m just saying. A little appreciation.” Exchanging a look with Long Haul, Scavenger tries to ignore Hook’s grumbling as they work. Pushing against a tree until the wood splinters and breaks so he can dove it over and drag it out of the way. Pausing to tip his head up at the night sky and wonder where home is. “We’re out here busting our afts and do we get any thanks?” Hook demands. No. What they’d gotten was their energon rations cut because in the Decepticon hierarchy, they’re not much higher than Insecticons. He doesn’t like it, but understands. Being forged here on this miserable mudball not Cybertron means being looked down upon. And he has no idea where Cybertron is among those glittering stars. Can it be home when he’s never set ped there?

• “We do our job. A fragging good job,” Scrapper says, trying to keep the peace as Bonecrusher utters a harsh laugh and Mixmaster just shakes his head at him. Like he doesn’t see the scorn. Knows the others think he’s oblivious, but he’s knows they’re looked down on until they’re needed. Devastator demands their respect, but on their own? They’re second class citizens. If even that. Some of the other Decepticons are all too happy to sneer at them, to assume that since they didn’t come from Cybertron they’re less.

• Bending to gouge up a handful of soil and to intake through his vents, separating out the individual components in his head, Mixmaster growls. Scenting those trace amounts of energon that are the whole reason they’re out here in the middle of nowhere. “No one wants to hear that, though,” Mixmaster mutters. “They want us to work and keep quiet. It’s here.” Glancing at his brother when Bonecrusher bumps him. “They’re scared of us,” Bonecrusher growls, beginning to aggressively clear the land of trees, movements sloppy and giving away that he’s been into the high grade. But they all know it’s Devastator that’s feared, not them. They’re tools. Nothing more. Disrespected and mocked by the rest of the Decepticons. Something they all feel and that gets compounded when they’re combined. That dissatisfaction growing every time they combine, spreading and feeding on itself when they separate again. Reaching a boiling point with no outlet to let off some steam. Except to destroy something. And there’s nothing here but trees.

• Exhausted and not even tempted by the hot, greasy smell of fast food in the bag in the passenger seat, you go over the list in your head again. Trying to remember if you’ve gotten at least a little something for everyone. That you’re ready for the upcoming holiday. You’d volunteered to work the day before for the extra cash, but you keep wondering if you’re forgetting something. Distracted you almost miss the huge, dark shape that comes sailing out of the woods. Slamming a foot on the brake as your car slides with a scream of tires, a tree slams into the road ahead of you and goes end over end in a shower of pine needles and broken branches. What? Toggling your emergency lights on, you put the car into park and get out, wincing at the biting cold. And your breath catches as it sinks in that a tree chucked like a javelin even though there’s no wind, no plausible explanation, nearly took you out. Squinting into the dark woods, your skin prickles as a red glow flares in the shadows. Then five more.

• Hears Bonecrusher laugh and Long Haul turns to follow his stare. Sees the tiny shape through the trees silhouetted by the headlights of the car behind them. There’s no way the little human can see anything more than the glow of their optics. But there’s a whisper of excitement twisting through him as Scrapper says, “Bottle of engex to whoever squishes it before it ruins everything.”

• Heart in your throat as those red glows shift and a branch cracks, there’s a roar from the trees that crackles through you and you forget the car. Forget everything beyond the animal need to get away. Running as trees crack and get uprooted with thunderous noise behind you to send you racing across the road and into the woods on the other side in a blind panic. Don’t even know what’s chasing you, only that you don’t want to find out. Is this what a rabbit feels like with hungry foxes snapping at its heels?

• Heavy peds tearing up dirt and leaves as he tries to overtake Hook, Scavenger hears Mixmaster calling out to the organic. Laughingly saying they only want to play. You’re surprisingly fast for being so small, but even noisier than Bonecrusher somehow. Energon pumping through his lines as you break from the trees, just a little shadow silvered by the moon, almost unreal looking as you pelt through the tall grass. Catches a glimpse of terrified eyes when you glance back and then you go down, disappearing completely.

• “Where’d it go?” Hook growls, reaching to push Scavenger out of his way as the rest of his brothers catch up and he realizes there’s a sheet drop, the ground giving way so suddenly you hadn’t seen it in time to react. Leaning down to look at the still form lying in the shallow stream at the bottom, there’s a momentary flicker of disappointment. Because chasing you had made him feel more alive than he’d felt in a long time. The hunt a high almost as sweet as combining.

• Lingering at the edge of the ravine, spark pulsing still with the excitement of your fear, Scrapper’s aware of Mixmaster and Bonecrusher shoving at each other. Of Long Haul and Scavenger both still staring down at their quarry. Turning away to order them back to work, he hesitates as Scavenger bumps his arm with a fist. “It’s still alive.” And he hears the low, pained sound from the little human. “Pretty fun to chase,” Long Haul adds, shooting him a look. Primus, are they wanting to keep you? Like a pet? All five of his brothers are staring at him now. Waiting for his decision. And groaning in defeat, he gestures at the drop. “Fine, but I’m not cleaning up after it.” Because you’re a distraction, something to keep them from dwelling on how unhappy they all are.

[justwhisperingfantasies]

Pairing Fem.Reader-x-Ben (Soldier Boy)

A little bit of story, A whole lot of smut

Warnings Smut, Language, Drinking, Dom[ish] Ben, Light BDSM[ish], Reader being bitchy, Ben being an ass, Smidge of violence, Oral Both Receiving, P-I-V, Unprotected Sex (wrap it before you tap it) Rough Sex, Light Choking, Biting, Cuming inside.

Please do not copy my work

Comments, Likes, Reblogs, Kind feedback. always highly appreciated.

“So, are you gonna suck his dick or just think about it sweetheart?” Ben asked arrogantly from the backseat of your beat-up SUV.

“Oh, Benny boy. You don’t need to concern yourself with whose dick I put in my mouth.” You matched his tone.

“Just need to know if I have to get my own room tonight.” He took a long drag off his cigarette. “And maybe another pussy to please.”

“Good luck with that.” You challenged raising your brows “Butcher looks like he can give a pretty mean dick.”

He leaned up to your ear, His hot breath sending shivers down your spine. “I bet he can’t make you cum like I can.” He whispered, firing up your core. You inhaled deeply, striving to regain your composure.

He quickly leaned back in his seat as Butcher opened the passenger door. He sat down and looked at you. “You alright over there, love?” Billy asked lighting up a cigarette

“Never better.” You told him as you pulled out of the gas station. As the journey went on, a strange silence filled the air between you. You tried to steal a glance at him in the rearview mirror. He gave you a cheeky wink when he caught you which only added to the tension. You pushed the accelerator down.

“We in a hurry?” Butcher asked as the engine roared.

“Just trying to get there.”  You could feel Ben’s eyes in the mirror, you kept yours on the road.

The silence was driving you crazy. You had never been so happy to see a shitty motel. You parked the car and hopped out. “I’ll get the rooms.” You told them, shutting the door behind you.

Coming back to the car you handed Butcher their room key and took your bag out of Ben’s hand. “I can get it, thanks though.” You heard him huff, but you didn’t turn back.

“You’re on a different floor?” you heard Billy ask as you started up the external staircase.

You shrugged. “That’s all they had left.” He gestured to the parking lot. All the spaces were empty except for the one occupied by your car. “Take it up with them, not me.” you continued to your room. You just wanted a break from him, and his stupid snide comments, his absurd cocky attitude, his smartass tongue, that knew precisely how to work your clit to send waves of ecstasy through you, his stupid soft hair that always tickled as he did it. Fucking stop you thought, shaking him out of your head.

You walked out of the steamy bathroom, almost jumping out of your towel when you found him sitting on your bed. “What the fuck Ben?”

“You didn’t answer your door.”

“That doesn’t mean fucking break in,”

“You could have been dead.”

“Ok I’m not. So, fix the door on your way out.” You gave him a fake smile.

“Would you like me to send Butcher up here while I’m at it?”

“No need I won’t be here.” You smirked at him

“And where the fuck do you think you’re going?” you shrugged. “Out.”

“You do know Homelander is looking for you right?”

“So sweet of you to care, but I doubt he’s checking middle of nowhere towns.”

He rolled his eyes and walked out, slamming the door behind. “Dick!” you yelled after him You heard the echoes of his laughs bounce back through the still broken door.

Billy and Ben followed closely behind you as you crossed the street. “Is this really necessary?”

“Yep.” Ben said, quickening his step to walk beside you. “Is that slutty low-cut top really necessary?”

“Yep.”  You repeated his words, the corners of his mouth twitched up just for a second.

For a small town the bar was lively. Mostly ranch hands, and high-school kids buying booze with their fake ids. You walked up to the bar and ordered 3 shots of whiskey. The bar tender took your money and sat the filled shot glasses on the bar. You slapped Ben’s hand away when he reached for one. “Order your own.”

“And here I thought you were being nice for a change.”

You laughed. “You should better than that.” You knocked back the shots one after another. You got the bartender’s attention and ordered 2 more. He filled the glasses as you handed him more cash. Ben’s eyebrows raised as you slid one of the shots in his direction. You held your glass up and he tapped it with his. You took the shot and turned around, leaning back on the bar.

“So should I start looking?” His voice haughty

“She’s cute.” You pointed to a blonde bimbo with her tits hanging out. “And she looks easy.”

He smirked. “Maybe.”

“Oh, look she has a friend.” You said with fake cheer as her friend sat beside her. “Make you could get a two for one special.” You turned back to the bar rolling your eyes. You got the bartender’s attention and ordered another. Ben tapped his shot glass and paid for both. “Thanks.”

He took his. “You know you’re cute when you’re jealous. Sweetheart.”

“I’m not jealous. Just trying my good friend Ben a find a pussy to please.” you retorted. You took your shot and made your way to the dance floor.

You could sense Ben's gaze piercing through the crowd as you moved your hips to the rhythm of the music. Stopping in the middle of the crowd, you turned around and locked eyes with him as you sensuously rolled your body. His eyebrows arched with intrigue. A charming, muscular guy wearing a cowboy hat made his way toward you.

The cowboy eyed you up and down. “You lookin’ for a partner little missy?”

You looked over at Ben. His lips pressed in a hard line now. You smirked at him. You looked back at the cowboy. “Sure. Why not.”

The cowboy spun you around and pulled your body back to him. You rolled your hips grinding your ass against his groin. You leaned completely back on him as he rolled with your body, raising your arm you wrapped around his neck. You glanced over at Ben. He was on the edge of the dance floor now, a scowl on his face. You puckered lips out and pushed them out toward him.

His nostrils flared as the cowboy ran his fingers up and down your midsection pulling you closer. The cowboy leaned his face to your neck. Trailing kisses to your shoulder.

The cowboy spun you around again, so you were face to face. The cowboy rolled his hips, making his bulge grind on your core. He pressed his lips against yours.

You felt a hand wrap around your wrist. “That’s enough. Let’s go!” Ben demanded as he pulled on your arm, careful not to hurt you. What the hell has gotten into him. Ben never got jealous. Well, I guess you never really tried to make him jealous before.

 You twisted your hand and pulled out of his grip. The cowboy got in his face. “Hey asshole. She’s with me now.”

Ben chuckled. He looked past the cowboy. “You’re with him now?”

“That’s what I said.” He bumped Ben chest with his own.

Ben put his finger up. “Don’t” he warned.

“I ain’t scared of you motherfucker.” The cowboy bumped into his chest again

“I said.” The cowboy cut him off with a shove. You could see the glow through Ben’s shirt. Fuck.

You pushed the cowboy out of your way. “Ben.” He stayed silent glaring at the cowboy as the glow got a little brighter. You cupped his face with your hands and angled his face down. His eyes stayed on the cowboy. You stretched on to your toes, “Ben.” still nothing. The glowing got brighter. You crashed your lips on his. Praying that this would stop the nuclear bomb from going off. As he started to kiss you back, he wrapped his arms around your waist. Pulling you into him. Your hands slid around his neck.

He groaned into your mouth as you shoved your tongue through his lips. His hands found your ass and squeezed hard. You can feel the temperature of his chest cooling.

“You good?” you asked.

“Yea.” He softly replied.

“You wanna leave?” He nodded, releasing his embrace.  He spun around and grabbed your hand as he started toward the door.

“Yea that’s right bitch! Walk away.” The cowboy yelled.

Ben stopped. You pulled on his arm. “Ben, come on.” He took a deep breath, “Please.” His expression softened at your plead, and he continued walking.

As soon as he passed the threshold, he pulled you back against him. Your pulse quickened as his hand slid up your neck and shoved your face to meet his gaze. His hand wrapped around your neck as his hungry lips captured yours, making your core ignite with excitement. His other hand made its way up your shirt, sliding under your bra he started kneading your breast vigorously, making you moan into his mouth. His fingers moved to the hem of your shirt, you raised your arms as he pulled it over your head. His lips were back on yours as he unclasped your bra. Your nipples hardened as the cool air hit them. You felt the smile on his lips and next thing you knew you were face down on the bed.  

“Bet you thought you were real fucking funny back there huh?” He snarled, you heard the screeching as he moved the desk chair. “Shaking that ass on him like that.” And then a small bang as he pushed it against the door. “I don’t even know why you would waste your time.”

You felt the bed shift as he knelt behind you, a sting on your ass as he slapped it. Grabbing your hips he brought you up on your hands and knees. “You know, No one can make you feel as good as I can.” A small gasp left your lips as he crashed his groin against you. His hand clasped over your shoulder and started thrusting against you, his hardened shaft smacking into your center making it thrum with desire. He pulled on your shoulder bringing you back against him, he unbuttoned your jeans and then slid his fingers under your panties groaning when he felt how wet you were for him. you moaned as he started a circular motion around your clit. “No one can make you as wet as I can.” He whispered.

You felt a low rumble against your back as he pushed two fingers inside of you. You sighed with pleasure as he began to rhythmically slide them.  As the pace of his fingers intensifies, so too does the rhythm of your breath. He curled his fingers hitting that sweet spot delivering waves of bliss through your body. Your walls start to tighten on his fingers as you start to reach your peak. He withdraws his hand. “Not yet sweetheart.”  

He turned you to face him, keeping you on your knees. With a kiss he grasped the back of your thighs and pulled them out from under you. you gasped as your back bounced on the mattress. His hands grabbed the waist of your jeans and your panties, you lifted, he threw them across the room. He nudged your knees open, shivers rand up your spine as the cool air hit your center. He stroked his fingers up and down your folds, you let out a moan as he shoved his fingers in you again.

He lowered himself, his mouth hovering over your inner thigh, a whisper of warmth against your skin. You rolled your hips, feeling the sharpness of his teeth as they skimmed your skin. “No one.”  His beard left a trail of goosebumps as he inched closer to your core. “Can.”  He stopped, and you felt the graze of his teeth once more. “Eat.”  He bit the skin right next to your lips causing your walls to clench around his fingers.

“This pussy.” He pulled his hand back, leaving his fingertips inside, adding a third he slowly slid them back in, as deep as they would go. As you moaned fuck, a deep a growl slipped from his mouth.

He flicked your clit with the tip of his tongue, drawing a moan of his name from your lips. You glanced down at him. His lips twisted in a mischievous smirk, his eyes sparkling as they gaze into yours. "Like I can," he teased, his attention returned to your core as he inhaled deeply taking in your sweet aroma. Then he dove in, he moaned as he tasted your sweet juices. He sucked your clit into his mouth, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. A breathy moan of his name escaped your lips as his teeth grazed it, sending shivers of pleasure through your body.  as he worked his tongue on your clit as he pumped his fingers. “You wanna cum?”

“Yes” you moaned.

 He chuckled as you became puddy in his hands. “Tell me.” his tongue flicked your clit again.

“Ben please.” You moaned

“Come on sweetheart you can do better than that.” Another flick.

“Please, Ben. I wan, want you to make me cum.”

He gave you a wicked smile and then his tongue went back to work. Sloppily lapping at your clit. He curled his fingers upward hitting that sweet spot again as he continued to with his tongue. His fingers slid faster and faster, pushing you closer and closer. Your fingers clenched his hair as the coil got tighter and tighter, “B, Ben don’t stop.” Your moans filled the room, getting louder as the coil was about to burst. Your walls pulsed around his fingers as your orgasm surged through your body. His fingers slowed, helping you ride it out.

He rose to his feet and pulled his shirt over his head. He motioned you over with a single finger as he unbuttoned his pants.  As he pointed toward the floor in front of him you recognized his requests and eagerly complied. “You gonna let me fuck that pretty little mouth of yours?” He asked as you knelt in front of him. You nodded, looking up at him. Your hands slid up his thighs, he lifted his head and moaned softly as you caressed his hard shaft through his jeans. You unzipped his pants and pulled them down. Unleashing his thick, throbbing cock.

He let out a low moan as you gradually took him into your mouth. His hand twists into your hair, revealing his impatience. You pulled your head back when he started to thrust forward, teasing him. A growl escaped his lips, and his grip on your hair tightened. He starts to move his hips again, this time you stay in place. Tears welled in your eyes as you fought your gag reflex once he reached your throat. Another moan escaped his throat as he started sliding his cock in and out of your mouth. “Fuck.” He moaned as you tighten your mouth around him. He groaned in between pants as he sped up the pace. Grabbing your hair with both hands he bucks one last time and you feel his warm cum ooze down your throat. His body shivered as you bobbed your head one more time, savoring every last drop.

He effortlessly lifted you and tossed you onto the bed. The instant your back hit the mattress, he was on top of you, his lips hungry for yours again. He positioned himself at your entrance and thrust deep without warning. Giving your body no time to adapt to his size he withdrew his cock and slammed it back inside you, the room filled with your loud moans as pleasure and pain collided within you. Leaning down, he whispered in your ear, “No one can fill this pussy like I can,” You let out a soft moan of his name as he starts pumping in and out of you, each movement sending shivers of delight throughout your body. He rose to his knees, a moan leaving him as he pushed deeper inside of you.

You could feel the tension building in your stomach again as his rigid cock filled you, hitting your g-spot as he pumped in and out of you. You praised him with a moan of his name as your walls clenched around him. “You gonna cum for me again baby?” You replied with a moan of his name. His muscles flexed as he pounded harder. His green eyes gazed into yours and the coil busted. Waves of ecstasy coursed through your body once more. With one loud groan and a deep plunge into your pulsating walls Ben found his release. He collapsed on top of you as heavy pants echoed through the room. His hair tickled your chest as it moved with your breath.

His head rose once he caught his breath, resting his chin on your chest. You noticed the green in his eyes was brighter than normal as they locked on yours. "No one.. will ever love you like i do."

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[lvis44]

Cabin Fever - Pt. 3 // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Y/N

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol Consumption, Angst, Lewis being an ass, allusions to mental health struggles, 18+ MINORS DNI, not edited

Word Count: 5.3k+

Summary: He's your Sister in Laws best friend, you shouldn't even have to deal with him. Always seeming like a cocky arrogant prick, and now here he is crashing your family Christmas. Can you handle a full week of Lewis Hamilton? Or might he not actually be as bad as he seems?

Notes: A bit more drama for you guys tonight but this is nothing compared to what we've got coming up, oopsie lol. Hoping to get the next part out quickly so it kinda aligns with the holidays in real time! I would also formally like to start an important conversation about why the hell this man only seems to own winter jackets the color of a highlighter (im sure it's for safety when snowboarding but pls). I love you all and I'm so happy you guys are enjoying our angsty little Christmas fic!

As always, I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy!

**italics are a jump back in time**

The moment you make your way downstairs the next morning you are ready to turn and run back up to your room. You can hear everyone in the kitchen already, much to your surprise. Their voices are much louder than you would have wanted but you carry on, aware that the only way you’re getting coffee is by showing your face in there.

“Well good morning sleepy head! I was wondering when you’d show up.” Your dad greets you warmly.

“Hey I was up long before any of you yesterday.” You argue as he pulls you into a side hug.

“I do believe I was up before you.” Lewis pipes up with a smirk.

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” You grumble, trying to conceal the roll of your eyes but when you meet Lewis’ gaze you know you’ve failed, “I need coffee, lots of it.”

Tom laughs from over at the coffee bar where he seems to be making himself some sort of fancy espresso, “Coming right up.”

You thank him, taking a seat next to your brother at the island, watching the chaos ensuing on the other side of the kitchen. Your mother, Beatrice, and Vanessa are in what seems to be party planning mode. They’re rummaging through cupboards and running back and forth to the fridge, Vanessa has a notebook out creating some sort of list, Beatrice is loudly reading some recipe from her phone.

“How long has this been going on?” You ask the men at the counter, trying to keep your voice low.

“About twenty minutes, they’ve probably got another twenty in them.” Lewis says, picking up his coffee and watching the scene himself.

You let out a deep breath, already exhausted by the amount of energy flowing through the room, praying you don’t somehow get sucked into it as well.

“Y/N, thank goodness you’re up!” Vanessa says excitedly, finally noticing your presence on one of her trips around the kitchen.

“Good Morning.” You respond softly, trying not to allow any chance of being roped into whatever is going on.

“So,” Vanessa's voice comes out chipper and matter of fact as she puts her palms down on the counter, evidently ready to give you the full run down, “I felt so bad yesterday, I had so many things planned for a fancy breakfast and the weather just had to ruin it all so I really want to make up for all of it today. Thank you again for pulling that off yesterday, I was so grateful, but I want a big fancy family brunch, we haven't had one in so so long and I’ve been thinking about it since I started planning this trip. And I don’t want it to be our Christmas morning brunch, I want it to be its own special moment, ya know?”

You can tell that your eyebrows have gotten higher on your forehead with every word that she has said, speaking faster than you could ever comprehend at the early hour. You hear your brother take a deep breath from next to you as Lewis chuckles lowly.

“I’m sure it will be wonderful, very talented ladies doing the cooking.” Tom tells his daughter before setting a delicious smelling cup of coffee down in front of you, “Here you go Y/N.”

“Thank you, it smells fantastic.” You say sincerely, happily wrapping your chilly hands around the warm cup.

“It better, I brought my own beans and everything. That should be the best cup of coffee you’ve had in your life.” He tells you proudly.

“It was a phenomenal cup of coffee.” Lewis says with an amused smile on his face, one that Tom seems to read as more genuine than you think it really is.

“Very good, very very good.” Dylan is quickly agreeing.

“Now listen,” Vanessa’s voice is quick to grab your attention again, “you did such an amazing job yesterday with breakfast and then helping with all the storm cleanup,”

Before she can finish Lewis lets out a sound halfway between a laugh and a scoff, cutting her off, “I don’t know if I would call whatever she was doing yesterday helping.” His voice is muffled by the rim of his coffee mug but you can hear the cheek to his voice, more teasing than the jabby tone it usually carries for you, you assume it's because of the current company.

You open your mouth to defend yourself but your brother is joining in quickly, “I mean she made a valiant effort but I do think I have to agree with Lewis on this one.” He’s laughing as he pinches at your side.

You try to find the right words to argue your defense but you realize you really can’t, thinking back to your ways of helping the day before. 

You had started strong, initially heading out after breakfast to try to clean up all the branches that had been blown into the yard, that lasted for only twenty minutes before Lewis and Dylan were getting the plow and skidoo out of the garage. Once the big toys were out you had no more interest in your handheld rake and shovel. You had gone over to inspect the new fun equipment but were quickly shooed away by both Lewis and your brother, both claiming you were going to get in the way and possibly end up hurting yourself. You had accepted defeat, heading back to your sad pile of branches before once again getting quite distracted by the fun sound of the engine on the skidoo. You had done your best to act as if you were still working but you had ended up watching Lewis zip around the yard for much longer than you would have liked to admit. There was something about his level of both control and chaos behind the handlebars that scratched your brain just right and it irked you and brought you immense satisfaction all at once. Once your brother had gotten into the swing of plowing, Lewis following him down the hill to keep Vanessa's mind at ease, you had gotten back to your sad attempt at branch removal, by the time they made it back up to the house you were collecting your armful. 

“Y/N you do know that it’s been a full hour and you don’t even have enough sticks to make a mouse a campfire, right?” Lewis had taunted you when he saw you walking across the driveway as he removed his goggles, your brother laughing as he hopped out of the plow.

“Oh fuck off, at least I was doing something, you were just joyriding.” You said sassily, quickly changing course so you weren’t walking directly past him.

“I,” He started, his voice long and drawn out to dramatically make his point, “was keeping your brother safe. The buddy system is very important, you know.”

“A knight in shining,” You started to say but before you could get the whole sentence out you were falling flat on your ass, your abysmal stick pile flying everywhere.

“Woah Y/N, shit you alright?” Your brother was quick to react, leaving his open truck door to run over to you.

“You’ve gotta be kidding.” Lewis huffed out, also quickly making his way over to you.

They had both been there within an instant, squatting next to you to make sure you were alright. Your brother was handling you like fine china even though he could tell you were okay, Lewis however was immediately giving you shit.

“You do realize we’ve been here for like twelve hours and this is the second time you’ve fallen in front of me, right?” The tone of his voice was unamused despite offering you his hand to help pull you up.

“I did not fall last night.” You had tried to defend yourself as he got you to your feet, your brother still giving you a worried look like he thought you had secretly broken something.

“Because I caught you.” He had quickly pointed out.

“Whatever.” You grumbled as you bent down to collect your stick pile, admittedly leaving a good half of them behind before once again heading toward your brother's brush pile off by the shed. Before you could even make it half way, a very well aimed snowball was colliding with your ass cheek, once again knocking the sticks out of your arms. 

“I am going to fucking kill you.’ You had exclaimed loudly, quickly gathering a large armload of snow to form into your own snowball before turning around and whipping it in their direction. You ended up hitting your brother, immediately feeling a little bad because you assumed it had come from Lewis in the first place. Lewis let out a cackle when the snowball hit your brother, evidently pleased that he hadn’t been the one to get in trouble.

“Oh hell no, that was meant for you.” Dylan had said, also laughing but incredibly serious, his own snowball already being packed tightly to whip at Lewis. Much to your pleasure, Dylan was much closer to Lewis and was much stronger than you so you could tell the impact didn’t feel amazing when it finally slapped into his chest.

“I just thought you should put some ice on it after that fall, I was trying to be helpful.” Lewis laughed as he put his arms up to guard himself from any further snowballs being sent his way. You and your brother exchanged a look, both of you loading up again, hurling snow in Lewis’ direction.

He screamed as he turned to run, his snow gear making him much less agile than he would normally be. He had finally found steady footing, his own snowballs being sent in both of your directions, all three of you in a fit of laughter. Somewhere along the line your alliance with your brother had crumbled, his snowballs being sent your way as well, no longer reserved for just Lewis. By the time you finally called truce you had all been absolutely soaked, your stomachs hurting from laughing so hard and your pile of sticks long forgotten. When you made your way back to the house you had found yourself very surprised at how playful and fun that time with Lewis had been but you decided that it must have been a bit of a fluke, knowing it wouldn’t last the rest of the day.

You try to think of a way to argue your defense but you have to admit to yourself that you really can’t, you truthfully didn’t do any actual storm cleanup yesterday.

“It’s the thought that counts, I tried.” You grumble into your mug as the two men laugh.

“Well, either way, you absolutely slayed it with breakfast and putting up with them,” Vanessa gives you a smirk, trying to take away their ammunition, “so I want you to just relax this morning, Moms and I will take care of all things brunch, you just enjoy the pretty scenery and your amazing coffee.”

You smile at her, mouthing a thank you, grateful that you are not expected to be part of the brunch circus that is unfolding in the kitchen before you. Your mother and Beatrice are still frantically figuring out if they have everything for some recipe that they have selected. You sit back, watching as Vanessa returns to her chaos with your mothers, seeming weirdly at home within it. Tom and your father begin loudly discussing just where Tom is sourcing his coffee beans, raising the volume of the kitchen just that much more. You go to turn to your brother, only to find him standing from his seat to rinse out his coffee cup. Lewis is grabbing his phone and eagerly taking a call, leaving the room rapidly. You let out a sigh, choosing to make your way into the den with your coffee, hoping for some level of peace in there. The room is cozy, a fire already going and a light snow falling outside the large windows. You try to settle into one of the plush couches but as you sit there you feel yourself growing more and more aggravated. On one side you can hear your family in the kitchen, all talking loudly about different subjects that don’t even meld together into anything coherent, on the other side you can hear Lewis’ muffled voice on the phone. You can’t actually make out anything that he’s speaking about but the low timbre is enough to be disruptive. You find it hard to believe that in a house of this size you can’t find any silence, yet here you are, you shouldn’t be shocked with it being your family. You decide you can only take so much and come to the conclusion that you would rather be out in the cold and quiet than in here with the chatter. You take your coffee and head off to the foyer to find your winter gear to bundle up, the better idea of just going to your room nowhere to be seen in your head. You get as cozy as possible, grabbing a blanket out of the den before heading back to the kitchen.

