#yes chapter 9 is not completely out yet

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 9 (part one)

(Rafe Cameron x reader series, 7k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

All that met you when you woke was anxiety and a sharp, thumping headache. It was such a depressing paradox to the peaceful way you’d woken up in this same bed on your first morning here, a thousand fucking lifetimes ago. Your whole body ached as you sat up in bed, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your chin on one. 

The bed felt empty. Strange, since you hadn’t ever shared it with anyone. 

Your eyes, puffy around the edges from tears and exhaustion, scanned the dimly lit room. You were startled when you saw it - the little box of candy sitting on the dresser, unopened and completely forgotten. Even more startling was the sudden pang of craving you had for it. You pulled the covers from your legs, immediately missing their warmth, and padded quickly across the room to fetch the candy.

After adjusting the heavy curtains to block out as much of the midday sunlight as possible, you crawled back under the blankets, tearing the package open. Little crystals of sugar went flying, their unnatural dyes and chemicals surely staining the white sheets. But that was some faceless Airbnb owner’s problem.

You ate the candy fast and messy, completely indulging your childish desires and ignoring any regard for moderation or tooth enamel. Fingers sticky and jaw aching, you chewed and licked until there wasn’t a morsel of artificial sweetness left in the box. 

The candy didn’t help your headache, yet somehow it still made you feel better. A small gift on a day of mostly unpleasant surprises. Ironic, since the person you had to thank for the treat was the one who caused the tears.

You’d have to face him eventually, there was still a question to be answered. That problem was entirely your own, and one you weren’t anywhere near ready to face yet, so you sunk back down in the sheets and let the sugar crash knock you back out.

The second time you woke up, the sun was setting outside your window, your mouth dry and sour from the sugar and oversleeping. You sat up and chugged some water from the bottle you kept on the nightstand, think about how you should probably go downstairs, see what everyone’s up to, check in with Carter. Yes, that’s what you should do, so why was your body not rising from the bed?

You checked your phone: 7:12 pm. The day was basically over. In the span of it, you’d fallen in and out of love, had your heart broken, and slept for nearly twelve hours. And, as the pang in your stomach was so aptly reminding you, you hadn’t eaten anything since Rafe made you eggs so many hours ago.

Your phone screen also showed you had about ten texts from Carter, checking on you and asking if you were okay. You opened them and sent a half-hearted “I’m good. Just catching up on sleep from the crazy semester.” 

Another growl of your stomach and you opened a different app, double checking the house’s address before confirming your order of one large pizza - pepperoni and onions, extra cheese. The delivery estimate was forty-five minutes. Perfect.

You had gotten through one episode of your favorite show when the doorbell rang downstairs, just as you’d expected. A few seconds later and a knock on the door finally pulled you from the bed, your legs like jello from being dormant for so long. You threw on Topper’s U of F hoodie and padded towards the knocking.

Carter stood outside your door, your hot, steaming pizza in hand.

“Delivery,” she smiled tightly when you opened the door.

“Thank you,” you said, taking the pie and opening it to smell the treat that was awaiting you.

“Glad to see you’re not dead up here,” she joked.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m just tired.”

She didn’t buy it, you could read the concern all over her face, but there was nothing you wanted less right now than a lecture from her about everything that had happened with Rafe.

“We’re doing a whole crab boil down there, why don’t you just come down and-”

Actually, no. The last thing you wanted in the world right now was to sit across from Rafe, cracking crab shells and pretending nothing that happened had happened. You couldn’t bear to see him, not yet.

“I’m just gonna stay up here tonight, okay?” You smiled despite the questioning look she was throwing you, silently pleading with her to just drop it and let you be.

“I knew this was gonna happen,” she frowned, hands landing on her hips in an indignant pose. She clearly wasn’t going to just drop it.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself before saying “you knew what was gonna happen?”

“I knew he was gonna hurt you, and now you’re spiraling out again. God, I’m gonna kill him-”

“I’m not spiraling,” you interrupted her. “I just want some alone time. I’m having a good time actually, I’m just watching some -”

“You’re holed up in your room, just like in high school, rotting away while he’s just down there hanging out and having a good time like he did nothing wrong. So fucking typical of him. Just come downstairs, don’t let him do this to you,” the look of pity in her eyes was enough to make you sick. 

Taking a deep breath, you set the pizza down on the top of the dresser, turning back to Carter with a stoic expression.

“Car, listen to me,” you said. “He’s not ‘doing’ anything to me. This is not just like high school, because I’m not who I was in high school. I know you’re used to taking care of me, but believe it or not, in the four years we’ve lived apart, I’ve actually gotten pretty good at taking care of myself. This is not a cry for help, it’s not me isolating and spiraling. This is me taking care of myself, and it might not look like how you take care of yourself, but we’re not the same. Please just go downstairs and let me do what I need to do. I’m not a hurt little kid who needs saving, okay?”

Her brows knit tight, she scanned you from head to toe, like she could pick out any deception in your words by sight.

“Fine,” she said. “I’m glad you know what you need. But…just, don’t hide away for too long, okay?”

“I’m just gonna do what I need to do tonight, and tomorrow we can get back to our fun trip, okay?” You promised.

She thought about it for a long moment, you knew she was having trouble not asking you what had happened when you were gone this morning. The two of you hadn’t even discussed Cassie’s arrival yet, and the millions of texts from her when your phone finally turned back on told you she had plenty to say, but right now you just needed for her to say nothing. Which she must’ve understood, because she finally nodded and slipped back downstairs.

The rest of the evening was spent watching your comfort show, eating your pizza and blocking out the muffled voices of the group wafting in from the patio through your window. Cozy in the blanket of solitude you’d wrapped around yourself was enough to eventually lull you into a decently restful sleep. Curtains on today, tomorrow would be better.

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The empty mattress was cold against your reaching hand. You woke up reaching for something, you weren’t sure what, the foggy dream you’d just had slipped away with the darkness as a stripe of sunlight leaked through the blinds and right over your closed eyelids.

With a groan, you sat up. You had done the whole self-care thing, a night in, letting the emotions settle and tears dry, and as you’d promised Carter, you should probably get back to the trip.

Blinking in the bright bathroom light, you turned the faucet on and ran some cold water over your face. The chilly water waking you up, you patted dry and blinked your eyes open into the mirror.

It was immediate, the way your gaze dropped to your own neck in the reflection. Right there splattered above your collarbone- three purple splotches in the shape of Rafe’s mouth. A constellation of reminders that you’d been so close to truly being his.

You gasped, fingertips flying up to skim over the tender spots. Flashes of your time with him in the car came back to you, your legs pinned to either side of his waist and his lips pinned to your throat. A swirl of desire and regret churned in your stomach at the memory. 

By your best estimate, it had been about forty-three minutes total. Forty-three sets of sixty seconds that you’d been happy, known he was yours, kissed him and been with him and felt good about all of it. Forty-three minutes between him confessing his feelings for you and him dropping your hand in front of Cassie.

A wave of sadness crashed into you with no warning, one thought echoing in your mind, so loud and sad it robbed the air from your lungs; forty-three minutes would be all you’d ever get.

Hot tears stung your cheeks as they fell quick and heavy. You didn’t bother finishing your skincare routine, or trying to self-soothe with some kind of platitude. You'd been perfectly, blissfully happy for forty-three minutes and you’d never be that happy again. You shuffled back down the hall and into bed, stopping first to pull Topper’s hoodie back in, as if keeping the hickies out of sight might make them heal faster.

Fuck greeting the day, fuck trying to end the trip on a positive note. Grief climbed over you and pinned your limp body to the mattress, clobbering you until the tears turned to dry, ragged breaths. You pulled out your laptop and restarted your comfort show. Maybe you’d just stay here, in the darkness, until the memory of him and the marks he’d left with his lips faded in time.

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The mattress sunk with the weight of someone climbing into bed next to you. For the briefest of moments a hope that you knew was absurd flashed across your mind - maybe it was him.

“Good morning,” Carter’s voice whispered, squashing the silly thought.

You didn’t open your eyes to greet her, just readjusted in the bed to face away from her, pulling the covers higher over your chin. 

“Time to rise and shine,” she poked your side, an annoying, cutesy sing-song effect added to her voice.

“No thank you,” you grumbled into your pillow.

“Okay so get this,” she continued chipperly, ignoring your denial. “You know how Jack’s family owns like a bunch of resorts and country clubs and shit? Well they own this bougie ass golf resort in Miami and he got us in for the day so we can go golfing and to the spa with all the millionaires.”

“You hate golfing,” you pointed out.

“Yeah, but we don’t have to actually golf,” she waved off your logic. “It’s just about wearing cute outfits and looking hot on a golf cart.”

You rustled in the sheets, turning on your side to face her.

“As inviting as that sounds, I’m gonna pass,” you said, settling in to go back to sleep.

“No, no,” she reached out to pull the covers off of you, making you groan in protest. “You said you were only gonna be sad for a night, and that today we’d have fun. Well it’s today, time to stop being sad! And you like golfing, so let’s go.”

“I’m not sad,” you lied. “I’m just tired and I don’t want to go.”

“Come on, we’ve barely spent any time together and I’m leaving soon.” Ah, so she was finally pulling the guilt trip card, you wondered when she’d make that play. “Also we have a lot to talk about, we haven’t even discussed the wicked witch of the west blowing into town.”

Despite your current annoyance with her, you laughed at this, no need to clarify who she was referring to.

“It’s because I’m trying not to think about her, actually,” you said, pulling the comforter back over your shoulders. “Let me get back to my dreams where she’s far, far away in munchkin land.”

Carter tsked, pulling the covers down yet again. You shot daggers at her with your glare, the game already getting old.

She sighed, “I know Rafe dropping your hand in front of Cassie really put a damper on things, but I just really think it’s time to move -”

Your eyes narrowed, sitting up against your pillows in surprise.

“How do you know Rafe dropped my hand in front of Cassie?”

Carter’s eyes widened when she realized the slip up she’d made, suddenly lost for words, which was a rare issue for her.

“I just…we were gonna come down and then….” she stumbled over her explanation, hoping you’d allow her sentence to fizzle out, but your questioning glare didn’t give her any reprieve. 

“And then?”

“We kind of…heard you. You and Rafe when you came in from wherever you were,” she finally admitted.

Your jaw ticked, nodding without meeting her gaze, your passive aggression palpable.

“Who’s ‘we’?” You asked, avoiding her eyes and pulling back out your laptop to load up your comfort show.

“Me and Topper,” she pulled at a loose thread on your comforter. “And some of the others, but only for part of it. I’m sorry, we shouldn’t have listened, but I was worried about you.”

“How much did you hear?” You said flatly, collecting the remaining information like a medical intake form, assessing the potential damage of the mortifying story she was telling.

“Me and Topper heard, like, all of it,” she confessed. “Everyone else heard just some pieces.”

You and Carter didn’t fight, you never yelled at her, but the frustration and betrayal bubbling in your chest was threatening to end that streak. You needed a distraction or you’d lose it entirely. Hoping she’d take the hint, you pressed play on the show, shutting back down. She lingered though, pushing the conversation to the exact place you’d hoped it wouldn’t go.

“I mean what he did sucked and you should be pissed, but, you were only holding hands. At least you didn’t like hook up with him or anything. Things can just go back to the way they were before the trip. You didn’t hook up with him, right?”

“Right,” you half-lied.

Your anxiety over potentially having just decieved your sister manifested itself into the cartoonish image of a courtroom in your mind, your pencil-skirted lawyer standing between you and the judge: “your honor, the term “hook-up” could mean any number of things. If my client’s sister had wanted the whole story, she should have been more specific.” 

But you knew Carter, any version of the story that didn’t include every juicy detail may as well have been a knife in her back, she’d be pissed if she found out. Subconsciously, you adjusted the hood of your sweatshirt, pulling it higher to ensure it fully covered your neck.

She had eavesdropped, and you had lied. It would all come out in the wash. At least, that’s what you decided to tell yourself.

It didn’t matter anyway, you realized with a fresh dose of unbearable sadness, because you and Rafe would never be together like you were this morning again.

You twisted quickly in the bed, angling away from her so she didn’t see the tears welling on your lash line and turned up the volume on your show.

She stayed in the bed for a while, trying a few more times to start conversation and coax you to join them on the golf trip, but you’d perfected the art of the cold shoulder, blocking out her every attempt to get you to get out of the bed.

After maybe thirty minutes, she sighed and crawled out from under the covers, pulling out her phone as soon as she was outside your door and texting Topper: it’s worse than we thought.

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“Did you try telling her -”

“I’m telling you, I tried everything. She just shut me down. She’s really mad I think,” Carter’s face was pinched tight with worry as she whispered to Topper outside your door.

“Okay, well maybe, I dunno, you’re just not the person she wants to talk to right now…” he suggested, eager to help but hesitant to upset her any further.

“What, you think you’d fare better in there?” She snapped.

“I mean, I could try,” he shrugged.

She considered this. Maybe it would be beneficial to have a neutral party. Or maybe you’d scream at him, but either way he’d at least get more of a reaction out of you than she did, right?

“Fine, be my guest,” she motioned towards your door.

Topper knocked lightly, eliciting a delayed “um, yeah?” from your voice behind the door. He slowly opened it and slipped inside.

Only a few minutes later, he emerged from the room, his face ashen, wide eyes skittishly avoiding Carter.

“Well?” She pried.

“I don’t think I was the person she wanted to talk to either,” he said vaguely.

“Did she say anything?” She pressed.

“Oh, she said a lot of things…” he scratched the back of his neck, still not looking at her.

“Maybe she’s mad at you too, for eavesdropping,” Carter puzzled. “Maybe we need someone who didn’t hear much of their fight.”

Knocking on doors down the hallway, Carter coaxed the rest of the group, minus Cassie, Sabrina, and Rafe, who were nowhere to be found, out of their rooms and into Mission: Impossible - Get You to Leave Your Bed.

They each agreed, albeit reluctantly, to tiptoe their way into your room and try and talk you into coming out and joining the golf trip. One by one they emerged defeated. Not only had they not convinced you of anything, it seemed from Carter’s perspective that you had your own mission - to drag them all down into an existential crisis with you.

No new information to provide Carter about you, they each came out with some new insecurity that you’d talked them into.

Maddie was first, coming out with sad, round eyes and asking Carter, “do you think I’m smart enough for med school? What if I just wasted the last four years being pre-med?!”

Then Jack, who came out with his hand on his face, “do you think I should reverse my nose job? What if my face never looks normal again?”

Even Tom attempted to warm you up, telling Topper, “I think she’s right, I am only in finance to get my dad’s approval. Why doesn’t he love me for me, man?”

With each friend who returned from a conversation with you full of anguish, Carter and Topper exchanged worried looks. What exactly was going on in that bedroom? You were just one girl, one who typically wouldn’t hurt a fly, and yet this morning you’d apparently chosen violence, no one safe from your emotional carnage. 

Also with each friend who emerged defeated, Topper suggested calling in Rafe for reinforcement, only for Carter to shoot the idea down. But he’d never seen Tom spiral like this, and it was his final straw. He disappeared into his room with some excuse about needing to check on the afternoon’s tee-time.

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Rafe hadn’t run in years. At least, not like this. 

Sure, he went for a jog now and then or opted for the treadmill between leg and back day every so often, but he hadn’t done this kind of no-holds-barred, all-out-sprint since he was an athlete, and the burning in his lungs was reminding him why. 

Plus, running provided all this space for his mind to wander. When he was lifting or doing some high intensity shit, he didn’t have time to think. An open road and nothing but his own two legs? The opportunities for his brain to spiral were endless.

Still, today he kept running, the sand of the long beach kicking up with each heavy step. He’d peeled his shirt off over a mile ago, sweat pooling everywhere possible as breath became more and more illusive. He could feel the early morning sun burning the tops of his shoulders, he knew he’d pay for not wearing sunscreen later.

Every time he was tempted to stop, some invisible force nipped at his heels, propelling him forward. It felt peculiarly like nightmares he’d had as a kid, though this time it wasn’t a monster chasing him, but something much more elusive and indefinable. And he knew if he stopped, it would all catch up to him; everything he’d been trying to avoid for years. He wasn’t sure he’d survive the ambush.

Music blared through his headphones, a playlist he’d listened to so many times that he barely heard it anymore. Suddenly, the music cut, his phone buzzing against his thigh in his gym shorts pocket. 

Thankful for the excuse to slow down, he pulled out his phone to check the text, it was from Topper: dude something’s up with her, u gotta come help us. we’re trying to get her out of bed, she won’t talk to anyone. but she might talk to u

Rafe’s breathlessness suddenly had nothing to do with overworking it on the cardio. He didn’t expect you to be a ball of sunshine the day after he’d done something so stupid to you, but he didn’t understand what Topper meant by “somethings up.” The fact that he was positive he was actually the last person you’d want to talk to right now only added to his shortness of breath.

It was all wrong, none of this happened the way it was supposed to. And now he’d possibly broken you for good. Maybe it was time to pack his bags.

To add insult to injury, standing along the shoreline, only about ten feet in the distance, was the other girl who’s heart he’d broken, glowing in the sunrise and looking like a goddamn marble statue. Jesus Rafe, he thought, you really know how to lose ‘em.

He tried to duck out of sight, but she had already clocked him, standing at the edge of the water in her stylish swimsuit and wrap looking like a fucking greek goddess. She was the ideal female specimen, and yet, as he noticed with curiosity, there was nothing in him that was attracted to her. If anything, he wanted to be as far away from her as possible. But she smiled softly and raised her hand in a polite wave, and despite what you may believe now, he wasn’t a total asshole.

Giving her a small wave back, he approached the shoreline, matching her stance looking out at the water. The moment was silent and awkward for just a second, Cassie flicking her hair off her shoulder and digging her toe into the sand as Rafe searched helplessly for words.

“You look good, Cass,” is what he finally landed on.

She looked at him, shielding her eyes from the sun. He expected her to tell him he looked good too, a smile already forming on his lips as a response to her incoming compliment.

“You’re an idiot, Rafe.”

“I- wh- what the fuck?” He was so thrown he couldn’t even find words to express it.

“You were with her yesterday morning when you saw me, right? Like with her with her?” She surmised, a small upturn of her lips at his confused look.