“I think I’m just gonna go sit out back for a little while and appreciate the view while I have my coffee.” You awkwardly announce as you make your way to the backdoor, raising your blanket in your hand as you do.

“That sounds absolutely lovely, enjoy yourself!” Beatrice exclaims, overly enthusiastic about your plans.

When you first step out of the house you begin to question your plans, the cold air immediately hitting your face and wrapping you in an unforgiving cocoon, but the moment the door closes behind you, you’re at peace. The door seals your family and their loud chatter away wonderfully, just the gentle howl of the wind and small noises of things falling in the forest left to be heard. You make your way across the covered deck, settling into one of the luxurious outdoor couches overlooking the large backyard and forest. You snuggle as far as possible into your blanket, trying to keep as much of your body heat as possible. You can feel a deep sigh leave your body as you take in your surroundings, admitting to yourself that as much as you hate winter, you do love the beauty of the blanketing of snow. You sit in silence for a while, just sipping your coffee and enjoying the peaceful way the world is waking up, the snow falling gently. It sadly doesn’t take long for your silence to be interrupted, the door opening behind you. You let out a huff when you see who is making their way outdoors.

“Ocupado.” You say sassily as you turn your attention back out to the view in front of you.

Lewis just scoffs, making his way over to sit on one of the couches near you.

“Seriously, I just need some silence. Do you have nowhere else to go?” You groan childishly, seeing him settling into his seat.

“I let you get warm in front of my fire yesterday, I think you can share the silence of your deck with me now.” He says, his voice just as sassy.

You go to argue with him, wanting to tell him that it’s not the same and his fire was in the den, a common area, but you quickly realize that this too is a common area that you have no monopoly over. You decide to bite your tongue, rolling your eyes as he settles deeper into the couch, pulling his phone out. You decide to do the same, feeling awkward staring into the trees now that you have company. It doesn’t take long before the first post from a friend is popping up on your feed. She is back in California, a small party dress on that would have you getting hypothermia here. The post is about a party that you had known would be happening, a fun Christmas get together with a bunch of your friends that you would have loved to have been at, carefree and ridiculous fun. You let out a huff as you scroll through her post, the fomo eating you alive as you do so.

“Thought you wanted silence.” Lewis grumbles from his spot at the sound of your huff, his voice already laced with annoyance. 

“So sorry to disturb you, your highness.” You fire back at him sarcastically.

“It’s just sir, I’m a knight, not technically royalty.” He replies, his voice so cocky that it makes you want to smack him, only stopping when you see the slightly teasing smirk on his face.

You roll your eyes again, not even having the energy to come up with something witty to say back to him in the moment.

“Seriously though, what’s got you in such a mood?” He asks, sounding genuinely curious, much to your surprise. 

“I’m not in a mood.” You mutter, burrowing further into your blanket, your attention back on your phone.

He lets out a chuckle at your response, “Yeah the huffing and puffing really sells that narrative well.”

“Oh shut up, you know I don’t particularly want to be here, just let it go.” You say quietly, not wanting your family to hear your disdain for your surroundings.

“I know, and me being here probably isn’t helping that, but it seemed like there was something else going on. Thought you saw something that was upsetting you.” He says casually, shrugging like it’s a normal conversation for the two of you to be having.

You’re taken aback by his casual and genuinely curious nature, not being used to anything like this from Lewis. It takes your guard down, quicker than it should. You let out a sigh, deciding, against your better judgement, to confide in him a little bit. You know he could come back with some level of snippy remark but you were prepared for that, maybe he would actually have a normal conversation with you for once. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I love my family, but seeing everyone enjoying their lives as adults and doing what they want, where they want, I don’t know, it’s just driving me a bit insane.” You divulge, not getting your point across in quite the way you meant to.

He raises an eyebrow at you, evidently rather confused by what you mean, “I mean, you’re an adult, you spend 99% of the year doing what you want, where you want. What’s the problem?”

You just shake your head, deciding to instead show him the post that caused the initial huff. You watch as his brows furrow while he scrolls through the instagram post you handed him. Quickly his face turns from curious to judgemental. It’s his turn to roll his eyes as he finally hands you your phone back.

“So you’d rather be back in the smog of LA where you can’t even tell it’s Christmas, dressed in a skimpy dress with your friends? You’d prefer that to fresh mountain air, a white Christmas, and your family that loves you?” His tone is belittling as he reads the situation completely incorrectly, his questions coming out more as statements, as if nothing that you say now will change his mind.

Your jaw drops at the accusation, a loud scoff leaving your throat as you snatch your phone back from him, “How dare you, that was not the point I was trying to make.” You begin to argue before he’s cutting you off.

“You see those people all the time Y/N, how often do you see any of your family?” He raises his brow in challenge but doesn’t give you time to formulate a response before he’s carrying on, “We all know you don’t want to be here, just suck it up, a little bit of winter mountain air and family time isn’t going to kill you.” He doesn’t wait for a rebuttal, he just stands from his seat as if he’s just finished reprimanding a child and walks away, back inside.

He leaves you in your seat, silent and fuming but also leaving you feeling a tad guilty. He is correct, you don’t want to be here, but it has nothing to do with you preferring to be out in a skimpy dress in LA, it’s about your freedom. Having the freedom to do as you please and be where you want, something you haven’t had a ton of in your life. You hate that everyone knows that you would prefer to be somewhere else, making you feel as if you’re almost a burden. You hate that Lewis feels that he has the right to make such deep assumptions about you and treat them as fact and you hate even more that he feels he has the right to lecture you based on those assumptions. 

You end up staying out on the back deck much longer than you had originally planned, only finally making your way back indoors when Vanessa announces that brunch is served. You do your best to ignore him, not even looking in his direction. Instead you spend most of brunch quizzing Vanessa on things about her brunch that in all honesty you aren’t particularly interested in, but listening to Vanessa explain how he gets her eggs to fluffy is much better than having to even think about dealing with the man sitting at the other end of the table.

It irks you that you can hear him chatting so freely and happily down the table, as if he hadn’t accosted you on the porch mere hours beforehand. You find yourself already making a plan for escape before you’ve even cleared your plate.

Avoiding him throughout the rest of the day ends up being shockingly easy. You take an extra long time getting ready before helping Vanessa and your mom with some last minute gift wrapping. You can’t help but laugh when you see that Vanessa's “last minute stuff” actually appears to be a majority of her gifts, but you don’t complain, knowing it will take up more of your time, and in turn help in your game of avoidance. You can hear Lewis chatting off in the distance, your father quizzing him eagerly on his car collection after hearing he added something new. Lewis gushed with ease, thoroughly entertaining your fathers questions and while it could be considered a nice conversation you felt like it sounded arrogant, flashy. 

“Boys and their toys.” Your mom muttered with a laugh, also listening to bits of the conversation, your father now seemingly showing Lewis photos of a car he had back in the nineties.

“Tell me about it, I couldn’t for the life of me get Dylan out of that plow truck when we first bought it and the snow hadn’t even fallen yet.” Vanessa exclaims, shaking her head.

You just laugh as you lean back to stare out the window for a moment, admiring the way the world is beginning to turn blue as the sun goes down. As if he’s noticed it getting dark at the very same moment, Dylan is bursting into the room talking about Christmas lights.

“Get out, we are not finished in here Mr.” Vanessa is quickly squealing, throwing her body in front of the few remaining unwrapped gifts.

“Okay, okay,” Dylan laughs, throwing his hand over his eyes before continuing, “What I was saying is the lights in the forest look like they stayed up through the storm! It’s getting dark so I was hoping we could all take a walk out there, it’ll be beautiful.”

“That sounds nice Dyl, give us just a little time to get ready.” You say softly, eager to see the lights that have your brother so excited.

“Sweet, I’ll go let the guys know.” He says like a little kid, whipping around to go inform them of the new plans.

“He made an absolute wonderland out there, you guys are going to love it.” Vanessa says, already standing up to collect the remaining wrapping paper, shoving things away like she’s now on a time crunch.

You take that as your sign to go change and get ready for a winter walk. When you go to head upstairs you finally cross paths with Lewis who seems to be headed to his own room, you pause for a moment before flicking your gaze away and trying to move past him.

“Joining us on the walk?” He asks, his voice cold, sounding like he’s expectant of a no.

“Uh, yeah, of course.” You waver slightly, caught off guard that he had any words for you at all. You wished your voice had come out stronger, not wanting him to feel like he had any sort of upperhand, that he had gotten under your skin.

He does actually look surprised, his eyebrows twitching up in a certain judgemental look of disbelief before he is once again turning on his heel. He doesn’t say a word, just walks away to his bedroom.

When you make your way back downstairs, everyone is there and waiting. Dylan is animatedly explaining how he set up with power for the lights and how they follow all of the groomed paths in a certain pattern. Once he notices that you’re there he is directing everyone to follow him to the back yard, still explaining his tree lighting process on the way. You can’t help the grimace that leaves your body when you step outside, the temperature having dropped drastically since you were out here earlier. You try to just burrow further into your coat, not wanting to complain after being made so aware of your attitude earlier today.

As you wander the paths you find yourself mesmerized, Vanessa was right about the absolute wonderland of it all. The glittery lights look like stars, spanning higher up trees than you would like to think about your brother being, but regardless they are breathtaking. You find yourself falling away from the group a bit, too caught up in admiring the gorgeous trees and trying to keep as much of your warmth in as possible. Your family carries on walking, unaware of your sudden slow pace, Lewis however seems to notice and slows down himself. So much that you almost trip over him, having been blissfully unaware of his presence.

“You okay?” He asks you when you’re steady on your feet.

“I’m just fine Lewis.” Your voice is as cold as the outdoor air as you avoid looking in his direction.

“Well, from where I’m standing, you’re shaking like a leaf.” His tone has lost its earlier harshness but still carries that bit of arrogance as you catch him smirking at you out of the corner of your eye.

“Just wore the wrong jacket, I’ll be fine.” You argue, keeping your voice short but still pulling your thin jacket tighter. You're mentally cursing yourself for not having worn your puffer.

“Do you want to head back? I’ll walk with you.” His offer catches you off guard, his voice sincere and almost kind as he continues to stare at you, the smirk gone.

“I’m fine,” You say yet again, your voice slightly quieter now, “Dylan worked hard on this, I’ll survive.”

Just as you once again reiterate your argument a gust of wind comes through, picking up the loose snow and blowing it around you sending yet another chill directly down your spine. Lewis evidently notices the cold seeping deeper into your bones, taking it upon himself to make the decision. 

“Y/N and I are gonna head back to the house, she’s getting a little too cold, gonna get her something warm, we’ll see you guys in a bit.” He yells ahead to your family against your will. 

“Oh, hun, are you okay?” Your mother is immediately concerned.

“I’m fine, I’m not going back.” You start to insist but Lewis is stepping in yet again.

“She’s fine, just wore the wrong jacket. The lights look amazing Dylan, well come see them when she’s warmed up.” Before you can say anything he’s starting to usher you back down the path, Dylan is thanking him and Vanessa is telling you where to find more blankets. 

Lewis is guiding you down the path, his body close against your back and his grip firm on your waist as if you don’t know the way. You hate the way he is manhandling you but you have to admit you are relishing in the warmth coming from the proximity. You don’t allow it to go on for too long, wrenching yourself out of his grip once you’re far enough away from your family. You pick up your pace, both in a show of defiance and actually quite wanting to get back to the warmth of the house. You hear him let out a scoff behind you as you throw your little tantrum.

The heat of the house is immediately welcoming, wrapping around you like a hug the moment you open the door. You take a moment to let the heat sink into your bones before even moving to remove your jacket. Lewis stands there watching you for a moment, just shaking his head before taking off his own large puffer.

“What?” You groan, assuming he has a comment to make.

“You know sub zero temps usually require a little more than a flimsy fashion jacket from the mall, right?” His voice is laced with judgement again, the kindness from the forest long gone.

“Oh, would you just fuck off!” You finally properly snap, whipping your head to face him.

““I’m just saying you’re a grown adult and you’re acting like winter is gonna kill you, you can’t even prepare for it” His response is quick, his tone just as snippy as yours, dripping with arrogance.

“I have a fucking parka in my room, I didn’t know how cold it was.” You throw back at him.

“Mmm sure, or you just wanted to look good for the little walk.” He accuses you, his tone condescending.

“Look good for who? I’m in the middle of fucking nowhere!” You fully yell at him, finally done with his jabs.

He ignores the question, his voice raising but not yet actually yelling, “Have you ever considered that maybe it’s good for you to be in the middle of nowhere once in a while?”

“I do not need some asshole who doesn’t even know me giving me fucking life advice, thank you very much.” You snap, no longer yelling but your voice is harsh.

“Well maybe you do because from where I’m standing you would rather be back in LA partying with your friends to post on Instagram than at your brother's beautiful new house with your whole family that loves you. They fucking want you here and you get to fucking see them, stop acting like its pulling fucking teeth for you to be here.” He actually yells this time, momentarily stunning you.

“Why do you even fucking care so much?” You just about scream, praying that your family is still far away from the house. The two of you haven’t even made it out of the foyer yet.

He just stares at you, his eyes hard and his chest heaving slightly. He opens his mouth before quickly snapping it shut, finally letting out a long, deep sigh. “Ya know what, I guess I fucking don’t. Go take a hot shower before you get fucking hypothermia.” He finally mutters harshly as he storms out of the room, his bedroom door slamming shut not long after.

You stand in the foyer, staring down the hallway where he disappeared, still dressed in your winter jacket. You can feel the tears pricking in the back of your eyes, immediately pissing you off that they can be caused by even Lewis. You bite lips, willing the tears to stop, but then you realize, there it is.

It finally feels like Christmas.

[holylulusworld]

Gap Filler (1)

Summary: Lack of communication leads to fallout.

Pairing: Walter Marshall x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, Walter being a douche, break-up, mentions of break-ups

A/N: A short drabble miniseries.

Rachel is back. She wants to try again. You repeat every single word Walter said to you again and again until he grabs you by your arms to shake you.

“Why now? I thought we were fine, and the next step was to… You trail off and shake your head as you try to fathom that Walter is about to end what you built.

Until a few moments ago, you believed Walter and you were going steady. You spent the last thirteen months believing he felt the same way. Last week, you overheard a conversation and believed he was going to ask you to move in with him.

You got your hopes high only to look at your shattered heart lying on the ground. Literally—you dropped the cake in the shape of a heart you baked for Walter.

“You need to calm down,” Walter huffs. “Fuck, I thought this was only a colleague-with-benefits kind of arrangement! I never wanted this to go on for so long. I should’ve ended things much sooner.”

“Colleagues with benefits kind of—what?” Your eyes widen and you gape up at Walter. This can’t be real. While you were in a relationship, Walter only wanted to have sex.

“We both got tipsy at that party, and things happened,” Walter continues, shattering your heart. “I thought you knew what this was, Y/N.”

“Walter, we were dating for thirteen months! This is not a one-time thing or shit. You bought me flowers for Valentine’s Day, and we made plans for Christmas and the future!”

“You made plans,” he says, a little too harsh. You flinch and immediately push against his chest to get him off you. “I never said I’d join you on your planned activities.”

“Activities…” You sniffle. “I planned Christmas for us, and you call it activities? We were together for thirteen months, and you call it a one-night stand.”

“Christ, Y/N! After Rachel left, I was down. You were all too willing to fill the gap she left.”

You visibly flinch at his words. “I was a gap filler,” you murmur more to yourself than Walter. All the time you spent together meant so much to you, and Walter simply wanted to get off and fill a gap. “A gap filler…”

Walter watches you step back and shake your head as he reaches out for you. Tears run down your cheeks, but you couldn’t care less. The man you love with all your heart reduced you to a body he could use to stuff with his cock. “Wow, I don’t think any other guy ever hurt me as much as you did.”

You chuckle humorlessly as he tries to talk you into sitting down and talking things out.

“Go ahead,” you stubbornly say. “Get back together with the woman leaving you for a job. A job, Walter! She didn’t even have the decency to tell you to your face. She broke up with you via voicemail.” You snicker as his face falls. “She must be so in love with you!”

Turning on your heels, you don’t look back. If you do, you’ll break down and cry.

“We are going to miss you,” your supervisor says. You got the offer for a better position weeks ago but didn’t answer. Believing that your relationship with Walter is developing, you didn’t think about the better position. Moving far away from the man you love wasn’t an option.

“I must go,” you repeat the mantra you practiced for over a week. Avoiding getting anywhere near Walter helped too. “The offer was too good.”

You lie; your supervisor can see it in your eyes. She has known you for years and heard that Rachel will return to your department at the beginning of the next year.

She’s one of the few people knowing about your relationship with Walter and assumes your goodbye has something to do with her return. “You’ll always have your place here if you decide to come back.”

“I know, and thank you for it,” you say, voice saddening. You loved working with your team. Walter made it impossible for you to stay and live your life unbothered by his blooming relationship with his ex.

“Is this an early Christmas party?” Walter gruffly asks your supervisor. She organized a farewell party for you. You took the rest of the year off to pack up your life and leave town to start anew somewhere far away from Walter.

“Oh, didn’t you hear?” She replies, anger in her eyes. “Y/N is leaving. She took the job offer and quit. A shame. She was one of our best technicians. I wonder what made her change her mind. She already refused to take the job offer.”

She walks off, smirking as Walter frantically runs his fingers through his hair. He believed you took the job offer months ago. His face falls as he watches you stand in a corner, shying away from everyone once again. Just like in the beginning, before he made a move.

His gaze fixated on you, he ignores everyone else who is staring at him. Walter wrings his hands, wondering if he should talk to you. The decision is taken from him when you walk out of the room without looking back. You’re done here and don’t want anyone else to pity you.

Walter searches for any trace of you at your office. He opens drawers, huffing as there is nothing left of you. He sits on your chair and frowns deeply.

For weeks, he was hurting. Walter believed you wanted to leave him, just like Rachel before you, for a job. He did the only thing to prevent his heart from breaking. Walter broke your heart first.

Now that he found out the truth, he feels like a monster. He looks at the trash can under your desk, filled with the remnants of your work here.

Walter fishes a plastic stick out of the trash can, immediately sucking in a breath as his eyes drop to the word on the test. “Pregnant…”

Tags in reblog.

[chunibyo-x-sorcerer]

Daichi is ready to fight until Eito chirps, letting him know that the spirit, or rather spirits are not hostile. The flame sorcerer lowers his hands.

"Hold on! You're...on the posters. The missing kids!" Daichi said. The children nodded before the boy speaks,

'Ummmm.....please don't be scared.....we....we wanted to say something before we went to rest for the last time......' the boy said but he saw the other kids looking at them.

'We...We wanna say thank you again..for setting us free. It was scary after that meanie...did to us but...we are all now free and being watched over by Mr. Choko. He said we would find you guys here....to say thank you...'

Daichi blinks to which Eito tweets. "I see. I'm glad Mr. Choko is there for you guys." He smiles.

'Though...we...he said we will be taking a long nap and maybe go to a better place after....we all can't wait to go somewhere new....but....a good nap does feel nice.....' he said before hugging his plushie.

'We even said sorry to your friends.....we didn't mean to cause trouble for you all....we were scared...but we are sorry for it..' a little girl said hiding behind the boy. 'We hope you can forgive us for scaring and hurting any of you....we didn't mean to. That's why we are saying sorry to you to show we didn't mean it. I just hope we didn't scare the others...though, the pink haired man with tattoos on his face was really nice. He was even kind to read us a story when we visited a few hours ago..'

Pink-haired guy with tattoos. Wait...Sukuna?!

"And there's a lady with tattoos as well. She plays tag with us with her big cat wolves ." That sounds like Kinie Ger. "She told us to talk to you guys in your dreams so that way you will stop having bad dreams about what happened." Said the boy as the kids nodded with a smile.. But then the boy turns sad, "Though...I did see my parents but I want to see them one more time before I go.."

Daichi kneels down hearing this, "I will tell your parents..." He said as he went to pat on the Zilla plushie, "Thank you for coming here and telling us that. I-" He has no words what to say to them. "You didn't scare us. We were scared but not because of you. We were scared of the bad things that meaning was doing." He said, referring Meko to as the meanie. "Now it's over, your nightmare is over." He said. "That said, thank you." Daichi smiles. "I think that place you're going to is going to be better place than here."

"Yeah, what's up?" Daichi looks over to see something. Eito tweets as he notices this too. He looks over to see the Zilla plushie that looks pretty old and it was set down.

"Uh...did I bring a Zilla plushie here by accident? I think I did, right?" He asked Megumi. Eito tweets. "Wait...are you saying there's something with Zilla and there is some cursed energy in it?"

"..I..don't think you did. Didn't they give you guys new ones?" Megumi said remembering.

Then he blinks to see Zilla tilt his head, "What is that?"

The Zilla plushie didn't move before some energy was showing around and growing now. Megumi was about to summon the rabbits to stop whoever it was. Maybe a curse was lingering around them. Was it a danger?! However, he got his answer seeing a little boy. It seems to be holding the Zilla plush but he saw the Rabbits to bend down looking at them. The Rabbits blinks looking at the spirit before the little boy waves at them.

".....Wait....isn't that one of the kids?" Megumi asked but saw the boy look at Megumi and Kisho while hugging the Plush. That's when a few more shows up showing the other kids. Some boys and girls.

"?!?"

'Ummmm.....please don't be scared.....we....we wanted to say something before we went to rest for the last time......' the boy said but he saw the other kids looking at them.

'We...We wanna say thank you again..for setting us free. It was scary after that meanie...did to us but...we are all now free and being watched over by Mr. Choko. He said we would find you guys here....to say thank you...' he said softly. His brown eyes were dull but the others were nervous.

'Though...we...he said we will be taking a long nap and maybe go to a better place after....we all can't wait to go somewhere new....but....a good nap does feel nice.....' he said before hugging his plushie.

'We even said sorry to your friends.....we didn't mean to cause trouble for you all....we were scared...but we are sorry for it..' a little girl said hiding behind the boy. 'We hope you can forgive us for scaring and hurting any of you....we didn't mean to. That's why we are saying sorry to you to show we didn't mean it. I just hope we didn't scare the others...though, the pink haired man with tattoos on his face was really nice. He was even kind to read us a story when we visited a few hours ago..' she said speaking of Sukuna.

[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 7 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

_______________________________________________

“Y/N?”

“Yeah, Sprout?” I say, looking up from my computer.

“What are we having for dinner?” Tara asks. She limps around the back of the couch with her crutches before leaning them against the coffee table and plopping down next to me.

“I don’t know,” I say with a shrug. “Thai food?”

She nods and rests her head on my shoulder, letting her eyes skim over the finance essay I’ve been working on. Because Christina Carpenter is still in London Tara’s staying with me until she comes back. At first she said it was to keep me company, but I know she’s just too scared to stay home alone since the last time she was alone she was attacked.

“Okay then, I’ll order something. Is there anything particular you want?” I ask, closing my laptop and pulling out my phone.

Tara shakes her head and grabs the remote next to me, turning on the TV.

“Alright.” I scroll through the options and choose two similar dishes and a side of spring rolls. I go to pay and order, but Tara stops me, turning down the volume of the TV and lifting her head off my shoulder.

“Wait.”

“What? Do you want something else after all? Pizza? Or sushi?”

“No, but you should order some Pad Thai,” she says, shifting nervously.

I chuckle softly, her sudden change in behavior going completely unnoticed. “You just said you didn’t care what I got you.”

I go to change her order, but she stops me by taking my phone away.

“It’s not for me,” she clarifies quietly which makes me raise my eyebrows and look at her expectantly. “It’s for Sam.”

I frown. “Sam? But she’s in Modesto?”

After giving our statements to the police and getting checked out at the hospital, Sam left immediately to pack up her life in Modesto. She promised Tara she’d return to Woodsboro for good as soon as she’d taken care of everything and I thought it would take her more than just three days to get everything in order since that’s how long she’s been gone for now, but apparently not.

“No, she called earlier while you were in the shower and said she was on her way back,” Tara clarifies, watching me nervously and waiting for my reaction.

“O-Okay,” I stammer. “So, you told her she could stop by for dinner?“

Sam and I haven’t talked about anything that happened yet. Not about Ghostface, her psychosis, or my feelings for her which Richie so graciously revealed to her, and not necessary just because we haven’t had the time to yet. No, I’m just not ready for it, but it seems like Tara thinks otherwise. Or she just doesn’t care, either way, Sam is on her way here now and a talk will be inevitable.

“Yes. . .” she says, hesitating slightly before going on. “And I may or may not have told her she could also stay with us until mom gets back.”

“What?!” I shriek, my eyes widening.

Tara shrinks in on herself, nodding, and to make matters even worse she adds, “And I also kind of told her it was your idea because she said she wouldn’t come if you didn’t want her to.“

My jaw drops and I blink in surprise, completely taken aback.

“So, just a heads up when she thanks you for inviting her, I guess,” she squeaks out, smiling sheepishly.

“Oh my God, Tara—“ I run my hand down my face and groan, “—I don’t even— Why would you—?”

“I didn’t want her to be alone,” she’s quick to defend herself. “She said she would just stay at a motel until she finds an apartment, or mom gets back and allows her to stay with us again, but I couldn’t just let her do that. After everything that’s happened she—“

“I get it.” I cut her off and drop my hand in my lap.

Of course I don’t want Sam to be alone. Not after everything that’s happened. She needs someone, she needs Tara, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m nervous to face her and that I’m upset Tara went behind my back.

“So, she can stay for a while?” she asks hesitantly which makes me sigh and nod.

“Yes, she can stay, but don’t ever pull something like that again. I mean, I love you, Sprout, but that’s just— No.”

Tara’s shoulders sag with relief and she nods adamantly. “I won’t, I promise. I wasn’t thinking when I did it. I just didn’t want her to be alone and since I’m staying with you, I figured it would be fine if she just stayed with us, too. I mean, you are best friends. . .“

“Were,” I correct, but it doesn’t faze her. She just hands me my phone back and I, now resigned to the idea, wordlessly add the Pad Thai to our order before finally paying for it and ordering it. “So, when is she going to be here?”

Tara checks her own phone for the time. “She said she’d be here in an hour fourty five minutes ago, so in about fifteen minutes.”

Fifteen minutes. Wow, okay. This is really happening. First I don’t see her for five years, and now she’s going to be living with me.

Luckily I have a guest room she can use since Paige and Liam stay over all the time, but we’ll still be seeing a lot of each other and I don’t know how to act around her now that Ghostface is gone.

“Okay.” I take my laptop off my lap and put it on the coffee table. “I’ll get the guest room ready then.”

The first night Tara stayed with me, she slept in the guest room, but then she had a nightmare and crawled into my bed which is where she’s been sleeping with me ever since, so I’ll have to change the sheets before Sam gets here.

I’m sure she wouldn’t mind sleeping in a bed Tara’s already slept in, but Tara was sweating quite a lot when I found her screaming and shaking in her sleep, so I’ll just go ahead and change them real quick.

“I’ll help,” Tara is quick to offer, but in the end I do all the work since she can’t stay on her feet for long without her crutches.

It is a little difficult to get everything done with only one arm, but in the end, I manage just fine and not even a minute after I’m done the doorbell rings.

“That’s Sam,” Tara says, limping out of the room. I follow her nervously, but keep my distance when she greets Sam at the front door.

The two of them share a sweet hug and exchange some mumbled pleasantries before Tara invites Sam into the apartment.

The older Carpenter sister looks around curiously and sets her bag down to take off her shoes and jacket, her eyes landing on me as soon as Tara steps out of the way.

“Hey,” she says, straightening up and tucking her hair behind her ears.

I awkwardly lift my free hand in greeting. “Hi.”

“Thanks for letting me stay with you for a couple of days,” she says, smiling a thin-lipped smile.

Tara watches us curiously, waiting for my reaction.

I don’t want to make this any weirder than it already is, so I just nod and say, “You’re welcome. The guest room is all the way down the hall to the right.“

“Thank you.” She picks up her bag again and steps further into the apartment. Her movements are uncertain and I can tell she doesn’t really know how to act, so I say, “Why don’t you go put your stuff away and freshen up a little. We’ve got Thai food on the way and Tara’s already picked out a movie.”

“Yeah, okay.” She looks like she wants to hug me, she even steps a little closer, but then she thinks better of it and turns on her heels, heading to the guest room.

I let out a shaky breath as soon as she’s out of sight and head to the kitchen, Tara following me on her crutches.

“So, what was all that about?” she asks, leaning against the counter when I pull a bottle of water out of the fridge. “I mean, I know Sam was gone for five years, but the two of you weren’t acting this weird around each other three days ago. Did something happen?”