“I’m sorry you saw that, I tried not to make it weird for you. I didn’t know you were gonna see us,” he stammered, the misplaced pity in his voice only making her laugh at him more.

“Rafe, you dumped me four years ago,” she chuckled. “Believe me when I tell you I’m over it. Also, considering the fact that you dumped me for her, I really wasn’t that surprised to see you together.”

“I didn’t break up with you for her,” he corrected, reiterating a point he’d made a thousand times, and had yet to successfully convince her of.

“Oh c’mon Rafe,” she turned towards him, hands on her hips in exasperation. “Let’s not do the whole ‘I just needed to focus on college’ thing again. We’re both adults now, can we just be honest? You dumped me because you were in love with her. And based on the look on your face yesterday before you noticed me, I’d say you still are.”

A deep crease wrinkled Rafe’s forehead as he avoided her gaze, feeling like a little kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He actually thought he did a pretty good job keeping it from her, but apparently she’d clocked it easily, even all those years ago.

“So you knew? Like the whole time?” He mumbled.

Cassie scoffed, “I was a bitch in high school, but I wasn’t stupid.”

“You weren’t a bitch,” he tried to console her, though she didn’t need it, her easy smile making it clear she’d made her peace with this fact.

“You should ask her if she thinks I was a bitch,” she gestured up toward your bedroom window. “I think she’d agree with me, seeing as she was pretty much my main target.”

“Yeah, you could’ve been nicer to her, I guess,” he conceded.

“You could’ve too,” she pointed out.

A spark of shame flared in his gut. You had tried to tell him back then, tried to explain the ways Cassie mistreated you behind closed doors when nobody was looking, but he always brushed it off. Eager to have an excuse to avoid confronting Cassie about it, and if he was being honest, summing it up to a girl being oversensitive. God, maybe he was the bitch.

“I’m sorry if it made you feel weird yesterday, seeing us together. I was trying to get out of the moment without hurting anyone and I think I may have hurt you both,” he explained.

Cassie just shook her head with a small smile, he had grown physically since the last time she saw him, but he still had the social awareness of a seven year old.

Silently, she raised her left hand, displaying the massive emerald cut diamond on her ring finger, “I mean it when I say I’m fine, Rafe.”

His eyes widened, blinded by the diamond’s sheen in the sunlight. It must’ve been five, maybe six carats.

“Holy shit,” he grinned. “You’re, uh…”

“Getting married,” she nodded. “When I said I was over you…”

“No, yeah, message received,” he chuckled, feeling foolish.

It dawned on him slowly, the realization that seeing him with you had no impact on Cassie at all, except maybe to confirm suspicions she already had. There had been no good reason to drop your hand after all, he wasn’t sparing anyone’s feelings, he was only hurting yours. And now because of it, he may have lost you for good.

“Shit,” he groaned, his shoulders falling.

Cassie gave him a sympathetic look, reading the regret all over his face.

“Was she mad?” She clued.

“Um, yeah, more than I’ve ever seen her,” he said.

“Good. It’s about damn time,” she huffed.

Rafe’s brow furrowed in confusion, stunned by her words and apparent lack of sympathy.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He scoffed.

“She should’ve given you shit a long time ago, Rafe. She deserves to give us both a hard time actually. But now that you guys are together -”

“We’re not together,” he blurted out, surprising Cassie and himself with the statement. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me, Rafe. You still haven’t told her how you feel? God, I swear, Cameron, you’re dumber than you look.”

“No, no, I did. I told her, I asked her to be with me. But she - then I…I think it’s too late,” he struggled with his words like he was new to the language. 

Cassie nodded, making a nearly inaudible “hmm” noise that he recognized well. It was the same noise she’d made when he talked about you back then, letting him know she clearly had more to say but was holding back.

“Say it,” he smirked at her familiar mannerism.

“Oh, nothing…”

“You’ve got no poker face, Bryant. Never have,” he jibbed.

“I just think…I don’t know,” she stalled. “It’s really not my place, and I’m definitely not going to pretend I really know her, but I don’t think you wait for someone for fifteen years just to throw in the towel over ten seconds of stupidity. Which it was, really stupid” she gave him a disapproving look, which he accepted, knowing she was right, “but still…you have your flaws, Rafe, god knows I know that. But I still think you’re the kind of guy a girl would wait for. And I think she’s the kind of girl you don’t give up on.”

Rafe took in a deep breath, his eyes grazing back over the horizon, considering her words. He couldn’t help but blush a little at the way she said he’s someone worth waiting for. It was the nicest thing anyone’s said to him in a long time. And her point about you being the kind of girl he shouldn’t give up on? That was the truest thing anyone had said in a long time.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he turned his head towards her slightly.

“What?” She rolled her eyes at his obvious amusement.

“Are you…dare I say…rooting for me and her?” He teased.

Reluctantly, she smiled back, her lips twisted into a knowing grin as she watched some jet skiers a few yards off shore. 

“Falling in love made me soft, okay?” She defended herself.

“I’m happy for you,” he told her. “I really am.”

“I’m happy for you too, Rafe,” she said earnestly. “Or I will be, when you get your head out of your ass and go up there and make things right with her.”

Nerves twisted in his stomach. He knew you didn’t want to see him, knew you’d push him away, knew he deserved it. But if he left here without trying, without fighting for you, he’d never forgive himself. 

He passed a sidelong glance at Cassie’s ring. It was strange, you all really were at the age where things like marriage and families, things like forever, were suddenly real and within reach. It should make him nervous, should make him spiral into an existential crisis and hide from commitment. But when he thought of you, it didn’t feel strange, because with you forever had always been real, and if it wasn’t meant to be, then the universe was going to have to pry it from his fucking hands.

Cassie gave him an urging look, nodding back towards the house as if to say, “it’s now or never, dude.”

He nodded, a deep breath and a thankful smile to his ex, and ran towards you.

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Yet again, your bedroom door opened with someone emerging who wasn’t you. Running out of options, Carter had sent Kelce in. Maybe he could annoy you into getting out of bed, it was worth a shot. She didn’t really expect it to work, but she definitely didn’t expect him to come back out sniffling.

“Kelce, are you crying?” She asked him, disbelief raising her voice an octave.

“When did your sister get so mean?” He asked, voice cracking.

The group tried and failed to stifle their laughter. Topper threw his arm around Kelce’s shoulder.

“Hey, hey guys we need to normalize men crying,” he scolded the group. “Even if they sound like little girls when they do it.”

Laughter echoed through the hall again, Kelce storming away indignantly, nearly bowled over by Rafe, who appeared suddenly at the top of the stairs. 

He was still shirtless, half-dried sweat making his sculpted torso glisten under the hallway’s lights. A body that made even the straight men on the second floor swoon a little.

The laughing stopped immediately at his arrival, Rafe’s sweaty, shirtless form breaking through the huddle.

“She still in there?” He asked Topper, his face serious as hell.

“Yeah man,” Topper answered.

“You’re probably the last person she wants to talk to right now, Rafe,” Carter snipped.

“Kinda looks like you are, actually,” Rafe shot back at her, gesturing to her position on the other side of the hall, making her jaw flex with the force of the scowl she aimed at him. “Give me five minutes.”

Rafe slipped through the crack in your door, shutting it firmly behind him.

“Sorry, but I thought it was time to bring in the big guns,” Topper gave Carter an apologetic smile.

“‘Big guns’ is right,” Maddie giggled, fanning herself dramatically at the memory of Rafe’s figure. “I mean, goddamn.”

Carter slumped against the wall, arms crossed, hating the whole thing, hating him.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

“Oh my god,” your heart raced at the sight of Rafe, half naked and panting, bursting into your room. You pulled the blankets higher over you, feeling suddenly exposed even though you were the fully clothed one between the two of you.

“Good morning,” He chipped, throwing your curtains open and flooding the room, making you cry out his name in protest, hiding further in your bed.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” You groaned.

“Can we talk now, please?” He asked, standing in the window, his sculpted body illuminated by the Florida sun, framed by the glinting rise and fall of the ocean in the distance. He looked like he belonged on the cover of a romance novel. It made you angry, knowing there was too much history to be able to justify getting out of bed and climbing into his arms, which if you were being honest was all you really wanted to do at that moment. “Have you thought about my question from yesterday?”

Suddenly, you weren’t pissed at him for dropping your hand, or for the prom thing, or any of the other similar stories that accompanied it, enough heartbreak to write a book of memoirs. You were mad at him because he asked you the question: “are you my girl?” in the first place and now, looking up at him, you knew how you needed to answer.

“No.”

“Look, I know I did something shitty, but it’s been like twenty-four hours now and if we could just talk -”

“No, Rafe. I’m saying, I have thought about the question, and the answer is no. I don’t want to be with you. I’m done.”

He just stood there, he just fucking stood there, looking down at you for a full minute before reacting. 

When he finally did, his bottom lip stuck out as he nodded, sticking his hands in his pockets and strolling casually across your room. Moving slowly, he stopped to survey the jewelry, makeup and other knick-knacks on your vanity, running his fingers over them like a restless kid in a store. You sat in bed with a furrowed brow and watched him with confusion, his muscular shoulders relaxed as they finally shrugged in response.

“No,” he shook his head, turning back to face you.

“I don’t remember asking you a question,” you were sitting up against the headboard now, arms crossed as you glared at him from under the hoodie.

“Have some coffee, think it over, we’ll talk about it,” he rambled, so casually it made your blood boil.

“I have thought about it! I’ve been in here for a whole day thinking about it,” you gestured around the room to emphasize your point.

He sighed, leaning back against your dresser on his arms, his triceps flexing as he looked down at you in the bed, “nah you’ve been in here hiding. What are you even doing?”

“I’m fine, Rafe,” you rolled your eyes. You hadn’t wanted to open up to any of the people who had come into the room before him, but you wanted his sympathy least of all. Good thing, you suppose, because he didn’t give it to you.

“I didn’t ask you if you were fine, I asked you what you were doing,” he said plainly.

Once again, Rafe was surprising you. You assumed when you saw him again, he’d be groveling, begging for you back, and you’d have to push him away. But here he was, not a hint of longing in his voice, just a blank face and a carved body you couldn’t believe was actually real. He wasn’t begging for you back, if anything he was being a little rude. God, what was wrong with you that it made you want him a little more?

“I’m watching TV,” you stammered dumbly, using your last sliver of willpower to direct your eyes to the laptop screen and away from him. “And getting over you.”

“Turn it off,” he responded. “And get out of bed.”

“I don’t know if you heard me just now, but I rejected you,” you were starting to get angry now. What was really pissing you off was the fact that out of everyone who’d come in here today, Rafe was the only one matching your energy. And it was successfully throwing you off balance. “I don’t know why you’re even still in here.”

“Yeah and I don’t know if you heard me, but I said no. If you wanna pissed at me, fine. But I’m not giving up on you and you’re not gonna spend the rest of this trip in here rotting because you’d hate yourself for wasting your last few days with Carter by freezing her out. So get up.”

“Stop acting like you know the first fucking thing about me, Rafe,” you rolled your eyes, sitting up straight on the mattress, the closest you’d been to getting up all morning.

“Oh don’t I? Really,” he looked around the room, gesturing towards the half empty pizza box from the night before, “pepperoni and onions? Extra cheese?”

“Okay, so you’ve seen me order pizza before, that doesn’t mean -”

“And I betcha I know what show you’re watching, the one you played like a million times junior year. Except you’re skipping the season finales because you don’t like endings. Which is how I know you’ll be so mad at yourself if you let Carter leave for the UK without making some good memories here with her.”

Rafe walked to the edge of the bed, resting forward on his hands and leaning toward you, the mattress sinking under his strength, causing you to slide towards the spot he was pushing it down. “You done with me? Fine. But I’m not done with you, so I’m not leaving this room until you get out of the fucking bed.”

“Get out,” you said through gritted teeth, scrambling to fight the forces of gravity and scoot away from him.

He only pushed the mattress down harder, making you tumble towards him, “no.”

You used your arms and feet to push yourself away from him as much as you could, needing desperately not to touch him, not to remind your body what his felt like, determined that you’d never let yourself feel him again.

His eyes were steely, expression fixed. He wasn’t leaving, and you’d never be able to overpower him physically, all you had left was a verbal defense.

Your chin wobbled with the angry tears you were failing to fight back, and for the second time today, you lied to protect yourself, “I hate you.”

He nodded that same, pursed lip nod, standing straight again, just looking down at you with an immovable defiance. 

“I’m not leaving,” he repeated.

Heart pounding with regret and adrenaline, you scooted back to the edge of the mattress. A disbelief that you’d just said what you said and the nauseating desire to crawl into his arms and beg for forgiveness, even though you knew you should stand your ground, you rose shakily from the bed. Needing to get away from him, and whatever version of yourself you’d just turned into. Desperate to escape with as few people seeing you cry as possible, you pushed past the crowd outside your door without a word and beelined toward the bathroom for a long, hot shower.

A few moments later, Rafe emerged from the room as well, holding the pizza box and other trash collected from your hiding place. 

“Woah you did it,” Topper congratulated him. “How’d you get her up?”

Rafe ignored him, his eyes on Carter, who watched him with a suspicious glare. He didn’t speak, disappearing back down the hall. Once he’d tossed your trash, he stood at the sink trying to breathe and make peace with what just happened, what you’d said to him.

As the ocean waves crashed violently outside the wide kitchen windows, a similar uneasy tide rose in his chest, threatening to spill over and destroy everything in sight.

Before he knew it, he was running again. He made it a half a mile down the beach before the inevitable caught up with him, squeezing his chest with a sharp pain. He doubled over, gripping his heart and wincing as the muscle constricted, his heartbeat erratic and vision blurry from lack of oxygen. His knees slammed into the hot sand as his body crashed out one limb at a time.

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“Rafe? Rafe, are you okay?! Rafe!!” 

(to be continued)

a/n: okay ik this part is a lot of establishing things for the next part but part two will be nice and juicy and even have some giggles and good times

please note the taglist for this series is closed. for updates when I post, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs <3

[strongheartneteyam]

Realize where you belong.

Pairing: neteyam sully x female!dreamwalker!reader/female!human!reader

cw: sexual content, possessive neteyam, tsaheylu, semi public sex, dominant neteyam, missionary position, doggy position, TRIGGER WARNING for brief mention of non con, dirty talk, sub reader, fluff, yearning, masturbation, tenderness. I might remember more and add later lol

After AGES (sorry for the hiatus, my loves :( I needed it), the so anticipated smut chapter of his story 🥺💓 I've been wanting to let my babies (yes, I love my characters to this point lol) have this special, intimate moment for so long 😭 it just wasn't the right time yet but now here it is. I wrote a part of this chapter in public, in a cafeteria inside a supermarket and damnnnn my pussy was clenching so much lol it was a weird situation lmao fuck I need Neteyam inside of me istg I can't anymore 😭 I hope my dear readers enjoy this <33

PS: in this story, Neteyam was shot on his arm when he was fighting the RDA, not on his chest, hence a scar on his arm is gonna be mentioned.

Slightly proofread. I'll edit it as soon as I can.

Chapter 9

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you

I can never look away

I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you

Things will never be the same

I've been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night

Now I'm wide awake

And now I see daylight, I only see daylight

(...)

All of you, all of me intertwined

Daylight (Taylor Swift)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Neteyam's lips kissed your neck in a perfect mix of tenderness and passion. Your whimpers filled the air as you felt his big bulge rubbing against your ass and Neteyam took that as a sign that you were enjoying that level of intimacy with him. He was finally able to show you how much he craved you, how just the thought of your wet pussy made him get hard as a rock.

Neteyam was leaking so much precum for you, his loincloth had a stain on it from his thick salty liquid, as he kept rubbing himself against your butt in a languid yet delicious pace, almost driving you insane.

His four fingers hovered over the sensitive skin of your arm.

 "Your skin feels so soft, oeyä muntxate… just touching it makes me get even harder for you."

You turned your head back to look at him and his amber eyes stared deep into yours. Your fingers softly touched his beautiful face, tracing his dark blue stripes and his freckles.

Neteyam let out a deep breath and closed his eyes, savoring your touch. You turned yourself around completely, your body towards him now, and your lips reached for Neteyam's mouth. You softly kissed him, feeling how plump and wet his lips were. Neteyam eagerly kissed you back as soon as your soft mouth came in contact with his. His tongue sneaked between your upper and your lower lip carefully but passionately and you opened your mouth wider so he could explore the insides of it. Neteyam laid over you and you felt his cock growing even harder and bigger, now pressed against your soaking wet pussy, still covered by your clothes. You wanted him so bad, he made you so weak that you couldn't help but moan against his lips. Neteyam ended the kiss leaving two pecks in your lips delicately.

“I want you so bad… your body, your scent, your lips on mine…”

Neteyam touched the sleeves of your white cropped top slightly, taking his time, not wanting to startle you or make you feel like he doesn't respect your boundaries, but Eywa knows there was a hungry animal inside of him who only wanted to bury himself deep inside your tight pussy, rough and merciless. His animalistic side wanted to hunt you down and catch you like a prey, mating with his female, taking what's his. But he knew it was too soon to act like that. This was gonna be your first time together and the last thing he wanted was to scare you, to drive you away. He could not live without you again. He needed to have the scent of your skin on him to survive.

His fingers finally reached the hem of your top and as he watched your body language, Neteyam noticed you welcomed his actions, so, he took your top off, your hair getting a little messed up as he passed it over your head. He threw it to the side and couldn't care less about where it had landed because all he could focus on was your breasts. They were much bigger than the breasts of the other na'vi girls, as you were in an Avatar body. That pleased him beyond reason. Neteyam's hands traveled through the delicate blue skin of your tits, caressing it with the most tender touch, his fingers drawing over your bioluminescent freckles. You watched his face, the way he looked dumb with desire and longing, his mouth half open, his breath heavy.

“Oeyä muntxate, how can you be even more beautiful in this body? Your human breasts drive me crazy, you know that, but these… your pink nipples contrasting with your blue skin, these stripes, your little freckles… fuck, my love… I wanna suck on your titties, bury my face on them and never let go.”

You chuckled slighty “Then I think you should. I'm yours, Neteyam.”

“Yeah? You're mine? Say it again. Say you're only mine.” He dared teasingly 

“I'm only yours, Neteyam. My body belongs to you.” Neteyam's smile was big and proud

One of his hands cupped your right breast as he took your lips on his, tasting the softest mouth he had ever kissed.