What didn’t happen? We almost died several times, I found out she was seeing visions of Billy, and after all this time, she now knows how I feel about her and she has yet to say something about it.

I have no clue how she feels about it. Does it bother her? Does it make her uncomfortable? Is that why she hasn’t talked about it yet? No, she can’t be, if she were she wouldn’t have agreed to come here, right?

“It’s. . . nothing,” I say, opening the bottle and taking a sip.

Tara raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it, but she doesn’t push it which I’m grateful for because Sam enters the kitchen a moment later.

That was fast. . .

She’s changed out of her jeans into some sweatpants and has tied her hair into a low ponytail.

“Did you get everything sorted out in Modesto?” Tara asks and Sam nods, accepting a new bottle of water when I hand it to her.

“Quitting my job was easy and it didn’t take long to convince my landlord to let me move out before my lease ended,” she explains, slowly but surely getting more comfortable in my space. Her brown eyes take in her surroundings and when she spots an old picture of Tara, herself, and me on the fridge her face softens and her eyes find me.

She once again has an unreadable expression on her face, but before I can dwell on it, the doorbell rings.

“That’ll be our food. I’ll be right back,” I say, excusing myself and making my way out of the kitchen to the front door.

The delivery guy is around my age and he smiles when he hands me our food in a plate bag, but then his face drops and his eyes widen in realization.

“Wait, aren’t you one of the people involved in the Ghost—“

“Nope.” I hand him a five dollar bill as a tip and slam the door in his face before he can finish his sentence.

This has happened several times now. Every time I order food or go out to the convenience store around the corner, I get recognized and asked about what happened.

It’s something I could really live without because it brings back the memories of what happened, but I guess people are just curious and it’s going to take some time for them to find something new to obsess over.

Taking a deep breath, I shake my head to get rid of the memory of Richie’s lifeless body and head into the living room where Sam and Tara have already made themselves comfortable on the couch.

They’re chatting about God knows what but stop when they see me come in with the food.

“Finally!” Tara eagerly accepts her food when I hand it to her and steals one of the spring rolls before I can set them on the coffee table for everyone to share.

I smile and take a seat next to her, taking my own food out of the plastic bag before handing Sam who’s sitting on Tara’s other side her Pad Thai.

“Thank you. What do I owe you?” she asks, her eyes lighting up ever so slightly when she opens the takeout container and sees what we got her.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” I say, waiving her off, but she’s not having it.

She frowns and sets her food down in her lap. “No, please tell me. You’re already letting me stay with you for free, the least I can do is pay for my own food.”

“It’s really no problem,” I say before gesturing at Tara. “This one’s been mooching off of me for years now, so paying for one more extra meal really isn’t going to make a difference.”

It’s true. I’ve paid for a lot of Tara’s food and whatnot over the last couple of years, but it’s does matter because my parents left me quite a bit of money when they died. My mom was an investment banker and had quite a bit saved up before she passed, so that’s where most of it came from, but I also got a bunch of money when I sold our old house.

“Hey!” Tara protests around a mouth full of food and shoves me playfully, and I just shove her back and poke her cheek.

“What? You sayin’ it isn’t true?” I teased and when she doesn’t answer I just chuckle softly and turn my attention back to Sam who’s still looking a bit torn. “Really. It’s no problem. Just eat. I’m sure you’ll find some other way to make it up to me.”

Her face softens and she finally nods, her brown eyes shining with gratitude. “Okay. . . Thanks.”

I send her a tight lipped smile and focus back on my own food, giving Tara permission to finally start the movie she picked once we’ve all settled down properly.

It’s almost three in the morning and I still can’t sleep.

We went to bed a couple of hours ago, after finishing our dinner and watching another movie, but I just can’t sleep.

I kept tossing and turning in my bed—grateful that Tara decided to sleep in the guest room with Sam tonight—until I just couldn’t take it anymore.

Now I’m sitting at the kitchen island, in the dark, with a steaming cup of tea in front of me. I was hoping it would maybe help me feel a little sleepy, but so far no luck.

I’m as wide awake as ever because my mind keeps replaying what happened three days ago at Amber’s. I can still hear the gunshots, Sam’s pained whimpering, and Richie’s gurgling when he chocked on his own blood.

So many people are dead, and all because of Richie and Amber’s fucked up dream of making a new Stab movie.

Wes and his mom’s funeral is next week and I’m planning on attending it, but I don’t know how I’m going to handle it yet. It feels like it was only yesterday that I went to my parents funeral and I just know going to theirs will bring back a whole lot of memories.

After everything that’s happened I’m just glad nothing happened to Liam and Paige. The two of them are still in San Francisco, but they texted me earlier that they’d be returning some time next week.

“Can’t sleep?”

I flinch so hard, I spill some of my tea over the back of my hand, making me hiss in pain. I look over my shoulder and exhale shakily when I see Sam standing in the doorway with her arms wrapped around herself.

“Jesus, Sam,” I whisper, wiping my hand on my pajama pants. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Sorry.” She approaches slowly and hesitantly takes a seat on the high chair next to me. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay. . .” I look at her and when our eyes meet in the darkness I drop my defenses and let my shoulders relax. “Do you—Uh— Want some tea?” I ask and when she nods I get up to make her a cup.

“So. . . Can’t sleep?” she asks again when I turn on the kettle and I sigh before answering, keeping my back turned her way.

She makes me nervous, looking all calm and cozy in my space, and the fact that she’s wearing my faded high school hockey sweater is making it even worse.

Where did she even get that?

The only explanation I can come up with is that Tara gave it to her since she’s always raiding my closet for oversized stuff.

“Yeah, you know—Nightmares. . .” I say, taking out a mug and putting a tea bag in it before filling it with hot water.

“I get it. I get them, too.” Sam smiles sadly and accepts the tea with a grateful nod when I hand it to her. Our fingers brush for a second which sends sparks up my arm and I’m quick to pull away and take a seat on my chair again.

“Right.” Of course she has nightmares, too. It’d be weird if she didn’t. After all she was the one who was being manipulated and used for this whole new-stab-movie bullshit. The rest of us just got hurt.

I can feel an awkward silence settling over us, and take a sip of tea to distract myself. Sam is playing with the string of her tea bag, glancing at me every so often as if she wants to say something.

For a couple of moments, she doesn’t, seemingly scared of how I might react, but then she seems to gather enough courage. She turns in her chair to face me and buries her hands in her lap, saying, “They’re mostly about you, you know?”

I set my tea back down and turn to face her as well, frowning. “Huh?”

“The nightmares,” she clarifies, her dark eyes searching my face for any kind of reaction. “Every time I try to sleep, I see you, covered in blood and dead. Tara, too, sometimes, but it’s mostly just you.”

I raise my eyebrows, surprised, but don’t say anything because it seems like she isn’t done talking yet.

“I can’t stop thinking about the way you literally collapsed right in front of me at the hospital. There was so much blood and then at Amber’s—the blood on your face from your broken nose—I thought you’d been shot in the head for a second when I saw you lying in the living room.” Sam wipes at a stray tear without breaking eye contact. “And then you stood up to Richie for me, a-and I thought, this is it. He really is going to kill you now, but then he didn’t. He just kneed you in the stomach, but in my dreams h-he shoots you. Every. Single. Time. He shoots you right in front of me and I—“ She lets out a shaky breath, “—I just can’t bear the thought of losing you. . . Not after everything we’ve been through. Not before I can fix things between us.”

I swallow the growing lump in my throat and reach for one of her hands, taking it in mine and squeezing it gently. “You’re not going to lose me.”

She shakes her head and sniffles. “You don’t know that. Ghostface could come back, or-or you could get into another accident.”

I sigh and look away. She’s right, but the fear of what could happen shouldn’t stop us from living our lives. “I know, but the chances of either of those things happening again are slim to none, sooo you have all the time in the world to make things up to me,” I joke quietly, which makes her chuckle sadly.

I know I said I wasn’t mad anymore, but that was when I thought we were literally going to die. Now, I can’t say I’m still mad, but she does have to prove that she wants to be in my life again— that I can trust her and rely on her again.

She interlaces our fingers and lifts my hand to press a kiss to my knuckles which makes me freeze. “I will make it up to you,” she whispers, moving closer to tracing the index finger of her other hand over the bruised bridge of my broken nose and around the edges of my black eyes. Her touch is gentle and makes my skin tingle, and I instantly miss it when she lowers her hand again.

“I promise, I will make it up to you,” she says again, but this time her tone is different. There’s more conviction in her voice and she looks as serious as I’ve ever seen her. Her eyes are practically boring into mine and the intensity of it all makes me look away nervously. “Listen, about what Richie said. . .”

I tense. Oh no, here it comes. . .

Why did you never say anything? How long have you felt like this? I’m sorry, but I just don’t feel the same way about you.

I can already imagine all the things she’s going to say, but then she surprises me by going on.

“About my visions of Billy. . .” She cringes and looks away right as I look at her again. She keeps our fingers interlaced, but leans back a little as though she needs the space to think clearly.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” I reassure her, seeing that it’s making her uncomfortable, but she shakes her head and looks at me again.

“No, I really do. You invited me to stay with you, so the least I can do is tell you what you’re dealing with,” she says and it almost sounds like she’s afraid of herself.

I want to tell her that I’m not dealing with anything while she’s here, but she looks like she really wants to say her part, so I stay quiet.

“I started seeing visions of Billy after I found out he was my real father,” she whispers, her grip on my hand tightening. “And it scared me so much, but I didn’t go see a therapist until years later, after I left. . . I was prescribed some antipsychotics, and for a while they worked, and I stopped seeing him, but lately they haven’t been working anymore.”

I can’t imagine how scary that must be. My aunt— my father’s sister—was bipolar before she died of cancer a couple of years ago, so I kind of know what a struggle it can be to have mental health issues, but I can’t fathom seeing visions of my dead serial killer father.

“I don’t know how to make them stop because I’m already taking some pretty hardcore pills. It’s like— I see him in the mirror, or any other reflective surface, a-and he talks to me, like an embodiment of all my intrusive thought but I- I promise you I’d never hurt you or Tara because of him. It’s just draining and— I’m sorry. . .” Her breath hitches and she disconnects her hand from mine to press the heels of her palms against her watering eyes.

She’s shaking and crying quietly, and the sight of it breaks my heart, so I get to my feet and pull her into a hug.

“Don’t apologize,” I say softly, feeling a little of my worry fade when Sam wraps her arms around my waist to hug me back. She slides off her chair to stand as well and buries her face against the side of my neck.

“I just feel so awful, you’ve got enough to deal with, the last thing you need is me dropping all this shit on you. I have no right to just come back into your life and—“

“Nu uh,” I cut her off. “What role you play in my life is up to me to decide. We’re far from being okay, but I still care about you and I want you to know that I’m here for you, got it?”

“I can’t just—“

“Got it?” I cut her off quietly, squeezing her in my arms, or well, just arm since my right one is still in the sling.

Sam sighs, but finally caves, nodding again my neck and tightening her hold on me. “I don’t deserve you. . .”

“Maybe not yet, no, because what you did really hurt me, but I’m still here and I’m not going anywhere,” I say honestly, allowing her to pull back and look up into my eyes.

My heart flips in my chest at her intense gaze, her eyebrows furrowed and her mouth slightly parted as if she’s about to say something.

Nothing comes out however and we just stand like that for a couple of moments, staring at each other and relishing in the other’s warmth.

That is until a scream makes us pull apart. My eyes widen and for a second my heart drops, but then I relax again when I realize what’s happening.

Tara.

Sam, however, looks alarmed, her eyes wide and she goes to grab a knife from the knife block on the kitchen island.

“No, wait.” I grab her wrist mid reach and pull her with me. She looks flabbergasted, probably thinking why I’m so calm, but when we get to the guest bedroom, realization seems to dawn on her and her face softens at the sight of Tara thrashing on the bed with her eyes closed.

I let go of her wrist and quickly move to Tara’s side. “Hey, Sprout, wake up, it’s me.” I grab one of her flailing arms and shake her a little. “Wake up.”

Tara whimpers in her sleep and furrows her eyebrows, so I shake her again.

“Tara!”

That snaps her out of her dream and she shoots up, clutching at her chest with wide eyes.

“Hey, it’s me. You’re okay. It was just a dream, you’re safe.” I let go of her arm and rub my hand up and down her back as Sam cautiously approaches the bed.

She takes a seat on Tara’s other side and gently takes her bandaged hand into her own.

Tara looks between us with teary eyes and closes her eyes for a moment, catching her breath.

“It all felt so real,” she whispers.

“I know,” I say quietly, sharing a sympathetic look with Sam over her head. “But it wasn’t. You’re here and you’re okay.“

Tara sniffles and opens her eyes again. She looks at me first, then at Sam before letting out a shaky breath while nodding.

“A-Are you going to be okay?” Sam asks gently, shuffling a little closer until she’s sitting next to Tara with her back resting against the headboard.

“I—“ Tara swallows thickly,”— Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’m just a little shaken, that’s all.”

Sam doesn’t look convinced, but accepts her answer and presses a kiss to the back of her head. “Is there anything I can do to help? Do you want to watch something, or do you want some tea?”

“Can you just stay?” Tara asks with pleading eyes, glancing at me before adding, “Both of you?”

I glance at Sam and when she nods faintly, I agree. “Of course. Move over.”

Tara shuffles to the middle of the bed and lifts the comforter so I can lie down next to her while Sam slips under the comforter on her other side.

Tara grabs Sam’s arm and wraps it around her stomach so she’s being held from behind before placing her head on my shoulder.

“Good?” I ask as soon as she’s settled and she nods with a content sigh.

Sam and I share another look over her head and when I see the care and gratitude in her eyes I send her a soft smile.

We’re going to be okay.

“What’s all this?” I ask the next morning, walking into the kitchen where Tara’s sitting at the kitchen island and Sam is standing over the stove.

Soft music is playing from a speaker and it smells delicious and when my eyes land on the stack of pancakes in front of Tara I know why.

“Sam is making pancakes!” Tara grins and plucks a blueberry from her plate into her mouth.

“I can see that.” I chuckle and take a seat next to Tara, smiling when Sam shyly slides a cup of coffee in front of me. “Thank you.”

“They’re chocolate chip,” Tara muses around a mouthful of food.

I raise an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“The pancakes,” she clarifies which makes my eyes snap to the stack of pancakes in front of her.

No. That can’t be. Surely Sam doesn’t remember such a trivial little—

“Your favorites.”

My eyes snap back up and I find Sam smiling hesitantly.

“At least, I hope they still are,” she adds, scratching her neck awkwardly.

Amazed, I nod dumbly which makes her perk up and finish plating the rest of the pancakes. She joins Tara and me at the kitchen island and hands me my own plate.

“Thanks,” I whisper, taking a careful bite of the pancakes and feeling my heart warm at the nostalgic feeling that washes over me. We used to make these pancakes all the time when she’d sleep over, and right now it’s the first time I’m having them since she left. I just couldn’t bring myself to make them without her.

Sam steals a couple glances every now and then while we eat and smiles when I finish my entire stack of pancakes in less than five minutes.

“Oh, by the way,” Tara says after a while, grabbing a stack of envelopes from the chair next to hers. “I got your mail out of the mailbox for you.”

I take a sip of coffee and take them from her with a hum, skimming my eyes over them, only mildly interested.

Most of them are ads or bills, but one catches my attention and I’m quick to open it and read it.

No way. . .

My eyes widen at what it says, and I re-read it a couple of times before Tara notices my stunned silence and asks what’s going on.

“A scout from a hockey team in Boston was at one of our recent games and now they want to sign with me,” I answer quietly, still in shock.

I never expected this. I want to play professionally one day, yes, but I was actually planning on finishing my degree first.

“What?” Tara grabs the letter from me and reads it as well with wide eyes before looking back up. “This is— This is great!”

I frown and take the letter back. “Yeah. . . I guess.”

It is great that they want me on their team, but I can’t just drop everything here and move all the way across the country to Boston. Not only because of my degree but also because of Tara, and now, Sam.

“You guess?” Tara pokes my arm, excited. “What do you mean? This is everything you ever wanted!”

I glance at Sam to find her already looking at me with a mixture of curiosity and wistfulness.

“Yeah, but—“

“But what?” Tara butts in, waving the letter for emphasis. “This is your chance to get out of here and finally do what you’ve always dreamed of. How can you have second thoughts about it?”

Again, I look at Sam, but she’s no longer looking at me. She’s pushing a piece of pancake around on her plate, seemingly lost in thought.

We both know that if I go to Boston it will be incredibly difficult to fix our friendship.

I just got her back. I can’t just leave now, but then again, Tara is right. I’ve always wanted to get out of here after my parents died.

“I can’t— I mean— The semester just started— A-And you. . . I can’t leave you alone,” I splutter. I’m so overwhelmed with feelings, I don’t know what to say.

On one hand, this really is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I really want to go, but on the other hand, I don’t want to leave Tara, or Sam. They need me, especially Tara, and I don’t want to leave Liam and Paige behind either.

“But I’m not alone,” Tara counters with a gentle smile and nudges Sam. “I’ve got this one back now and I’m sure you can move your classes online or something.”

“Tara—“

“She’s right.” Sam cuts in, looking up from her plate. There’s a sad smile playing on her lips, but she seems just as resolved as Tara. “You should go. This is your life we’re talking about, and it seems like it’s high time you start living it.”

My mouth snaps shut and I stare at both of them with furrowed eyebrows for a couple of moments before giving in. “Okay.”

Looks like I’ll be moving to Boston.

_______________________________________________

Hi everyone!

I know this is a bit of a filler chapter, but it had to be written to bridge the gap between the fifth and the sixth movie.

Anyway, happy holidays! ❤️

Tag list: @bella423 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec @pussyydestroyer @rqizzu @pithod @morganismspam23

P.S. If you like this story I highly recommend you check out @persevereforahappyending ‘s No Man’s Land. It’s a great read.

[violetsrxse]

Vi x f!reader where reader gets a head injury and Vi takes care of her

A/N - Hi! So sorry this took so long, I've been suuuuper busy lately. I really do hope you enjoy though!

CW - fluff and a wee bit of angst (if you squint), worried Vi :(, brief mentions of blood, established relationship, fem!reader

Main Masterlist

-

The first thing you notice when you wake up is the dull but persistent ache in your head. Throbbing and pulsing at a steady tempo.

Everything seems fuzzy, like static from a TV. Your eyes are closed, feeling almost glued shut as you bring a hand to your head.

Well, try to anyway.

Your hand is intercepted on it's path by Vi, her voice breaking through the static and soothing your nerves.

"Hey hey, don't touch it, angel." Her voice is firm but soft, laced with concern.

You groan, trying to force your eyes open. It's difficult but you finally manage to open them a crack, the lighting of the room is low, seemingly turned down by Vi to lessen any discomfort.

"Vi..?" Your voice cracks, raspy with disuse.

"I'm here, angel." She brushes some hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear as you look around the room, confused. "You're alright."

Trying again to bring your hand to your head, much to Vi's dismay, you search for the source of the incessant throbbing. As your fingers come in contact with the side of your head where the pain is most intense, you furrow your brows at the warm, wet liquid.

Pulling your fingers away, you look to your fingers, blinking at the sight of the blood staining the tips. You look to Vi, brows pinched together in question.

"What- what happened?"

"You had an accident, angel. But you're alright, I'm gonna get you all cleaned up and you'll be good as new in no time." Her words are more for her comfort than yours.

You sigh heavily, no memory of the accident coming to mind.

"An accident?" You ask, pushing up on your elbows. "What kind of accident?"

She rests a hand on your back, guiding you gently into a seated position at the edge of the bed.

"Don't exert yourself too much." She shuffles to sit closer to you, her arm snaking around your waist. She holds a warm, wet cloth in her free hand, reaching up to clean away the blood that has managed to seep from the wound.

It causes you to wince and she whispers a soft apology, gentling her touch.

"You were helping Jinx with one of her new inventions, and something wen wrong. It combusted, you were blown against the wall and you hit your head." Her voice trembles almost imperceptibly but you notice, a small frown pulling at your lips.

"Oh." You turn your head to look at her better just a bit too fast and you hiss as the throbbing intensifies, vision blurring. "Fuck." Your hand flies to your head.

"Whoa whoa careful, sweetheart. I can't have you passing out on me again." She tosses the cloth to the side, rubbing your back. "You took a pretty bad tumble."

Careful not to disturb your wound, you slowly lower your head, pressing your forehead to her shoulder.

"Thank you for taking care of me." Your words are a hushed whisper against her skin.

"Anytime, angel. But I'm not finished, we need to get you bandaged up." She reaches for the gauze and makes sure the area is clean and dry before taping the gauze over the wound. "There you go." A pause, her thumb moving to caress your cheek gently. "Good as new."

She leans in, replacing her thumb with her lips, pressing a soft kiss to the apple of your cheek. You can feel the way her breath stutters as her lips touch your skin.

"I'm okay, Vi." You reassure, giving her a sweet kiss to her lips in return. "I've just got a bit of a headache."

She nods, her eyes meeting yours.

"You scared the shit out of me, angel." Her arms band around you, pulling you flush against her as she presses a flurry of soft kisses all over your face.

You don't respond, you just guide her onto her back and snuggle into her side, reassuring her with your touch instead of your words.

And that's where you both drift off, a peaceful sleep pulling you under, and despite your injuries and the now dull throbbing in your head, you smile softly at the comfort of knowing how much she loves you.

-

Thanks again for the request, I enjoyed writing this!

[notlongtolove]

into the rose garden; for evermore

months of hope, weeks of ache. you’ve stayed. you’ve waited. you’ve stayed in the waiting. more pathetic than poetic if you’re being honest. but now, with him standing here with his heart in his hands, it doesn’t feel simple. this work is part of the burnt norton series

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: angst... with an ending

content: situationship core, fighting, tears, sad...

word count: 5.5k

note: thank you for all the love on the burnt norton series! i hope you enjoy this last and final part (make sure to read allll the way to the end for something special inspired by this!)

a line: You knew you were tied to a fate of loving hard first, crying harder later.

Footfalls echo in the memory Down the passage which we did not take Towards the door we never opened Into the rose-garden. My words echo Thus, in your mind. - t.s. eliot

It was quiet, but Spencer heard it all the same.

“I love you.”

The confession was as delicate as it was sacred. A soft, almost fragile, wisp of a sound that left your lips. 

His breath stilled before coming out in a shaky exhale as your hand curled around his. He swallowed and wished he could unhear it. Unknow it. But Spencer Reid has always been cursed with knowing things he wished he didn’t.

He’d tried not to notice at first. The way your gaze still lingered on him, how your voice still softened with every call of his name.

Of course, he’d known. And then he’d tried to forget.

When you’d suggested being friends instead—your voice trembling but determined—Spencer had known then that he should’ve walked away. He’d read enough, lived enough, to know how this would end. They said if you could still be friends with someone after loving them, it meant only one of two things: either you had never truly loved them, or you still did.

Spencer knew it wasn’t the former. He was many things—awkward, fractured, clumsy with feelings—but he wasn’t a liar. 

And he loved you like it hurt him.

He had tried to kick the habit of you. Tried to drag out the time between phone calls and texts, tried to wean himself off the need to see your smile, hear your laugh, feel your lips on his. He’d told himself that he was being kind, that this distance he built between you was mercy. He knew it was cruel to keep stringing you along, holding on to you even as he kept you at arm’s length—but he wasn’t selfish enough to pretend he deserved you. 

And so, while you stayed, wanting, waiting, Spencer ran.

Not because he didn’t love you. But because he didn’t know how to stay without breaking you in the process.

Thursday had come and gone. No text, no call. You weren’t phased, not at first, telling yourself the case ran long. It was a willing suspension of disbelief—that he was buried in reports and unsteady sleep, lost in the same work that had stolen him all the times before. 

But then Friday arrived. Time dragged, slow and heavy, as each second passed. The news alerts, spam calls, and junk messages that lit up your screen mocked you relentlessly. The silence of Saturday and Sunday wasn’t any better, each minute unbearably long. Before you knew it, it had been a week since you’d last heard from him, since you’d seen even the faintest ghost of Spencer Reid.

Your friends didn’t ask questions. They didn’t bother prying, all too happy to fill in the blanks themselves. “Good riddance,” one of them had said over drinks one night. You laughed with them, too loud, a sound that didn’t quite belong to you. “About time you let that one go.” And you let them believe that was the truth.

You didn’t fill them in on the part where you’d been the one left hanging, the one Spencer had walked away from without a word. You let them believe you were the strong one, the sensible one, that you’d cut the cord and been better for it. You swallowed that truth alone bitterly because you couldn’t bear their pity. If Spencer wanted to close the door on you, you weren’t about to break your nails bloody clawing it back open. You’d already stood there, holding it wide for him, time and time again.

But in the quiet of the night, your bed empty and cold, anger and sadness slipped in through the cracks. They sat at the edge of your bed like unwanted guests, familiar and persistent, whispering the same questions you had no answers to. “What had changed?” Sadness wept, her shoulders shaking between sobs. “What had you done wrong?” Anger screamed, louder, harsher, her tongue lashing. 

Each thought was a page torn from you, words unsaid thrown into the fire. Vulnerable and wasted—they could only have ever been meant for him. You hated yourself for it. And, for a fleeting second, you hated him too. He was gone. You were still here—waiting, always waiting. But you’d known all along that the flash of his badge, the weight of the gun on his hip, could never have compared to the significance of you. 

In a way, you would’ve been right. Spencer’s work—his pride, his passion, his relentless devotion—It was all-consuming, yes, and it could never compare to you. 

Nothing could compare to you.

You were it for him. 

He knew it from the way sleep came so easily in your presence, his body finally surrendering to the peace and security he felt only in your arms. You were a quiet reprieve he could find nowhere else. He knew it from the way his heart had splintered when he’d heard you crying, the sounds of your sniffles fracturing something inside him. He couldn’t even bring himself to turn on the light. It would’ve been too unbearable, too painful, to face the sight of tears on your face. 

To Spencer, you were the light at the end of a tunnel he’d stopped trying to run through years ago. He loved you for it—God, did he love you for it. But it was a light he didn’t think he deserved to reach.

And that terrified him more than anything. 

Spencer wasn’t made for softness. He knew that. Whatever pieces of him had once been smooth and whole were long gone. He wasn’t the kind of man who could give you love letters or lazy Sundays with whispered promises. He was sleepless nights and cold coffee reheated three times over. He was restless hands and a mind constantly bracing for the next worst thing to happen. His time at the BAU had turned him into something broken and jagged. The last thing he wanted was to ruin you, too. 

Because you, his sweet girl—soft, bright, and unshakably steady—you were everything he wasn’t. You didn’t need that. You didn’t deserve that. You deserved someone better, someone less damaged, someone who didn’t need you just to keep from sinking. 

Maybe you’d found that in him. He was a friend of a co-worker of a friend of a cousin of a—wherever he came from, you hadn’t bothered to remember. He wasn’t Spencer. 

This is your third date. Date. The word itself felt like a foreign concept. It carried a weight of certainty you’d never had before. With Spencer, there were no real beginnings, no clear endings—just nights out cut short, nights in cloaked in secrecy. A thing you never dared—or perhaps in Spencer’s case, cared—to truly define. 

“I’d love to see you again,” he’d said, his voice solidly steady. “How’s Friday?”

“Friday’s fine,” you replied.

And when Friday came, so did he. On time, standing at your door with a smile that was easy to read, so uncomplicated, so un-Spencerlike. You’d gotten dinner, had a walk in the park, stopped by the little ice cream parlour you’d always wanted to take Spencer to. It was all exactly what you’d said it would be. Perfectly and predictably fine.

He dropped a piece of his waffle cracker onto the table, then casually blew it off and popped it into his mouth.

“Five-second rule, right?” he grinned.

“You know, actually, germs can transfer in less than—” 

You hated the fact that Spencer was still playing on your mind. You hated the fact that you knew you weren’t on his more. You caught yourself, then shrugged, laughing it off.

“Forget it, I do it too.”

You tried to forget it. To forget him. It’d been almost 3 weeks since you’d last seen Spencer at this point. Anger and sadness hadn’t left entirely. They lingered, silent but present. You could feel them, but they were easier to ignore now—especially with a new warmth beside you at night, an easy distraction from the quiet ache.

But then, nostalgia came. She didn’t cry. She didn’t scream. No, she was more insidious than that. 

She sat, cool and poised, on your kitchen counter, watching you with a sickeningly gentle gaze. “Remember how he used to help with the dishes after dinner? He’d wash them twice-over just because he knew you liked them that way. This one doesn't do that, does he? Doesn’t even know.” Her words stung, and they didn’t stop there. "Why didn’t you tell him? Why haven’t you told him?"

You don’t know why. 

Sometimes, nostalgia grew meaner. She waltzed through the house, taking root in all the places you thought you’d exorcised him from. She rested on your dresser, her voice soft but biting. “You’re really going to wear that out with him? He bought it for you, remember? It still smells like him.​​" Her tone sharpened. "Don’t be cruel.”

You weren’t trying to be. 

Still, as you turned to leave the room, you caught the faintest flicker of a thought—Nostalgia’s quiet, treacherous whisper as she lingered in the doorway. “He’s not him.”

It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. 

It definitely wasn’t fair for Spencer either when he saw you that day, walking down your street with your hands tucked into your pockets and another’s arm casually draped around your waist. It felt cruel, really. He hadn’t meant to be there. He’d only come to drop off your key. But fate, it seemed, had other plans—a twist and shove of the knife already buried hilt-deep in his chest.

The guy next to you looked stupid, so fucking stupid. There was no other way to put it. Spencer hated everything about him—his stupid fucking face, his stupid fucking hair, and his stupid fucking suit that probably smelled like the overpriced cologne Morgan used to wear. 

Spencer decided to call him Stupid Fucking Bob. It felt appropriate. Cathartic, even.

Stupid Fucking Bob was tall. Taller than most. Not taller than Spencer, though, which gave him the tiniest, pettiest flicker of satisfaction. But it didn’t last. Not when you threw your head back and laughed at something Stupid Fucking Bob had said, your eyes crinkling in that way Spencer knew all too well. 

Stupid Fucking Bob had the audacity to be dressed like he had his life together. A crisp, ironed button-up shirt, perfectly tailored that was worlds away from Spencer’s own casual, comfortable style. His whole look screamed refined—the kind of guy who probably ironed his perfectly matching pair of socks and knew the difference between champagne and prosecco. He’s nothing like Spencer. 

Maybe Stupid Fucking Bob, with his stupid suit and stupid gelled hair was exactly what you needed now. Maybe he was a lawyer. Or a doctor. Something respectable and put-together. Someone who wouldn’t cancel dinners at the last minute or drag you to niche bookstores for fun.

Your hair was braided. That hit him first. He’s never seen you wear it like that before, and it felt like a punch to the gut. And your makeup? You looked beautiful. Well, you were always beautiful, but today you looked different in a way that made his heart ache. The heels on your feet—When had you started wearing heels? Or maybe you always did. He wouldn’t know, he’d never been with you anywhere formal enough to warrant anything beyond casual slides or sneakers. It all hit him harder than he expected.

Spencer turned away, swallowing hard against the bile rising in his throat. He needed to leave. The ache burned, spreading through his chest like wildfire, scorching every inch of him. He couldn’t do this. Not here. Not now. 

But fate seemed to smirk and snapped her fingers.

“Spencer?”

Fuck.

He took a deep breath, forcing it past the lump in his throat, and tried to steady his breathing. His hands carried a slight tremor, and he shoved them into his pockets, curling them into fists. He managed to muster a smile—strained, but passable.

“Hey!” he said, wincing as his voice came out a little too loud, a little too eager. 

“Wow,” you replied, your tone warm but surprised, “I haven’t seen you in—”

“Yeah,” Spencer interrupted quickly, his words tumbling over yours. “We, um, we had a big case.” He let out a short laugh, the kind he’d learned to recognise when suspects were trying to fill the silence with empty words.

You shifted your weight, hesitating for just a second before gesturing to the man standing beside you. “Oh, um, sorry—this is my, uh, friend, he’s…” Stupid Fucking Bob leaned forward, offering a polite, firm handshake.

But before he could reach Spencer, you stepped in, leaning over to stop him. “Oh, Spencer doesn’t…” you said softly. The way your hand gently rested on his arm wasn’t lost on Spencer. Whatever stupid fucking name he gave, Spencer couldn’t hear it over the static in his head. 

Spencer couldn’t decide which was worse—the way you stepped in so instinctively, a painful reminder of how well you still knew him, or the way you were touching Stupid Fucking Bob, like you were starting to know him too. You’d called him a friend. He can’t be anything more than that, right? But the hesitation before you said the word told Spencer otherwise. 

“Nice to meet you,” Spencer muttered through gritted teeth, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. It was the polite thing to do, even though his palms were clammy, and Spencer couldn’t bring himself to meet his eyes for more than a second. 

You were looking at him, your expression unreadable. Spencer hated that. And Stupid Fucking Bob just stood there, calm and composed in a way that made Spencer want to throw something. 

Spencer hated Bob. Fuck, he hated Bob. Spencer hated the way his hand rested casually on your lower back, a touch that was so possessive, like it belonged there. But more than Bob, Spencer hated the way you didn’t pull away.

“So, uh,” you said, clearing your throat, “just in the neighbourhood?”

Spencer nodded stiffly, his hands still buried in his pockets, fingers curling tight around nothing. “Yeah, I uh, had some errands to run,” he said, trying and failing to sound casual.

You nodded back, your smile polite but tight, “Yeah, same here—”

“We were just grabbing lunch,” Stupid Fucking Bob cut in, his voice too cheerful, too comfortable. Oh my god, shut the fuck up, Bob. Spencer's jaw tightened, his molars grinding together. 

We.

The word reverberated through his skull. He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. “Right, right,” he said, nodding a little too much, as if that would make the whole thing easier to digest. It didn’t.

“I um, don’t want to keep you from your lunch,” Spencer finally said, his voice tight, his words clipped. He glanced at you, but only for a moment. “I should... I should get going. Errands and… other things.” He motioned vaguely over his shoulder, like there was somewhere he desperately needed to be. There wasn’t.

You hesitated, and for a brief moment, it looked like you might say something. But then Stupid Fucking Bob shifted beside you, his hand brushing against your back once more, and the words died on your lips.

Watching Spencer walk away felt like betrayal at its sharpest, love at its most humiliating.

It wasn’t fair that you had put yourself through the quiet torment of watching, staying, hoping—only for it all to come to nothing. It wasn’t fair that you allowed yourself to feel, to be seen in all your vulnerability, just to have Spencer walk away as if none of it had ever mattered. 

I’ll stay, if he stays. It was your unspoken promise to yourself and your silent plea to him. 

But he hadn’t stayed. 

So it wasn’t fair that you were still here, while he got to walk away. It wasn’t fair, but you let him go regardless.

Because Spencer’s absence had given your life a strange kind of regularity, one you tried to see the best in. You leaned into it, telling yourself it was what you needed. It was a new kind of normalcy. You should’ve liked it, and you did like it. 

At least you told yourself you did.

Three days later, it was a work party that finally unravelled you. Maybe it was the way your coworkers shared plans for the holidays, futures they seemed so certain of, the kind of dreaming you’d stopped allowing to indulge in. Or maybe it was the wine—too much of it, too quickly. Probably the wine. Excusing yourself to the bathroom, you locked the door behind you and leaned against the sink, staring at the girl looking back at you in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair slightly tousled, her smile looked convincing enough. She looked alive, happy even—But you didn’t quite feel like her. 

Your fingers found your phone, scrolling aimlessly until they stopped, hovering over a name. It was instinctive, thoughtless. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you pressed call. “Could you come get me?” A pause, then softer, almost pleading. “Please?”

The party had dwindled to a quiet murmur by the time you stood waiting by the street. You nudged your coworkers along, promising them you’d be alright. 

“You’re sure you’ll be okay?” one of them asked, concern flashing across her face.

“I’m fine,” you assured her, waving her off. “I’m waiting for someone.”

You had someone now. Someone dependable. That felt good, right? It was what you deserved. Dependable was good. Dependable was safe. But when you glanced up, sobriety crashed through your buzzed haze in an instant. It wasn’t dependability that greeted you. 

“Spencer?” His name escapes your lips in a whisper, disbelief catching in your throat. “What are you—”

“You called me.” 

Your stomach twists. “I… I did?”

“You did,” he nodded, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out his phone. The screen lit up with your call log, stark and undeniable. Your eyes flicked back to him—his hair slightly dishevelled, his coat hanging open. He looked like he’d rushed out the door. Your chest tightens, the ache returning in full force.

All you can think is, Oh God. I called the wrong him.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out. Your heart hammers away in your chest as your gaze darts toward the street, desperate for a cab. “I didn’t mean to call—You can go. You should go.”

Spencer’s brow furrows, something unreadable crossing his face. “I’m already here,” he says, “Let me walk you home.” “I—” Your voice is soft, tentative. You hesitate. The choice should be simple. He’s already here. He’s offering to walk you home. There’s nothing inherently wrong with it. And yet, this feels wrong. You despise the fact that it does. You shouldn’t say it. You know you shouldn’t. But the silence between you is unbearable, and his presence feels impossibly close. “Okay,” you murmur, the word slipping out before you can stop it. Suddenly it feels more than wrong. It feels like surrender. 

The night feels colder than it should as the two of you start walking. The silence stretches, long and awkward, until finally, he speaks.

“I’m glad you called me.” 

Your stomach twists. “I didn’t mean to.”

His footsteps falter for just a moment, and when you glance at him, his gaze is sharp, questioning. “Me?”

“What?” you stammer, the word barely forming on your lips.

“You didn’t mean to call me?” His eyes lock onto yours, searching for something. They demand an answer you’re not ready to give. The question hangs in the air between you but the weight of his gaze has you pinned in place.

“I—yes, I didn’t—” You stumble over your words, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Spencer watches you carefully, his eyes never leaving you, “You didn’t mean to, but you called me.”

Your breath shakes as you let out a long exhale. Finally, you whisper, “Yes. I did.”

“That guy,” He leans in just a little, his expression hardening. “Was he who you meant to call?”

You swallow and nod slowly, the answer burning in your throat. The reluctant admission feels raw as something flashes across Spencer’s face—Annoyance? Jealousy? You can’t hold his gaze long enough to tell. “What is he? Your boyfriend?” he mutters when you come to stop at a traffic light. His words strike a match, igniting a quiet anger within you. 

“That’s none of your business,” you shoot back, your voice more defensive than you intended. It wasn’t so much that you needed to defend him—it was more about defending this new part of your life, the one where Spencer wasn’t there, the one where his absence hadn’t completely consumed you. A shred of proof that shows you can stand without Spencer. 

That you are whole without him.

The silence that continues to stretch between you is heavy and suffocating. You silently curse the city for its sudden and inconvenient lack of cabs. Typical. The universe has always had twisted sense of humour.

“You know you don’t actually like him.” Spencer says under his breath. 

“Oh, what the hell do you know?” You burst out. Without thinking, you step forward into the street. The light hasn’t turned green, but the road is clear, and Spencer’s presence is clawing at your throat. You need to do something, anything to get away from it.

Spencer’s hand shoots out, his fingers curling firmly around your wrist. You whip around to face him, anger simmering beneath you. His expression is calm, infuriatingly so, though there’s a flicker of disapproval in his eyes. “I know you,” he says, like he’s daring you to deny it.

“No,” you snap, shrugging his hand off your arm with a sharp jerk. The movement feels more like self-defense than defiance. You press the traffic light button repeatedly, a little too hard each time, even though it’s already lit. It’s a pointless gesture, but it gives your restless hands something to focus on. “You don’t know anything.”

“I do.” His voice was maddeningly steady, calm in a way that made something inside you snap. “I know your hair was braided that day because you probably hadn’t washed it the day before. You hate washing your hair.”

“Just—” You shake your head, voice breaking. “Stop talking.”

“I know those heels definitely hurt your feet,” he continues, relentless, “but you wore them anyway. Probably because you think he likes them.”

“Spencer, stop.” You’re trying to hold it together, to keep the tears at bay, but they come anyway.

“I know—”

“God, Spencer, stop it!” The words explode out of you. “You don’t know shit,” you snap, wiping furiously at your cheeks, trying to regain some semblance of control. “Just—Just fuck off!” 

Spencer visibly flinches, but only slightly. The traffic light changes to green, but neither of you move to cross. “You—” Your chest heaves as you pull in a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. You close your eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly, “You should go.”

“Is that really what you want?” 

His question feels like mockery. What does it matter what you want? It clearly never mattered before, and it certainly won’t matter now.

You’d always been a bit of a hopeless romantic. You liked to believe that love, no matter how complicated or painful, was worth it. Maybe that was the only way you could make sense of the pain no one asked you to endure, a way to quantify the heartbreak Spencer never asked you to feel. You told yourself it had to serve some greater purpose, even when that purpose had yet to reap any kind of reward.

You tried to convince yourself that staying was a decision made from a place of independence, that your willingness to endure was an admirable strength born from the innate human need to love, and of wanting to be loved in return. But you knew it ran deeper than just that. You knew that you didn’t deserve this pain, but you also knew you’d never be the one to let go first. Your mother used to tell you that relationships only work if one person loves harder, and you’d realised early on that that person would always be you. 

You knew you were tied to a fate of loving hard first, crying harder later. 

And in that, it would never be fair. 

“Why are you doing this?” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding in your chest. 

Spencer pauses. When he speaks again, his voice is softer—but no less cutting. “You’re lying to yourself,” he says quietly. “And to him.”

A bitter laugh escapes your lips, and you turn sharply, starting to walk. “Oh, I get it,” you said, a scoff lacing your tone. “You’re trying to play matchmaker now? Is that what this is about?” You fold your arms across your chest, tugging at your jacket, a feeble attempt to hide yourself from the hurt he so effortlessly unearthed.

“This isn’t about him.” he says firmly. “This is about you—about us.”

“There is no us,” you spit as you turn to face him momentarily. ���Remember?”

“You’re acting out.”

“Wow, real mature Spence,” you snap, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “They teach you that in FBI school? You think just because I’m finally happy—finally not waiting around for you—that means I’m acting like a petty, jealous child?”

“No, I think you’re acting out because you’re hurt.”

“Oh, yeah? Gee, I wonder why.”

“Because I didn’t say it back.”

Your breath catches in your throat. The world stops. The air seems to freeze around you. For a moment, you can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t move. A car speeds by, its horn blaring. Spencer reacts immediately, stepping to position himself between you and the flow of any other oncoming traffic like a barrier.

“What are you—Don’t just stop—” His hand grips your arm firmly, tugging you toward the sidewalk. But your feet refuse to move, rooted in place, and you barely register his words. “Would you—would you get off the street?” he says urgently. You can’t do anything but stare at him. 

“You heard me?”

His expression softens. “I did. That night.” Spencer’s voice is quieter now, almost a whisper. “I heard you.”

You open your mouth, but no sound comes out. The glow of the traffic light pulses in the corner of your vision, steadily blinking. Sadness swells in your chest, but it’s overtaken by something sharper, hotter, darker. 

Rage. Inexplicable, undeniable rage.

“You heard me.” You whisper, more so to yourself than to him. “You heard me, and you still—” The tears choke out the rest of the sentence. “Don’t,” you snap, stepping back when he tugs at you again. “Don’t touch me. Don’t—Just go. Please just go.” You turn away from him, your legs carrying you as far as they can, as fast as they can. You don’t even know where you’re headed anymore, only that you need to keep moving. But you hear Spencer behind you, his steps matching your pace. 

“I’m not leaving you here.” Another faint brush of his fingers grazes yours sends you spinning back around, wrenching your hand away as if his touch burns.

“But you did!” you scream, your voice raw. Your grief echoes in the stillness of the street. The two of you are locked in some heartbreaking tableau. It feels almost cinematic—the age-old story of a girl who loved and a boy who didn’t. “You already left, Spencer! You heard me, and you still left!” 

Spencer’s face crumples, and for a moment, he looks as lost as you feel. “I didn’t know what to do,” his words tumble out, his voice breaking. “I—”

“You could’ve stayed! You could’ve said it back! You—” You shake your head, swallowing the grief that rises in your throat, the words too painful to say out loud. 

“I do,” he says suddenly, stepping in front of you. “I love you. I do. I love you. So much.” he repeats, his hand twitches at his side like he wants to reach for you but knows better. “I love you too.” 

That last word—too—cuts through you. It lands with a cruel finality. It should soothe the ache inside you, but it doesn’t. It’s not the solace it should be. It’s only a bitter reminder that he heard you that night. That he left anyway.

“Then why?” The question comes out in a broken whisper, and you hate yourself for how vulnerable it sounds. “Why didn’t you say anything? You didn’t even try—” you whisper through your tears. “You just… left.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you—I was scared that I would,” he says, the words tumbling out in a rush as he reaches for your hands in an effort to ground himself. “I didn’t want to screw things up even more. I thought if I left—you’d be better off.”

“Oh, fuck off, Spencer. Look at us. Look at me. Is this what you call better off?” You stand there, unmoving, tears streaking down your face, each one a testament to your heartbreak. The sight of you, raw and broken, makes something deep inside him fracture.

“You hurt me anyway.” Your voice shakes with unspent grief and fury.

“I know, I know I did, baby—”

"Don’t call me that!" you snap, your heart clenching at the word. You try to pull your hands out of his grip, away from his touch, but he holds on.

“Baby—shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” Spencer says, his voice cracking. He shuts his eyes for a moment, furrowing his brows, as if trying to collect himself. “I know I fucked up. I know. I’m just—” He exhales shakily. “I’m trying to fix this. Look at me. Please. Just... please.”

You can’t look at him. You focus on the floor, on anything to avoid his eyes, because if you see that pleading expression, you just might break—You’ll shatter all over again.

“That guy?” Spencer’s voice pulls you back, quiet and desperate. “He doesn’t know anything about you. I knew it the minute I saw him. He said you were going to lunch? You hate everything on your street within a five-mile radius. That’s why we always ordered Chinese. Right?” 

Every word he out of his mouth feels like a plea and what’s worse is that you know he’s right. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again, his voice breaking. “I was stupid. I didn’t think. I thought leaving was the right thing—that I was protecting you from me. But I see now—I know now. It wasn’t. It was the worst thing I could’ve done. To you. To us. I was wrong.” His voice drops, barely audible. “And I just want a chance to make it right. Please I—”

You hear the break in his voice, and before you can stop yourself, your gaze lifts to meet his, only to see tears pooling in his eyes. The ache in your chest deepens, and this time, you can’t look away.

“Look,” Spencer says, voice cracking, “he’s probably a great guy. Nice, smart—smarter than I ever was if he wants you too. But he doesn’t—” He pauses, swallowing hard, “He can’t love you the way I do. I know people always say I’m smart, that I know a lot. And it’s true—I do. But this? You? Loving you? It’s a fact, the clearest one I’ve ever had. And yeah, I know it took me too damn long to get here. But it’s true. It’s always been true.”

The chasm in your heart splits open, and you didn’t know you were still capable of breaking like this. Of course, Spencer Reid would be good at heartbreaking speeches too. You start to turn away, furiously blinking back the new wave of tears threatening to spill over. 

“Look at me,” he pleads, his voice soft but laced with urgency. “Please. I hate that you won’t look at me, I just—”

You try—God knows you try—but the tears in your eyes blur everything. Still, the desperation in his tone is unmistakable. 

You shake your head, your voice low, “Spence—”

“I want to do this right,” he continues, his words tumbling out with sincerity so raw it sends another wave of hurt right through you. “Just give me a chance to make it right. One chance. That’s all I’m asking for.”

“I don’t—”

“I mean it,” he says quickly. His voice is low, but there’s a desperate edge to it. “No more mistakes. No more labels—forget the friends thing. I’d rather die than just be friends with you. We’ll go out. We’ll take our time. I’ll show you. I’ll really show you. I’ll make it right this time.”

You feel like you’ve spent a lifetime waiting for this moment, for him to say the words you needed most. Months of hope, weeks of ache. You’ve stayed. You’ve waited. You’ve stayed in the waiting. More pathetic than poetic if you’re being honest. But now, with him standing here with his heart in his hands, it doesn’t feel simple. 

Because for the first time, you have a choice. To go back or turn away.

To leave or to stay.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

[baronessvonglitter]

Quiet in the Woods

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 1.9K

Summary: You've mouthed off to Joel one too many times. He finds a way to shut you up and release some frustration.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. The whole thing reeks of dub con. Dead Dove Do Not Eat. Unprotected piv. A couple of clit slaps. Name calling (slut). Orgasm denial. Rough sex. Belly bulge. Breeding kink if you squint. Facial. Come eating. Slight teabagging. Panty gagging. Nipple play. Breast slapping. Fingering. Oral (f receiving). Squirting. Overstimulation. Veiled threat of gang rape. Mean, snarky, frustrated Joel and bratty reader. Reader has breasts and vagina but is otherwise undescribed. No use of y/n. Joel's POV.

Author's note: This was the fic that burrowed its way into my brain last week and I may have made Joel more mean that I intended, but I think the majority of us can say we love him that way.

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

"Joel, are you crazy? We're in the middle of nowhere, what if-"

He cuts you off with his heavy hand clamping down over your mouth, quickly following with a easy slide of the first few inches of him into your warm and wet cunt. Your moan vibrates against his palm, and when your hips tilt up, a wordless offering of yourself, he presses deeper, two more hitched thrusts until he's bottomed out, cock nestled nicely between your puffy pussy lips, your cotton panties pushed unceremoniously off to the side.

You hadn't needed much to get you going. Shit, you were wetter than Niagara Falls once he'd teased you with his fingers. And with the necessity of staying quiet he needed to be quick as well. 

A hasty check of the surroundings and he's focused on you again, grunting as you squeeze around him. From the look in your eyes he knows you're just trying to get him to cum, and not in a 'you really need this, Joel, please use my tight little pussy to relieve some stress, and oh by the way, thank you for being so selfless and guiding me through the apocalyptic wilderness, you're the best!' kind of way.

No, you're definitely pulsing your tight little hole around him to tease him, to goad him into shooting his load, and he isn't going to give you the satisfaction..

He pulls out leisurely, making sure you feel every inch in the sweet, slow drag of his cock, until just his tip is at your soft, welcoming entrance. He taps the broad crown of his dick onto your nether lips and grins when you whine under his clamped hand. 

"Be. Good." He slaps your clit with his cock, emphasizing each word.

You mumble something under his palm and he pretends he can't understand you as he pushes back in, letting you feel the entirety of him in one go. "Good and quiet, little slut," he grunts, setting a vicious pace.

One leg of your jeans is still on, your bare leg hooked over his shoulder, foot still in its boot, laces dangling untied. Joel spreads your other leg, wanting you spread wide so he can see himself ramming you.

He pulls your shirt down, freeing your tits from the bra cups, using it for leverage, watching your tits bounce with every rough thrust. Beneath him you're moaning in time with each merciless snap of his hips.

Joel does another quick check, slowing as he does so, and as he's distracted a moment he catches too late that you've snuck your hand down to your clit to rub yourself, get you there faster.

"I don't think so," he utters, moving your hand away. "Keep your hands up over your head. I can't fuckin' do everythin' for ya." You grumble beneath his palm but do as you're told.

Something primal in him is pleased when you obey him, but he knows you well enough to suspect you may have a trick up your sleeve. You can still coerce him with your cunt, which is now currently stuffed with him, the wet and slimy sounds of your slick unmistakable proof that you wanted this long before you got on the ground.

"This is what you get," he punctuates those words with jabbing thrusts, "when you don't. Stop. Runnin'. Your. Fuckin'. Mouth."

Fuck being quiet. Joel needs to taunt you, lord it over you that you're spread out beneath him, folding easier than a cheap lawn chair. You were probably getting under his skin just so you could get under him.

He knows it's safer in this sparse area of woods rather than that little trail by the river where you'd first started bitching about your feet hurting, or was it your head.. point is, he found a better use for you, one that suits his needs and will shut you the fuck up for once.

He watches your eyelids flutter, the way your body tenses when he knows he pushes in too deep, too close to that soft and tender part. Just to fuck with you he lets the tip of him brush against it, the head giving it a couple light kisses, watching you squirm in both pleasure and pain. "Dead end, huh sweet cheeks? C'mon, you know you like it. You ain't never been a 'just the tip' kinda gal." 

Joel places his free hand on your belly, just at the waistband of your panties. "Feel 'im in there? Givin' him a nice lil' home, aintcha? C'mon, feel 'im." He takes one of your hands and presses it down to the bulge in your belly that grows as he thrusts home. 

"Your thighs are quakin', baby. You close?" His voice is almost mellifluous in its teasing, and he laughs when you glare at him. "Hey, you started this. Knew you'd end up under me one day if you kept yappin' and complainin'."

You growl beneath his palm and he tightens his grip on you just a bit, enough of a warning. I can fuck you or you can risk getting us killed. You must have decided on the former, because you become so sweetly pliant beneath him again, your hips moving against his, his hand vibrating with your muffled cries.

For a flash of a moment he considers burying himself deep in you as he comes, painting your walls with every drop that's been storing up in his balls, giving it all to you whether you want it or not, and watching it slowly dribble out of your wrecked pussy. He'd love that. Probably even get hard again just at the sight of it.

But you're already annoying enough on your own, and such a fucking yapper that he knows he won't risk putting a baby in you - just one more mouth to feed and one more thing that won't shut up.

"Fuck," he grumbles as he realizes he can't hold back any longer. He moves up and kneels over your chest, stroking his cock, sticky with your creamy mess. Eyes shut tight he works himself until that tingly feeling creeps up into his balls and he opens his eyes just in time to see his cum squirting onto your face, your own eyes shut tight, lips pressed together in a frown. 

He doesn't stop until he's covered your entire face, pleased with the way it starts to drip down the sides and into your hair, down your chin. Only when he's empty and his dick softens does he smile down at you. "Lookin' so pretty like that. Keep your eyes closed, now. Got a little somethin' on ya." You open your mouth to sass him and some of it slips between your lips. Joel chuckles as he watches you greedily stick out your tongue, seeking more of his taste.

"Somethin' better than Chef Boyardee, ain't it?" he teases, knowing you're growing tired of eating expired tinned food. "Plenty more where that came from, darlin'," he says, plopping the heft of his ballsack on your lips and growling when your pink tongue pokes out to lick it. "All right, enough," he grunts, stuffing himself back in his boxers and jeans. He's not about to let you take the upper hand and get him hard again.

He takes out his knife and cuts off the remains of your panties. "Not like you'll need these much anyway," he says, imagining bending you over in front of a tree whenever he takes a notion, just to get it out of his system. It's really the only thing you're good for.

In a rare show of gentleness he wipes his cum off your face with your panties, both of your fluids combining, absorbing in the material. "Better now?" he smirks when you open your eyes and fix him with a death glare. "Uh-uh," he whispers, silencing you with his finger. "Quiet. Just fuckin' nod."

Still glaring, you nod.

"And say, 'thank you, Joel.'"

"Fuck y-"

He cuts you off with his hand over your mouth. "I know why you're so ornery, darlin'. You ain't come yet, huh? How.. ungentlemanly of me," he says drily. "Open up," he instructs you, and stuffs your panties, smeared with your arousal and his come, into your mouth to quiet you.

"I'll be nice this one time," he says, moving down your body. He briefly thinks of kissing his way down, but he doesn't want you to think he's the romantic type. Who has time for that? He does however swirl his tongue over your nipples, your breasts still on display from where he'd pulled your bra down earlier. He sucks them each greedily, using his teeth to get them nice and hard, then slaps them to watch then jiggle, and to watch you squirm under him.

"You're just full of kinks, aintcha? How the fuck you think a kink is gonna serve you out here in the wilderness?" A few more slaps of your supple flesh and he moves down between your thighs again. Your cunt is still drenched.

"Don't even gotta rev up the engine again," he says in admiration, swirling one finger around your sopping, wrecked hole. "Not that I'd mind. It's kinda fun seein' ya all worked up and ain't nothin' you can do about it."

Joel dips his head to your quivering cunt, watching it clench around nothing. "Always needs somethin' stuffed in there, don't she?" he smirks. "Consider yourself lucky I'm feelin' generous today."

He presses two thick fingers in, hearing your muffled moan, noticing the greedy tilt of your hips. "You look so pretty like that, y'know.. I oughta find a way to gag ya permanently." He starts pistoning his fingers before you can try to utter a word, and soon you're putty in his rough hands.

"You're mad at me, I know," he says soothingly. "But you must like what I'm doin', else you'd be fightin' me, using what strength you got to push me to the ground. Little sunflower, you like this." And he pushes his hand violently, grinning at how wet you are, the glossiness evident on your inner thighs. "Hear how she's rejoicin'?" he says over the sloppy sounds your pussy makes as he plunges his fingers in over and over. 

He bows his head between your legs, tasting you, tickling your clit with his tongue, adding the sweet little pressure he'd kept you from exploring for yourself just moments ago. Your body bucks beneath him, your cries still muffled, and he imagines how needy and loud they'd be if he didn't want to attract attention. 