Neteyam kissed the tip of your cat like nose, then left kisses on your mouth, your chin and your throat. His lips rapidly found your nipple and he took it inside his mouth, suckling on it profusely, his hunger taking over him. Your na'vi ears moved downwards, your mouth was half open and your eyes closed, your back arching slighty. Your folds got wetter and wetter as he sucked on your other tit now like he had been starving for that for way too long and it had been killing him.

Neteyam traced your stomach slowly with his fingers, the bare touch of his digits scorching you with delight. He carefully started to unbutton your shorts as he looked into your eyes, as if asking for permission. You nodded and he slid your piece of clothing down your legs. You opened your legs slightly and his big hand cupped your pussy, covered by your soaking wet panties. That made a thought pop up in your mind: did female Avatars have a hymen? Would you feel pain and bleed once he penetrated you? You never bothered to ask about that to your teachers because… well… you never thought you'd be having sex in your Avatar body. You could never imagine that Neteyam would appear to you. Never… that made you hold back a smile but the corners of your lips curled up, in stubbornness.

“Why are you smiling?” Neteyam teased “Do you like when I touch you like this, muntxate?”

“Yes.” Even though that wasn't why you were smiling, that was undeniably true.

Neteyam smiled, proud of himself, and wrapped his tail around your leg, making you feel owned by him and that always turned you on beyond explanation.

He just wanted to pleasure his precious mate already. The way your juices smelled was driving him mad. Neteyam needed to finally have your taste all over his tongue. But before that, he wanted to do something important.

“It's time, tanhì. Tsaheylu.” He was nervous to ask you for something that was utterly normal and natural to his people but could be so very weird to you. In that moment, Neteyam was so aware that you had been raised in a totally different culture. That as much as you were na'vi in your soul and was in your na'vi body now, you were still… human.

But you eagerly consented. He breathed out, relieved and the fearful look left his face, where now there was a soft smile, showing no teeth. 

Your fingers trembled softly as you took your long braid in your hand and your tendrils were now free, the delicate, thin extremities dancing in the air.

“No need to be nervous, yawne. You're my mate. We belong to each other. Do you trust me?”

You looked at him with doe eyes “I do. I'm not scared. Just nervous.” You smiled coyly and he kissed your hand tenderly

When you both brought your pinkish tendrils together and they intertwined, you felt a powerful wave piercing through your whole being.

How do you explain that you can see yourself through someone's thoughts? How do you explain that you can feel, not sense, but literally feel how much the person you love loves you back, just like your spirits are one and the same? Your teachers in the laboratory taught you that tsaheylu worked very similarly to how synapses work in the human brain, extremely similar actually. Neteyam was passing to you his emotions through his kuru and so were you, like you both… had the same mind. As weird as it sounds to a human being, you never knew you needed that invincible, raw connection until that moment. It was euphoria running through your veins but also calming too. It almost did not make sense… but it did. It cannot be explained rationally, you can't use your brain to understand it. Only your heart will. His electrical waves invaded your body and your soul like a sword, its blade so sharp, the love so strong, that none of your barriers could keep him away, keep him from becoming one with you. You could only wonder if that was real, if that moment wasn't just a part of a crazy dream.

That's the best you could come up with to try to explain something as ethereal and sacred as tsaheylu. There are no words, at least not in the limited English language that you could try to use that would convey the feeling that it was having Neteyam's tendrils intertwining with yours. It was like they were made to be there, together, connected. Like some force said so in the beginning of time and there was nothing nobody could ever do to prevent it. Just like the cycle of life, it was an unstoppable force, you and him, the love you shared.

You hadn't realized when you had closed your eyes but once you opened them, you saw Neteyam with his eyes still closed and his lips parted, like he was in a trance. You couldn't help but smile. Was he feeling something as strong as you did? After a few seconds, he opened his sparkling golden eyes. Neteyam smiled at you and held onto your waist, kissing you passionately.

He gently pushed you to lay on your back, his hands on your shoulders. Neteyam left a trail of delicate kisses in between your breasts and went down, opening your legs.

“I'm addicted to how you smell. How can you have this power over me, yawne?” His wide eyes were locked on yours while he pronounced those enticing words 

Neteyam kissed your navel and licked over your wet panties, tasting your juices. Your breath got caught in your throat, so good it felt. He got rid of the last piece of clothing keeping him from tasting your cunt - that now belonged to him. Neteyam was impatient, it was like he needed to eat you out right now or he would die.

When his mouth finally reached your pussy and he licked your soaking wet folds for the first time and your taste invaded his taste buds, it was like he was gonna explode. His tongue lapped on your cunt over and over, desperately, like an animal, like you had just awakened his rut, even though it wasn't possible. But maybe it was. You had a hold on him that no other girl had ever had. And he knew that there would never be anyone else for him but you. Neteyam ate your pussy like you had the best taste he ever had on his tongue. And you did. He had been yearning to taste you for so long. Just touching himself thinking about you hadn't been enough for some time. He was so, so grateful to Eywa that he was finally there, with you, mating with the girl he loved so much, the girl who had turned him from a man into a burning flame, so strong was the desire he felt for you.

“Yawntu…” Neteyam cried “You taste so good…” he sucked on your clit, making your pussy feel hot and your entrance clench around nothing, aching to be fucked by his cock. 

You were now no longer a girl but a moaning mess. There was a boiling pool of pleasure in your lower stomach. Your body contorted under him.

When he was done eating your cunt, Neteyam sat on his ankles, and took his cock in his hand, its impressive girth and length turning you on, making your pussy get wetter, your inner thighs all sticky.

Neteyam started to jerk himself off, his swollen tip pouring precum out insanely while he gazed at your body with lust tainted eyes.

It was such a sight to see, so hot it had your heart beating at the speed of light and you felt your pussy walls clenching around nothing, yet again.

You could not believe he was like that because of you. Were you that pretty? So pretty that you were able to get the attention of such a gorgeous creature? Getting to the answer didn't matter, though. All that mattered to you at that moment was how hot he was and how crazy he was for your body. Neteyam's huge cock made you feral and you knew he was feral over your body too.

"Can I put it in, baby?" Neteyam asked, still stroking his blue cock. You watched him use his four slender fingers to stimulate himself with want in your eyes. The way the veins there were all loaded with blood… Fuck. "Need you so bad…" he cooed, yearning.

"Yeah" You meant to speak but it came off more like a moan

Neteyam gave you a lustful look with his wide feline eyes, the yellow in them luring you in as they shone like gold.

He put his cock on your entrance, making you quiver a little by the slightest contact of his member with your cunt. When he had all his length inside of you, there was the animalistic Neteyam again. The one you met that night outside your bedroom window, the one who could barely keep himself from forcing his body on you.

"You're mine!" Neteyam said and then groaned "All mine! Ahhh, fuck, yawne!" He kept slamming his hips vigorously against yours

No words could possibly come out of your mouth at that time. All your brain would let you do was moan loudly. 

"Eywa… you're clenching so much around my cock" He chuckled "Do you like being fucked by me as much as I like fucking you?" He said, while thrusting deep into you.

"Mmmgh…" You pathetically mewled 

"Yes, you do, yawnetu" Neteyam let out a sexy, almost cocky smirk. He loved knowing he could melt you like that, give you so much pleasure you couldn't even speak.

Neteyam kept fucking you hard, slamming his hips against yours, his tip reaching deep inside your body, poking at your womb, bruising your insides but bringing you to a state of raw pleasure that you never thought your body was capable of feeling. 

He felt divine as he buried himself inside your sensitive flesh, his moans just would not stop filling your ears, turning you on beyond reason, driving you closer and closer to the edge of Paradise.

“Get on all fours for me, oeyä muntxate”

You obeyed Neteyam's command without thinking twice.

In the blink of an eye, he was inside of you again, reaching deeper this time, making you moan in an addictive mix of pain and delight as his swollen tip reached your womb with every thrust.

"This pretty, tight pussy is all mine now. This body…" He let out an animalistic growl "so fucking hot, all for me. All mine. Yawne…" he moaned loud for you before he pulled out and pumped his cock as his warm, sticky seed fell all over your ass and reached the beginning of your lower back. That sight was by far the most beautiful thing Neteyam had ever seen. He had marked you as his. Completely. His cum covering your skin as a sign to show who you belonged to.

You laid at the wooden floor, flushed and panting a little as Neteyam smirked and kissed your back. He still breathed heavy as he ran his hand over your back, in a sensual caress. Neteyam was beyond proud of what he had done to his precious mate. Now you were utterly, undoubtedly and completely his.

༊⁀➷

When you two were holding each other, cuddling after having made love, you noticed a big scar on Neteyam's arm. How did you not notice it before? It was big and ragged. You felt bad for not noticing it before. But then you realized he wasn't wearing the brown beaded bracelet he used to always wear that day. That must be why. He hid his scar under his bracelet.

“I never noticed before that you had a scar on your arm”

He chuckled, trying to cover up his embarrassment. “Yes, I have one.”

“How did you get it?”

He breathed deeply and then let the air out, his eyes now clouded, like some terrible memory was hunting him. “Fighting against the demons. The Sky People.”

“I see…”

"It's kinda ugly, I know." He joked but you could see right through his smile and the obvious way he was now covering it with his hand. Neteyam was insecure about the way his skin looked with the scar on it.

You kissed the scar on his arm tenderly, your lips gentle as they did so.

"It's not ugly. I like it." You told Neteyam as your eyes were fixed on his scar "It only reminds me that you've been through something terrible but survived it, that you're strong." You looked up into his eyes again and Neteyam smiled at you tenderly yet coyly, showing no teeth.

“The bullet hit my artery. I bled so much when I got shot that my family thought I was gonna die. But I believe the Great Mother found a way to protect me because there was a female warrior with us and she was also a healer. She was able to stop the bleeding until they could get me to my grandmother, the Tsahìk. You know what a Tsahìk is, right?” He smiled softly, petting your face, his thumb gentle as the touch of a flower 

“I do. They're the spiritual leaders and healers of the clans, right?” 

“That's right, yawntu.” Neteyam was happy you knew a lot about his culture. The culture you should have been born in. You were his na'vi mate, in your soul you were na'vi. He knew it, he could feel it. Seeing you in your na'vi body (or in your Dreamwalking body, like his mother and grandmother used to say) felt so right. Like things finally were how they should be. You were just temporarily spending more time in the wrong body, the human one. But that would change soon.

Your heart hurt profusely, you wondered how your life would be if you hadn't met him, if he had died.  It's weird to think this, but you felt like it would hurt you to lose him like that, even if you wouldn't be actually losing him if you would never have met him, right?

Even so… thinking about it made you almost despair. How can you love someone so much like that? That the mere thought of having never met him shatters you? And beyond that, you hated that he had got shot. By humans. Your kind. That made you feel dirty, ashamed to share DNA with such a despicable race, one capable of hurting and almost killing a young man who was just trying to protect his family, his people, his home.

You fought back tears and of course he noticed. Neteyam noticed everything about you. Nothing would go past his golden eyes.

“Hey, don't cry.” He said 

“I hate that it happened to you.” He gave you a comforting smile 

“I survived. It's okay.” All you could do was hug him tight, still stuck in the thought of having lost the opportunity of meeting the best person you ever laid eyes upon

He hugged you back, his arms making you feel at home. They were your home now. You were far too sacred in Neteyam's eyes, like a pure, delicate creature he must protect at any cost. And he would. Neteyam would live and die for you.

He was way more than you had ever dreamed of in a partner. He showed you a kind of love you never even thought could exist, so pure and strong and raw and powerful. You wanted it to engulf you. You wanted to dive deep into Neteyam's ocean and never come back for air again. You wanted to learn how to breathe under his waters, just so you could never leave the state of mind that being loved by him, feeling that love so strongly, all over you, burning you so good, put you in. It was a sweet ecstasy.

After a while, Neteyam walked you back to your small room in the laboratory and when you were safe, inside the building, he headed back to his family's hut. Your taste and the way you felt were still all over him, though. Your beautiful face was haunting his thoughts. A part of him was left with you.

༊⁀➷

"Can I go forward when my heart is here? Turn back, dull earth, and find thy center out.”

Romeo Montague - Romeo and Juliet (William Shakespeare)

༊⁀➷

This is the last chapter of the Part 1 of this story :) see you guys in Part 2, hopefully! Thank you all for reading it and being in this journey with our beloved characters until now 💕

•

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[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [9] - Engagement

A.N: Here’s the new chapter my loves! ❤️ Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: A marriage decision leads to an honest conversation about expectations.

Word Count: 2700

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, drinking. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

For a couple of seconds, he gawked at you in complete silence before he managed to pull himself together.

“You—you’re saying yes?”

“I’m saying yes.”

“Seriously?”

“Please don’t ask me again because I have this feeling that I’ll change my mind if I think about it longer than a second,” you stated and he nodded fervently.

“Right,” he said. “Sure, I…wow. Okay, we’re—we’re getting married then.”

“Don’t say that either, I am not ready to hear it out loud,” you said with a sigh but before he could answer, a soft voice reached you both.

“Bucky?”

He closed his eyes shut for a moment as he scrunched up his face and you turned your head to look at the top of the stairs where a pretty girl in an oversized shirt –his shirt, if you had to guess— was leaning to the steel handrail.

“Hi,” she said. “Um, who are you?”

“His fiancée,” you stated, trying your hardest to ignore the pang of jealousy in your stomach and her eyes widened.

“Oh I didn’t—I didn’t know—”

“Neither did I when I woke up today,” you said with a click of your tongue. “Can you leave us please?”

“Sure!” she said as she rushed back to what you could only assume was the bedroom and Bucky shot you an apologetic look.

“Charm I’m sorry, if I knew…”

You walked past him, looking around the huge living room. Even you had to admit it looked incredibly beautiful and sleek, and the clear view of the city that you could see from the floor-to-ceiling windows was absolutely breathtaking. It was exactly what you would come up with if someone asked you what Bucky's apartment would look like; luxurious yet dark.

It didn’t mean you would tell him that though.

“I’m not moving in here by the way, this place is a dump,” you forced yourself to say, “If I wanted industrial interior, I’d buy myself a factory.”

“Right, sure—”

“That could be a fun project though,” you muttered more to yourself as the girl appeared at the top of the stairs again, and rushed downstairs, grabbing her coat off the rack.

“Sorry again,” she said without looking you in the eye and walked out of the apartment, and you heaved a deep sigh.

“None of this will be happening from now on by the way,” Bucky said in a haste and you rolled your eyes, then turned around to look at him.

“I don’t care about you enough to have that conversation with you,” you said. “I don’t give a fuck who you fuck, but you’re not going to make me look like an idiot in front of other people so when it inevitably happens, you’ll keep it a secret.”

“You don’t have to worry about that at all,” he said, his voice firm and you crossed your arms.

“So then,” you said. “I feel like we should both talk about the conditions before taking it to the families and the lawyers and everything.”

“I’m good with your conditions,” he said and you shot him a glare.

“You don’t even know my conditions.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

You kept your eyes on him, a slight frown pulling your brows together before you took a deep breath and took off your coat to throw it over the couch.

“Either way, I think we should talk about it,” you insisted and leaned on your hip. “So do you have actual booze in here or are you going to pull out a homemade barrel or something?”

He smiled slightly.

“Take a seat sweetheart,” he said. “I’ll bring the wine.”

“And put a shirt on!” you said as you made your way to the table, ignoring the way your heart skipped a beat. “This is a business deal, honestly. There has to be a dress code.”

                                            *

When Bucky came to the table, he did in fact have his shirt on and he was carrying a bottle of wine with two glasses. He filled one and handed it to you, then filled his own and sat down. You took a sip, pleasantly surprised at the taste and lowered your glass, leaning back.

“Alright,” he said. “Tell me your conditions.”

You swirled the wine in your glass, deep in thought.

“Well first of all, we need to have a time table,” you said. “I don’t want to stay married to you for the rest of my life, and I’m pretty sure you share the sentiment.”

A small smile twitched the corners of his lips but he didn’t comment on it.

“But we can’t get a divorce as soon as I take over because that will lead to a lot of questions and I won’t have the time for distractions, the taking over process is chaotic enough,” you said. “I can’t be making any mistakes, especially considering I already have a rival.”

“Calling Ian a rival makes him sound more important than he actually is,” Bucky commented. “But I agree. We already know some of the families can disagree with this idea.”

“Stark?” you asked and he nodded.

“At least,” he said. “We have Steve and Sam’s support, my family and your family of course, but the rest…”

“You think Romanoff would disagree?”

Bucky thought for a moment.

“Probably, but I can talk to Nat I think,” he said. “She’d hear me out.”

“Barton?”  

“Barton is not going to do anything Nat disagrees with,” he said. “If we have Nat, we have Clint.”

“So that leaves us Stark,” you said, pursing your lips. “Who talks to him, you or me?”

He shot you an apologetic look.

“I mean we may try to sell it as love but at the end of the day, everyone will think about the business side of things,” he said. “It could be better if your father talked to him actually. He already dislikes me enough, and we’re changing the power balance in the city by doing this.”

“Alright,” you said. “My dad could do that.”

“Next?”

“I want your word that I will be included in everything,” you said. “None of the bullshit the earlier generation pulled. I will be in every meeting and I will be included in every single decision.”

He nodded. “Yeah, figured as much.”

“I mean it Bucky,” you said, looking him in the eye. “We will be equals completely.”

“We will be,” he assured you. “I swear on my honor.”

“And I’m not changing my surname.”

He threw his head back. “Charm…”

“Out of question.”

“Charm if I’m going to get you into those meetings, you need to have my surname,” he insisted. “You know the rules. We need to give them an actual reason if you can’t be there as an heir.”

You thought for a moment and cleared your throat.

“Hyphenated it is,” you said. “I’ll keep mine and add yours.”

“It’d be better if—”

“I can’t take over my father’s territory if my last name is Barnes,” you pointed out. “I’ll use both, it’s fine.”

Bucky thought for a moment, then licked his lips and shrugged his shoulders.

“Fine,” he grumbled even though his tone signaled it was anything but fine. You sipped your wine, leaning back.

“Goes without saying that we won’t have any children in the meantime so should we even talk about it?”

“I think we should,” Bucky said, a small smile curling his lips. “Just in case.”

“Just in case?” you repeated and he rolled his eyes.

“It’ll be on the prenup just like everything else,” he reminded you. “And our families will see those prenups, so it’d be better if we covered it beforehand.”

You huffed out and waved a dismissive hand.

“Fine,” you said. “The usual, right? The first born is the heir…”

“The second born is the spare, yeah,” Bucky said. “Although, if you’re keeping your surname…”

“Our children would as well,” you finished his sentence for him and let out a dry laugh. “So then, is the firstborn yours or mine?”

“Maybe it’ll be twins,” he joked and you shook your head.

“We’ll say that the firstborn rules both until the second born is ready, and then divide my territory and yours accordingly,” you said and Bucky raised his brows.

“But until then, both territories?” he asked. “That’s a lot of pressure to put on one person.”

“That person doesn’t exist and will not exist,” you reminded him. “It’s just gonna be a hypothetical article in the prenup, that’s it.”

“And if we want a divorce—”

“When we have a divorce,” you corrected him and Bucky hummed.

“Any specific reque—”

“The weekend house,” you cut him off and he let out a small laugh.

“How long have you had your eye on it?”

“Oh, so long,” you said with a grin. “It’s really pretty.”

Bucky held up his hands, gesturing surrender. “It’s yours then."

“I mean I know I can’t just get it without giving something in return so how about you? What do you want in the divorce?”

“Nothing.”

You blinked a couple of times, gawking at him.

“You want nothing?” you asked him. “Bullshit. Say your price.”

“I don’t need anything.”

“You’re going to get me in the business and help me take over and you want nothing?” you insisted. “No fucking way. What is your game here?”

“I don’t have any.”

“Why are you doing this then?” you asked with a frown. “Seriously. What’s in it for you?”

“My reasons are my own.”

“Bucky…”

“But I do have one request now that you mention it,” he said and you nodded your head.

“Yeah tell me. What is it?”

“Throughout the time we stay married,” he said, taking a sip of his wine. “No sleeping with other people.”

“…I’m not going to sleep with you,” you managed to say after a pause and he shrugged his shoulders.

“We’re going into war with an outsider while pushing you to the top,” he said. “Any kind of issue in our marriage, including a whisper of a rumor could work against that. We need to present a united front to all the other families and our people. Can’t fight a war on that many fronts, you know that.”

As much as you hated to admit, as it turned out, Bucky was actually smart when it came to how things worked in business. You nibbled on your lip, trying to put your thoughts in order before sticking your nose in the air.

“That’s a two-way street,” you told him. “If I’m behaving like the perfect wife, you’re going to behave like the perfect husband.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Bucky, I’m serious,” you said, looking him in the eye. “Don’t go behind my back and make me kill your mistresses.”

“Don’t go behind my back and make me kill your boyfriends,” he replied and you took a deep breath, then downed your wine and stretched out your hand.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” you said and he chuckled, then reached out to take your hand into his, sending a pleasant warmth from your hand to your whole body.

“Likewise,” he said, his voice soft. “Let’s make you the queen, princess.”

                                              *

 You and Bucky decided to tell your family about your decision that weekend at their favorite restaurant. It would at least give you some time to get your story straight and you figured it would play into the lie; that you and Bucky had something for each other all along and once you got together you didn’t want to lose any time to get married.

Of course your closest friends were going to know about it, it would be impossible to keep it from Becca, Sarah, Steve and Sam because they’d had the first row to every single fight whenever you were within each other’s sight not to mention heard about how much you two disliked each other for years now.

But as far as anyone else was concerned, it was the happy ending to a decade long crush on both parts.

That night, you decided to stay in a hotel until the weekend. Not only did you not want to talk to Ian or your father, but it would also work in your favor; it was Bucky’s favorite hotel, it was in his territory and he would make sure to stay with you in the honeymoon suit every night until the weekend so you were pretty sure the rumors would reach your families way before you told them.

Your bodyguards were still on your father’s payroll after all.

You sipped your champagne, your feet propped up on the small coffee table across from the couch you were sitting on, the fluffy bathrobe wrapped tight around your body as you changed the channel on the TV but the knock on the door made you turn your head. Heaving a sigh, you pushed yourself off the bed and went to the door, then put a bright smile on your face and swung open the door.

“Finally!” you exclaimed, then gasped at the huge bouquet of roses Bucky was holding. “Oh my God!”

“Hi beautiful,” Bucky said with a smirk and you stole a look at both your father’s and Bucky’s men in the hallway, then turned to him.

“You shouldn’t have!” you giggled as you grabbed his arm to pull him into the suit, and closed the door behind him.

“Flowers are a nice touch,” you commented, the lovesick smile disappearing from your lips even if your heart did a happy flip and Bucky winked at you.

“I’m glad you like them,” he said as you took them from him, then walked to the open kitchen to pour water into the empty wine decanter before putting the flowers into it.

He leaned back to the kitchen island. “Did you talk to Becca yet?”

“Tomorrow,” you said. “I slept the whole day away today, barely did anything. Must be the stress after yesterday.”  

“Is she serious with that girl by the way?” Bucky asked you. “Leila?”

“I’m not going to tell you anything about Becca.”

He tilted his head. “You and I are going to get married—”

“And she’s my best friend so she’s still above you on my loyalty list,” you pointed out. “Marriage is one thing, friendship is another.”

“Should I at least threaten the girl so that she doesn’t break her heart?” Bucky asked and you rolled your eyes.

“No, Leila is a sweetheart,” you said as you walked past him, then threw yourself on the couch to grab the remote. He followed you and rested his hands on the back of the couch you were sitting on, the closeness of his body making your stomach do a pleasant flip for some reason.

“So what are we watching?”

“We are not watching anything,” you said, trying to focus on the screen. “I’m watching The Bachelor.”

He let out a groan. “Seriously?”

“There’s another TV upstairs, go watch whatever you want to watch there,” you said, grabbing your champagne glass again and tilted your head back so that you could look at him, and Bucky shot you a mischievous grin.

“Marriage requires quality time together, Charm.”

“Who told you that lie?” you asked, turning your glances to the TV and he chuckled.

“Steve sent me an article about it today when I told him the news.”

“Not Sam?”

“No, Sam sent me the address of a great psychiatrist,” he said. “For couples therapy and marriage counseling.”   

“That’s much more useful than an article,” you pointed out and he squeezed at your shoulder making your heart skip a beat.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he said as he walked to the hanging stairs and someone knocked on the door, making you frown and look at Bucky over your shoulder.

“Room service,” Bucky answered before you could ask. “I already know your favorite so I ordered for both of us.”

“How do you know my favorite?”  

“I pay attention,” he said as he started climbing the stairs, unbuttoning his shirt. “Don’t open the door yet though, will you? Wouldn’t want my men to think I last five minutes.”

“I’m sure that would be an improvement for you,” you said with a scoff and he tsk tsked.

“If you want to see just how wrong you are, all you gotta do is ask nicely princess.”

“That will never happen!” you called out and slipped a little on the couch when you heard him close the bathroom door, then heaved a sigh.  

“Great,” you muttered to yourself as the water started running. “My honeymoon should be so much fun.”

Chapter 10

[yawnderu]

K-9 — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | Chapter V

Sick as a dog, and just as vicious.

1 2 3 4 5

''Stop looking at me, Johnny.'' Your voice is strained, currently being crushed by the mass of pure muscle currently laying on top of you.

''Cannae keep my eyes off of ya, doc.'' You roll your eyes, attempting to change positions before giving up. The man is not going anywhere.

''Or your hands. Let go of me.'' You gather the strength to try to push him away again, just for Johnny to make himself heavier and shoot you a cheeky smile. As if being woken up by the man running into your room and crushing you wasn't bad enough, he was refusing to let go or move, arms wrapped around you tightly, legs caging you in.

''Next time I'm letting you die.'' You sigh, stopping the struggle just for your best friend to lay down next to you, an arm wrapped around your shoulder.

''Saved my life out there, bonnie.'' The man is like a golden retriever and it's practically impossible to resist his charms, not when he has been in a coma for two whole weeks after the surgery, leaving you alone with the rest of the team. Your hand comes out of the blanket to gently pat his cheek before your arms are wrapping around his neck, bringing him closer, foreheads pressed together.

''I kinda missed you, you know?'' His arms wrap around your waist as he brings you even closer, hearts pressing together. He sighs, looking away before looking back at you.

''Thought that was the end of me, doc. Fuckin' Makarov got away an' I get a bullet to the heid.'' Johnny has always been an open book, anger and frustration clear on his face, yet his eyes showed the fear he felt at the idea of being an inch from death. Your chuckle brings his attention back to you, eyebrow raising in a display of attitude only Gaz can surpass.

''Took me 12 hours to bring you back, Johnny. Got help from Ghost for the chest shots, but your head...? If anything that shouldn't be touched was messed with, we could have lost you— or made you into more of an idiot.'' He playfully tugs on a strand of your hair, a small smile on his lips, yet his eyes were just as haunted as before. He took a deep breath before holding you closer, your face buried on his chest, warm hand on the back of your head.

'''t was scary, bonnie. Thought I'd wake up in hell with all the fannybaws I've killed.'' A dry chuckle escapes his lips as he lets go of you, giving your forehead a small kiss before getting up from bed, looking around your room before his blue eyes go back to you.

''Thank you. For saving me.'' Your gaze softens as you look up at him, finally getting up from bed and gently patting his shoulder, looking at the small patch of hair that had to be shaved off in order to have more space to operate.

''Should have shaved that stupid mohawk while I was at it.'' He gives you an overexaggerated look of mock offense and you grin up at him, happy to at the very least, have your best friend back. He's not ready to be out on the field yet, so you can already expect him to be bothering you or Simon as much as possible.

His hand drapes over your shoulder as he guides you out of your quarters and drops you off in an interrogation room, your eyebrow raising as you look up at him for an explanation.

''L.Ts teaching you how to interrogate people. Said something about ye becoming more involved in field work.'' You don't question it, knowing if anything happens to the team while out on a mission, you'd have to take over. Johnny gives you a smug smile as he walks away, fully aware of what at the very least seemed to be Ghost's attraction to you.

You open the door just to see him already waiting, sitting on an old chair with rope held in his hands. His brown eyes immediately go to yours, softening slightly as he offers you the rope. He knows it's a bad idea, but at the same time, he wants to ensure you know as much as possible about psychological warfare, even when it's completely different from your field. It's an excuse to spend extra time with you, that much is clear— but he also knows you're a fast learner.

''Simon.'' There's a smirk threatening to tug at your lips as you grab the rope, already getting on with tying him up. It's something you're very familiar with, not needing further instructions and ignoring the way his muscles tense up slightly in mild surprise as your hands move with pure expertise as if this is nothing but a second nature to you.

It takes a few minutes until you're done, looking down at the artwork with the perfect muse— there's a knot tied up on top of Ghost's chest, rope running over his chest in three different sections, uniting where his hands are tied behind his back. The rope goes up, binding his mid-section to the back of the wooden chair. His thighs are held apart with the tight rope, ankles tied to the front legs of the chair, his prominent bulge standing out even more with the tightness your knots have.

''Right.'' He interrupts after you stare at him for a second too long, already feeling the sweat pooling up on his forehead underneath the balaclava.

''You already got the intimidation part down, so let's move with torture. In that table there's tools you can use on me. When interrogating the enemy... make sure you start slow before you build up on the most damage you can do without killing. Anything is fair game in this field, love.'' He looks down before looking back up at you, trying to keep his eyes from wandering as he looks at you in civilian clothes for the first time.

''Torture, psychological tactics of intimidation, even amputation, if you're not afraid of being discharged.'' He's clearly joking about the last part, but his voice remains serious as he focuses on the task at hand.

''Go get something from there and try to make me talk. I'll be an enemy holding back information, get it out of me.'' He gestures to the table with his head and you hum in acknowledgement. The corners of your lips tug into a smirk as you see it— a red candle among the many different tools, a zippo lighter you recognize as his right next to it.

''Interesting.'' He doesn't even have to look to know what caught your attention. Your hand reached out for the lighter, flicking it on and staring at the flame for a few seconds before looking over your shoulder, gaze catching his. His eyes follow your movements, from the way you slowly walk up to him, to your hands lifting up his shirt, wrinkling the fabric together underneath the knot of the rope, his strong body exposed.

His breath hitches when your cold finger trails up and down from his abs to his chest. He watches you light up the candle, waiting until the wax starts to melt before slowly tipping the candle closer and closer, pausing before the burning flame makes contact with his skin, waiting for his approval. All he can do is stare down at you and nod his head once.

Your eyes focus on his strong torso, tipping the candle until the wax began slowly dripping into the pale skin, muscles flexing underneath. He takes a deep breath, trying his best to not give you a reaction despite the burning pain on his sensitive skin.

''That all you got?'' He challenges and that does nothing but make the dangerous glint in your eyes dance along with the fire. Your hand goes higher, tipping the candle again until a new bead of wax drips down his chest, not a single sound coming out of him besides his heavy breathing.

''Not yet.'' There's a small smirk on your lips as you notice the jolt that runs through his body, flinching slightly when the hot wax lands on his nipple, yet he still doesn't let out any sounds of struggle. His rock-hard cock twitches in his jeans, another deep breath coming out of him as the muscles on his stomach flex involuntarily. He takes his eyes off of you when the wax drips onto his other nipple, staring at the ceiling as he tries his best to calm down, body shifting in discomfort as much as possible despite the rope binding his whole body to the chair.

''Try harder.'' He orders, gravelly voice growing deeper. A small snicker escapes your lips at his words, nodding your head. From this angle you can see how his pupils dilate, the black specks quickly overpowering his dark brown eyes.

Your free hand travels from the now dried wax, all the way down to his jeans, fingers neglecting his hard cock and undoing his belt instead. His eyes snap back down on you, yet he doesn't deny you. You pull his cock out with your free hand, freeing him from the tight fabric before you let it go, allowing the thick shaft to rest on his abdomen. The candle goes up again, teeth softly biting on your lower lip out of excitement as you look at the red wax drip on his shaft.

''Fuck.'' His stare is firm, but the moment the wax touches his skin, he winces in pain. There it is. His head leans back on the chair, eyes closing tightly as more wax drips all over his painfully hard cock.

''Stay with it... It's nothing.'' He reassures himself, voice nothing short of a pathetic whimper. He shifts his body as you start letting the wax drip higher and higher, movements slow and calculated. He shifts his body, trying to escape the searing hot pain of the wax yet being unable to.

''Fuckin' amateur.'' He spits out, eyes opening to look down at you. His muscles are tensed, jaw clenching underneath his black balaclava. You can see a drip of sweat spill down from his masked forehead, moisture gathering at the bits of skin you can see from his face, eye black looking shinier than before.

''You seem to be enjoying what this amateur is doing, sir.'' Your words are taunting, clearly trying to get a reaction out of him, yet he gives you nothing other than a soft, low moan, half-lidded eyes looking down at you intensely. Your smirk grows at his silence, looking down at the hardening layers of wax all over his thick cock.

''You wanted me to break you, so I will.'' You watch the wax drip down to his glistening tip, mixing in with his precum. He can't help the way his body thrashes against the rope, trying to get away from the pain as a deep moan of pain escapes his lips. You say nothing this time, simply moving the candle around, angling it up so the dripping wax lands on a different part of his tip.

''Fuck! H- I cant—'' He whines out, eyes closed tightly as his body reacts involuntarily. He's still struggling against the rope, yet he doesn't have it in him to ask you to stop.

''That's all you can take?'' You taunt with fake pity and he inhales sharply, beads of sweat running down his forehead, pain showing in his face even when the balaclava is covering it. He finally lets out a quiet whimper, eyes struggling to remain open simply to stare down at you as he always does, yet there's no confidence behind them anymore.

''Do better.'' He's clearly trying to spite you and it works. Your free hand comes up to flick his tip harshly and this time, he doesn't fight himself, a low moan of pain and pleasure escaping his lips. His hips thrust up slightly and in that moment you know— Ghost's resolve is being broken.

''Fuckin'... hell.'' He moans out, bound hands behind his back becoming tight balls, veins bulging in his arms. His head tilts back when he feels a new drop of wax falling on his tip. He can't help it, really, the way his hips thrust up in nothing but pure desperation, ropes of thick white cum staining his abdomen as he groans out in a mix of pain and pleasure, muscles flexing underneath your touch.

''I win, Simon.'' Your taunt does nothing to him other than to make more cum spurt out of his throbbing cock, looking down at him in a mix of amusement and fake pity. Your gaze connects to the pair of wide brown eyes staring at the scene through a half-opened door, cock throbbing in his pants.

A/N: fun fact! Vamp was created with K-9 in mind, but I couldn't keep the idea in my drafts for long enough to use it in this fic so it was published as a one-shot. I decided to use the one-shot in this chapter, as things will get more interesting in the next ones!<3

[slut4thebroken]

Exposure Therapy pt. 9

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane × reader

Summary | Dr. Crane finally gives you a reward.

Warnings | 18+, sexual content, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, breeding, kissing, grinding, face sitting, 69, finger fucking, praise, degradation, consensual sex, cockwarming?, this is as close as he’ll get in this fic to being submissive lmao.

Words | 3k

Notes | Kinky smut will be coming up in either chapter 10 or 11😏

Ao3 link | <3

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Part 8

When you woke up, it took a moment for you to remember where you were, but the second your gaze settled on the couch you were laying on, your stomach dropped. You had cried to him— cried on him. The thought made you want to crawl into a hole from embarrassment, but you tried to ignore it. 

You could see now that he dressed you while you slept in the clothes you brought from his place and when you looked over at him, he was fully dressed in a suit, bent over the desk, completely focused on something. It didn’t seem like you moved enough to alert him that you were awake so you stayed still, trying to come up with something to say. Should you apologize? Pretend nothing happened? Make a self deprecating joke about it?

“I know you’re awake. I can practically hear you overthinking from here.” He said suddenly. 

“Sorry…” You muttered, deciding to sit up on the couch now. Picking at your cuticles, you watched him anxiously, waiting. Should you go to him? He hasn’t looked up from his work yet… Maybe he’s just waiting for you to walk over?