A spray of liquid hits him, only making him go faster, eager to see how many more times you can squirt as he wipes his face with his flannel sleeve. "There she is," he mutters, keeping up the pace. "You didn't really need to stop for water earlier, I can tell you're plenty hydrated. Ha, well, were." He makes a mental note to give you some of his own canteen water once you're done. Just because he doesn't want you passing out on him.

You come two more times under Joel's relentless fingers, only warding him off when you twist your body away, crying due to oversensitivity. 

"Aw, that's all?" he feigns disappointment. "Did real good, sweetie. But stay on my good side. I won't hesitate to loan you out to some raiders if you start gettin' mouthy again, hear me?" He removes your panty gag and helps you to stand, watching as you arrange your clothing.

"Hey, hey, don't gimme that look," he warns. "You were askin' for it. Now.. you gonna be good?"

You nod.

"And quiet. Repeat it."

He relishes the evil glare you give him, and if looks could kill he'd be dead on the spot. "Quiet," you repeat with an icy tone.

dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

tagging those interested from the wip: @milla-frenchy @itwasntimethatdidit40 @slimybeth69 @almostfoxglove

@almostempty @604to647 @sunshinehaze1

[annebd]

winter warmers, day 17: public sex/hot cocoa ~2700 words. this fic is based loosely off the pics and my tags on this post.

“Final grades are already submitted, mate. The time for bribery has come and gone.”

“Very funny, Daniel.” Max places the cup of hot cocoa on Daniel’s desk. A little bit of the whipped cream has sputtered out of the hole at the top. He swipes at it and licks the foam off his finger. He watches Daniel watching him. “Extra whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon, like you like it. And anyway, it’s not a bribe because you are not my teacher anymore. That’s the point."

Max slouches off his backpack and dumps it in a heap on the floor in front of the threadbare armchair next to Daniel’s desk. He throws off his jacket, too- slings it over the back of the chair- before slumping to sit, his legs spread wide. He’s spent the better part of the semester in this exact position, big blue eyes staring raptly at Daniel across the desk, counting down the minutes until this moment. Now it’s Daniel’s turn to stare.

“Max…” he warns.

The door to Daniel’s tiny, cramped office is wide open, but it’s quiet. It’s late into the evening on the last day of the semester. The university is almost entirely deserted by now. All of the students abandoned campus the moment they finished their last exams over the week, and the professors have all gone home for the day, leaving their TAs to put together the final touches on grading for the end of the semester.

Daniel’s office is at the end of a long corridor in the dingy, mostly unused section of the English department. There’s a janitor’s closet next door that contains nothing more than a single mop and a broken plastic bucket. The empty office across the hall has a bigger desk than his and an actually functioning window, but when Daniel asked if he could move over there instead, his advisor had thrown around words like “seniority” and “tenure” and “paying his dues.” So he’s been stuck in this shoe closet for the past two years, while a perfectly good office lies empty just a few steps away. He likes to complain to Max about it when he’s feeling particularly resentful about some university bullshit or other. Max just likes to listen to him talk.

The office is, as usual, empty. As is the janitor’s closet. As is every other office or storage room down the hallway, all the way to the elevator bank, where the lone lightbulb is flickering intermittently, casting dancing shadows along the wall. They’re alone in the building for now. No one else is around.

Max tells Daniel this.

“No one else, huh?” Daniel leans back in his own chair, matches Max’s slouching posture. He takes a sip of the cocoa. Savors it. Takes another. “And what exactly am I supposed to do with that information?”

“You know what, Daniel. You are not my teacher anymore. This stupid class is over. No more Beowulf, thank god. And now I can have you. You said.”

“You can have me?” Daniel cuts himself off. “Jesus, Max. That’s definitely one way to phrase it.”

“Always you and your phrasing. I still am upset about when you took points off my essay for that, by the way.”

Daniel laughs.

Max doesn’t. He glances at the open door, which offers a clear view down the hallway. Still empty. Not so much as a faint footstep click-clacking in the distance.

He stands and turns Daniel’s swivel chair outwards a little so that he has enough space to kneel down in front of him. 

“Max,” Daniel warns him again, but his voice is softer this time. He’s not protesting. He’s looking down at Max, who’s already sliding his hands up and down the soft, worn denim encasing Daniel’s thighs.

“You have to say yes. You already said we could, but you have to say you want this now.” Max sits back onto his heels, and immediately feels colder being even six inches further away from Daniel. “Will you say yes, for me? Say that I can have you?”

Daniel runs a hand across his stubbled cheek, lets it cover his mouth for a moment. Max watches the light catch on his gold rings and dance across the wall. Daniel pulls off his glasses (an affectation, he’d once told Max. His prescription is so weak that he can get by fine without them, but they help sell the look. PhD student in English Lit, rather than tatted bogan) and looks at Max with wide eyes. Max looks back.

“Yes,” he says. “All right? I’m saying yes. You can have me.”

“Okay,” Max agrees and pushes Daniel’s grey sweater up so that he can lean in and suck a bruise into the center of his chest. He pulls back to look at it. His own mark on Daniel’s skin. Daniel has told him about some of his tattoos, and he’s seen some, of course, but he knows that there are others yet to be discovered. He’ll find every last one with his eyes and then his tongue. For now, he’ll add a few more of his own.

Daniel groans when Max sets his teeth against Daniel’s nipple. “Fuck, babe. Not even a kiss first? Right to the nipple play, huh?”

Max pulls back. Daniel’s right: they should kiss. He lets the sweater fall out of his hands and pulls Daniel by the back of the knees so that he slides lower in the chair. Max pushes into the space between Daniel’s spread legs so that they’re chest to chest.

Daniel looks soft like this, vulnerable, as he looks up to where Max hovers slightly taller than him. Max is used to Daniel taking up so much space: big laugh, big personality, big hair. But here, underneath Max’s hands, he’s small. His baggy sweaters hide a narrow waist, tapering to bony hips- delicate wrists extending to long, nail-bitten fingers. Max wants to cover him completely, hide him from the world, keep him for himself. That wouldn’t be fair, though. The world would be so much smaller without Daniel in it.

He cups his hand around Daniel’s cheek, his beard prickling ticklishly against Max’s palm.

“Hi,” Daniel says, quietly.

“Hello, Daniel,” Max says and then leans in for a kiss. It’s softer than he’s expecting, given the stubble situation. Daniel’s lips are warm against his, and they press together for just a moment before Max pulls away to look at him. He never gets tired of looking at Daniel.

He moves back in, harder this time, Daniel’s mouth opening for his, and he licks his way inside. He sucks on Daniel’s tongue, where the taste of cocoa and cinnamon is still lingering. Daniel kisses back- biting, bruising kisses that send a shock of pleasure direct to Max’s cock. He could spend hours here, days, years, just feeling the pressure of Daniel’s mouth on his.

But he has plans that extend beyond just a few heated kisses.

He has wanted this since the very first day of the semester, when he walked into that stupid Brit Lit classroom with his stupid copy of Beowulf and saw the hottest person he’s ever seen in his life sitting cross legged on the desk upfront, waving him in and telling him to grab a seat, that they’re just getting started.

He’d sat in the closest seat to the front, dead center, and spent the next three months contributing minimally to the in-class discussions that Daniel led, and instead, daydreamed about bending him over the lectern and fucking him until he cried. He did fine on exams, wrote marginally passable essays (phrasing issues aside), but couldn’t be bothered to contribute to the inanity of the conversations around him when he could spend that time imagining the taste of Daniel’s golden honey skin if he licked him all the way from his collarbone to his cock.

Soon enough, he’d started showing up to Daniel’s office hours twice a week, and then inviting himself to sit in the office whenever he knew Daniel would be there. He’d plop himself in the armchair and tap away at his homework for other classes (“the ones that matter, Daniel”) while Daniel worked on grading essays and occasionally tapped away at the doc that will eventually become his thesis.

And in that time, Max’s fantasies turned from the desk in the lecture hall to the desk right here in this cramped office. He’s spent many an afternoon sitting in the ratty armchair and watching Daniel work, while picturing doing exactly what he’s doing now: pressing his lips against Daniel’s and sliding his hand underneath his sweater to pinch a nipple, drawing out a low moan.

Daniel had always said no. Not until the semester was over; not while he was still in a position of power over Max.

And now they’re here. The semester is done, Daniel is no longer his TA, and Max can live out every last one of his fantasies.

Without breaking the kiss, he grabs Daniel around the waist and levers him up and out of the chair so that he can spin him around to sit on the edge of his desk. He leans around Daniel’s side to close the lid of his laptop and set it on the chair, which frees up the space he needs to lay him out flat on his back and start pulling at his clothes.

“Off,” he says, and shoves the hem of the sweater up so that Daniel will remove it completely. He reaches down to take off Daniel’s boots and then unzips his jeans and pulls them off. Between the two of them it’s quick work until Daniel is naked, save for his socks and the gold chain around his neck. He’s on his back with his ass at the edge of the desk and his thighs already falling open for Max to fit perfectly between.

Max takes a moment to appreciate the sight in front of him. Daniel’s tan is still a perfect golden, even now in the startling cold of mid-December. He’s lithe, deceptively muscled for how slender he is, further camouflaged by the baggy sweaters and hoodies he’s usually draped in. But like this, all of him on full display for Max’s pleasure, he’s a perfect specimen of toned muscle.

There are more tattoos even than Max expected- his thighs especially are a quilt of color. Max ignores them for now. There will be plenty of time for them to become more intimately acquainted later. For now, Max has other issues to attend to- like licking that stripe across Daniel’s torso. Collarbone to cock, and then back again.

He must stare for a hair too long, because Daniel starts to curl in on himself, shy in a way that Max has never seen him before. That can’t stand. Max leans down to kiss him again, pressing his hardening cock, still trapped inside his jeans, against Daniel’s, which forces his legs wide again. He wraps them around Max’s back and tugs him in closer.

They kiss lazily for a while until Max is so hard that the press of his cock against his zipper is a physical ache. He unzips and pulls himself out, immediately thrusting into the hollow where Daniel’s hip meets his thigh, precome slicking the way.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he says, no beating around the bush.

He makes quick work of sliding on a condom and then slicking his cock and Daniel’s hole with a tiny packet of lube, both of which he’d tucked into his pocket earlier this evening.

He pushes in and feels the warmth of Daniel surrounding his cock. Daniel’s eyes widen and he gasps when Max bottoms out. He’s not huge, but his cock is thick, and he can feel Daniel’s hole fluttering around him to accommodate his girth. He moves slowly, letting him get used to the stretch.

“Fuck, Max,” Daniel chokes out as Max thrusts in to the hilt again. “More, please.”

“So polite for me. Of course, Daniel. I’ll give you everything you want.” And he does. For long minutes, he focuses on nothing more than the connection between their bodies, Daniel’s entirely naked and Max’s still fully clothed. He’s insane with the sensation, the knowledge that Daniel is giving himself over to Max so completely, letting Max take care of him.

He’s on the verge of coming when Max feels Daniel still beneath him for a moment, his gaze focused over Max’s shoulder. “Max, the door.”

“Yes. It’s still open. Anyone could walk past and see us. They could see you all spread out for me. For my cock. They could hear you, too, of course. Because you’re being very loud with your moans, Daniel.” He pushes in deep, makes sure to stroke firmly across Daniel’s prostate. He waits for him to moan and then does it again. “Just like that.”

Daniel shudders and clenches down around Max’s cock. It’s Max’s turn to moan out loud. He can feel Daniel starting to tremble beneath him. He reaches for Daniel’s cock and starts jerking him roughly.

“Now, Daniel,” he says. “Come for me now. Please.”

Daniel closes his eyes and pulls Max down over him, presses their mouths together. He licks across Max’s teeth as he comes. Max follows immediately behind, filling the condom and wishing they could do this bare. Imagines the feeling of filling Daniel instead, spurting deep inside him. He groans again as his hips kick up reflexively. He adds that to the mental tally for next time. There will absolutely need to be a next time.

They take their time cleaning up. Max grabbed a stack of napkins when he brought Daniel’s hot cocoa earlier. They don’t make for the most glamorous post-fuck clean up, but they’ll do.

When their clothes are back in place and they look mostly presentable again, Max tugs teasingly at the chain around Daniel’s neck, pulls him in for a kiss.

“Thank you for waiting for me,” Daniel tells him softly.

Then, he grins big for a second. “Oh, and for the cocoa, too. Delish, mate.”

Max just rolls his eyes. “You’re welcome. For both. Now, come. I need to take you home and fuck you some more. On a big bed, where I can take my time.”

He waits for Daniel to gather his things and turn out the lights in the office. He’ll finish his last bit of grading over the weekend, he tells Max.

They walk down the hall to the elevator, Max with one hand wrapped around Daniel’s hip and a thumb tucked through his belt loop.

As they near the elevator bank, they both freeze. Just a few doors down from Daniel’s office, they see light streaming out from Dr. Lambiase’s office, light that definitely hadn’t been there when Max showed up earlier.

They turn to look at each other, their eyes huge. Slowly, they walk towards the open door and freeze again when a familiar voice calls out from a familiar face. “Evening, boys. I thought I was already done for the day, but I had to come all the way back to campus to grab a couple of folders before break. You two all done for the evening?”

Neither of them says anything. Dr. Lambiase raises an eyebrow at them.

Max nudges Daniel to answer; he’s the TA. Not Dr. Lambiase’s TA, of course, but still. Max is just a student.

Daniel hurries to spit out, “Yeah, yep, we’re all done. Max just had a couple questions from the final exam, but we’re all good now, so we’re gonna go, have a good night, see you later.” He waves, prompts Max to do the same, and then speedwalks them down the rest of the hallway, where they wait in silence for the elevator to arrive.

“Oh my god,” Daniel says as soon as the elevator doors close. “Oh my god!”

“Well,” Max intones. “I guess we can check that one off the fantasy list, then?”

They look at each other silently for a second and then collapse into each other in a pile of giggles. Yeah, Max is definitely going to cross that one off the list.

[yellowjestertfs]

Altered State: Part Five

Alright second to last part! Read Part Four, Three, Two, and One here if you haven't. Just a warning, part is more action oriented then the others but still has the same tf and progression elements. Currently I am in the process of writing the epilogue which is a bit of a mess at the moment so the last part might be a few weeks (sorry) but hopefully not too long. Anyways enjoy and thanks for reading!

Edward's mind worked feverishly, processing his thoughts as fast as he could with his 19 intelligence. Part of him wanted to blow off the quest. The possibility of being a level one wretch, if defeated, seemed too big a risk to take. On the other hand, the love potion offered as a reward was excruciatingly tempting. The decision was made for him, Leon scooped him up in a firm fireman’s hold and then still naked, sprinted out the door and into the cool night, moving at a pace Edward couldn’t quite believe. 

His strides were effortless and long, and even with the added weight of Edward, Leon made an amazing time. The row of frat houses that everyone called “fratrow” was four blocks away. Leon reached in just less than a minute hardly even winded. 

It was fairly obvious which house was Sigma Alpha’s. Besides having the Greek letters emblazoned on its front, it was the only house on the row with loud music and voices coming from the backyard.

Leon set Edward down and it took a few seconds for him to get his bearings. According to Trent’s texts, the Alpha Sigma frat bros weren’t letting anyone leave. Edward had no idea why but he couldn’t imagine it was for any good reason. The backyard, enclosed by a seemingly hastily erected high wooden fence was where everyone was congregated. Two frat guys with their arms crossed stood outside, seemingly guarding the entrance to the backyard, and also the way out. 

Just above the fence, Edward could see the tip of a white-domed object peeking out. It looked like a satellite dish connected to the top of a projector screen connected with random metal scraps and duct tape. Sure enough, Edward could see a place on the side of the large two-story house with loose wires sticking out of it where the satellite dish was presumably held before.

The seconds ticked by. They had less than sixteen minutes remaining. “Alright, I’ll check out the backyard, and see if I can get everyone out. You need to go into the house and see if you can find Hunter or Alvis and shut down whatever it is they are planning” Edward said, the pressure making him decisive. As the one with the highest intelligence, if only by a few points, he felt responsible for making a plan. 

“You want us to split up?” Leon asked incredulously. 

“We have to. Besides you're much better equipped to do actual fighting.” Edward found his eyes drifting over to one of Leon’s strong pump pecs. He suddenly remembered that Leon was naked, a very easy thing to forget with Leon’s Naked Confidence perk. That meant he wasn’t carrying a phone, not that that would have been useful with Edward’s being basically dead. “If either one of us is in trouble make a bird sound or something. 

“A bird sound, are you for real?” Leon asked rolling his eyes. The comment broke Edward’s moment of seriousness and he moved to punch his friend in the arm, but then remembered the effect of his touch and thought better of it. 

“Shut up. Just call for help.” They now had only fifteen minutes left. “We got to go, stay safe.”

Edward pounded a fist against his muscular chest and faint hollow metallic sounds rang out. “Don’t worry about me.” Then in a genuine tender way, Edward hardly ever heard his friend use “you be safe too. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Edward felt his heart skip a beat. This was not the time to be having these feelings but god damn was Leon good at giving mixed signals. “Bet you I’ll get take out more frat guys than you.” Leon challenged.

“Suck my dick” was all Edward said. 

“Fine, but if I win you have to suck mine.” Leon shot back. 

“You're so on,” Edward said as the two snuck forward. Edward headed for the backyard, and Leon went up the stairs and to the front door of the frat. Once Edward got closer he could make out the two frat guys stationed at the door. He didn't recognize either of them. They looked young, maybe recent pledges. Edward wasn’t overly surprised when he saw they had floating names above their heads with classes and levels, but he thought it would make this a whole lot more difficult.

Luckily neither of the two guards was very high level. The one on the right had a floating tag above him that labeled him as Broden, a level four Jock. The other guy was a stranger. He wore a suit jacket and tie on top and only his boxers on the bottom. His name was Harold and he was only level two in a class called an Oil Baron. Edward shuddered to think about what type of boosts a class like that would give, though if these classes followed the pattern his and Leon’s did, which was hardly a guarantee, they hopefully wouldn’t have any abilities or techniques unlocked until level five. 

Edward adopted his best approximation of a bro walk and strode forward with all the confidence he could muster. The two young frat guys seemed as if they were about to say something but stopped when they saw the name and level above his name. 

“Yoo, what are you two bozos still doing here?” Edward asked in a dumb voice. He overdid it a bit and sounded like a caveman instead of a frat guy, but he hoped his high charisma and perks might make up the difference.

The two pledges just looked at him blankly. “Hunter sent you two out to get more duct tape like an hour ago. He’s going to be so pissed.”

“But bro, Hunter told us not to leave this door,” The Jock said, in a slow confused way that made it clear his class wasn’t giving him any boosts to intelligence.

“Don’t worry about it bro, I got it. No one gets in or out, I know the deal.”

The Oil Baron opened his mouth to object but a loud crash interrupted him. Edward suspected that was Leon making his entrance. Subtly had never been his strong suit. 

“Shit bro, that’s Hunter. You can’t let him find you here, I’ll cover for you don’t worry” Edward said. Fear instantly burned in both their eyes. Without another word, they both sprinted into the night. Edward waited until they were a few streetlights away before he opened the makeshift gate. The quest “defeat lesser members” changed from 0/26 to 2/26. As Edward watched that number went up to 3/26 then 4/26, presumably thanks to Leon. Edward would have to work faster if he wanted to win their bet.

Inside the party was packed like sardines. Judging from Trent’s texts Edward had expected people to be clambering to get out by the door but most people still danced and drank, unaware that they had been unable to leave in the first place. Edward navigated his way through the backyard. It was then that Edward missed the invisibility of being ugly. The second he entered the party nearly everyone was all over him. Strangers started to grind up on him, offered him drinks, and tried to chat him up. It made moving through the crowd a nightmare. His perks didn’t help matters either. His pheromones caused the people flirting around him to progress to making out and caused those already making out to progress further into outright indecent behavior. Edward did his best to avoid skin-to-skin contact but it was inevitable in a crowd so packed, he heard several yelps as people suddenly felt orgasmic pleasure on their skin anywhere Edward’s hands accidentally. 

Eventually, Edward reached the bubble of relative calm around the projector screen. He saw Trent and Tag talking to each other in low voices by one side of the fence, clearly unaware that the way out was open now. Edward briefly thought about going over to them but he knew neither would recognize him and he didn't have time for lengthy explanations. He needed to get everyone out, and quick. 

Edward glanced and saw two more frat guys standing by the door to the house while four others worked on the projector, taping wires down to the ground that led inside the house. All six had names, classes, and levels above their heads. Edward stopped walking realizing if he could see their level then they could undoubtedly see his. Sure enough, a level nine Keg Commander started walking towards him briskly. He looked older and in charge, and Edward doubted he could resort to trickery to deal with him like before.

Edward ducked back into the crowd, hoping the chaos would obscure his floating name tag. No luck, the Keg Commander along with two other floating tags, a level six Crypto Bro, and a level seven Hype Beast moved towards him. Edward pushed his way through the crowd much less carefully this time. More couples, affected by his pheromones got nasty with each other right there in the backyard, which Edward hoped would make the chase more difficult for his pursuers.

Edward heard a crash from inside the house. He checked the counter to see it was now at 6/26. Edward hoped Leon was being safe. He heard another noise, like a loud bubbling. Edward risked a glance behind him and saw the level nine Keg Commander wave his hand over a beer keg, the thing started shaking violently before it took off into the air like a bottle rocket. 

“Shit” Edward yelled reflexively, diving sideways into a group of guys who all let out sounds of shock and moans of pleasure as Edward pressed up against them. Edward’s dodge hadn’t been necessary. The keg went wide, flying over the party and landing with a bang in the neighbor's yard, spraying the gathered crowd with beer as it flew.

Edward kept moving, circling back around to the wall of the house. Behind him, the hype beast was letting out loud whoops and hollers that seemed to be riling up the crowd even further. The music started to build up to a beat drop and people started to mosh making it even harder for Edward to move through the crowd. Edward spied the source of the music, a giant speaker, at least the height of his chest. One of the frat guys, a level five DJ stood by it, making strange motions with his hands which caused the music to change in volume rapidly in a nauseating way. A plan formed in Edward's mind, with only thirteen minutes left he needed to be bold.

Edward made his way towards the speaker, careful to avoid the Crypto Bro who tried to cut him off. Once he was close Edward rolled up his sleeve and dove out of the crowd, running for the plug connecting the speaker to the outlet. The DJ tried to grab at him but Edward twisted so that he grabbed his arm instead. The bare contact with his flesh and the intense pleasure that resulted from it was enough to cause the DJ to drop his grip. Edward grabbed the plug and yanked. The loud music suddenly cut off, and there was a second of silence as the whole party looked toward the speaker questioningly. Edward took advantage of that moment. He climbed on top of the speaker and screamed a word as loud as he could manage. 

“Flee” he yelled, the word echoing loud and powerful as he imbued it with the energy of his Silver Tongue technique. His energy pool which had fully regenerated in the hours he had spent with Leon now dropped to 14/19. 

The effect was immediate and jarring. Every single person at the party fled in a wave emanating from Edward. The exit quickly clogged as hundreds of people all tried to leave the party at once. Edward watched horrified at the stampede he had created as students pushed at each other to get out as if death itself were chasing after them. Some students in their haste to get out decided to climb the tall fence, jumping off it into the neighboring yards before continuing to run into the night. 

In a matter of seconds, the entire backyard was empty and silent. Edward stood on the speaker, amazed at his own power. Though he had feared someone might be trampled it seemed that everyone had gotten out safe at least. It was a good reminder to him though that he needed to be careful with this power. 

His words had caught up a fair number of the frat guys causing them to flee as well. The counter now read 15/26, though he wasn’t sure how many of those he could take credit for. Still, Edward suspected he was kicking Leon’s ass when it came to their bet. He also noted that the quest item “Put a stop to the legion’s plans” was still marked as incomplete, meaning whatever it was they were planning involved more than just trapping students in their backyard. Edward thought of the love potion again and felt a nauseating mix of hope and guilt.  

Edward didn't have long to revel in his victory. From the second floor, he heard another loud crash then the unmistakable sound of an Owl’s hoot, or Leon’s best attempt at one, in truth it sounded more like a fart noise.

In a second Edward was off the speaker and racing toward the house. He entered a side door into the kitchen. Six low-level frat guys were inside, protected from Edward’s ability by the thick glass door. All of them were looking at the empty backyard in shock. They were even more shocked when the level eleven Snake charmer ran in. 

Edward didn’t have a thought in his head except the safety of his best friend. “Defend me,” he said, embossing the words with another ten of his remaining energy points, leaving him with only four more. Instantly the frat guy's faces went from confused to blank as they robotically followed him into the hallway and up the stairs as Edward followed where the wires connecting to the project screen led.

Edward raced upwards two stairs at a time towards the sounds of voices and struggles. A circle of frat guys, most of them level ten or higher encircled the kneeling form of Leon. Two purple and white bands bound both of Leon's wrists to the floor despite the obvious effort he was exerting to free himself.  A level fourteen Pledge Master with a sinister look to him held a red solo cup to Leon’s lips and was saying something in a low scolding voice too soft for Edward to hear with all the blood rushing in his ears.

Edward let out a yell as he and his frat protectors charged forward in the doomed defense of his best friend.

-

Leon strained at the colorful bamboo restraints binding him to the floor. The harder he struggled the tighter the traps bound him. He activated his Inner Strength ability and wrenched upwards, it was a bad idea. The sudden burst of strength was redoubled against him and he was forced to his knees, naked body beginning to sweat with the effort. Above him the level thirteen Prankster laughed. He had the same flawless complexion as Edward that indicated a high charisma, only his features looked mischievous and impish, nothing like the kind angelic features of his friend. 

Leon still found it hard to believe that god of a man he had slept with was Edward. And yet when he looked hard he could see the resemblance. His eyes had the same gentle genuineness in them, his lips, now thick and oh so kissable, still twitched the same way when he wanted to laugh but was trying to be serious. 

The Prankster above Edward let out a laugh that bordered on deranged as he watched Leon struggle. He and his other two frat brothers circled around Leon, a level ten Drug Pusher, and a level eleven Vape Mage, moved aside for a new figure. This one, a tall skinny man with dark hair and dark handsome features that made it clear he was also a charisma class, walked forward. His dark perfect eyebrows arched sharply, making him look like a cartoon villain. The floating name tag above him listed him as a level fourteen Pledge Master. Leon recognized him as one of them men who had been with Hunter earlier that day during the with the Dagorhir players, thought he hadn’t been nearly so handsome or intimidating when they had first clashed. Those events now felt like a lifetime ago. 

His hands glowed with an eerie brown light then a red solo cup appeared in them, full of a sloshing brown liquid inside Leon didn’t think was beer. “We have a new pledge I see. Hunter told me to watch out for you.” He took a step closer and a strange aura washed over Leon, he suddenly felt as if he would do anything this man told him to. It made him sick, nothing like the warm feeling he got from being around Edward. “You can join our frat if that's what you really want, but first don’t you know that new pledges have to suffer.” 

Leon blanched. He hoped Edward hadn’t heard the bird sound he had made when he was first trapped. He hoped Edward would escape now while he could. These frat guys were too powerful, too high-level. Leon had no idea how they had managed to gain so much experience in such little time. They must have received their classes after Leon and Edward had and yet even the two Leon had faced downstairs had been nearly his equal in level.

Leon supposed he and Edward could have been faster if they had been more efficient, and hadn’t spent several hours fucking like bunnies. Still, if those were to be Leon’s last moments on earth he was endlessly glad at how he spent them. He only wished he had told Edward how he felt, though that would require him to first understand what it was he felt, which was mostly confused.

Since the day they met in freshman orientation, Edward had been his best friend, his partner in everything. There had never been even a hint of anything more though. Leon was straight and Edward wasn’t interested in him besides. Now their dynamic had shifted. For Leon it wasn’t so much a big deal he had slept with a man, sure that was new, but his attraction for Edward burned just as bright, if not brighter than any he had for a woman. The part that was making him so on edge was the fact that it was with Edward. 

Leon knew with the way Edward now looked he could have any man he wanted. There would be no reason for him to want anything more than something physical with Leon. And yet Leon could swear that he saw something more than lust in those expressive eyes. He knew it was probably wishful thinking.

It wasn’t particularly worth dwelling on though, considering Leon’s current predicament. He had been so cocky when he had first entered the house. The door had been locked but a quick Inner Strength-enhanced kick busted the thing wide open.

Inside were two frat pledges, just sitting in the entranceway as if they had been expecting him, one, a level eight Louisville Slugger gripped a wooden baseball bat in his hand. The wood was a strange ashen gray as if it had been petrified to stone. The level eight swung his bat hard into the side of Leon’s face.