“Um, I- I’m sorry… for my behavior.” You forced the words out. “I don’t know what came over me.” He turned to face you, but after staring at you for a moment, decided to walk over. You stiffened as he approached you— were you going to be punished? Yelled at again? He sat down next to you, but still gave you enough space so you didn’t feel uncomfortable. 

“There is no need to apologize. I pushed you to that state so I cannot fault you for any of your actions.” He said, tone neutral. 

“I still shouldn’t have,” 

“No. You are allowed to have emotions.”

“I know, but- I made you uncomfortable.” You argued weakly.

“I am the only reason you acted like that in the first place. There is no need to apologize.”

“Okay… So things are fine?” You asked tentatively, scared of his answer. 

“Do not expect to do it again under any other circumstance.” His tone wasn’t mean, but rather he was just setting a boundary. You couldn’t help but notice that he said “under any other circumstance,” not just “any circumstance.”

“That didn’t answer my question.” You said with a small smile that he almost returned. 

“Yes.” 

“And you’re not mad that I made you change what you were going to do again?” 

“You hardly made me do anything.” He scoffed. 

“Okay… Good.” You said awkwardly, kind of feeling like you disappointed him by not being able to take the punishment. You also still felt bad for making him uncomfortable— for crying on him and laying on his chest. Your behavior made him call you a fucking pet name for christs sake. 

“Y-you… You called me-“ 

“Anything I said was to soothe you.” He said, suddenly colder than before. 

“So you weren’t really proud of me?” You asked quietly, making him sigh. 

“You took the punishment adequately.” 

“Oh.” You replied meekly, looking at your lap. You didn’t like the way he revoked his praise and affection so easily. He let out another quiet sigh, but you didn’t look up at him yet.  

“Your performance was… satisfactory.” It sounded like he had to force the words out. “Anything I said at the time was genuine, but do not expect to hear it again.” You looked up at him, but he couldn’t meet your gaze. 

“Thanks.” You muttered, giving him a small smile when he finally looked at you. “I liked when you called me that.” You said tentatively, carefully studying his reaction. 

“Do not get used to such affections.” 

“Okay… But if you ever decide you want to keep calling me that, I’m okay with it.” You shrugged and he narrowed his eyes. 

“I am not going to call you some silly name.” It felt like you were being reprimanded for requesting something childish. 

“I like the silly name. You don’t call anyone else by a silly name, do you?”

“Of course not.” He scoffed, almost offended. 

“Good. Just me then.”

“No, not you either.” He sighed, getting frustrated with your lack of acceptance with his answer. You pouted, giving him puppy dog eyes, hoping you didn’t look like a fool. “Stop that.” It seemed like the face was working though. 

“Please?”

“No.”

“Just once?” 

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“I will after you say it.” You said teasingly, giving him a small smile. 

“You are truly insufferable…” You waited eagerly, practically vibrating in anticipation. “Little one.” He muttered, looking away from you when your smile turned into a full blown grin. 

“It doesn’t count if I can’t hear you.”

“You’re pushing your luck.” He warned, but it almost seemed like he was teasing you back rather than giving you a genuine warning. 

“Please?” You pouted again, deciding to crawl onto his lap and straddle his legs, placing your arms on his shoulders as his hands settled on your hips. 

“Remind me why I brought you here?” He asked, annoyed. But not in a genuine way, in an almost playful way. 

“Because I make you come and I’m stupid enough to go to your place in broad daylight for you.”

“I suppose that’s true. I guess I do have a brave, eager pet. Wouldn’t you agree?” You nodded, eyes wide and breath caught in your throat from the new name. “Lost for words, little one?” He asked, tilting his head and rubbing his hands up and down your thighs. You let out a needy whine as you fisted his suit jacket and rolled your hips forward against his crotch. 

“Can- can I call you something too?” You asked, already breathless from the small amount of pleasure. 

“What did you have in mind?” 

“Your name?”

“Go ahead— try it out.” It took you a moment to register that he didn’t deny you like you thought he would. 

“Jonathan.” You whispered. 

“It doesn’t count if I can’t hear you.” He said teasingly. 

“Jonathan.” You whined, louder this time. 

“What do you think?” You hummed in thought. Something about the name just felt a little off. Maybe it was because it’s his full name rather than a nickname. 

“Jon.” You muttered to yourself. “Does anyone call you Jon?”

“Everyone refers to me as Dr. Crane or Scarecrow.” 

“Do you like “Jon?’”

“It is tolerable.” 

“Oh…” You said, visibly deflating in his lap. “I don’t have to if you don’t like it.” 

“I do not tolerate many things— that was a positive statement.” He quickly corrected himself, still making sure to keep his tone neutral though. 

“Oh. Do you tolerate me?” You asked, perking up a little again. 

“That is a foolish question that you already know the answer to.” 

“I know… I just like hearing it.” He sighed and for a moment you thought he wasn’t going to respond. 

“Yes, I tolerate you, little one.” A blush creeped up on your cheeks as you gave him a shy smile. “Satisfied?” You nodded, biting your lip to keep from grinning like an idiot. 

“Can I come today?” His brows shot up and you swore he was about to laugh.

“Someone’s getting bold.” 

“You didn’t let me last time.” You frowned. He hummed in thought and continued dragging his hands up and down your thighs, teasing you. 

“I suppose since you did such a good job taking your punishment, as well as staying quiet when we were in my office, you’re long overdue for a treat. Don’t you think?” 

“Yes please.” You said through a breath as you nodded in agreement. Snaking his hands behind you, he grabbed your ass to roughly push your hips against him, starting a slow, steady rhythm of grinding. 

“Whatever you want. Go ahead.” He said, making you falter as you stared at him in confusion. 

“What?” 

“Take whatever you want.” He explained, still leaving you dumbstruck. 

“Anything?” 

“Within reason.” He said teasingly. Flattening your palms on his chest, you slid them down before slowly dragging them back up, thinking. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

“There’s no need to ask. Take whatever you need.” He said softly, eyes fluttering down to your lips. Grabbing his tie, you gently pulled him forward into a kiss. His hands moved back to your hips, not gripping anymore, just holding you as you continued grinding against his crotch. You let out a low moan from the friction and brought your free hand up to pull his hair, making him groan in response. When you eventually grew too impatient, you whined and pulled back. 

“Please.”

“If you want something, just take it, little one.” He whispered, making you whine even louder. Suddenly getting up, he eyed you curiously as you took off your pants and underwear, then hesitantly laid him down on the couch. You moved slowly, giving him a chance to protest or change his mind. When he didn’t, you slowly kneeled over his chest, watching his eyes darken as he focused on your cunt. You waited again for him to tell you to get off, but he never did. So you shuffled forward even more, then tentatively lowered yourself onto his mouth. He dove in eagerly, lapping up your arousal and circling your clit with his tongue to tease you. 

When you suddenly lifted off of him, he let out a grunt of displeasure, making your cheeks heat up. But you wanted to do something more than just this. You took off your shirt then moved to the floor and started working on taking off his belt, asking for assistance on the upper half of his body. Once he was as bare as you— which you still weren’t used to yet— you climbed over him again, this time facing the other direction. He cursed under his breath as you laid down, your face only inches from his cock. 

The second you lowered yourself onto his mouth, his hands wrapped around your thighs, not letting you move away again. You whimpered at the sudden intense pleasure and brought your hand up to start stroking his length, teasing him. When his hips bucked up, you placed your forearm over his upper thigh and put some of your weight on it to hold him down. He growled against your cunt and dug his nails into your thighs, making your gasp, then chuckle as you leaned down to suck the tip in your mouth. 

You liked having this power over him. Deciding how much you wanted to tease him- torture him… it was addictive. You wanted to make him beg and whine and moan, so desperate for you that he loses all control. 

Hollowing your cheeks, you moved farther down his length, only pulling back up when the tip met the back of your mouth. The movements of his mouth grew sloppy, unable to focus with the stimulation on his cock, but it didn’t matter. You were practically grinding against his face anyway. 

When he pushed a finger in your drooling hole, you let out a muffled moan, not expecting it. In retaliation, you moved your hand to cup his balls, gently playing with them until his hips bucked and he moaned against your heat. Another finger was pushing inside, stretching you open and curling against your walls to emit even more arousal. 

To reward him, you decided to take him all the way down for as long as you could force yourself to stay there. He let out a choked moan at the tightness of your throat and the hand holding your thigh squeezed again. You did your best to breathe through your nose and relax, but after another few seconds, you couldn’t control your gag reflex anymore and had to pull off of him. 

“Baby— I’m not gonna last if you keep doing that.” He muttered against your clit and your hips jerked at his words. 

“Neither am I if you keep calling me that.” You whined. When you lifted yourself off of him again, he let out a grunt of disapproval, trying to grab your hips to pull you back. “Fuck me.” You said through a breath, making him instantly release your hips to sit up. When you got a good look at his face, you almost moaned at the sight. His lips and chin were slick with your arousal and his spit, and his glasses were fogged up enough that he had to take them off and set them on the floor to continue.  

“How do you want it?” You bit your lip in thought. 

“Dealer's choice.” You finally replied and it seemed like he was about to protest, but decided against it. Grabbing a cushion from the back of the couch, he placed it down, then maneuvered you so your hips were over it as you laid on your stomach. He leaned over you, breath fanning against your neck as he lined up, then placed a soft kiss behind your ear. 

“Ready?” He whispered. 

“Please.” You didn’t have to tell him again before he was breaching your hole, making you whimper at how fucking full you felt in this position with your legs together. “Jesus-“ You choked out as he stilled inside you, buried as far as your cunt would allow. 

“Fuck me, Jon.” You said breathlessly and he cursed under his breath, but obeyed. He slid out slowly, still giving you a chance to adjust, then pushed back in just as slow. 

“God- You feel so good.” He moaned, forehead resting on your shoulder blade. “So fucking warm and wet, and a perfect fit for my cock, aren’t you?” You nodded as you scrambled for purchase when his thrusts sped up. “Like my own custom made fuck doll, huh, baby?” 

“Oh god yes.” You sobbed out, already feeling close from hearing that pet name again. He let out a low chuckle when he felt your walls fluttering desperately around his length. 

“Close already? Why’s that?” You couldn’t get a response out through your moans, let alone think of one in the first place. “Is it cause you like it when I pin you down like this? Force my cock in your tight little cunt and fuck you like a cheap whore. Is that it?” You let out another sob that turned into a vulgar moan when he suddenly grabbed your hair and yanked your head back. With his lips brushing your ear, he whispered, “Or maybe it’s when I call you baby. Is that what’s getting you so hot and bothered?” You did your best to nod with his grip in your hair, but he wasn’t satisfied. 

“C’mon, use your big girl words. I know you can.” He cooed, making your cunt pulse around him. 

“Jon,” You whined, squeezing your eyes shut as your mouth opened in a silent moan. “Please make me come- I’m so close, Jon, I need it.” You whimpered. He suddenly pulled out, making you whine loudly. He ignored your protest though and flipped you over, hooking your legs over his hips as he leaned back down and slid inside again. 

“Keep your eyes on me when you come, do you understand?” You nodded eagerly and he continued pushing in and out, getting deep enough that you knew you’d be able to see his cock bulging your stomach.  

“God- you look so pretty like this.” He whispered, eyes rapidly trailing over your face. You let out a low whine, feeling your face heat up. 

“Say my name.” The request was so quiet that you thought you misheard him. “Say it.” Not a request— a plea. 

“Jon,” You whispered, moving your hands to pull on his hair as your eyes fluttered to his lips. “Please kiss me.” He obeyed eagerly and you moaned into his mouth from the intensity of it— of everything really. A hand on your clit made you jolt with a surprised sound that he swallowed eagerly. 

“Oh god- Please can I come?” You whined, barely able to get the words out since he wouldn’t break the kiss to let you speak. “Please, Jon.” He pulled back, eyes squeezed shut as he panted, never stopping the movement of his hips or fingers. 

“Go ahead, baby,” He whispered as his eyes fluttered open to look at you. “Come for me- but remember what I said.” What you would’ve originally thought was a warning, was actually just a reminder— the closest he would ever get to saying please. 

Your orgasm crashed over you suddenly and you did your best to keep your eyes open through the pleasure. He stared down at you with furrowed brows and slightly parted lips, letting some moans escape. 

“Please come.” You gasped out, orgasm just barely starting to fade. “Please, Jon.” His lips parted even wider and then he was squeezing his eyes shut, still trying to keep them open though. His hips stilled completely inside you, staying deep to make sure you took every last drop of his come. 

When his body finally relaxed and he rested his forehead on your chest, you played with his hair. Both of you were still panting, a little sweaty, and definitely come drunk, but he didn’t seem to care at all. He swiftly turned you both over as he moved the couch cushion back, his cock never leaving you. You let yourself lay down on his body, your cheek on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, and one of his hands came up to pet your hair, the other rubbing up and down your back lightly. 

There was a nagging thought, deep in the back of your brain, that you were trying to ignore, but it was growing louder the longer you laid there. This felt too good to be true. Like you’re dreaming and going to wake up back in your cell again. 

“Jon?” You asked quietly. 

“Hm?”

You didn’t want this to be a dream. You wanted him to hold you again and again, let you fall asleep in his arms, have normal conversations about everything and nothing. But most of all, you wanted him to feel the same way. To long for you so hard that his chest aches at the thought of losing you, the way yours does. You wanted him to— 

“I-“ You had to stop yourself from saying the thought that just popped into your head because you were scared of how he’d react to such a deep confession. “I just…” 

“I know.” He whispered, heart beating faster and harder in his chest. “Me too.”

Part 10

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR NINE

when you and eddie can't sleep, he has a bright idea. but only after he's lit a fire in your mind through a bathroom door. also, steve finally finds out what he said that night.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, eventual smut, upside down does not exist, allusions to male masturbation, minors dni

→ wc: 6.9k+

→ a/n: oops my bad. this chapter is dedicated to @jo-harrington i know it's not exactly what you'd joked about but... i did it. solo eddie for the win.

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

9:00 ─────ㅇ──────────── 24:00

DINGUS received a message from BIRDIE. 

BIRDIE: i found out what you said. 

-

HOUR NINE - 12:00 AM

When Eddie gets out of the bed, it wakes you up. 

In all fairness, you were sleeping lightly to begin with. It had only been about twenty minutes since his quiet confession, an apology that hovered in the air between you two, lingering and plastering itself to the ceiling. He was sorry for everything. And the optimist in you couldn’t help but count what exactly everything entailed rather than sheeps. You were certain it included the events of the night so far, but did it include Steve’s party? Did it include the cruelty exchanged the night this bet was made? Did it encompass the passing in time in which he’d tucked himself away from you after first meetings, letting a sheet of ice separate you? 

You’d fallen asleep halfway through the swirlings of ‘Did it…?’s, hardly realizing you’d left Eddie hanging after he’d whispered goodnight to you. You both knew you’d be waking up soon enough to send updates, or possibly receive a call from one of your friends. You both needed to utilize the time for rest – you were utilizing this time to rest. 

Until Eddie got up. Until you realized Eddie wasn’t sleeping, and now suddenly, you couldn’t even keep your eyes closed for more than ten seconds at a time. 

You listened to his footsteps as he left the room, as he crossed the hall and he shut the bathroom door behind him. When you did open your eyes, you focused intensely on the light pouring out beneath the small crack at the bottom of the door, waiting with bated breath for any sign of a shadow without luck. 

Five minutes. You’re awake enough to count the five minutes without any further noise or sign of him returning to the bed. 

You really shouldn’t be so nosey. He’s just using the bathroom in his own apartment. He’s probably just taking a piss, or more, and you hold no right to time him. But without him in the bed, there’s a cold you hadn’t expected. You hadn’t even been pressed up against him, the pillow wall still intact, and yet, his warmth had clearly reached you and kept you comfortable.

Maybe it wasn’t just his warmth. Maybe it was just his presence that made the room light up, swirling with something to wrap yourself up in rather than the chill of loneliness. 

The decision is made by your body first, brain second. By the time your thoughts have caught up to the choice that yes, you need to check on Eddie, your bare feet are already meeting his carpet. It takes mere seconds for you to cross the room, cross the hall. You raise your fist to knock and then– 

You stop. 

A sound completely stops you, freezes you mid-action. 

A whimper. 

Your stomach clenches. It wasn’t a whimper of pain. 

You’ve managed to cross countless lines with Eddie, both tonight and the entirety of knowing each other. You’d blatantly ignored boundaries he set in stone just as he did to you. The two of you had never functioned off of respect. 

It’s what you remind yourself when you take a step closer to the door, when you lean to press your ear against the wood. 

You nearly jump back when you catch onto the sounds coming from within the bathroom. 

Oh, yeah. He’s fucking jacking off. 

You’re familiar with that sound, hearing it both mocked in school and in pornos. The unmistakable sound of a fist gliding over flesh. Just as suspected, the whimper Eddie had let out on the other side of the door was by no means a sign of pain or distress – it was out of pleasure. 

You tell yourself that you’re only keeping your ear pressed to the door to fully load yourself with artillery to tease him with once the time comes. You tell yourself it’s a necessary evil, that you don’t enjoy it. You completely ignore the way your own thighs are beginning to press together when the sound speeds up. 

“Oh my- fuckin’ Jesus Chri- my God.”

Let it be known that you’ve never tried to picture what Eddie’s voice sounds like during sex. You’ve never fantasized about how many octaves his tone might drop, how breathy he might get from desperation, how his words might curl upwards with whines on the tailends. No, you’ve never thought about those things late at night. when you’re alone and have a hand between your thighs. You don’t have those thoughts about the guy you claim to hate. You don’t have the best goddamn orgasms of your life by picturing your hand replaced with his, the way the metal of his rings would nudge against your entrance. 

You don’t. You don’t. 

But something about the way he’s stuttering, sounding like a stereotypical porno in the way his voice is breaking, clearly close to finishing, has you pressing your thighs together tightly. It has your necks and cheeks flushing brilliant red as your chest heaves, recklessly trying to expand against the door you have pressed yourself against entirely now. 

“Fuck.” 

It’s muffled, led into by a heavy panting you can hear, even through the door, before being broken off by a long moan.  

Maybe you would give yourself the best goddamn orgasm you’d ever had again once this was over. And maybe that would be the soundtrack. 

You have to stumble back from the door, your entire body tight with frustration now as you back up away from the invasion of privacy you had taken part in. You don’t even have a chance to tell yourself it’s fine, because somewhere in your fumble to get away, your knuckles meet the door in an eerie resemblance of a knock, on accident. 

You can’t play it off. If you heard it, he heard it. 

“Uh, Eddie?” you nervously call out, cursing the way the words came out more like squeaks than tired syllables, “Everything okay in there?” 

You can hear his panic, between sudden shuffling, the slamming of the faucet turning on, the curses beneath his breath before he suddenly calls out, “Y-Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine! Just stubbed my toe!” 

“Okay…” you trail off, still breathing heavily, trying to return your heart rate to normal, “I, uh- okay. Just checking. Sorry.” 

You scurry, quite literally scurry, back into his bedroom. 

You shouldn’t have listened. You shouldn’t have eavesdropped, because now, this was all so, so much worse. Every fleeting detail of his living space passed by you, and all you could hear was a repeat of his harsh fuck he’d clearly let out on accident. When you’d found his playboys, it was all fun and games. He was a guy, and you knew what he did with those magazines, but you’d never been a door away from him doing that. 

You’re not a very imaginative person, but you’re still trying to picture how his hand wrapped around his dick might look, what his dick in general looks like, when he exits the bathroom and finds you sitting there. 

He looks even more embarrassed than you.

Your apology is on the tip of your tongue, an impulsive I’m sorry is stuck between your teeth. But saying those words is admitting to knowing he didn’t really stub his toe. It would be admitting to eavesdropping. 

You’d be taking this night to the grave to you. 

“How’s your toe?” you question instead, curling your hands into fists and forcing a weak smile. 

You’re a shit pretender. 

“Fine,” he breathes out, the edges of his bangs wet, probably with sweat, and his eyes wide in fear, “It’s, uh, fine. Sore.” 

It’s okay, though, because he’s a shit pretender, too. 

He makes no move to sit down, and you almost laugh at the palpable tension and awkwardness in the room. Both of your chests are still heaving, both of your cheeks are still burning, and both of you are flooded with distrust by your words. 

“I can’t sleep,” you break the silence with the worst possible conversation starter. If the roles were reversed, if Eddie said this to you, you’d just shrug in response.

Eddie isn’t you, though, thankfully, “You just were.” 

“And now I’m not.” 

“That doesn’t mean you can’t.” 

Some habits die hard. Even in the new waves of Eddie’s apology, even as you two entered uncharted territory of unspoken civility, there was still bickering to be had. 

“This argument is just waking me up more,” you sigh, leaning back on your palms behind you, “I’m definitely not getting any more rest.” 

Eddie’s eyes trail over you, head to toe, and your breathing stops completely, “Well, yeah, not wearing jeans. Did you bring anything comfortable to wear?” 

Did he just check me out? 

That starts a fire within your brain. The blush isn’t even a product of him making you flustered anymore, it’s the physical billboard to alert everyone of the flames that will surely consume you within the hour. A warning to Eddie, that if he doesn’t stop, you’ll be nothing more than a pile of ash caught between his carpet’s fibers. 

You’ve gotten lost in your thoughts until he’s snapping his fingers in front of your face, not too close but near enough to get your attention. 

Which hand did he use? 

You choke at the smokey thought, making him worry before you cough out a, “Sorry?” 

“Clothes. Did you bring any?” he questions as he looks down at you in concern, “Maybe some pajamas, or just something comfortable?” 

You don’t understand how it got to this point. How you’re the one so flustered, so embarrassed, when he was the one touching himself in the bathroom. Why are you the one with a fire blazing behind your skull, and why are you the one having to admit that no, you didn’t bring any clothes? 

Your silence is all he needs before he turns to walk to his dresser.

“Eddie, wait, no-” you start to protest but he’s already holding out a black pair of sweats, a similar style to the ones he’s wearing. 

“Here. I don’t know how well they’ll fit but…” he shrugs, almost shyly, before thrusting the clothing towards you with more intense purpose, “They’ve gotta be more comfortable than jeans.” 

“I-I-” I can’t. I can’t wear your clothes because I’m already thinking about your dick, and which hand you masturbate with, and how you’d sound hovering over me as you grind your hips into mine, and- “Thank you.” 

You take the damn pair of sweatpants, you swallow your pride, you continue to wade in his ocean. Maybe it’s all a game to him and he’s trying to break you (it’s working).

He continues to stand there awkwardly until you finally narrow your eyes, and take a single finger, waving it in circles to motion for him to turn around.

“What?” he asks, looking at your finger with wide eyes, still watching the circles it draws in the air. 

“Turn around, idiot,” you try to laugh lightheartedly, but it comes out strained.

You’re still thinking about him inappropriately. You’re still intoxicated by the idea of the sounds you can pull from him with the right moves, the right kisses. But you can’t, you know you can’t. 

You know he doesn’t think of you in that way. This feeling, unfortunately, is not mutual. 

He’s clumsy in the way he turns, even covering his eyes with his wide palm despite it being unnecessary. You notice the way he almost raises his left hand before he hesitates and chooses the right one instead. 

And now you’re convinced you have an answer to one of your burning questions. He uses his left hand, and instead of putting out some of the damaging flames within your mind, it fans them. You’ll definitely be nothing but a charred mess by the end of this night. 

You try not to take long, quickly yanking off your jeans and tossing them beside you before you work the sweats on quickly. Eddie has them a few sizes too big for himself, and it works out in your favor. 

You hate to admit it, but he was right – they’re comfier than your jeans by far. 

“Okay, you can look again,” you mumble as you bend down to grab your discarded jeans, working on turning them back outside right and folding them neatly. 

The turn to face you once more is even clumsier than his turn away from you, his hand dropping and slapping his thigh unceremoniously as he takes you in, “They… You… They, uh, fit. Good.” 

What was once cute tension and easily dismissed uneasiness is becoming too much. He’s still nervous, you’re still burning, and the room is too stifling when filled with both awkward emotions and swirling wisps of smoke that are thickening. 

So you do something about it. You choose to be the brave one and say something, “You’re being awkward.” 

He immediately scoffs, still stiff in his actions, “Excuse me?”

“You’re. Being. Awkward,” you enunciate each word with heavy emphasis, keeping up a faux mask of indifference as you turn for the bed, setting your jeans down on the floor by the nightstand before you climb back into the side you’d previously occupied. 

“I’m being awkward?” he’s following, taking the path from the end of the bed as he already has several times, leaving the wall of pillows intact, “You’re being awkward.” 

“That is such a childish response,” you tease him as you see him begin to warm up once again. The bathroom incident is forgotten, stomachs unclenched and jaws slacking as the two of you rearrange beneath the comforter. Both of you are careful not to disturb the pillows that weigh down the center of it. You convince yourself for a second his returning warmth comes from being closer to you, from being close enough to feel the heat of your flames. Or perhaps he has a forest fire of his own transcending his own neurons, and maybe the feeling is more mutual than you’d believed. 

If you never mention it out loud, he can never deny it, and you can continue to live in this newfound delusion and comforting fantasy.

You both still lie on your backs, mirroring each other with hands folded politely atop your stomachs and eyes glued to the popcorn pattern of his ceiling. It’s quiet. It’s nice. The only thing you can hear is his crashing waves and your crackling frames. You’re wading with your head above water still, not quite fully submerging yet, terrified that once you take the final plunge into him, the flames will be drowned out. Once he drags you under, he’ll settle the heat and the fever that has begun to haunt you, and you don’t know if what will be left in its place will be better or worse. You don’t know if you’re equipped to handle that unknown yet. 

“You remember how you asked about my motorcycle earlier?” 

His soft tone cuts through the white noise of it all. Every wave, every flame, every metaphor falls quiet for him. It’s suddenly just you, and just him. 

“Yeah?” you roll your head to the side, daring to look at him. He’s already staring at you. 

In the dark, you can make out a ghost of a smile as he says, “Sometimes when I can’t sleep, I like to take it out for drives.” 

“Oh?” You’re tempted to twist your body to fully face him, to prop yourself up on your elbow and give him your undivided attention. You don’t. 

“Yeah. I guess it’s why I prefer it over a normal car, or even a van like I had in high school,” his eyes are clouding over with thoughtfulness, with nostalgia. You can picture it fairly clearly; he seems like the type that would drive around an ominous van just to scare a town shitless. “It’s a pain in the ass because now I can’t lug around my own equipment for gigs, but there’s this parking garage that the bike can fit through the closed gates of-”

“Hold on, I’m sorry – gigs?” you take an extra second to process it, but you’re sure he just insinuated he’s in a band. 

He’s giddy, those eyes lighting up in the darkness. You can see the dimples, you can see constellations exposing themself amongst his pupils, “Oh, yeah. I’m… I’m in a band.” 

“How did I never know this?” 

You both know the answer. Because before tonight, there was a clear division between you and Eddie for your friends. Before tonight, you two had never really gotten to know each other, save for the first night. You don’t know if your supposed enemy is in a band. 

He doesn’t say that, though. And neither do you. Instead, he just whispers, “I don’t know.” 

You can’t let the obvious go unsaid. You’d defeated the awkwardness, and you could handle your own brain being on fire from his match strikes, but this? 

You couldn’t handle the heaviness of the past year in the room with you two. 

“I’m sorry, too, by the way,” you should look away, look to the ceiling as he had when he said those words to you, but you don’t. You finally do as you wanted; you turn onto your side, fully facing him, bringing your hands to be folding between the pillow and your cheek, “I’m sorry for… everything.” 

Everything. You wonder if it punches a hole in his chest, too. You wonder if you move like an ocean in his eyes, if your waves are beckoning him within those four syllables. 

Now that the constellations in his eyes have been exposed, they refuse to vanish from your sight. He mimics your position, his hand tucked beneath his pillow. 

When he doesn’t say anything, you have to fill the silence, just as you always do, “It doesn’t mean we have to be, like, friends or anything. I just… We were both jerks in the past. And you said sorry first, but- I’m not just saying it because you said it! I swear. You just deserve to hear that I’m sorry too. I regret it all, too.” 

He nods subtly, licking his lips, “I mean, I don’t regret it all.” 

Oh God, is he about to fuck it all up again?

“What do you mean?” your voice is impossibly small, a phantom of a whisper, clutched in fear and anticipation. 

Please don’t fuck it all up again. I don’t think I can handle losing you twice. 

“I mean… I… It was fun sometimes, wasn’t it?” he looks nervous now, blinking rapidly as if he’s fighting looking away from you, “You’re the only person who’s ever really given me a taste of my own medicine. Everyone else teases me, yeah, maybe banters from time to time, but you? I like the ‘no-bullshit’ policy you apply to me. Keeps me in line.” 

A sigh of relief. A weight off both your shoulders, a heaviness that vacates the room. 

“Fun?” your tone is confident, teasing even, once more, “What about me throwing a glass at your head was fun?” 

“I said sometimes, not all the time,” he laughs, as if the memory of one of the worst nights between the two of you was just a fond tale between friends. Maybe that’s what you two were becoming – friends. 

A brain on fire. Two lungs twisted in vines rejuvenating. He’s beginning to consume all of you, effortlessly, and you question if that’s what friendship is. 

His laughter dies down, and you sigh, breathing despite the greenery and the smoke, “I get what you mean. There was a month there that just sort of felt like it was our thing. Just banter, or whatever.” 

“Is it not our thing, still?” he raises an eyebrow, “I mean, clearly, we still argue. I think the day you don’t argue with me will be the day pigs fuckin’ fly, or whatever they say.” 

“Whatever you say,” you banter back with ease, putting on a face of complete agreement. “Do you need me to check the news for you? See if little Porky grew wings?” 

“Oh, shut up.” 

You’re both cackling as he reaches down to the wall of pillows, grabbing one at random, leaving a gap as he flings it softly in your direction. It hits your chest and you fall dramatically onto your back, wrapping your arms around the fluff of it while still giggling. 

The giggles linger as you pinch the corner of the pillow between your fingertips, rubbing as you glance down at the gap now in the wall. 

You can see his torso now. The sliver of skin that is his exposed hips, the waistband of his boxers. 

“You know, I’ve never met a guy with this many pillows,” you murmur, trying to steer your mind of his hips, his boxers, what’s beneath his boxers-

“I used to only have two. Then one time I brought a girl home, and she left because I only had two pillows.” 

You can’t help but let out a snort of your own this time, “What? A one night stand left you high and dry because you didn’t have enough pillows for her fancy?” 

“Yep. That’s exactly what happened,” he’s chuckling along with you at the ridiculousness of it all, “The next day I went to the store and bought all of these out of spite. Never saw the girl again, though. I like to think she’d be impressed.” 

“Oh,” you’re still laughing, with your entire chest as you subconsciously crush the pillow tighter to your body, “So impressed. You know you’re going to have to tell me all about it now, right? You can’t leave me hanging like that.” 

“I’ll tell you another time,” 

Another time. It almost goes over your head – the first time either of you have even entertained the thought of hanging out after the twenty four hours have ended. You don’t show him that you notice, and just continue on laughing. 

Somewhere amongst your delight, your head falls to the side and catches Eddie in the act. 

An act of total, utter softness. His features are melted butter as he stares down at you, seemingly entranced by your laughter and joy in his tale of a failed one night stand. It’s not the kind of look produced from forest fires, or turbulent oceans, or a garden of vines. It’s the kind of look that is a natural disaster all on its own. It’s devastating – something in the two of you immediately breaks, quietly, desperately. There’s no repairing the damage being done; there’s no want for reparations. 

The first bloom after a long winter finally sprouts on your vines. It’s bright and brilliant red – like scarlet blood, like hot and flickering flames. It’s watered by salt water, slow and warm and enticing. 

You start to believe that even if you plunge beneath his waves, the fire Eddie has lit within you will always remain. 

“We should go to sleep,” you whisper, eyes never leaving his. Trying to find the deep blue hidden within honey brown, to find seafoam green amidst wide, black pupils. 

“We should,” he agrees. 

“Goodnight, Eddie.” 

“Goodnight,” he pauses, and then he adds your name, as if he’s testing the taste on his tongue, as if he’s saying it for the first time.

It feels like he’s saying it for the first time. 

You look back up at the ceiling but still feel his eyes on you. A couple minutes pass, and neither of your eyes close. Just because you should go to sleep doesn’t mean you will. 

“You’re not even trying to sleep, are you?” 

You only hum in response, still clutching that pillow, still counting cracks in the ceiling. 

“Alright, fuck it.” 

Your eyes break to him as he suddenly is leaping off the bed, void of grace as he finally settles on his feet and races to his dresser. 

“Um, Eddie?” 

He doesn’t look up as he digs into a drawer, pulling out a long sleeved shirt, “Yes, sweetheart?” 

Sweetheart. A nickname that once filled you with venom now makes your insides twist in the agony of want. You want him to say it again. 

“What are you doing?” 

The long sleeved shirt flies your way, and he’s walking to grab a set of keys off the top of his dresser, “Getting you something warmer to wear.” 

“And… why…” you’re still lost, looking down at the shirt in confusion. It’s black and fairly thick, the neck hole stretched and a haunting white font sketching out the words Corroded Coffin, “Why do I need something warmer to wear? Your apartment isn’t that cold.” 

“Because it’s barely March, and it’s cold outside still,” he pauses and grins childishly, practically beaming at you as you continue to wearily eye the article of clothing. Once he realizes you’re still not getting it, he sighs dramatically and makes his way to your side of the bed, holding a hand out to you, “Neither of us can sleep. Let’s go for a drive.” 

His palm stares you in the face, an offer of something that should be considered a plain bad idea. There’s a million and one reasons to not go for a drive. And so you tell him exactly that, ready to list them off in rapid fire.

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“Perfect. Means no one else is on the street.” 

“We have to send a photo to the group soon.” 

“The place is five minutes away. We can take a photo when we get there.”

“Place? Oh my God, are you actually going to murder me? You’re taking me to a secondary location and that is in stranger danger 101-” 

Eddie stresses each syllable of your name as he says it, waving his hand that’s still stuck out for you to grab, “C’mon. There’s always a hundred reasons to not do something. Just… live a little. I promise it’s better than laying in my gross ass bed.” 

You narrow his eyes and challenge him, remembering his words about the way you two still argue. He was right – there may never come a day you don’t feel compelled to go toe to toe with him, whether it’s of ill-intent or not, “Why is your bed gross? Jesus Christ, Eddie-”

He moves suddenly. One moment, he’s just standing there, charming as ever with a daring palm that calls to you like his ocean. The next, he’s impossibly close, placing a hand on either side of you as he leans in dangerously close. 

“Change your shirt and meet me in the kitchen in the next five minutes, or I’ll come back in here and take your shirt off myself.” 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

If he had said those words to you nine hours ago, you would have castrated him. But the low tone of his voice, the brush of his breath over your cheeks, against your ears – you’re putty in his hands now as you nod dumbly. 

When he leans back, he even looks shocked in his actions and words. But then he catches that look on your face – the blank stare and wide eyes, the rapid rise and fall of your chest – and a shimmer of cockiness returns.

“Five minutes,” he reminds you, tilting his head as he takes slow steps back and exits the room. 

It takes you less than one. 

The moment the shirt is on you, you’re encased with a new Eddie smell. The scents of the bed, of the apartment, of him still cling to the fabric, but it now mixes with something of fresh linen, lemon and clean laundry. 

As promised, he’s in the kitchen, leather jacket on as he grabs his phone off a charger plugged in at the end of the breakfast bar lined with stools. 

“You charge your phone outside of your room?” you ask as you carefully pad in, immediately heading to grab your shoes and slip them on. He’s already got his boots on, laced tightly. They should look comical against the grey sweatpants, but he’s making the entire look work. 

“Saw some science magazine say it would help me sleep better,” he mutters as he flips the phone open, probably checking for missed calls or texts. 

“That really only applies to smartphones. When did you even plug it in?” 

You’re bursting with questions, nervous and eager to avoid what’s to come. 

Being on Eddie’s motorcycle. With Eddie. Probably pressed up against Eddie’s back. Probably wrapping your arms around Eddie’s waist. 

“When I came to wake you up on the couch,” he nods towards where you’re sitting, snapping the phone shut and shoving it into his pocket, “You ready?” 