Leon’s whole skull rung like a bell as the bat that felt more like stone then wood bounded off his armored skull. The man moved to swing again but Leon took a step forward and shaved the man causing him to crash back into the stairwell. The other guard, a level six Tattletale made no move to attack, instead he opened his mouth, and a grating blaring almost robotic alarm came out, filling the whole house. Leon dashed forward and slammed his hand over the man's mouth, muffling the sound but not cutting it off. Leon wrapped his hand around the man's throat and squeezed, careful not to be too rough with his prodigious strength. Within seconds the Tattletale was unconscious. Leon made sure the man was still breathing before moving out of the entranceway. The counter was now at 4/26, meaning he and Edward were tied. Leon needed to move fast if he wanted to win and get another of those life altering blowjobs from Edward. 

Still he paid one last glance at the two unconscious men and noticed something odd. Both of them seemed to be changing, shrinking. The level nine Louisville Slugger was a muscular dude, tall and clearly athletic. Yet as Leon watched the guy's muscles deflated and he shrunk in height. The level above his head changed to seven to six counting down to level one as his stats drained away. Finally, as the guy started to look plainly average his class switched to one called a “Wretch” and he was defeated further, losing muscle height and likely some charisma based on the way his face twisted unattractively and broke out with acne. The Tattletale also lost much of his charisma-enhanced beauty and became an equally pathetic level-one wretch with his friend. Leon flashed back to the note about the quest being a correctional one. He supposed the two were considered defeated and therefore suffered the punishment of failing the quest. It was a horrifying fate. Leon imagined the muscles and perks he had so come to enjoy draining away and found the thought terrifying. He couldn’t go back to his old life, he wouldn’t.

Both the Tattletale, and the load noise of kicking in the door, had ruined any chance of surprise Leon might have had. He assumed other members of the frat would soon come to investigate the noise, meaning he needed to move. Leon wasn’t exactly sure where though, several hallways with bedroom doors on either side connected to the entranceway, along with hallways connecting to a massive kitchen and eating area that ran along the back of the house. A large lounge for hosting parties or doing school work was to Leon's right, and a set of stairs right in front of him led upwards, presumably to more rooms and potentially another lounge or hang-out area. Leon wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking for, either of the bosses he supposed. He poked around a few of the hallways but they were all abandoned and all the doors were locked. Eventually, Leon decided he should go upstairs. 

That was where the trouble started. Up the stairs, there was a long landing that let off to lots more rooms. In the hallway stood four older-looking frat brothers, all with classes and levels above ten. The Prankster and the Drug Pusher noticed him first, while the Vape Mage, and level twelve Beer Pong Champion stood with their backs to him.

Leon didn’t wait for any of them to react. He rushed forward and shoved the Beer Pong Champion hard. The man went flying into a wall behind. The attack caused Leon to come into proximity with the Drug Pusher which caused his head to start to feel funny, like he was drunk and high at the same time. The effect was unbalancing enough that the Prankster was able to grab his hand. He activated some sort of ability or technique and suddenly through his hand waves of  painful electricity washed through Leon’s whole body. It felt like one of those prank hand buzzers only one hundred times more powerful. His whole body shook, completely unprotected by his armored skin. Leon was too stunned to react as the Prankster used yet another ability on him which caused those bamboo restraints he currently struggled against to bind him to the floor. Leon struggled for a few seconds before he spotted an open window that faced the backyard and made his best approximation of a bird call. 

The three frat guys looked at him funny but they were too cocky with the thrill of their catch that they didn’t seem to care. They called out for the pledge master who came out of a hallway a few moments later. Now Leon looked up at his eerily perfect face and felt a wave of revulsion and loyalty at the same time.

“Let go of him!” Leon snapped his head away from the frat guy's face as he heard a familiar voice yell.  Edward raced up the stairs trailed by six frat guys all also running. Leon could only watch as Edward flung himself at the Pledge Master, skinny body bringing the other man to the ground. To Leon’s surprise, the frat guys who Leon had assumed were chasing Edward rushed into his air, charging their own comrades with first and foot and claw in the case of one guy with the Party Animal class who turned into a puma wearing a party hat before Leon's very eyes. The Vape Mage opened his mouth and a stream of light pink smoke emerged, quickly filling the room and limiting Leon’s slight to only the area directly around him. 

Leon could just make out as the Pledge Master flipped Edward onto his back, pinning him. Edward brought one hand up to rest upon the Pledge Master’s cheek almost lovingly. The man screamed out in orgasmic pleasure and Edward used that moment to break free of his hold and flip him onto his back, the two disappearing from view into the cloud of cotton candy-smelling vape. 

Around him, Edward’s frat guys fought against their own compatriots. Though they had the numbers advantage they were younger, and less high-level, lacking the truly influential perks and abilities to match their opponents. Leon continued to struggle in vain, wanting desperately to join the fight and come to his friend's air.

Edward’s presence was like a strong clean gust of wind, clearing away the other aura and effects that had been clouding Leon’s thoughts, allowing him to think clearly for the first time since he had been trapped. He took a deep breath of the cotton candy fog. All of these classes were thematic. The ability he was trapped in was from the Prankster class, which meant it had something to do with pranks. Leon looked down at the colorful interlocking bamboo pattern of the trap and realized it looked familiar. It reminded him of those Chinese finger traps sold for tickets at arcades or behind glass counters at roller rinks. The trick to those was simple, the harder you pulled the tighter it bound. All Leon had to do was relax. He let his arms fall loose and felt the bounds on his wrist loosen, he relaxed further and suddenly he was free. 

Leon swung about in the cloud of cotton candy smoke. He caught a brief glimpse of a few different frat guys fighting with each other but in the chaos, Leon couldn’t tell which were friends and which were foes. He needed to find Edward. 

At level eleven Leon’s Inner Strength cooldown was at 109 seconds. Though he has used it to try to escape the countdown was almost up. Leon waited the last few seconds then activated the ability, feeling strength surge into his body. Leon splayed his large hands wide, admiring his now considerable wing span, then brought his palms them together with a colossal force that would have likely broken both his hands if not for his armored skin. 

A loud boom shook the room and a pressurized gust of air ripped from his hands. The force wasn’t enough to do more than startle any of the men fighting each other on the ground but it was enough to temporarily clear away the lingering vape cloud in the room. 

Leon instantly spied the Pledge Master and Edward struggling near the stairs, the Pledge Master sat on top of Edward using some ability that made his hands glow brown and seemed to have paralyzed Edward. Leon wasn’t capable of feeling fear anymore but he felt something distinctly like it as he saw his friend helpless on the ground, that and a bubbling red rage he had never felt. As the room once again filled with smoke from the Vape Mage’s mouth Leon rushed towards the pair. He ripped the scrawny Pledge Master off of Edward’s body as easily as he would lift an insect and flung him down the stairs. The man tumbled down, sprawling at the bottom in a heap, out of the fight but still breathing. Leon watched the first level tick away and knew he would soon become a harmless wretch. 

From the ground, Edward looked at him with a mix of awe, fear, and relief. Slowly he regained control of his limbs and then sat up and wrapped his arms around Leon, squeezing tightly onto Leon’s muscular back. Leon laughed feeling an overwhelming flood of relief. He hugged his friend back tight, not caring that the skin-to-skin contact made his naked dick instantly hard. 

Leon continued the embrace until he felt something bounce off his butt. He turned around to see the Beer Pong Master, who he had thought was out of the fight, lift his hand and shoot a ping pong ball out of it with considerable force. More and more shot out in a jet towards the two friends. Leon positioned himself to block Edward from the barrage. The plastic balls stung but his Armored Skin prevented them from doing any real damage. Leon rushed forward and delivered a hard punch to the gut that finally defeated the man who began to turn into a wretch as well. The counter was now at 21/26. Whatever Edward had done outside and to control those guys had taken out a majority of the lesser frat guys. Leon was so relieved that he didn't even care he was losing the bet. He would be glad to give him friend a blowjob if they lived long enough for that.

The pink fog slowly began to clear and he and Edward were left facing down the remaining five frat guys. Edward’s method of control seemed to have warned off and the two remaining, a level seven Party Animal and a level nine Bully looked pissed. Leon readied himself for a fight. He didn't relish the idea of being mauled even with his armored skin but he would do it to protect Edward.

He was spared the trouble. A beam of purple energy shot from Edward’s hand and into the Party Animal. The frat guy's eyes glowed the same purple shade for a second, then he adopted a look of pure horror and ran right past him and Edward down the stairs, a visible wet spot in his pants. Edward had told him about his new emotion bomb ability but he hadn’t known it would be so potent.

Not wasting the opportunity Leon raced forward and quickly subdued the Vape Mage with a punch, then the Drug Pusher with a knee to the chest, then did a quick uppercut which finished off the Bully who went down to the ground groaning as he slowly became a level one wretch.

That left Edward and Leon facing only the Prankster. The sinister-looking man tried the same hand buzzer trick on Leon again but this time he was ready. He grabbed the man's hand and slapped it onto the guy's own chest causing him to electrocute himself instead. 

Finally, alone Leon and Edward stood in trashed hallways breathing heavily. Edward had a small cut on his arm and a blossoming bruise on his perfect symmetrical cheek which gave his handsomeness a rugged quality, a quality broken by his wide innocent grin. “So you want to suck my dick now or later?”

The quest marked itself up to 26/26 and he and Edward both heard a ding as they leveled up. 

“You have reached level twelve. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Strength, +1 Charisma, + 0.3 Intelligence.” 

“You have gained a class perk.”

“Punchable Face: If moved to sufficient hostility, creatures are more likely to attack you than your allies. Note: This effect scales off both Strength and Charisma. Note: Creatures with higher intelligence will be more resistant to the effects of this perk.”

Leon felt the now familiar feeling of leveling up as each of his attributes increased. The intelligence gains Leon got at each level were too small to be perceptible, though he supposed he noticed a small difference now that he had an 11.3 compared to his previous base of 8. His charisma boosts per level were larger, though also hard to exactly quantify. When Leon had looked hard in the mirror he had been able to pick out ways his face was a bit more handsome than it had been, thought it was hard though to know what was due to his charisma boosts and what was from the changes to his body composition. Still, his eyes were brighter, his features more symmetrical, and his skin clearer than it had ever been before. Despite gaining twelve points Leon didn't feel like he had gained Edward’s easy effortless charm, though his jokes that always sounded so funny in his head but never when he said them out loud did seem to be landing more frequently and he was starting to pick up on social cues that would have once flown over his head. This level up Leon actually did think he could feel something shifting in his face though he chalked it up to placebo. 

His strength though Leon was sure he could feel. His body stretched another quarter of an inch taller, and he gained another five pounds of muscle, all packed evenly onto his body. Though he didn't store fat according to his Metabolizer perk his muscles didn't have the dehydrated malnourished look of extremely low body fat. Instead, they all looked full and strong, tight on his dark skin. His biceps were like softballs, his legs were becoming thick as tree trunks, and his abs seemed to only get tighter, six-pack verging on an eight-pack. 

Besides him, he saw Edward experience a level-up. It was the first time he had actually witnessed it, last time he had been too busy fucking his friend's ass to see. Now he watched as Edward's already perfect features became somehow more perfect. Leon had thought his skin was flawless before but it now took on a somehow otherworldly shine. His teeth became blindingly white and even straighter, making the grin he shot Leon somehow more adorable and endlessly distracting. His jaw looked like it could open a beer bottle and his hair was so gold it could be spun from hay. Watching his friend change mixed with the proximity to Edward’s pheromones made Leon hard, his massive penis springing forth with the velocity of a jouster.

Leon opened his mouth and then closed it. Edward's beauty had always been distracting before but now he was stunned stupid by his charisma. The act of talking seemed too complex when he looked at Edward so he just sort of moaned and drooled a little. 

Edward had that far-off look that meant he was reading his notifications. He looked up and laughed at Leon’s cross-eyed expression. “Oh god. That’s my new perk.”

“New perk?” Leon asked. His face was all but paralyzed which made his words come out slurred and almost unintelligible. This only made Edward laugh harder. 

“It's called Dazzling Presence. Apparently, it gets less effective the more time you're around me.” Leon felt himself slowly come back to earth, though not fully. He found it intensely difficult to look away from Edward or think in more than caveman “me horny” thoughts.

“I think it's supposed to temporarily stun people when I first interact with them to give me the upper hand. It should wear off soon. Edward squinted his eyes as if he suddenly noticed something, he took a step forward so their faces were only inches apart, a move that was not helpful in Leon’s attempts to break free from his horny hypnotic state. “Oh my god your face!” Edward started laughing again, harder than before.

“What's wrong with my face?” Leon asked concerned. “I got a perk called punchable face.”

“Punchable face?” Edward asked still laughing. “More like a kissable face,” he leaned in and pecked Leon on the lips, the touch making Leon somehow harder. “Go look at yourself in a mirror.”

Leon had enough control now to hobble to one of the communal bathrooms, he stepped over a groaning unconscious level-one wretch, maybe a man who had been the Vape Mage or the Drug Pusher, it was hard to tell them apart now. In the glow of the automatic lights, Leon saw what Edward had meant. He groaned to himself. He had a serious case of Jock Face. He looked like a cartoon high school bully, with thick eyebrows, a broad forehead, head the shape of a square. The mustache he now had was not helping. Small dark beard hairs had already started to grow on his cheeks making him look like a dad coaching little league baseball who took the game too seriously. Leon felt the urge to punch his own reflection.

“It's not that bad” Edward called from the hall, knowing what his friend's reaction would be.

“I look like a Neanderthal!” Leon shouted back. His body was one thing but he had never expected this class to affect his face so much. 

“No, you don’t!” Edward said encouragingly coming into the bathroom to stand beside his friend. “I think it’s fitting. You look like a sexy Viking.”

Leon turned to look at Edward. His presence was still extremely distracting but Leon could now at least have a conversation with his friend. “It's worth it I guess. The perk says people are more likely to attack me now than you.”

Edward rolled his eyes. “Alright, knight in shining armor. If I remember correctly you were the damsel in distress.” 

“Yeah,” Leon said awkwardly color flushing his cheeks, the blush looking strange on his now hyper masculine face. “I’m sorry about that, I got overconfident.”

“No I’m sorry,” Edward said grabbing Leon’s hand in his own. “I sent you in there alone. That was stupid of me, from now on we stick together.”

Leon nodded wordlessly, unable to get anything past the lump in his throat. He didn’t know exactly what he was feeling, not fear, he wasn’t capable of feeling fear but he still felt anxiety and guilt and a deep love for his friend. Suddenly he felt it all crash down on him. Everything that had happened in the past ten hours. Even with his Animal endurance perk Leon was exhausted. He realized he hadn’t eaten since that one protein shake so many hours ago. He couldn’t imagine how Edward felt.

Leon glanced at the countdown timer and felt his heart skip a beat as he saw they only had eight minutes left. There would be time to talk to Edward about what he was feeling and where their friendship stood after they completed the quest. 

The main hallway on the second floor led to a set of large wooden double doors. Leon was ready to kick them down but they were unlocked. He poked his head in and wasn’t quite sure what he was seeing. There was a large room, obviously meant for holding mixers and formals. A long bar sat on one end of the room, a dance floor near it. Leon’s attention however was more focused on the contraption directly in front of him. 

It looked like a doomsday device out of a science fiction B movie. A mishmash of repurposed tech and scrap metal welded into a crude but ominous tower of technology. Strips of LED screens, ripped from discarded tablets and smartphones, lined the upper frame, flickering in erratic patterns, casting eerie reflections off the exposed metal. At its core was the familiar “Altered State” video game cartridge, nestled in a nest of wires and circuits that branched out to hacked Wi-Fi routers and a jury-rigged motherboard, all held together by zip ties, duct tape and sheer ingenuity. A large fully extended TV antenna was on the top of the contraption which buzzed and pulsed every few seconds with electricity. Leon hadn’t a single clue that the machine did but it looked intensely complex and dangerous. He had played enough video games to know that to complete the quest he and Edward probably had to destroy the thing. 

There was something else in the room that caught Leon’s eye. A figure paced back and forth in front of the machine, snorting and grunting occasionally as he moved. Leon had seen a lot that had challenged his understanding of reality today but the name tag above the creature's head sent him reeling. Hunter, level seventeen Roided Out Berserker. The Frat president was unrecognizable. He had always been a large man but Hunter now was a giant, eight feet tall, muscles like swollen overly ripe fruit, huge and crawling with protruding veins that looked like worms, glowing a sickly green. He was naked with an inhumanly large penis and a matching set of balls hanging in-between thickly muscled massive hairy legs. His arms were like veiny boulders, his neck a thick stump, and he had a massive roid gut ballooning out his belly.

His face, never particularly handsome was now a twisted mask of permanent anger, more animal than man, and the spark of cruel intelligence that once lived behind his eyes was gone replaced by a feral mindlessness. 

Quietly as he could Leon closed the door and pulled Edward away from it. He relayed what he had seen much to Edward's disbelief. 

Edward’s disbelief grew as Leon told him his hastily constructed plan. “Didn’t I just say we were going to stick together? You're going to get yourself killed if you go in there alone,” Edward insisted trying to talk him out of it. 

“It’s the only way. Besides you can always step in and save me like before,” Leon joked trying to ease his friend's tension. He wasn’t sure if his confidence was warranted or if it was reckless arrogance from his No Fear perk but he just knew he couldn’t bear to see his friend in danger again. Before Edward could further talk him out of it he walked over to a window and ripped down the ratty red curtain, then he marched back over to the set of doors and got ready to open them. “Be safe” Edward said looking at him with those deep soulful eyes.

“I will,” Leon said back tenderly. He wanted to say more, to sweep Edward off his feet and kiss him but the timer was at six minuets. There would be time after if he survived. Besides if they did this right his quest reward might just help Leon show Edward exactly how much he meant to him.

Leon burst through the double doors, red fabric trailing behind him like a cape. “Hey Hunter you ugly motherfucker. They say imitation is the more sincere form of flattery, but I think for you it might just be fattery.” The joke didn't actually make any sense but Leon stopped for a second to admire his on-the-spot wordplay. Maybe his higher charisma was having more of an effect than he had thought. 

Hunter growled and snorted like a bull, staring at Leon with undigested loathing as Leon entered the room. “Me fucking kill you.” He said in deep halting English, like he was Frankenstein’s monster. He and Leon started circling each other like two cats in an ally waiting to pounce. Leon’s new Punchable face perk ensured that Hunter kept his attention on him and not Edward not so subtly head peaking through the doorway. Leon hoped if Hunter did decide to go for Edward he would be stunned by the Snake Charmer's new perk but even so, he was determined to keep the Berserkers attention on himself. Leon waited until he had circled the whole room and his back was to the machine before he shouted.

“Now!” Due to the fast regeneration from his high charisma Edward had regenerated just enough energy points to perform one last Emotion Bomb. A beam of red energy leaped out from his hand, striking Hunter from behind and causing his eyes to glow red for a split second.

Any human part of Hunter left died at the moment as he was overcome by an overwhelming wave of anger and became fully animal in his desire to kill Leon. That was the result Leon was hoping for. He knew he wasn’t stronger then Hunter but he could hopefully be smarter, if he survived long enough. Hunter charged forward hands extended to tear Leon apart. Leon flourished the red fabric in front of him like a matador before jumping away at the last second to avoid the man’s charge.

As Leon had hoped Hunter charged straight into the device Leon had been standing behind. The whole contraption shook with the force, small electrical bits falling off the side. A few of the more ominous-looking red wires connecting to the game disk in the center disconnected but the contraption maintained its structural integrity. Hunter recovered and had somehow grown angrier. Leon flourished the red cape and began to circle again trying to lead Hunter into another charge at the machine. He shouldn’t have known it wouldn’t be so simple.

Hunter activated an ability. It was one similar to Leon’s own Size Up ability except rather than growing in overall proportional size the ability only affected Hunter’s muscles. The veins prominent on his body grew a brighter shade of green for a moment then each one of Hunter’s muscles ballooned to inhuman size, making the man even more grotesque. His dick grew to at least three feet in length and likely would have brushed the floor if it didn't become erect. 

Leon hoped the sudden growth might have decrease the big man's speed but it seemed the opposite was true. Hunter charged at him like a bullet and Leon just barely jumped aside at the last second.

As Leon’s plan crumbled to dust he realized once again Edward had been right. His plan, lure Hunter into charging at the device, toppling the contraption and trapping his foe all in one ironic blow, was a stupid one. The device at the center of the room was large but not nearly large enough to keep the now colossal Hunter pinned. Leon suddenly felt like David facing Goliath without a sling. Still, he had to look as if he was in control lest Edward rush in and do something stupid. Leon at least had a chance against the massive Hunter, but Edward would be trampled in seconds with his unenhanced strength. 

Leon shot Edward’s worried face peeking through the door a cocky wink and gave his makeshift red muleta a showman-like shake. He thought briefly about activating his own size-enhancing ability and decided agains it, he couldn’t overpower Hunter, not when the man had five levels on him. Sizing up would only make him a easier target and the last thing he needed was to get pinned down.

Hunter charged again. This time Leon moved too late, though he dodged Hunter’s attempt to grapple him he was clipped by Hunter's shoulder as he spun away. The slight contact was enough to send Leon skidding across the smooth wooden floors like a rag doll. 

He had no time to recover from the crushing blow. From the floor, he heard the sound of rushing feet. On instinct, Leon activated his Inner Strength ability and launched himself into the air just in time to soar over a rapid charge from Hunter. With momentum and reflexes of the ability, he flipped once in the air before landing on his feet, crouched low next to a windowed wall ready for Hunter’s next attack. The loss of his only safety net for the next 108 seconds would have made him fearful if he could still be. Instead, it made him focused, and ready. In the tumble, he had lost a scrap of red fabric, and seriously injured his left shoulder even through his armored skin. He tried to move his arm and felt a shooting pain, dislocated or broken he couldn’t tell which. He would have to hope his animal endurance would heal it soon. 

Hunter’s charge that Leon had dodged taken him right into the far wall and he had gone through it, revealing a messy bedroom on the other side. Leon guessed that once he started charging it was hard for him to stop. Maybe his original plan had some merit after all. 

Hunter turned back around eyes insane with rage, spit flying from his mouth as he screamed and grunted unintelligibly. For a moment Leon felt bad for what this game had done for him but then he remembered how Hunter had been in life and felt the pity leave him. “Hey, Cassie just called and she said she didn't want to date an Incredible Hulk knockoffs.” Leon wasn’t sure if it was just the loud noise attracting Hunter attention or if the beast could accurately process the jab thrown his relationship. Either way he charged big bare feet tearing up the floor as he rushed at Leon with inhuman speed.

Leon took a deep breath, crossed his fingers, and gave one final wink to Edward, hoping his friend would remember him fondly if this didn't work out, then he ducked and rolled.

Hunter sprung like a cobra. If Leon had still been there the hit would have broken every bone in his body. Leon however was not there, and instead, Hunter charged right into the wall. It was a testament to his strength that he took nearly the whole side of the second floor with him, glass, drywall, bricks, and electrical wires all fell down in a shower of debris as Hunter fell to the dark ground below. Leon had to throw himself forward so as not to go down with the collapsing floor under his feet. He heard a crash then a slash then silence. 

Edward rushed forward and the two of them peered through the giant hole in the house to the yard below. Hunter lay with his swollen belly up floating in the frat's outdoor hot tub, his body having crashed through the tiled roof of the hot tub like paper. Leon watched as Hunter shrunk, first as his ability ran out then as the levels fell away. Hunter began to look like himself again before shrinking further into a scrawny ugly thing labeled as a level one wretch. The quest “Defeat Legion boss” updated itself to 1/2, though the “Stop the Legion’s plans” still remained at 0/1 which was concerning.

“That was amazing,” Edward said voice tender. He looked down at Leon’s shoulder and sucked in a breath. “Does it hurt?”

Leon looked down and winced at the way his muscular shoulder was twisted at an unnatural angle. “Yeah” he answered truthfully laughing weakly. Leon took a deep breath and prepared to pop his shoulder back into place. He didn’t feel fear but he still felt pain.

Edward stopped “may I?” He asked reaching out his hands. Leon nodded and Edward placed his hand on the hard dark metallic surface of his skin. Instantly the pain was replaced with an orgasmic pleasure that felt warm and intensely comforting. Gently at first then harder when Leon didn't flinch Edward wrenched Leon’s shoulder back into its socket. 

Leon smiled up at him. “Thanks,” he said simply, he was too tired to think of a joke or anything more to say. 

“I should be thanking you,” Edward said cheeks flushing. The two of them weren’t normally like this. They normally teased each other like brothers and let the mutual love they had for each other go unspoken. Now all the changes had them flitting about like scared middle schoolers. Leon wanted to wrap Edward up in a big hug and tell him it was alright but it was clear his friend had more to say. 

“Look I know this might not be the time, but I have something to tell you,” Edward said. Leon still found it hard to do anything but think about fucking when he was around Edward but he sensed his friend was serious and tried to pay attention. “I know everything is happening so fast, and our relationship just became physical which I feel bad about. I really didn’t know it was you I promise, but well I like you Leon, I have always liked you and not just in a friend way or a sexual way but also like you in a -“

Leon blinked and suddenly his friend was gone. He heard a faint scream getting more distant. His brain took an embarrassingly long time to process what had just happened. Edward had been right in front of him saying, well Leon couldn’t bring himself to think about what Edward was going to say, when he was ripped through the hole in the wall. Something metal had grabbed him around the waist and hoisted him into the air like a fish on a line.

Leon rushed to the opening and couldn’t quite believe what he saw. On the street a giant thing had Edward in its hand, no claw. It was a machine Leon realized. It looked like it was made from a refrigerator, parts of a playground and a car, all deconstructed and reconstructed into a giant vaguely humanoid mech. Leon felt his blood boil as he saw a red bumper with a familiar license plate. Mother fucker had made his car into a mech. 

Leon’s rage continued to build as he saw Edward struggling to get free. His friend was saying something to the person inside but he was too far for him to hear. Leon looked back at the machine still humming behind him. He grabbed a loose brick from the rubble of the caved-in wall then hurled it at the center motherboard as hard as he could, hoping that would put a stop to whatever the contraptions purpose was. Then he activated his Size Up ability, growing 70% his original size, spine expanding, pecs ballooning, legs growing longer and thicker, penis growing to well over a foot long. His strength doubled and Leon for the first time felt the intoxicating rush of true power. He knew he now had to be one of the strongest man on the entire planet. Leon needed more. He activated his inner strength ability, taking his already monstrous strength to godly levels if but for a moment. Leon bent his legs and then jumped into the cold dark night cracking the floor underneath his feet. He sailed in a long ark landing just behind the mech with a powerful earth shaking impact.

The street outside was cold but his blood boiled hot. Leon couldn’t make out the face of the mech’s driver but he could see the name tag floating above its head, "Alvis, Level 22 Technocrat.” Leon smiled humorlessly and balled up his hands into fists now the size of thanksgiving turkeys. He was going to get back his roommate, his best friend, even if he had to rip apart his other roommate and every machine in the whole city to do so.

[enemiestolovershoe]

hey :) .. i‘m in desperate need for a very fluffy fic with chris and bsf!reader where reader went to the triplets house earlier that day and ever since she was off. she crashed on the couch and as chris went to the kitchen to get some pepsi he saw that the lights are still one and reader is still up. crying. he askes whats wrong (you make something up) and chris is comforting her in the end and they end up cuddling falling asleep on the couch. :) thank you so much

Shattered Trust

Christ Sturniolo x bsf!reader

Summary: After Y/N’s world shatters from betrayal, Chris offers her comfort and support, helping her navigate the painful path of healing and rediscovery.

Words: 5k

Warnings: Angst, Cheating, Emotional Hurt, Mild swearing, Crying, Emotional Distress, Betrayal

The glowing screen of your phone illuminated your tear-streaked face as you typed out a message. Your hands trembled, but you forced yourself to hit send:

Hey, Chris, are you busy?

It only took a few seconds for the reply to pop up.

Not at all. What’s up?

You hesitated, debating whether to tell him the truth or to brush it off as nothing. The thought of sitting in your room, replaying the betrayal over and over, was unbearable. You needed a distraction, somewhere to go, people to be with—people who felt safe.

Can I come over? you finally typed.

Chris’s reply came faster this time.

Of course. We were just about to pick a movie. You coming over for our movie night?

You blinked at the screen. You’d completely forgotten tonight was one of your monthly traditions with the triplets. Normally, the thought would’ve excited you, but now it just felt like a lifeline.

Yeah, movie night sounds good. Be there in 15.

Chris stood in the living room, holding his phone with a faint smile. "Y/N's coming over," he announced to Nick and Matt, who were sprawled across the couch, arguing about which movie to watch.

"Finally," Nick grinned, tossing a piece of popcorn at Matt. "I was about to call her myself. It’s her turn to pick the snacks anyway."

Matt raised an eyebrow. "You sure she doesn’t just want to escape from her crazy family? Remember that time she showed up because her mom and sister were having a screaming match over hair dye?"

Chris shrugged. "I don’t care why she’s coming. She asked, so she’s welcome."

As you drove through the quiet streets, your mind drifted back to the moment everything shattered.

Your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend, you corrected yourself—had always been charming, maybe too charming. You’d never questioned his late nights or the way he sometimes avoided your gaze when your sister was around. You’d trusted him completely.

But a week ago, you’d come home early from a canceled lunch with friends, only to find the two of them tangled up on the couch. The image was burned into your memory, along with the sound of their voices stumbling over excuses.

"Y/N, it’s not what it looks like," he’d said, his voice dripping with guilt.

"Seriously?" you’d spat, unable to even look at your sister. "How long has this been going on?"

Your sister had said nothing, just stood there, avoiding your eyes. That silence had hurt more than anything he could’ve said.

Pulling into the Sturniolos’ driveway, you wiped your eyes and practiced a smile in the mirror. The triplets didn’t know what had happened, and you weren’t ready to tell them. Tonight needed to be about something else, anything else.

Chris opened the door before you could even knock. "Hey, you made it!" he greeted, pulling you into a quick hug. "You okay?"

You nodded, forcing your practiced smile. "Yeah, just needed some company."

"Well, you’re in luck," Nick called from the couch, waving the remote. "We were about to watch something, but Matt refuses to watch anything fun. Save us."

"Hey!" Matt protested. "At least I pick movies with actual plots."

"Sure, if by 'plot,' you mean boring dialogue and depressing endings," Nick shot back.

Chris rolled his eyes. "Ignore them. You want something to drink? Snacks? Or just want to settle in and pick the movie?"

You hesitated, but the warmth of their familiar banter started to thaw the icy weight in your chest. "I’ll take snacks and the remote," you said with a weak laugh.

"Now that’s the Y/N we know," Chris said, his smile softening as he led you into the living room.

You flopped onto the couch with a sigh, curling into the corner as Nick and Matt argued over yet another movie choice.

"Okay, but why would we watch Inception right now? It’s like three hours long, and my brain’s not ready for all that," Nick said, waving his hands in exasperation.

"Because it’s a good movie," Matt shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Yeah, but good doesn’t mean fun, and I’m in the mood for fun," Nick retorted.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, your first real laugh in what felt like days. "How about The Hangover?" you suggested, cutting through their debate.

Three pairs of eyes turned to you.

"Classic choice," Chris said with an approving nod.

"Finally, someone with taste," Nick said, glaring at Matt.

Matt rolled his eyes. "Fine. At least it’s better than whatever Nick would’ve picked."

"Excuse me, my taste is immaculate," Nick replied, throwing a handful of popcorn in Matt’s direction.

Chris handed you the remote and stood. "I’ll grab some snacks. Pepsi okay?"

"Perfect," you said, your voice soft but grateful.

A few minutes later, Chris returned with a can of Pepsi and a small bowl of your favorite chocolate. He placed them on the table in front of you, giving you a brief, searching look.

"You good?" he asked quietly, his voice low enough that Nick and Matt wouldn’t hear.

You nodded quickly, not trusting your voice. "Thanks, Chris."

He didn’t push further, just gave you a small smile before sitting down next to you.

As the opening credits of The Hangover rolled, you settled into your corner of the couch. Nick had sprawled out on the floor with a blanket, Matt took the recliner, and Chris sat beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours.

The room quickly filled with laughter as the movie’s chaotic antics unfolded. For the first time in a week, you felt a little lighter, the ache in your chest dulled by the comfort of their company.

"Okay, but how does no one realize there’s a tiger in the bathroom until it’s too late?" Nick asked between bouts of laughter.

"Because they were all blacked out, genius," Matt replied, tossing a kernel of popcorn at him.

"Still. I would’ve noticed a tiger," Nick said with mock seriousness.

You smiled, shaking your head. "No, you wouldn’t. You’d be too busy freaking out over a missing tooth."

Chris chuckled beside you, his gaze lingering on your face. When you glanced over, he quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the screen.

It happened again a few minutes later during one of the movie’s funniest scenes. You caught Chris watching you out of the corner of your eye, his expression soft, almost worried.

"Chris," you whispered, leaning toward him slightly.

"Yeah?" He looked at you, his face unreadable.

"You don’t have to keep staring. I’m okay," you said, forcing a small smile.

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. "I wasn’t staring."

You raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, maybe a little," he admitted, his voice lowering. "I just… You seem different tonight."

Your stomach twisted at his words, but you quickly shook your head. "Just tired, that’s all."

Chris hesitated but nodded, letting it drop. "Well, if you need anything, just let me know," he said softly.

"Thanks, Chris," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

As the movie continued, you tried to focus on the humor, on the familiar warmth of being with the triplets. But Chris’s quiet concern lingered in the back of your mind, making you wonder if maybe—just maybe—he saw through the smile you were trying so hard to keep.

As the credits of The Hangover Part III rolled, Matt stretched with a dramatic yawn and stood up.

"Alright, I’m done," he announced, rubbing his eyes. "If I watch one more scene of Alan’s nonsense, I might lose my mind."

"You lost it a long time ago," Nick quipped, earning a glare from Matt.

"Whatever. I’m going to bed. Night, Y/N," Matt said with a small wave before disappearing down the hall.

Nick was quick to follow, gathering his blanket and pillow. "Yeah, I’m out too. Y/N, make sure Chris doesn’t make you watch some artsy indie movie if you guys stay up," he said with a wink.

"Goodnight, Nick," you replied with a soft laugh.

As their doors closed, Chris turned to you. "It’s pretty late," he said, glancing at the clock. "You sure you’re okay to drive? You could crash here if you want."

You hesitated, but the idea of going back home, back to the empty room where every corner reminded you of betrayal, was unbearable. "Are you sure? I don’t want to bother you guys."

"Y/N," Chris said firmly, his eyes meeting yours. "You could never bother us. Stay."

You nodded. "Okay. I’ll take the couch, then."

Chris got up and grabbed a blanket from the hallway closet. He draped it over you carefully, his hand lingering on the back of the couch for a moment. "If you need anything, just knock on my door, alright?"

"I will. Thanks, Chris," you said quietly.

"Goodnight," he murmured, his voice softer than usual.

"Goodnight."

As soon as he was gone, the silence of the room felt overwhelming. You curled up under the blanket, the warm fabric doing little to shield you from the cold ache in your chest.

You pulled out your phone, hoping for a distraction, but the sight of an unread message made your heart sink. It was from your sister.

Why are you ghosting me? We need to talk.

Your breath hitched as the words blurred on the screen. She had the nerve to text you, to act as though everything could be fixed with a conversation. Fresh tears welled up, and before you could stop them, they spilled over.

You pressed your hand to your mouth, trying to muffle the sound of your sobs. The last thing you wanted was for the triplets to hear. They didn’t know, and you weren’t sure you could bring yourself to tell them.

In his room, Chris lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Something about tonight wasn’t sitting right with him. You’d been quiet, more than usual. The message you sent earlier had been short, almost hesitant, and now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen or heard from you all week.

Chris frowned, running a hand through his hair. He hated seeing you like this—guarded, distant. It wasn’t like you to pull away, not from them.

He turned onto his side, closing his eyes and willing himself to sleep. But it was no use. His mind kept replaying little moments from the night—the way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes, the way you flinched when he asked if you were okay, the way you seemed to deflate the second Matt and Nick left the room.

Something was wrong. He didn’t know what, but he was sure of it.

Back in the living room, you wiped your face with the sleeve of your hoodie, but the tears kept coming. The betrayal, the pain, the gnawing guilt of not telling the triplets—it all felt like too much.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block it all out, but sleep wouldn’t come. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw your sister’s name on your screen, her message taunting you, demanding an answer you couldn’t give.

You wanted to tell Chris, Nick, and Matt everything. You wanted to spill it all, to let them comfort you like they always did. But the words felt trapped in your throat, too heavy to say out loud.

And besides, they were probably asleep by now.

What you didn’t know was that Chris wasn’t asleep. He was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, still thinking about you. And something told him he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t sleep tonight.

Chris tossed and turned in his bed, staring at the ceiling for what felt like the hundredth time that night. Sleep just wouldn’t come. His thoughts kept drifting back to you—your forced smiles, the way you’d seemed a little too quiet all night. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

With a sigh, he gave up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand, noting the time: 2:37 a.m.

"Great," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

He decided a Pepsi might help, so he padded quietly out of his room and into the kitchen, careful not to make too much noise. The kitchen and living room were joined, and he didn’t want to accidentally wake you.

As he opened the fridge, the faint sound of a muffled sob reached his ears. Chris froze, his hand hovering over the soda can.

He turned his head toward the couch, his brow furrowing. The room was dim, but he could see your figure curled under the blanket, your shoulders trembling.

"Y/N?" he called softly, stepping away from the fridge.

You stiffened, biting your lip to keep any more sounds from escaping. But it was too late—he’d already heard you.

Chris approached the couch slowly, his heart sinking at the sight of you trying to hide your tears. Without a word, he sat down beside you, the couch dipping slightly under his weight.

You turned your head away, wiping at your face furiously, but Chris wasn’t having it. Gently, he laid a hand on your head, his fingers threading through your hair in a soothing motion.

"Hey," he said softly. "What’s wrong, hm?"

"Nothing," you whispered, your voice cracking.

"Y/N," he said firmly, though his tone remained gentle. "Please. Tell me. We both know something’s hurting you. You can tell me anything, I promise."

You shook your head stubbornly, clutching the blanket tighter around yourself.

Chris sighed but didn’t pull away. "Okay," he said after a moment. "How about this? If you don’t want Matt or Nick to know, I won’t tell them. Whatever it is, it’ll stay between us. I swear."

You hesitated, his words making the weight on your chest feel just a little lighter. Taking a shaky breath, you sat up, letting the blanket fall to your lap. Chris stayed close, watching you carefully, his concern etched across his face.

Your eyes fixed on the ceiling as you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "Jason cheated."

Chris blinked, his jaw tightening. He opened his mouth to say something, but you held up a hand, stopping him.

"And it wasn’t just with anyone," you continued, your voice breaking. "It was with my sister."

The words hung in the air, heavy and raw. Chris stared at you, his eyes wide with shock, his mouth slightly open as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard.

You looked down at your lap, your fingers twisting in the blanket. The silence felt suffocating, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

Finally, Chris found his voice. "Y/N..." he started, but his words trailed off, as if he didn’t know where to begin.

Chris sat there for a moment, stunned into silence. His mind reeled at your words, trying to process the betrayal you’d just revealed. But as he looked at you—your trembling hands, the tears that streamed down your cheeks—his shock quickly gave way to something else: protectiveness.

Without hesitating, Chris moved closer, sliding an arm around your shoulders. His touch was warm and steady, grounding you even as your emotions threatened to spiral.

"Y/N," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t even know what to say… but I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve that. Not from him. And definitely not from her."

His words broke something loose inside you, and the tears came harder, pouring down your face and soaking the neckline of your shirt. You buried your face in your hands, your body trembling as you let out the sobs you’d been holding back for days.

"How could they do this to me, Chris?" you choked out between sobs. "My own sister… she knew everything—everything Jason and I had been through. And she still—" You couldn’t even finish the sentence.

Chris felt a sharp pang in his chest. Seeing you like this—completely broken—made his blood boil. He wanted to storm out, to confront Jason, to demand answers from your sister, but he knew none of that would help you right now. Right now, you needed him here.

"They’re both selfish," he said firmly, his voice steady despite the anger simmering beneath the surface. "They didn’t think about you at all, and that’s on them. That’s not your fault, Y/N."

You shook your head, tears still streaming. "But it feels like it is… I keep thinking, ‘What did I do wrong? Was I not enough?’"

Chris grabbed your hands, gently pulling them away from your face. "Hey, stop that. Don’t do that to yourself," he said, his tone more intense now. "Jason cheated because he’s an idiot who doesn’t know how to value someone amazing when he has them. And your sister…" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "She’s the one who betrayed you, not the other way around. You’re not to blame for any of this. Not even a little."

You tried to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. The weight of everything—the betrayal, the heartbreak, the shame—was too much.

Chris seemed to sense that. He didn’t say anything more, just pulled you into a hug, wrapping both arms around you tightly. Your head fell against his chest, and he rested his chin lightly on top of your hair.

"Just let it out," he murmured, stroking your back in soothing circles. "I’m right here. You don’t have to hold it in anymore."

The dam broke. You clung to him as if he were the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely, your tears soaking into his shirt. Chris didn’t flinch or pull away. If anything, he held you tighter, his hand continuing its steady rhythm on your back.

"It’s okay," he whispered, his voice soft but firm. "Cry as much as you need to. I’m not going anywhere."

And he didn’t. Chris stayed there, holding you like you were the most fragile and important thing in the world. Even as your sobs wracked your body, he remained calm, offering the kind of quiet strength you desperately needed.

Minutes passed, though it felt like time stood still. Slowly, your crying began to subside, your breaths becoming less ragged. But Chris didn’t let go, not until he was sure you were ready.

The warmth of Chris’s embrace began to steady your breathing, though your body still felt heavy with exhaustion. Slowly, you pulled away, your hands resting in your lap as you avoided his gaze. Chris leaned back slightly, giving you space, but his concern didn’t waver.

Your eyes were puffy and swollen from crying, your cheeks streaked with drying tears. Chris reached out, his thumb gently wiping a stray tear that lingered.

He gave you a small, reassuring smile. "Let’s try and get some sleep, okay?" he said softly, his voice warm and steady. "It’s been a lot tonight, but it’s going to get better. I promise."

You nodded wordlessly, lying back down on the couch and pulling the blanket up to your chin. The headache from crying so much throbbed behind your eyes, and you couldn’t deny how tired you felt.

As you settled in, you expected Chris to stand and head back to his room. But instead, he surprised you. Without saying a word, he shifted to lie down behind you, sliding in close and wrapping an arm protectively around your waist.

You stiffened for a moment, startled by the gesture. "Chris… you don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to," you protested, your voice soft and hesitant.

Chris’s hold didn’t falter. He rested his chin lightly against the top of your head and hushed you gently. "Shhh," he murmured. "I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. We’ll get through this together, okay? You don’t have to do this alone."

His words, spoken with such quiet determination, made your chest tighten. You felt tears prick at your eyes again, though this time they weren’t from sadness.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you, Chris." Your voice cracked slightly, but you meant every word.

He gave your waist a small squeeze. "Always," he said simply, his tone carrying a weight of sincerity that made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t in days.

The steady rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of his arm around you, and the comfort of knowing he wasn’t going to leave finally allowed your body to relax. The headache and emotional exhaustion took over, and before you knew it, your eyes fluttered shut.

Chris stayed awake a little longer, watching over you as your breathing evened out. He held you close, his heart breaking a little as he thought about everything you’d gone through. But more than anything, he was determined to be there for you, no matter what it took.

Finally, a small, tired smile crossed his lips as he rested his head against the pillow, letting sleep claim him too—right there with you in his arms.

The morning light crept through the blinds as Nick shuffled groggily into the living room, his eyes barely open. He stretched with a yawn, heading toward the fridge for something to drink. As he turned toward the couch, he froze mid-step.

At first, he blinked a few times, convinced he was still half-asleep. "What the…" he muttered, rubbing his eyes dramatically. The sight before him—Chris curled up behind you on the couch, his arm draped protectively around your waist—was not something he’d ever expected to see.

"Am I dreaming?" he asked aloud to no one in particular. After a moment of staring in disbelief, he turned and bolted down the hall.

"Matt!" Nick hissed, bursting into his brother’s room.

Matt groaned, burying his face in his pillow. "Nick, if this isn’t an emergency, I swear—"

"It is!" Nick interrupted, shaking Matt’s shoulder. "You need to see this. Like, right now."

Reluctantly, Matt sat up, his hair a mess and his expression sour. "This better be good," he grumbled, throwing the blanket off and following Nick back to the living room.

When he caught sight of the two of you on the couch, his annoyance vanished, replaced by wide-eyed surprise.

"Is that…" Matt started, leaning closer to get a better look.

"Yup," Nick whispered, his tone somewhere between shocked and amused.

"Did he finally make a move?" Nick asked, tilting his head.

"I don’t know," Matt replied, scratching the back of his head. "But… doesn’t she have a boyfriend?"

Nick frowned, looking at Matt. "Yeah, she does. At least, I think she does. So… what’s this about?"

Matt shrugged, his brow furrowed. "No clue. But they look pretty cozy."

Nick pulled out his phone, biting his lip to keep from laughing. "Should we ask them? Or should I just take a picture for evidence?"

"Definitely a picture," Matt said, smirking.

Nick nodded, holding his phone up and aiming the camera. Just as he was about to snap the shot, his fingers fumbled, and the phone slipped from his hand.

The loud clatter of the phone hitting the floor echoed through the room, and both you and Chris stirred.

Chris blinked awake first, squinting against the light and taking a second to register what was happening. He glanced down at you still in his arms, then up at Nick and Matt, who were both frozen like deer in headlights.

You woke up a second later, groggy and disoriented. "What’s going on?" you mumbled, sitting up slightly and noticing Chris’s arm still loosely around you.

Nick recovered first, quickly scooping up his phone. "Uh, nothing! Morning! Just… you know… didn’t mean to wake you guys!"

Matt, however, wasn’t as subtle. "So… are we gonna talk about this, or…?" He gestured between the two of you, his brows raised.

Chris rubbed his face, clearly trying to think of a way to explain. "It’s not what it looks like—"

Matt snorted. "Really? ‘Cause it looks like you two were cuddling all night."

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "Can we not do this right now?"

Nick crossed his arms, a mischievous grin creeping onto his face. "Oh, we’re definitely doing this right now."

Chris’s body stiffened as he quickly sat up, his expression suddenly serious. His protective instincts kicked in, and he shot a sharp look at Nick, his voice firm. "No, Nick. Seriously. Drop it. It’s not the time."

Nick froze, blinking in confusion at the sudden change in Chris’s tone. He wasn’t used to hearing his brother so... intense. But before he could ask anything more, his gaze shifted to you.

You had your face hidden in your hands, your shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. That’s when it hit Nick. It wasn’t just a casual morning moment between friends. Something was wrong.

Matt’s playful smirk faltered, and his eyes softened as he noticed the tears trailing down your face. His teasing nature immediately gave way to concern. "Y/N…?" he began, but Chris cut him off before either of them could say anything else.

"Look, this is serious," Chris said, his voice still low and full of emotion. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as he turned toward Nick and Matt. "You guys don’t know what happened."

Nick looked at him, unsure. "What happened?" he asked, his voice quieter now, sensing the weight behind his brother’s words.

Chris glanced over at you, his heart breaking as he saw how upset you were. He didn’t want to push you, but he also knew you needed support. "Y/N gave me permission to tell you guys," he said softly, then turned to face Matt and Nick fully. "Jason—her boyfriend—cheated on her. With her sister."

The words hit like a punch to the gut. Matt and Nick both looked at each other in stunned silence, their eyes wide with disbelief.

"Wait, what?" Nick whispered, shaking his head in confusion. "He… cheated on her with her sister?"

Chris nodded, his jaw tight with anger. "Yeah. And I know she’s been trying to keep it together, but it’s been eating her up. She didn’t deserve any of this." His voice cracked slightly, the weight of what you were going through becoming even more apparent as he spoke.

You wiped at your eyes, feeling the sting of their stares but too drained to care. Chris’s hand remained on your back, offering what little comfort he could, but you could tell this was a lot for Matt and Nick to process.

Matt was the first to speak up again, his face hardening. "That’s messed up," he muttered, clearly frustrated. "She doesn’t deserve that." He glanced at you, his expression softening. "Y/N, I’m sorry."

Nick nodded in agreement, though his voice was still filled with disbelief. "I… I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell us sooner?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

You sniffed and looked up, finally meeting their eyes. "I didn’t know how to. It hurt too much. I didn’t want to drag anyone into it." Your voice trembled, but you tried to hold it together. "I just needed some time to figure out what to do."

Chris gave your back another reassuring rub, silently telling you it was okay to let them in. He looked up at Matt and Nick, a heavy sigh escaping him. "She needs our support right now, not questions. So please… just… give her space if she wants it."

Matt nodded solemnly, his usual teasing nature now completely gone. "Yeah, of course," he said, his voice softer than before. "You’ve got it, Y/N. Whatever you need."

Nick hesitated for a moment, then gave you a small, almost apologetic smile. "We’re here for you. You don’t have to go through this alone."

You nodded weakly, still feeling the sting of everything that had happened. But for the first time in what felt like days, you felt a small flicker of hope. With Chris, Matt, and Nick by your side, maybe things would start to get better.

Chris’s arm tightened around you once more, offering the quiet comfort of knowing that, for now, you weren’t alone in this.

The room fell into a quiet calm, the weight of the conversation lingering in the air. Matt and Nick gave you the space you needed, no longer pressing you with questions. Instead, they offered small, reassuring smiles, letting you know they were there—ready to support you however you needed.

Chris, still sitting close beside you, rubbed your back comfortingly, his presence a silent promise that he wouldn’t leave your side. The warmth of his touch brought a small, but much-needed sense of peace.

After a few moments of silence, you took a shaky breath and finally looked up at Chris. "I don’t know what to do… or where to go from here," you admitted, your voice still thick with emotion.

Chris met your gaze with understanding in his eyes. "You don’t have to have all the answers right now," he said gently. "We’ll figure it out together. One step at a time."

You nodded, feeling the truth of his words sink in. Maybe you didn’t have the answers yet, but you weren’t alone. With Chris, Matt, and Nick by your side, you knew you had the support to get through this.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice breaking again, but this time with gratitude.

Chris smiled softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Always, Y/N. You’ll never have to go through this alone."

As the day began to unfold, you and the triplets spent the rest of the morning together. No more talk of Jason or your sister—just the comfort of knowing you were surrounded by people who cared. Slowly, the pieces of your heart that had shattered started to heal, one moment, one breath at a time.

And for the first time in a while, you felt a spark of hope for the future, knowing that with time and support, you’d find your way through the pain.

[sonicboomrevisited]

A Sonic Boom Revisited Short Story:

"I'll Be Home for Christmas"

Written by @mama-qwerty with editing and inspiration from @multiisketch

Art by @multiisketch

NOTE: This story is NON-CANON to the SBR comic itself and is purely for holiday fun! Please Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Twas the morning before Christmas and all through the lair, not a creature was stirring, not even–

"An eclair!" Cubot said, in an enthusiastic mood.

Orbot protested. "An elcair's not a creature, it's food!"

"Exactly!” said Cubot, hands on his hips. “That's why it ain't stirrin!"

Orbot scoffed. “Oh enough with your quips.”

The stockings were hung by the exhaust port with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be–

"Married!" Cubot shouted, sounding quite proud.

"Santa’s already married, for crying out loud.” Orbot sighed and shook his head in frustration. “Can you please be quiet and allow the narration?”

Quite. Anyway... the robots were nestled and charging in stations, while visions of sugar plums danc’d in their processing units.

"Hey," Cubot said, the word dragging out long. “Those words don’t rhyme, you’re doing it wrong!"

Rhyming is hard, and not something that’s forced. So you’ll deal with my attempts, for better or worst.

The robots went silent, exchanging a look. It always seemed easy when reading the book. They returned to the tinsel hanging duties assigned, when in walked the dastardly Robo-Sonic, his boss close behind.

"I just don't understand, truly at all, why those rodents won’t fight!" said Dr. Eggman, standing tall.

“Because they’re losers who know they won’t win,” Robo-Sonic said, his voice confident, and edged with a grin. “Seriously, Boss, it’s the smartest thing they’ve done. Why would they fight when they know that we’ve won?”

“It’s the principle!” Eggman shouted, his hands clenched in fists. “If they won’t fight, then I won’t . . . won’t . . .”

He threw his hands up. “Ya know what? I’m not doing this rhyming thing. Nope.”

But–

“NO.” Eggman crossed his arms, his lips pulled into a tight line.

How are we gonna tell a Christmas story without that well known rhyming couplet setup?

“Much better, because we won’t be locked into short little oddly worded sentences for the sake of rhyming.”

Ouch.

“Go on,” Eggman said, giving his hand a dismissive flick. “Just let it flow naturally.”

Fine.

“Oh come now, don’t pout.”

I’m not pouting.

“Then go ‘not pout’ somewhere else so we can get on with things.”

“Geez, Boss,” Cubot said, shaking his head. “That’s not very Christmas-y.”

“Quiet down, you imbecile, or I’ll remove your head.”

“That rhymed,” Orbot said with a shrug. “Although you technically rhymed ‘head’ with ‘head’.”

“Nevermind!” Eggman said, moving to his console and flicking some switches. The monitor along the back wall flared to life and scenes from the village dominated the screen. “As I was saying, if those rodents won’t fight me, I won’t get a good workout for my various inventions.”

Robo-Sonic turned to him. “So?”

“So, fighting so-called heroes is the best way for villains to work the kinks out of their dastardly plans and evil robots. It’s the first thing they teach you in villain college.” He turned suddenly, his voice edged with defensive anger. “Which I totally graduated from, thank you very much.”

Robo-Sonic flicked his ocular LEDs toward the ceiling. “Okay, so why won’t they fight? Other than the obvious reason that they’ll lose, I mean.”

Eggman tapped a few places on his control panel and twisted a dial. “I don’t know. But we’ll find out soon enough.

The screen flickered and centered on Meh Burger where Amy, Tails, Knuckles, and Sticks sat at a table.

“Are we still going to your place for Christmas Eve, Amy?” Tails asked. He poked at his burger. “It may be a good way to take our minds off . . . you know.”

“The fact that Sonic’s been turned into a glorified Eggman bot who hates us and wants to pound us into the dirt?” Knuckles asked, his voice low and frustrated. The others looked at him, their expressions a combination of annoyed and hurt. “What? I’m just summing it up in case you forgot.”

“We didn’t.” Tails’ ears flicked backward, and he looked away.

Knuckles seemed to sense he’d really stepped in it, and turned his attention back to his half-eaten burger. He let out a sigh, his shoulders dropping. “Right. Right. Sorry.”

“I don’t know if I should bother this year. It won’t be the same without Sonic,” Amy said, pushing her burger away and resting her crossed arms on the table. “We always baked cookies together.” A little smile curled her lips. “When he wasn’t trying to eat the batter, that is.”

“We’d always make popcorn strands,” Knuckles said, shaking his head with a smile. “That was a lot of fun.”

“Yeah.” Tails pushed his burger away, fiddling with his gloves. “We would trim the tree together. The lights were always my favorite part, and every year we’d fight over who put the star on top.” His ears flicked back. “This year was his turn.”

Silence fell over the group. Sticks looked between the others.

“Well I say we don’t let this get us down!” she said, pounding her fists on the table. “I say we get together and have the best Christmas Eve ever! We’ll show that Eggman and his new little robot henchman that they can’t stifle our spirits!”

She turned directly toward the camera filming them and shook her fist.

“YA HEAR THAT, YOU BIG CLOD! WE AIN’T BENDING!”

In the lair, Eggman let out a little yelp before cutting the feed, the screen going black. “That badger’s pretty astute for someone who thinks her doorknobs are alien spies.”

“Who’s she calling a henchman?” Robo-Sonic said, hands clenching into fists.

Eggman absently rubbed his chin with a hand. “Quiet, you.”

“Yes, Boss.”

Eggman’s brow furrowed slightly as he paced back and forth before the console. “Hmm . . . so the rodents are feeling all sad because their little blue rat is now my number two. That sadness is preventing them from really bringing their A-game during battles with me.”

“Perhaps you could offer to return Robo-Sonic to them for Christmas Eve,” Orbot suggested, hovering closer. “That way they can feel more motivated to fight when next you appear.”

Eggman whirled on him. “Are you insane? You’re suggesting I simply give Robo-Sonic over to those insipid rodents? All because they miss him so much?”

Orbot flinched back, as Robo-Sonic looked on, shaking his head.

“Oh, I know!” Eggman said, holding a finger up. “Maybe I’ll be a gracious arch-nemesis and offer to let Robo-Sonic fraternise with them for Christmas Eve, just to refuel the hope of getting their friend back and reignite that fighting spirit, before dashing their misplaced hopes to bits during my next attack! Ho ho, that is brilliant!”

“Yes, sir, very clever,” Orbot said with a sigh.