You wonder for a moment how he’d respond to you snapping back something bratty. How far would you have to push him for him to threaten you like he did in the bedroom again? 

You’re not quite recovered enough from the first time, so you don’t press your luck, nodding in response to him. 

—

Apparently, by the time you two reach his motorcycle parked on the street, you have recovered enough to press your luck. 

He’d grabbed a helmet on the way out the door, and you’d just assumed it was for him. It made sense, considering the one time you’d seen him ride, he’d worn it. 

But then, he was suddenly thrusting it in your hand. And the argument ensued. 

“I’m not wearing this,” you try to shove it back into his hands, “You’re driving, you wear it.”

“Sweetheart, I’ve taken a dozen hits to the head in my lifetime. I can handle being banged up if something happens, but I’m not risking it with you. Put it the fuck on.” 

You almost spit for him to not call you sweetheart, but it soothes something in you. Something made of your flames, something drowning in his ocean. A conundrum, whatever it is, because he’s just irritating you now. 

“You could not survive a motorcycle crash without a helmet,” you snap. 

“And neither could you.” 

“Why don’t you have two helmets then?” you nearly toss the damn thing to the ground and declare that neither of you will wear a helmet. 

He finally breaks and takes the helmet back roughly, “Because I don’t normally have a passenger,” he’s rotating the bulky, black shell in his hand, the glass visor for the eyes shining under the street lamps, “Consider yourself lucky. Most aren’t tall enough for this ride.” 

You’re about to make an immature sex joke when he takes you off guard, smoothly bringing the helmet up over your head, not even giving you a chance to protest or fight him. 

“I hate you.” 

The words come out muffled to him, crystal clear to you in the helmet. But he still grins, and you can see it through the tinted glass. 

You don’t think you’ll ever be able to miss another appearance of those fucking dimples for the rest of your days. 

“Good. Glad to hear nothing’s changed,” he playfully jokes, rounding the motorcycle before he swings a leg over the seat and straddles it. You try not to watch and check your phone instead.

You’re getting kind of sick of imagining Eddie Munson naked. Something you’d never thought you’d have to think about. 

12:35 AM. Your phone clearly displays the time, just as a text comes in from Argyle. 

ARGYLE 😎: picture time, my dudes! say cheese (and send it our way) 📸

“Argyle just texted the chat, asking very politely for the photo,” you announce to Eddie, already holding your phone out so he could read the screen.

He’s kicked up the stand on the bike, balancing it with both feet on the ground, the entire thing leaning with him when he gets closer to read the text before simply saying, “Okay.” 

“Okay? We have to take a photo-” 

He snatches the phone from you, a terrible habit you needed to start scolding him for. “Well? Don’t just stand there, sweetheart. Get on the bike and smile pretty for the camera.” 

It’s impressive how quickly the man who still has a flip phone has learned to navigate your smartphone. He’s already got the camera open, flipped to be front-facing as he waits for you to climb on behind him. But you haven’t moved.

He turns and looks at you over his shoulder, “Something wrong?” 

“Nothing,” you squeak from beneath the helmet. 

Just the thought of being pressed up against you after I’ve suddenly started fantasizing about you without shame is madly overwhelming. And if I have to wrap my arms around your waist, I might burst into flames outwardly. 

“Okay,” he draws out, twisting further to watch you, “Need help, then?”

You don’t honor him with an answer, instead roughly grabbing his shoulders as you swing your own leg over the bike. You try to sit with distance between the two of you, but the curve of the seat won’t allow it, sliding you down until your hips are flush against Eddie. 

It’s at this moment it dawns on you that if you are fantasizing about him, if you are indulging in the memory of the bathroom incident, he’ll feel it. You can hide or brush off a blush, you can avert gazes, you can pine just about every way physically without him knowing – you can’t stop him from feeling the heat between your legs as it’s digging into his lower back. 

You swallow hard, and you pray that Eddie isn’t in a teasing mood. 

“Good?” he asks when you don’t remove your hands from his shoulders. 

Even through the fucking helmet you smell his cologne. If you had your phone, you’d be googling images of grandmas like a teenage boy, warding off your unsavory thoughts about the man in front of you. 

“Good.” 

You have to tilt to the side before you both come into view of the camera. Eddie realizes at the last moment that they can’t see it’s you, and he doesn’t even react as he casually reaches up to flip the window visor up, exposing your wide eyes and rosy cheeks. The photo is taken, your blush evident and his smirk not even close to being hidden. 

He doesn’t even consult you before he sends it and passes your phone back, taking to tying back his hair as you fumble to secure the device in your pocket. 

You still haven’t dared to wrap your arms around him as you know is proper protocol as a motorcycle passenger. Instead, one hand is still shoved in your pocket, and the other continues to rest on his shoulders.

“Alright,” he says, producing his eyes and putting them in the engine, not yet turning it, “Just put your feet up here,” he takes a hand to each of your calves and lifts, situating your feet on the small pedals designated for a passenger. Your skin burns through the layer of sweats – the flames aren’t just in your head. They’re everywhere now, licking and nipping and leaving your breathless. “And then hold onto me.”

You return your hand to his other shoulder, giving a squeeze on each for emphasis to say you’re ready. He makes no move to start the bike. 

“What?” you complain, “I’m holding onto you!” 

“If we hit a bump, you’ll go flying.” 

When you don’t comply, he’s rolling his shoulders, shrugging off your touch before both hands fly back behind his back and capture your hands on their fall to your lap. His fingers are tight, warm, secure around your wrists as he pulls your arms to wrap around him in the exact way you’ve been avoiding. 

It pulls you impossibly close to him. If it weren’t for the helmet, your cheek and nose would be painfully smashed into his shoulder. The heat of him radiates off his back, seeping through the sweatshirt he’d given you. 

“There. Now is that really so bad?” His tone is cocky and confident, getting under your skin in a new tactic neither of you had ever broached. 

Flirting. He’s flirting. He can feel the tremble in your palms, and he has the nerve to fucking flirt with you. 

“Awful,” you quip, having to focus an insane amount to not allow your voice to shake, “I might vomit, it’s so bad.” 

“Aw,” he tuts mockingly, hands finally letting go of your arms, clearly pleased when they stay in place as he turns his face to look you in your eyes, “Just aim for the street and not me, okay?” 

Fire and flames dance in his eyes, easily reflected from the flush of your cheeks and the falsification of your glare. He’s going to be the death of you. 

“I’ll try,” your voice does shake this time. You’re not as brave when he’s making eye contact. 

The two of you are playing a dangerous game now. The venom of hatred has leaked out of your words, and what’s replacing it has the capability of breaking both of you far easier. This is no longer a game of who can make the other bleed – it’s no longer a game of you versus him. It’s a game of the two of you versus fate. The world’s worst game of chicken to date. 

A natural disaster. A forest fire that eviscerates all common sense. A rowdy ocean that drowns every version of every possibility ever known. Nature taking back what was once hers, an abandoned haunt of a chest that is now back in full bloom against better judgment. 

You, him, and fate. You always knew he would be your inevitable downfall. You’d always just assumed it would be a lot more screaming, a lot more fighting, and a lot less fantasizing what his lips would feel like against yours. 

He reaches out, and you think for a second, his knuckle will brush your cheek and he’ll whisper that it’s okay for you to just give in, to let Fate have her way. 

He doesn’t. He flips down the visor over your eyes, he twists the keys in the ignition, and he calls out loudly over the roar of the engine, “Hold tight, baby!” 

Your arms tighten around his waist and you hope the flames that encase you char him all the same. 

—

DINGUS: what did i say? 

BIRDIE: it’s not bad.

BIRDIE: i promise.

BIRDIE: it’s just not great either. 

DINGUS: robin. tell me what i said before i come across the hall to your room and break every the smiths record you own. 

BIRDIE: jesus okay! hop off the violent train. 

BIRDIE: i’m going to call you and explain because… context. just trust me and answer, okay? 

DINGUS: jesus christ. okay.

—

The moment the girls have all left for the bathroom, each guy exchanges a look. Argyle nudges Jonthan, who then kicks Steve under the table, who takes his turn in facing his entire body in Eddie’s direction before tapping the boy on his shoulder.

He looks up immediately, only to be caught in the spotlight of his friends, “Uh… yeah? What’s up?”

“You like her,” Steve deadpans. 

“You like her, my dude,” Argyle sing-songs from across the table, “I’m about to start planning a bitching wedding, I swear.”

Eddie freezes up, face scrunching up before he shakes his head violently, “What? No, I just met her-”

“Subtlety isn’t your specialty, Munson,” Jonathan adds in his two cents, “Lost puppy dog eyes are, though. Which you’ve been making at her all night.”

“I have not-”

“You guys think they’re more of a summer wedding couple, or fall? No, no, actually, scratch that – they’re clearly a winter wedding couple, man,” Argyle is teasing, but the warmth of his personality is genuine as he wiggles his brows at Eddie.

A smile finally cracks on the boy’s face. 

Fine, maybe he did like her. Maybe he had been plotting subtle ways to get her number before the night ended. Maybe he had already been trying to silently catch Robin’s eyes to get her blessing without words. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Steve suddenly interrupts, “Tone down the teasing, alright, fellas?” 

Eddie curiously turns his head to him, hiding a smirk behind the lip of his glass, “Why? You’ve already got eyes on her, Harrington?” 

It was a joke. A stupid, stupid joke. A joke that never should have been made, because Steve was drunk and wasn’t in the business of using a filter once he was this many shots deep. 

Eddie knows deep down he didn’t mean harm by the words. He knows that they were the words of a drunk man. But don’t all drunk thoughts have truth to them? 

“What? Nah, man. Not anymore, at least. She was never interested. And I just don’t want us getting ahead of ourselves, because if she wouldn’t go for me, why would she go for you? I think we just-”

Eddie stops listening. Steve continues a drunken rant, and if Eddie had been listening closer, he’d hear about Steve’s grand plan to better feel out how she felt about him. He’d hear about how Steve would get Robin involved, maybe Nancy, how they could talk to her. 

He’d hear that Steve meant more than those awful words that immediately take up residency in Eddie’s mind. But the damage is done. And just like that, a fate between Eddie and this new girl has been decided. There will be no asking for her number. There will be no giddy late night phone calls or terrible nerves when planning a first date. There won’t be anything – Fate clicks with reluctance as Eddie Munson begrudgingly closes the gates to his heart once more. 

“If she wouldn’t go for me, why would she go for you?” 

Steve was right. Eddie shouldn’t have gotten ahead of himself. 

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[babymetaldoll]

Are you mine? - Chapter two: “Let the fear you have fall away”

Summary: (Y/N) is very pregnant and she will have to learn to deal with the hormonal swings, the fears, the nausea and the realization that things might never be the same again.   Word count: 11.110 words Warnings: mention of a daddy kind, description of Criminal Cases from season 9 ep 19 Mr & Mrs. Anderson. Extreme fluff, some light angst.  A/N: years ago I wrote the entire story of how Spencer found out he was gonna be a dad with reader, it's called: "You are gonna be the best dad." 

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Spencer’s point of view

When (Y/N) told me she was pregnant with our first baby, it was one of the most chaotic moments of my life. I had no idea what was going on.

We didn’t try for too long before she realized her period was late, just four months of many, many attempts to have a baby. I was blind to the first signs: her breasts were getting bigger and her stomach was giving her a hard time. I never noticed anything, which eventually made me feel like a lousy profiler if you ask me. But I wasn't trying to read her, and she was waiting for the right time to tell me. She had it all planned: she had even rented a cabin in the woods for the following weekend, and she had a little box of clues gathered to surprise me.

But, of course, our job got in the way, like it always did when something important was about to happen. We were caught up in a case and never made it in time to enjoy the cabin. Besides, the team realized something was up with my wife, even before I suspected anything. By the time we were back in DC after solving that case, they had all noticed she was pregnant, and even Emily in London knew I was gonna be a dad before I did.

I remember getting our bags in the car, still in the FBI parking, when somehow I found the box filled with all the clues and little treats she had gotten for me.

- “Hey, chipmunk? What’s in this box?”

- “What?”- (Y/N) turned around and tried to grab it from my hands, but it was too late. My curiosity was faster and I had already opened it.

- “What’s all this? a teddy bear with glasses? That’s funny. A rattle, baby shoes…”- I started taking everything from the box, still not getting what it was all about. (Y/N) sighed and looked at me, trying to find the right words to give me the news.

- “Honey…”

- “A onesie that says “baby genius, like my dad,”- I remember thinking We should get one of these when we have a baby. I was embarrassingly stupid at that minute, and I blame the exhaustion after the case. Besides, I know I can be clueless about the obvious sometimes.

- “Honey bunny…”- my wife stood in front of me and looked at my confused face as I kept trying to understand what those things were doing there.

- “Why do you have all these things in our car?”

- “There is one more thing in the box you haven’t seen yet.”- (Y/N) whispered with a sweet smile on her lips. I dug into the box again until I finally grabbed a pregnancy test with a little note hanging from it.

- “Baby Reid, coming soon.”- I read out loud and immediately opened my eyes wide, in shock.

- “I’m so sorry, Spencer. I didn’t want to tell you here. I wanted to make it special”- (Y/N) whispered and even pouted as I looked at her in complete disbelief. Yes, we stood in the parking lot at Quantico, but she was delivering the most important news I had ever received.

- “You… we are… you are….”- I stuttered as I tried to make my brain work again. I felt all my brain cells had turned off the second I connected all the dots.

- “Yes.”- she smiled and took a step closer to me as she added- “We are gonna have a baby.”

I could only stare at her, in shock. Her eyes were filled with tears as she waited for my reaction. Meanwhile, I could barely process all that information. My heart was pounding in my chest and my eyes were watering as I just looked at my wife.

- “Come here,”- when I finally managed to speak, I hugged her tight and tried not to sob as I kissed her, and repeatedly thanked her.

- “Why are you thanking me?”- (Y/N) whispered against my chest and I just chuckled, still shocked. It took me a few seconds to gather my thoughts because I felt like I was dreaming. Somehow at that minute, life was too perfect to be true.

- “Because you just gave me everything I ever wanted,”- I murmured and wiped off the tears from my face quickly before cupping her cheeks with my hands and kissing her lips sweetly.

- “I just wanna make you happy, Spencer Walter Reid,”- she answered between kisses, making me smile.

- “You are very good at that”- I said as I wrapped her in my arms and kissed her one more time.

- “You make me happy too just so you know,”- (Y/N) added and smiled as I rested my forehead against hers. My wife was pregnant, it was a dream come true.

- “And you are gonna be a great dad, honey bunny.”- (Y/N) said and it still shocked me to hear those words.

- “I’m gonna be a dad,”- I repeated and chuckled- “I’m gonna be a dad.”

- “Not just a dad, the best dad!”- (Y/N) kissed me again and held my hand- “Now let’s go home so we can eat and celebrate.”

- “Wait!”- before (Y/N) could move from my embrace I stopped her, all the signs that were too obvious to see were finally making sense.

- “Emily knew, that’s why he texted me congratulations. Am I right?!”- my wife looked at me with an apologetic smile and nodded.

- “I’m so sorry, honey. I tried to make it special, but I failed.”

- “But she is in London! How did she… Who told her? Who else knows?”

- “Morgan, JJ, Hotch, and Garcia. Garcia told Emily.”

- “You told the entire team before you told me?”- the words came out harder and angrier than they should have been. In reality, I was shocked she hadn’t told me first, but never mad.

- “I haven’t told anyone except for you. But working with profilers makes keeping a secret a nearly impossible task.”

- “But I didn’t notice”- I argued, upset with myself for being so blind and naive. My wife hugged me, and kissed me a few times, soothing my anger.

- “I didn’t want you to notice ‘cos I wanted to make it special for you. Not in a parking lot, by the way”- she was disappointed with the circumstances of her confession.

- “Any place is special when I’m with you, Mrs. Reid”- I whispered, holding her closer and kissing her lips a few more times, as I felt her smiling against my mouth. - “Now let’s go home, tomorrow we are going to the library to get all the pregnancy books we can find.”

- “Of course, we are.”- (Y/N) giggled and got in the car. It wasn’t in a magical cabin in the woods or watching the sunset on a beach, but it was perfect anyway because we were together, and my wife was giving me the life I always dreamed about, but never imagined I could have.

When we told the team, everybody got excited. They hugged us and congratulated us for a good ten minutes. Though they all knew, the fact it was official made it all special. Garcia went nuts and even video-called Prentiss to the UK. JJ was pregnant with Michael at the time, and she started sharing tips with my wife right away.

- “Congratulations, Reid”- Blake said as she stood by my side and raised her coffee, to toast. I followed her lead and smiled.

- “Thank you.”

- “Have you thought about names yet?”

- “Yes, but nothing specific yet. We are just sharing options and making a list.”

- “Which is your favorite?”

- “Matilda or Raven for a girl, and Finn or Oliver for a boy.”- I said, smiling and Blake nodded right away.

- “Did you pick names from your favorite books?”

- “Yes. They were my best friends growing up.”- I confessed and sipped my coffee. (Y/N) turned to me from the other side of the room and smiled, making my heart skip a beat.

But then, it all turned too real to be true. Hotch told (Y/N) she wasn’t allowed back into the field until after the baby was born, which also included me most of the time. And I was glad to stay aside from the action. I wanted to take care of my wife and help her with every craving, every back pain, or body ache. Then came all the paperwork, signing disclaimers and basically making sure the entire Bureau knew what was going on. Hotch said it was mandatory, but it still felt slightly over the top. Neither of us argued with it, but we were both slightly uncomfortable.

On top of telling the team and the rest of the FBI about our pregnancy, Mikey, Frank and Lu were paranoid during the entire gestation of our baby. They called pretty much every day and became very protective of (Y/N). Honestly, they were worse than her parents.

- “How long are you going to work?”- Frank asked her when we all got together at our apartment for dinner. (Y/N) looked at Paco and raised an eyebrow, not getting where that question was coming from, or why he was even asking.

- “Until the day the baby is born, why?”- my wife's answer was the most logical, and also, what we had talked about and agreed to do. Yet somehow, for Frank, Lu, and Mikey, it was the most irrational thing we had ever shared with them.

- “What the fuck, nugget?”- Mikey yelled, making (Y/N) jump.