“Hey now,” Robo-Sonic said, hands on hips. “Who says I want to go back and ‘fraternise’ with those losers?”

Eggman turned to him, brows furrowed. “You’ll go and you’ll play nice. Because while you’re there you’re going to collect any information you can on weaknesses–other than you, of course–or soft spots I can use to my advantage in future battles.”

Robo-Sonic threw his hands up in exasperation. “But I already know their weaknesses and soft spots! I can tell you that right now!”

Eggman held up a hand. “Upp upp upp! Everyone knows that Christmas is when people show their softer sides and reveal hidden thoughts and desires no one knows the rest of the year. It goes hand in hand with Christmas miracles, holiday spirit and putting differences aside to show that not everyone’s all bad and all that touchy feely stuff.”

The doctor went to his desk, yanked open a drawer, and fished around for a moment before pulling out a crumpled card. He scribbled something inside, stuffed it into an envelope, and stepped over to slap it onto Robo-Sonic’s hands.

“There you are,” he said, patting the robot on the top of his rocket booster. “Off you go. Spread holiday cheer with your ex-friends, and then come back here and dish on the gossip you learn.”

Robo-Sonic heaved the robot equivalent of a sigh, before turning and heading toward the door.

“OH WAIT!”

He turned back to see Eggman digging through another drawer, before pulling something out and rushing over to him. The doctor slapped a gift sticker right above Robo-Sonic’s visor and adjusted a Santa hat on top of his head.

“There!” Eggman said, stepping back and perching his hands on his hips. “Ooh, you look so festive!” He waved in a dismissive manner. “Okay, get outta here. Go be merry and trim the tinsel and ginger the bread or whatever it is you people do during the holidays. Shoo!”

With an electronic groan, Robo-Sonic turned and drudged away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Screams drew Amy from her book, and she hurried out of her house, hammer in hand. The chatter from her communicator indicated the others were on their way to investigate the trouble, too.

She hoped it wasn’t Eggman. While she never liked fighting Eggman in the past, at least it had been a little fun. Now it was painful. Seeing what the man had done to Sonic hurt her heart. And she couldn’t bring herself to hurt him, even if he was a robot now, and had no qualms on hurting them.

And, based on how lackluster the fights were when Eggman did attack, the others felt the same way.

As she neared the center of the village–seriously, everything always seemed to happen right in the middle of town–she found the chaos somewhat comforting. It was familiar and a good fight with the Lightning Bolt Society, or Barker, or even Shadow may help dissipate some of the anxiety that had twisted her stomach since Sonic changed.

When the fleeing villagers scattered, she skidded to a halt.

Sonic was standing in the middle of the town, arms crossed, and wearing a . . . Santa hat?

A quick flick of her eyes caught no sign of Eggman himself or any other attacking robots. Sonic–Robo-Sonic, she reminded herself–stood with his back to her, tapping his foot in that familiar impatient way that always made him look like he was waiting for a bus that was fifteen minutes late.

“Amy!”

Knuckles’ voice called out. Both she and Robo-Sonic turned to see him rushing over to her. He stopped a step in front of her, taking up a defensive stance, fists at the ready.

“Where’s Eggman?” the echidna asked, his brow furrowed and voice uncharacteristically serious. He didn’t like fighting Son–ROBO-Sonic any more than Amy did, and preferred to head straight for the doctor when attacks happened.

The quicker they took out the doc, the quicker he retreated and took the robot version of their friend with him.

“I don’t know,” she said, gripping her hammer tightly. “All I see is him.”

Tails and Sticks arrived soon after, each wearing similar expressions of confusion.

“This isn’t like Eggman,” Tails said, holding his wrench before him like a staff. “He doesn’t usually send robots without being there himself to gloat and claim early victories.”

“Finally,” Robo-Sonic said, rolling his head back in a familiar expression of exasperation. “You’re all here. Cripes, take a little longer, why don’tcha. It’s not like I can die of old age or anything.”

“What do you want?” Knuckles all but growled, baring his fangs. “It’s Christmas Eve. Can’t you take the holidays off from being a jerk?”

Robo-Sonic mostly ignored him and stalked forward. Knuckles threw an arm out, keeping Amy back. When the robot hedgehog stopped before them, he reached into his metal quills and pulled out an envelope. He thrust it forward, toward Amy, and Knuckles tensed.

Everything seemed to stop in that moment. Amy flicked her eyes from Robo-Sonic’s ocular visor, to the little gift sticker attached to his forehead, right below the brim of the Santa hat. Instead of a “To” and “From” note, it bore Eggman’s logo, as if he’d branded the robot before sending him to the village.

Her eyes then dropped to the envelope in his hand. When she made no move to reach for it, Robo-Sonic uttered what sounded like a sigh.

“Just take it, Ames.”

She flinched at the familiar nickname coming from a digital voice box. After a moment, she gently pushed Knuckles’ arm to the side, and plucked the envelope from Robo-Sonic’s hand. Keeping her eyes on the robotic hedgehog, she tore it open, before looking down as she pulled a battered card from the paper.

The front showed an image of Eggman dressed in a Santa suit, Cubot and Orbot beside him with little antlers on their heads. He had a large sack thrown over his shoulder. Above him read “Evil Season’s Greetings!”

She rolled her eyes.

Inside, she found a handwritten note, undoubtedly from Eggman himself.

"Dear Rodents, 

Since you insist on being frustratingly avoidant when fighting my newest bestie Robo-Sonic, I have deemed it acceptable to allow him to be returned to you for 24 hours. Make it count and bring your A-Game to the next fight! Happy Holidays! 

Love, Dr. Eggman."

Amy reread the note three times, before flicking her eyes back up to Robo-Sonic. He stood with his arms crossed and he, and Knuckles who also stood with his arms crossed, seemed to be having a glaring contest.

“So, wait,” she said, drawing their attention. “You’re here to spend Christmas Eve with us?”

Robo-Sonic heaved an electronic sigh. “Apparently.”

Amy exchanged a look with Tails.

“You don’t actually expect us to believe this, do you?” the fox said, hands on hips. “Like we’re supposed to just throw our arms open and pretend like everything’s normal?”

“I think he’s here to spy on us,” Sticks said, eyes narrowed and flicking back and forth. “He’s here to discover our deepest secrets, our hidden hopes and dreams!”

“Not my eggnog recipe!” Knuckles cried, hands to the side of his head.

“Knuckles, that’s just milk and eggs, mostly,” Amy said with a sigh.

He cast her a raised eyebrow. “Eggs?”

“Nevermind.”

“Look,” Robo-Sonic said, holding his hands up. “As stimulating as this conversation is, I don’t wanna be here any more than you want me here. But the boss said you get me for 24 hours and the clock’s ticking, so, whatever you wanna do with that time is on your head. If you want to just stand here and argue about it, be my guest.”

The group exchanged looks again. Amy gave him a tight little smile.

“‘Scuse us for a minute.”

She motioned for the others to follow her a few feet away, and lowered into a huddle.

“This is a trick,” Knuckles said, looking over his shoulder toward Robo-Sonic. “No way he’s not here for evil reasons.”

“I hate to admit it, but I agree,” Tails said, shaking his head. “Sonic’s not our friend anymore. As much as I want to believe he’s here because he wants to be, I think this is some kind of trap.”

“Of course it’s a trap!” Sticks said, gripping her boomerang tightly. “It’s obvious he’s here to steal our Christmas spirit, and maybe even all our decorations and presents and even our last can of Who Hash!”

Tails gave her a raised eyebrow. “Our what?”

“Nothin’.” Sticks narrowed her eyes, looking around suspiciously. “I’ve said too much.”

“Okay, look,” Amy said, drawing their attention. “I don’t think he’s here of his own free will either. But maybe we can use this to our advantage. If we do things we used to do with Sonic on past Christmases, maybe he’ll remember who he really is and come back to us!”

Tails shot a look over at Robo-Sonic, who was giving the evil eye . . . well, evil LED to any villagers who came too near. “I dunno, Amy . . .”

“C’mon Tails, we have to try.”

The others looked at her before exchanging a glance between themselves. Finally, they turned back and nodded. Although, they didn’t look very happy or sure about it.

She didn’t care. If there was a chance to get her . . . their Sonic back, she’d take it. As slim as it was.

She nodded back, before standing upright and moving toward the robot hedgehog once again. Knuckles was right next to her. She could feel how tense he was.

“Okay, Son–I mean, Robo-Sonic,” she said, stopping with her hands on her hips. “If you’re gonna be here, there are going to be a few rules.” She counted off on her fingers. “Rule number one, no fighting. Rule number two, no insulting us. Rule number three, you have to actually participate and not simply sit and sulk the whole time.”

His ocular LEDs narrowed for a moment. “And if I refuse these stupid rules?”

Amy shrugged. “Then we’ll just send you back to Eggman’s. You’ll have failed your mission and ruined Christmas for your new ‘boss’.”

He stood and glared at her for a long moment, before rolling his head to the side. “Fine.”

A smile curled her lips. “Good.” She clapped her hands together, giving a little squeal of excitement. “Oh, this will be fun!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was not, in fact, ‘fun’.

It had been hours. Hours of trying to have a normal Christmas Eve.

They’d all gathered at Amy’s house, as they did every year. She hadn’t been in a very festive mood after everything that had happened with Sonic, so the house wasn’t as decorated as she normally did. Knuckles and Sticks had helped pull her decorations out of storage, working to create a more appropriate holiday atmosphere, as Tails set about trimming the tree.

Supper was awkward. She’d made everyone’s favorite. Even the sweet potato chili dogs Sonic liked. But, being a robot now, he couldn’t eat them.

Okay, no problem, she could work around that.

But he spent the entire time glaring at Knuckles, who glared right back. Amy had shot the echidna a warning glance, and he’d sheepishly turned his eyes away, but the mood had been set.

After supper, she cleaned up the dishes as Tails helped Knuckles make popcorn for this year’s garlands. With a little coaxing, Amy had encouraged Knuckles to try and follow his tradition with Robo-Sonic.

It didn’t go well.

Robo-Sonic couldn’t string the popcorn before his metal fingers crushed the kernels. After five minutes, the floor around him was littered with broken bits of popcorn. Knuckles, for his part, tried to extend a hand of friendship, so to speak, citing that he knew what it was like to deal with more strength than you need most of the time. He tried to help Robo-Sonic pull it back so he could work with the popcorn without crushing it.

Things only went further south when Robo-Sonic revealed, in a fit of frustration stemming from the continued crunching of the kernels, that he never liked making the garlands–a waste of perfectly good popcorn, he claimed–and only did it so Knuckles wouldn’t look like an idiot doing it by himself.

The echidna gasped, eyes wide, before running from the room in tears. “Not cool, Robo-Sonic!”

Sticks fared a little better. She was always suspicious of wrapped presents–”You don’t know what’s inside! It’s not safe!”--so Robo-Sonic used his scanners to examine every one. He announced, loudly, what each box contained. This soothed the badger’s suspicions, until he announced what the gifts she’d brought held.

“Those boxes were supposed to be lead lined! X-ray proof! So’s the aliens couldn’t see what I got and report my preferences and kindness to their leaders, taking me hostage when they come to rule!”

And off she went, presumably to find whomever had sold her the supposedly impervious boxes, and deal some angry feral badger damage to them.

Tails was hit worst. He had brought the tree decorations, and hoped to have his and Sonic’s tradition at least somewhat salvaged. It started okay, but when it was time to put the lights up, Robo-Sonic took them from the fox and wrapped them around the tree in three seconds flat.

“Oh,” Tails said, ears flicking back. “We usually do that together.”

Robo-Sonic shrugged. “It’s not exactly a two-man job, kid. It’s done, now.”

“Right.” Tails reached across himself to tightly grip his arm. “G-good job.”

The fox quietly left soon after.

That left Amy.

She tried. She really did.

She pulled out the ingredients for the cookies she and Sonic baked every year. But there was no laughter as they mixed the ingredients together. No trying to keep him from dipping his fingers into the batter. No slapping his hands away as she tried to roll out the dough.

Robo-Sonic was focused and efficient. The cookies went in without issue.

“You’re really not him anymore, are you?” she asked, her voice soft.

He turned to her, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m better.”

She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “No. No you’re not.”

Amy turned, hoping to be out of the house before the first tears fell.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robo-Sonic watched her leave, just like all the others had left.

He didn’t care. The less he had to deal with these losers, the better. He was only here because Eggman practically ordered him to be. He wasn’t enjoying this. He didn’t care about these stupid traditions and little holiday scenes the others insisted on.

He should leave. They all left, so apparently they didn’t care if he was here or not. He should just go back to Eggman’s lair, tell him the mission was a failure because these rodents couldn’t accept that he wasn’t the weak loser they remembered. They’d have a good laugh at the overly sentimental nature of these fools and that would be that.

He took a few steps toward the door, intending to do just that.

Then he stopped.

Turned and watched the oven timer tick down.

Less than ten minutes before the cookies were done. There was no one else in the house. He had no idea when they’d be back.

If he left and they didn’t return for a long time after, the cookies would burn.

The house might burn.

If these losers wouldn’t give him a decent fight because they were ‘sad’ about his change (his improvement), then they certainly wouldn’t be up for any challenging battles should Amy’s house burn down on Christmas Eve.

He could wait ten minutes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This is worse than when we thought he was gone,” Tails said, curling his namesakes around himself. He let out a long sigh. “This feels like a cruel joke.”

The group had met up near Sonic’s old shack. Knuckles stood with his back to the porch post, arms crossed. Tails sat on the front steps, staring out into the ocean as the waves licked the beach below. Sticks sat on the ground nearby, legs crossed beneath her, an angry pout on her face.

And Amy stood a little apart from them, staring into Sonic’s shack. The moon was full tonight, and lit the area enough to see.

The shack stood dark and empty, like it had since Sonic was changed.

“I’m sorry guys,” she said, her voice soft. “I thought . . . I thought if he was in a familiar place, if he was surrounded by his friends, doing things he loved, then he’d remember.”

“It was a nice try, Ames,” Knuckles said, rubbing a hand over his face. “But he’s not him anymore.”

She pulled her lips tight. “No. I guess he’s not.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Popcorn was strewn all over the floor. Some were crunched from being stepped on, but most broken because of his metal fingers.

He looked down at his fingers now.

Sharp and cold. He couldn’t really feel anything now. Oh sure, there were pressure points on the outside plating, giving him the approximate sensation of ‘touch’. But he couldn’t feel.

The fingers curled into a fist.

Nevermind.

That wasn’t important. He was better. Stronger.

His LEDs flicked back down to the floor.

It wouldn’t be fair to leave Amy to clean up this mess, and he knew Knuckles likely wouldn’t help. Seemed a waste to throw out all that popcorn, though.

He checked his internal clock. Seven more minutes until the cookies were done.

He had time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“He didn’t even try,” Amy said, moving to sit next to Tails. She pulled her legs up and hugged her knees. “He said he would try and he didn’t.”

“Actually,” Tails said, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand. “He said he wouldn’t fight, insult us, or sulk. That’s not really the same thing as trying.”

“But he promised he’d participate!” she said, and even to her own ears it sounded ridiculous. “He . . . he promised.”

“I guess he technically did participate,” Knuckles said with a shrug. “He was just being an irritable and impatient jerk about it.”

“On the bright side,” Sticks said, tilting her head to the side. “He did reveal a horrible injustice done to me by those shysters who sold me those boxes. I made sure they wouldn’t cheat anyone else like that!”

The others sighed, the mood not exactly feeling any lighter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robo-Sonic stood before the tree. The popcorn was all cleaned up, and now he stood with his arms crossed, staring at the wrapped presents strewn about, where Sticks had let them drop as he’d examined each one.

With a soft electronic sigh, he bent to gather them, stacking them neatly.

He picked up the final two, which were identically shaped, only with different wrapping. One was addressed to Tails, the other to him.

Well, to the weaker version of him, anyway.

He’d scanned them before, when Sticks had requested, and discovered they held matching scarves. Yellow for him, blue for Tails.

Probably hand crocheted by Amy herself. She liked to do that kind of thing.

He didn’t know why she bothered. That took a lot of time; it was easier to simply buy a scarf. They weren’t that expensive, really.

He stared at the boxes for a long moment, before placing them on the stack.

Glancing up, he flicked his LEDs over the tree at the lights he’d strung earlier.

They bothered him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I just . . .” Amy said, burying her face in her hands. “I hoped there was something left of him. Something that showed our Sonic was still in there.”

Silence answered her. It hung heavy before Tails gave a little sigh, reaching over to lay a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“I did too, Amy. I really did. He’s . . . he was my best friend. The idea that he’s gone is . . . well, it’s hard to accept.”

She nodded. “It’s so strange. He seems so much like the Sonic we remember, but . . . not.” She sighed, a harsh, frustrated sound. “I wish Eggman hadn’t sent him here. It’s making everything worse.”

Tails’ hand gripped her a little tighter. Knuckles moved to sit on her other side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“We could pay Eggman a visit and deck his halls, if that would make you feel better,” he said, a little smile curling one side of his mouth. “Want me to leave a knuckle sandwich in his stocking?”

Amy gave a soft giggle, shaking her head. “As tempting as that is, I don’t want to ruin anything any more than it already is. It’s bad enough that–” She gasped, her eyes going wide. “THE COOKIES! I completely forgot about them!”

She shot to her feet and ran toward her house with the others close behind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh no oh no oh no!” Amy nearly whined as she burst into her kitchen. She expected a house full of black smoke, possibly even flames shooting from her oven, but she stopped dead when there was no oppressive heat of an uncontrolled fire, no choking smoke threatening to smother her. “What?”

The others screeched to a halt behind her, piling up and nearly knocking her over.

The scene that met them was one she would not have believed just fifteen minutes ago.

Robo-Sonic was pulling the cookie sheets from the oven. He turned and placed them on towels he’d set out to protect her counters, before looking up and finding himself with company.

“Well look who decided to finally show back up,” he said, flicking the oven off and turning to plant his hands on his hips. “Figures you guys would all take off and leave me to do all the clean up.”

Silence answered him as the others stared. Amy’s gaze fell to the cookies currently cooling on her counter. “You . . . you stayed to take them out?”

He shrugged. “Boss said I had to stay, so I stayed. I’m used to picking up the slack for you los–” He caught himself. He’d promised not to insult them. “You left. The cookies were done. I pulled ‘em out. The end.”

Amy stared. This . . . this wasn’t what she expected.

“Hey,” Knuckles said, pointing to the other counter. “What are those?”

All eyes turned to a plate stacked with popcorn balls. Robo-Sonic shrugged as he pulled them over to place on the center island counter behind the cooling cookies.

“Ames would have had a fit if I threw away perfectly good popcorn,” he said, stepping back to lean against the counter. “So I made those.”

“Huh, that’s weird.” Knuckles stepped forward to pick up one of the popcorn balls. “How did you get the string to do that?” He took a bite, his eyes lighting up. “Hey! That’s really good! And no string to get stuck in my teeth!”

Robo-Sonic shrugged again. “Amy always has a bag of marshmallows hidden away. Thinks I don’t know about it. She uses them to sweeten her coffee. Which I always thought was gross, but whatever. Figured I’d use ‘em to make something better than those stupid garlands.”

Amy blinked. Sonic would regularly raid her cabinets, so it wasn’t a surprise he knew about her secret mallow stash, but the way he was talking . . . the things he did while they were gone . . .

This was absolutely not what she expected.

“Hey, what happened to the tree?” Tails’ voice cut through her musings. They looked into the living room where the tree stood dark. “Where are the lights?”

“Took ‘em off.” Robo-Sonic’s voice sounded almost bored, like there was an implied shrug even if his shoulders didn’t move. “They were bugging me. Not strung right. Some spots had the same colored lights all bunched up. I’m not good with that kinda detail stuff.”

More silence, and Amy dared to hope. Dared to think that her Sonic, their Sonic, really was still in there.

“Do you . . .” Tails started, his voice small and shaky. “Do you want to try again? I can make sure the colors are adequately distributed this time.”

Robo-Sonic stood still for a moment, as though contemplating. Amy expected a sharp retort. An annoyed “Fine” or “Whatever”.

But instead, the robot offered a simple, “Sure.”

A little smile curled her lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Just before midnight.

Wrapping paper was strewn about, tossed carelessly as the annual gift exchange had taken place. The gang sat on the floor before the tree–now properly trimmed and lit, thanks to Tails’ careful calculations of the optimal placement of the various colored lights–with the star perched atop. Robo-Sonic had placed it there, in keeping with his and Tails’ tradition.

Now soft snores floated over the living room. Sticks, Knuckles, and Tails were fast asleep, their gifts piled nearby, while Amy and Robo-Sonic sat a little further away, their backs against the couch.

Amy wanted to break the silence. Needed to break it. The longer they sat like that, the longer it went without at least trying to get through to him, the more she’d beat herself up over it later.

This was the perfect chance to try and bring him around. To try and reach the Sonic she knew was still in there.

After another moment of hesitation, she cleared her throat.

“I suppose I need to send a thank you note to Eggman,” she said, her voice soft. “For letting you come tonight.”

He didn’t respond for a moment. “You always were a stickler for manners.”

She swallowed, turning her head away slightly. The familiarity he spoke with. He knew her. As much as she tried to convince herself that he wasn’t any different from Metal Sonic, that he was just some robot who’d copied Sonic’s personality . . . she couldn’t fully believe that.

She spared another glance in his direction. The yellow scarf she’d crocheted him was fastened around his neck. When he and Tails had opened those gifts he’d hesitated before putting it on, but finally tied it in place, much to Tails’ delight. Sonic never looked right without that trademark scarf around his neck.

The color contrasted with the red Santa hat still perched on his head. Her eyes flicked back to that gift label above his visor. Eggman’s logo seemed to glare at her, a stark reminder that he was here on borrowed time. 

Another silent moment passed, and she turned away again. When she spoke, her voice was quieter. Hardly above a whisper.

“Stay.”

“No.”

The response was immediate. He didn’t even consider it.

“Why?” She turned back to him sharply, her tone pleading. “Why do you hate us so much?”

He turned his head away from her for a moment, before turning back. “Because you’re weak.”

“We’re stronger together.” She turned to him more fully and tried to pull back the pleading tone. “We were always stronger with you.”

“I can’t carry the whole team, Ames,” he said, his tone hard. “I can’t do what needs done if I’m worrying about the rest of you.”

“What are you talking about?” Amy said, and hated how pathetic her voice sounded even to her own ears. “Doing what needs done? What needs done is keeping Eggman from ruining everything, from destroying everything we love. We did that! And now you’re helping him. I just . . . I don’t understand.”

He didn’t respond right away, instead looking over where the others slept. Amy watched him for a few moments, before turning away when she decided he likely wasn’t going to answer.

“Sometimes protection isn’t just about bashing some bots and calling it a day,” he said, his voice softer. “Sometimes you have to make sacrifices to focus on the bigger picture.”

She stared at him, her brows furrowed. “What’s the bigger picture?”

He went quiet again, and this time it felt more final. Like whatever information she was going to get out of him had been said.

The two sat there in silence for a long time. Finally, Amy spoke, her voice a whisper.

“Merry Christmas, Sonic.”

He didn’t respond.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Time ticked on. Robo-Sonic watched the others sleep. He didn’t need to sleep anymore, although he sometimes went into standby mode. Not a ‘sleep’ in the traditional sense, but something that let him kind of ‘drift’.

Beside him, Amy’s breathing evened out, changing to a deeper, slower rhythm. He turned and found her head tilted against the couch, eyes closed, and mouth slightly open.

He watched her for a long moment.

Moving before he even knew he was, Robo-Sonic stood and gently lifted her, placing her on the couch and positioning a pillow beneath her head. She stirred slightly, and he froze, before she settled back into a comfortable position, her breathing deepening.

Pulling the afghan from the back of the couch, he draped it over her, tucking her in.

“Merry Christmas, Ames.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Morning.

The sun filtered in through the windows, pulling Amy from her sleep. She sat up and stretched, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she got her bearings. It took a moment before the events of last night caught up with her, and she looked around, catching no sign of Robo-Sonic.

He must have gone back to Eggman’s.

With a sigh, she flipped the afghan back, preparing to head to the kitchen to start breakfast before the others woke. That’s when her eyes landed on a small stack of gifts on the coffee table, still unopened.

Her brow furrowed. That was odd. She could have sworn they’d opened all the presents last night.

Moving closer, she immediately recognized the sloppy, somewhat hurried wrapping style of one Sonic the Hedgehog.

She distinctly remembered helping Sonic pick out gifts months ago, in an attempt to keep him from being caught empty-handed come Christmas Eve. (Something that had happened on more than one occasion.) He must have wrapped them to have them done and ready back then.

But how . . .

Her eyes went wide.

Robo-Sonic must have gone back to Sonic’s shack and brought them here after she’d fallen asleep.

A little smile curled her lips. Her heart felt warmer than it had in months.

She had hope again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ah, the blue rat bot returns!” Eggman said. He turned from the breakfast table, still dressed in his long underwear. “How went the whole ‘give your ex-friends false hope so they’ll fight me with more gusto’ plan?”

Robo-Sonic shrugged. “Fine.”

Eggman frowned. “Fine? That’s it? Just ‘fine’?”

Another shrug from the bot. “Yeah? Not sure what you want me to say.”

“Well, you could say that they spent the night bemoaning my successful plan to turn you into a robot; or that they tried to convince you to be some kind of double agent to get the goods on me in secret; or that they tried to appeal to your non-existent sense of loyalty to them in combination with the ‘spirit of Christmas’ to cast off your allegiance to me and rejoin them in their constant, infuriating destruction of every bot I painstakingly create!”

Robo-Sonic waved a hand. “Yeah, sure, okay.”

Eggman slammed his fists on the table, sending the silverware clattering. “Oh, you are just as infuriating now as you were when you were flesh and fur! I thought you were going to bring back some gossip or embarrassing tales of what happened!”

“What can I tell ya, Boss,” the robot said as he began to wander off. “Just a boring Christmas Eve. Same old, same old. Just like all the others.”

Eggman scowled. “Then what’s with the scarf?”

Robo-Sonic froze. The scarf. He’d forgotten he had it on. “What about it?”

The doctor smirked. “Seems a little sentimental, don’t you think? A lovingly hand knitted scarf from your little girlfriend.”

Robo-Sonic turned sharply, red LEDs narrowed. “She’s not my girlfriend, and it’s crocheted.”

Eggman scoffed. “My, my. Aren’t we touchy?”

The robot hedgehog uttered a little growl, before stalking toward the doctor. He yanked the scarf off his neck and slapped it on the table. “Whatever. I don’t need it.”

Eggman furrowed his brow. “Are you sure nothing happened back there?”

Robo-Sonic let out a soft scoff as he turned and walked away. “Nothing worth reporting.”

Eggman watched him go with a frown.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robo-Sonic walked down a long hallway, the walls a polished steel here. He pushed the thoughts of last night away.

It was just a mission. He was sent there to spy. To gather intel. To give false hope so those losers would fight harder when he and Eggman attacked next.

Because if they fought harder, they got stronger. They needed to be stronger.

He only acted the way he did last night to foster that sense of hope. That he was still the Sonic they remembered.

That was the only reason.

His hand curled into a fist.

The only reason.

But that scarf . . .

A voice in the back of his mind whispered. Said things he knew weren’t true. Tried to make him soft. Make him weak.

He stopped and turned to face one of the walls. They were polished to a near mirror finish. He stared at his reflection. The gift label was still stuck to his forehead and that stupid Santa hat still perched on his metal quills.

But that wasn’t the worst part.

He almost saw the hedgehog he once was.

With a growl, he yanked the hat off and tossed it to the ground, before tearing the sticker from above his visor. It shredded, leaving behind sticky paper strips. Figures Eggman would have the cheapest, most residue-y stickers on hand.

Last night had been a mistake. He shouldn’t have gone.

Uttering a growl that bordered on a yell, Robo-Sonic drew his fist back and punched the wall, leaving a deep dent in the metal at the impact.

“No more weakness. You had your chance. You failed. Now it’s my turn.”

Robo-Sonic withdrew his hand from the crumpled metal, and continued along his way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Well, that was anticlimactic,” Eggman said after Robo-Sonic had walked away. He slumped against the table with his chin in his hand.

Don’t pout.

“I’m not pouting!”

Seems a good place to end things, doncha think?

Eggman let out a frustrated grunt. “You wanna do the thing, don’t you?”

Wouldn’t be a Christmas story without it.

A long sigh. “Fine.”

And with Eggman pouting from not getting his way, Happy Christmas to all and to all a good day.

“I’m not pouting!”

Hush.

Merry Christmas, Season’s Greetings, and Happy Holidays to all!