- “What’s wrong?”- she asked, confused by their freaked-out reaction.

- “You have to take time off work, get some rest, and keep our baby away from fucking psycho killers!!”- somehow, Frank calling my baby “our baby” wasn’t weird at all. He, Mikey, and Lu were insanely intrusive during the whole process. Not in a bad way, just in a… I guess, possessive way.

- “You know I’m no longer on the field.”- (Y/N) explained again, though that was something we had both told our friends multiple times. - “I’ve been sitting around police stations all over the country for the last four months! It’s so fucking boring!”

I knew (Y/N) didn’t like to stay away from the action. She loved our job and she wanted to catch serial killers. But at that moment, she could only help with geographic profile and support from the station.

- “Just what? four more to go!”- Mikey joked and sipped his beer- “Come on, nugget. We are worried because we love you.”

- “Yeah, we are all worried about my godson or daughter.”- Frank added and both Mikey and Lu smacked him at the same time.

- “My godson or daughter!”- they argued possessively. I turned to my wife and watched her smile as our friends continued rambling about who the godfather of our firstborn would be. I held her hand upon the table and she turned to me immediately.

- “I love you.”- I whispered and she smiled.

- “Me more.”- (Y/N) leaned over and kissed me, as our friends kept chatting.- “So, do you want to go out for dinner tomorrow?”

- “Are you asking me out, Mrs. Reid?”- I whispered and watched her blushing, completely flustered. I will always love that reaction to that simple nickname.

- “Maybe I am, doctor.”- and she knew exactly how to tease me.

- “This is gross, we are still here.”- Frank argued right away.

- “Remember when you asked me a million times to date Spencer? Well now I married him and you’ll have to deal with this!”- (Y/N) quickly replied and smiled at her friends. I chuckled and stared at her with what Garcia calls “heart eyes”, just like the cartoons. Every day I feel like there is no way on earth I could ever love her more than I already do, but the following day, I always prove myself wrong.

(Y/N)’s point of view

A moment of pure honesty: so far in life, I’ve enjoyed being pregnant. Each time it has happened, Spencer treats me like a princess made of glass. He is always sweet and thoughtful, but when I’m carrying his kids, I become the most important and precious thing in the whole galaxy for him. It’s impossible not to fall for how carefully and lovingly he treats me.

Any cravings, no matter what time or what it is, he gets it. Pampers and kisses are available for me 24/7. Crying over a movie, show, or TV commercial? Spencer is there to hug me and tell me I’m not crazy. And trust me, I feel like I’m going crazy most of the time.

However, there is a dark side to pregnancy, and so many ghosts appear to hunt me. There are the doubts that keep hunting my brain, hormones changing, and overthinking. Sometimes I felt needy, and when the months passed and I started turning “rounder”, I also started feeling ugly. I have never been overconfident about my looks, but now I was afraid Spencer was never going to think I was sexy again, and he would leave me.

Being pregnant can make you very irrational. No one ever told me that. And if they did, I never actually listened.

However, my husband was always the sweetest. He would hold me, kiss me, and tell me how much he loved me.

That very first time I got pregnant, I started second-guessing everything a few days before Valentine’s Day. I was already five months pregnant and I felt like a whale. I couldn’t imagine how big I was going to get in the following weeks. And I was sure Spencer was going to leave me.

I told you, I was being irrational, right?

Morgan and Garcia were talking about Valentine’s Day when we reached the bullpen that morning. They were telling each other whatever plans they had with their dates and both of them seemed excited. Derek has a date with Savannah and Pen was planning a night with her boyfriend, Sam.

- “And what are you guys doing this year?”- Garcia asked and placed a hand on my tummy, hoping to feel the baby’s first kicks.

- “I… I don’t know.”- I answered the truth, ‘cos I hadn’t had a moment to plan anything for Valentine’s. Over the years, it had become one of our favorite celebrations, and every year I dedicated the entire day to celebrating my husband. I always tried to make something extra special for him that day. Why? Aside from the fact that he absolutely deserved it, I always felt like he would do everything and anything to make me feel loved, and I wanted to make him feel just as loved.

So, having no plans for Valentine’s that year shocked me and stressed me. I had forgotten about that celebration. And I needed to show my husband how much I loved him and make it extra special.

There I was, lost in thoughts and planning when JJ walked out of the elevator. She had been kidnapped a few weeks earlier, we had all worked extra hard to bring her back, unharmed, and medics had suggested she stay home for a month to recover. Which is why none of us was expecting to have her back to work yet.

- “JJ! You are back! How are you feeling?”- Spencer asked as he hugged her.

- “I’m ready to work”- she replied and turned to me- “(Y/N)! You are glowing!”

- “Don’t turn this to me, what the hell are you doing here already? Shouldn’t you be resting?”- I argued as JJ simply smiled, looking freaking gorgeous.

- “I'm… I'm fine. Don't get me wrong, I love my boys to death, but I was starting to get a little stir-crazy.”

- “Well, let's do this.”- Morgan said and opened the door for us.

- “I’m glad you are back, JJ”- Spencer added and smiled at our friend. She smiled back at him and replied.

- “Thank you. I’m glad to be here.”

- “Do you want some tea?”- Penelope suggested and all of them walked a little faster than me, as I slowly made my way to the briefing room. I had a little back pain and some dizziness that made moving a little more challenging. And for the first time, Spencer didn’t notice. Instead, he walked JJ to the briefing room and left me behind.

I stared at him from a distance and sighed. I knew I was being irrational, but I couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of the attention Spencer was giving JJ at that minute. I know it was stupid, she was our friend and she had been held captive and tortured, of course, he was going to be extra nice to her. But still, it hurt.

The entire team welcomed JJ back, and before Garcia started explaining our next case, everybody asked JJ how she was feeling. They wanted to know if she had seen a doctor before coming back to work, and basically, they all just told her how amazing she looked. I was the one turning food into a tiny human in my stomach, but she looked good.

It didn’t get much better once we were on the plane to Pittsburgh. I could feel my feet getting swollen with every minute that passed. That had never happened before and it just made me feel humiliated. Everything was going downhill.

- “Good news, crime-fighters.”- Garcia’s voice took me from my thoughts and back to reality as her image showed up on the screen in front of me. - “I tracked the shower curtains this creep has been using to burrito his victims. Turns out they are commercial grade, sold in bulk to a bunch of economy motels, a list of which I just sent you.”

- “It makes sense.”- Blake added- “It's a secure secondary location.”

- “Either he doesn't want to draw attention to his home or someone is living with him.”- Papa Pasta suggested.

- “Rossi, you and Morgan go to the M. E.”- Aaron commanded- “ JJ and Reid, go through Garcia's list of motels.”- I froze at those words. Spencer was going to be on the field? He had been with me at the police station for the last eleven cases. I knew it wasn’t a rule or mandatory, but I thought Hotch was trying to be nice and pair us together for our sanity. Wanna know what upset me the most? my husband didn't argue, he just smiled and nodded at the command.

- “Blake, (Y/N), and I will go to the field office and cover victimology with Agent West.”- Aaron finished commanding and I stayed still, sipping my water, nearly shocked. Blake cut me a big smile and I had to smile back.

- “How are you feeling, (Y/N)?”- Blake asked as soon as we got into the SUV after we landed. I had already kissed my husband goodbye and watched him make his way with JJ, away from me, which for some weird reason, hurt me deeper than I ever thought it would.

- “I’m good, I miss coffee, though. I would love a large black coffee right now. No sugar, no cream.”- I replied and struggled to buckle up. - “Shit, I’m so pregnant.”- Hotch chuckled and helped me with the seat belt.

- “You are only five months into the pregnancy.”- he whispered and smiled at me- “You are still a few weeks from the short breath problems, cramps, and fatigue.”

- “Please, don’t spoil it!”- I argued and Aaron Hotchner laughed- “You are giving me all the dirty details of pregnancy I didn’t want to know.”

- “You will love it! He is just making it sound like hell!”- Blake rubbed my shoulder with her hand in support and I tried to turn and look at her. I knew she had lost her child, but she had been a mom, and her guidance had been quite useful during the entire process.

- “Other than coffee, how are your cravings?”- Hotch asked as he started driving us to the station. I told them about my random food choices, and they made me feel better about my pickle mayonnaise craving for dinner. According to him, Haley craved hot Cheetos dipped in yogurt, and Blake told me she once ate two bowls of hot Indian curry because she was craving spicy food. Somehow, curry started to sound good after she mentioned it, but we had no time for pit stops. In a few minutes, we were at the station, and before I realized it, my head was buried in work. Another day, another psycho killer, I guess.

I didn’t hear from Spencer for the rest of the day. Nothing. He didn’t reply to my texts (I only sent two because I didn’t want to sound needy) and he didn’t even call. So when he reached the station that evening with JJ, I was already upset and ready to give him the cold shoulder.

- “Chipmunk! how are you feeling?”- my husband kissed my cheek and sat next to me at the table, where I was analyzing victimology with Blake.

- “I’m good.”- I simply replied and kept looking at the papers.

- “Have you eaten anything?”- he asked and grabbed a few files as well. I just hummed and avoided looking at him. There was a long silence in the room, though we were all there. For a few seconds, that felt like hours, no one said anything. Probably they all noticed I was mad at my husband.

- “Take a look at this”- Agent West, from the local police force, walked into the room with more info and handed us all new folders- “You guys were right. I was able to match their M.O. to 10 other strangulation murders. We were only able to identify four.”

- “They've been at it since 1994.”- Rossi pointed out as we all read the file.

- “Looks like they stopped in 2010 and remained dormant up until now.”- my husband added and looked at me. But before I could say anything, JJ started talking.

- “Something had to prevent them from killing. Maybe one was incarcerated.”- so I just sighed and looked at the files again.

- “I'll start pulling prison records, see if I can't get a match.”- Agent West was very excited with the findings, and he walked out of the room in a hurry. I sighed one more time, exhausted, and continued reading. Spencer moved closer to me and rubbed his warm hand carefully on my leg. It was a loving gesture I’ve always adored, but I was so irrationally upset with him at that minute, I hated it. I held my breath and stayed very still as he did, and I guess he noticed something was wrong, ‘cos he slowly stopped and moved his hand from my leg. I didn’t turn to look at him, but I knew his eyes were analyzing me and probably wondering why I was mad.

- “These two have been in a relationship a lot longer than we thought.”- Rossi said and left his case file on the table, ready to start analyzing the new facts.

- “But even if they broke up, to come back together and resume killing after a four-year hiatus is rare.”- Spencer looked confused by the unsub's actions like there was a logic he couldn’t understand. I shrugged, finally acknowledging him.

- “Love is strange. It will make you do the craziest things.”

Those words just slipped through my lips and never actually went through my brain. It was an entirely emotional answer. My husband stared at me, his lips parted and his eyes focused on every micro reaction on my face. I tried not to give away anything, but I’m sure I failed.

- “Guys, what if they are married?”- JJ suggested, obviously taking the idea from what was happening in the room. I looked down at my hands and decided I didn’t want to talk anymore. I just wanted to crawl into a bed and lie down.

- “Sounds about right”- Rossi added and looked at us.

- “It’s been a long day, we’ll pick it up from here tomorrow at seven. Let’s get some rest.”- Hotch read my mind and we all slowly gathered our things. Spencer grabbed my bag and waited as I slowly moved to the door. I walked in silence until we reached an SUV, and my husband opened the door for me. I wanted to tell him thanks, but I didn’t. Why? ‘Cos I was being irrational.

- “Do you wanna get dinner?”- he whispered as he sat behind the wheel. I didn’t reply.- “(Y/N), why are you mad at me? What did I do?”

- “Nothing.”- I mumbled, already pouting.

- “Clearly I did something that upset you, so please tell me.” - he wasn’t angry, he was honestly worried. I did my best and tried not to look at him, instead, I was making an effort not to cry.

- “Is it because I didn’t reply to your texts? I am sorry chipmunk, but JJ and I had a very busy day, and I didn’t have a spare second.”

- “Sure…”- I whispered and bit my lips, ‘cos my quin quivered. I turned and looked through the window, to anything but my husband.

- “Come on, please.”

- “You didn’t have ten seconds to type “I’m ok, love you” during the entire day you spent with JJ?! Really?!”

And what I avoided the most, just happened: I yelled like a crazy person. I even broke into tears as well. It was way out of proportion, it was completely unexpected, and Spencer looked at me not knowing what was happening.

- “I wanted to be with you! I wanted to know about you! I fucking missed you! I was worried! And you never took the time to reply to my texts! I am sure you were waiting for any chance you got to stay away from me! I’m sure you were already sick of being paired with me at the station! and you were happy to be with JJ ‘cos she is cute and hot and I am a fucking pregnant whale!!”

Yes. I am not proud. But somehow, it was relieving just taking all that from my chest.

Spencer stayed quiet for a moment as I just cried my eyes out. I prayed none of our friends was left in that parking lot, ‘cos I didn’t want them to see me like that. Spencer reached for my hand and held it. I didn’t fight him or anything, mostly because I was honestly craving his touch. He caressed my hand and I continued sobbing and after a few minutes, he simply whispered.

- “I’m sorry.”- and I knew I wasn’t mad at him anymore- “I know this whole process is… difficult for you, and I am sorry I can’t do anything but be supportive with you to help you through it. I love you, chipmunk. I love you so much it hurts. I never meant to make you sad, or upset. I just… got my head into work and forgot. It won’t happen again.”

Spencer kissed my knuckles and I tried to steady my breathing. My irrationality was upsetting, but I didn’t know how to turn it off or manage it.

- “I love you.”- he whispered one more time- “And please, don’t call yourself a whale again.”- my husband begged as he kept looking into my eyes with such love and care, I felt I was gonna melt- “You are more beautiful with every passing day.”

- “I’m getting huge, and I’m just nineteen weeks in.”- I mumbled still in tears, and caressed my tummy.

- “Chipmunk, you look so sexy, so beautiful and so mine with that round tummy, showing everyone you are carrying my baby.”- I wanted to tease him about his obvious breeding kink, but I was still trying to calm myself down.

- “I am so sorry I made you feel bad, ma cheriê. I love you so much.”

- “I… I love you too.”- I managed to mumble, still sobbing- “And… and I’m so fucking hungry.”- my husband started the car right away and started driving in no time.

- “Then I’m taking you out for dinner to make it up to you for making you worried today. Is that ok with you, chipmunk?”- I nodded and whipped off my tears with both hands, ruining what was left of my makeup.

I wish I could tell you that was the only time I was irrational during my pregnancy. But it was just the beginning. And every time I realized I was acting crazy, I got more and more scared Spencer would stop loving me.

Spencer’s point of view

I’ve always thought it’s unfair how my wife has to carry (literally and emotionally) the burden of bringing our kids into the world. It was painful to see her go through so much on her own, being an observer and a helper in any way possible. I couldn’t take the morning sickness from her, or the swollen feet, the contraction pain, the labor sacrifice. It was so much. And all I could was support her.

She could be irrational. I know it's common to have mood swings and feel tearful or easily irritated during the first semester of pregnancy. I was ready for it. I knew her body was going through a change and she had to adapt to the higher levels of these hormones. After that, things had to go smoother.

Statistically, one in eight women suffers from depression during gestation, and I was scared anything like that would happen to her. She was already giving me everything I ever dreamed about, and I wanted to make her happy.

After that first incident, I wanted to talk to Hotch and tell him I’d stay at the police station with my wife, but (Y/N) convinced me otherwise.

- “I overreacted, honey bunny.”- she stood in front of me and helped me fix my tie before we left our room to work the following morning- “Stop worrying about it. Don’t say anything to Hotch, just let’s go out there and do as we are told, for once.”

I stared at her and caressed her belly, waiting to finally feel our baby’s first kicks. I looked carefully into my wife’s eyes and leaned over to kiss her.

- “Are you sure?”

- “Positive”- she stood on her tiptoes and reached my lips with hers, kissing so sweetly and softly, that I nearly melted. - “Go out there and kick some ass.”

- “And when we get home, do I get to worship my wife?” - I whispered in her ear as (Y/N) giggled. I kept my arms around her, feeling her body close to me.- “I mean it, I want you to know how much I love you, ma cherie.”

- “I know, Daddy.”- the pet name had a different meaning now, and it affected me on so many levels it’s embarrassing to even start explaining.

- “Are you gonna be good today?”- I asked her in a deep voice. She just nodded and kissed me again. - “If you are good today at work, I’ll do whatever you want me to do when we get back home.”- I suggested and (Y/N) bit her lips.

- “Anything?”

- “Whatever you want, ma cherie”

- “Laundry and ironing too?”- she murmured and walked away from me. I groaned and followed her, leaving our room.

- “Really?”

- “You said anything, dear husband. That means in fact, whatever I want.”

- “But why can’t it be dirty?”- (Y/N) chuckled as she pushed the elevator button and turned to me.

- “It could be… if you get laundry done.”

That day I was out in the field with JJ and Morgan. Yes, it was a change being out there again after so many months at police stations doing geographic profiles with my wife. And though a part of me enjoyed being out, I still wished I was with her.

Morgan always made fun of me, saying I was whipped. And yes, I was. I still am. And I love every second of it. I don’t know how to explain it, but being with my wife makes me the happiest man on earth. No matter what. I guess Morgan hadn’t met that kind of person yet, so he couldn’t get it at that minute.

However, being on the field with him also meant having to hear him teasing me and asking way too many questions. And considering (Y/N) had had a little moment the prior day at the police station, he had a lot of things to ask.

- “How is the Mrs, Reid?”- Morgan drove to the crime scene we were called to and kept his eyes on the road. JJ was sitting next to him and didn’t say a word.

- “You just saw her, she is fine.”- I tried to be as vague as possible, but he kept pushing it, of course.

- “Everything ok? She seemed a little upset yesterday.”

- “Morgan, don’t snoop into other people’s relationships.”- JJ was the voice of reason Derek obviously ignored.

- “Pregnancy is getting harder?”- he asked and I sighed, annoyed by his questions- “Oh, man! That’s a yes!”

- “It’s just unfair she gets to go through all those changes and all I can do is support her. I feel useless because I can’t help her.”- I explained, but now that I think about it, Morgan was never going to understand what was happening. He just wanted to tease me.

- “So hormones are driving her crazy?”- and he even chuckled as she suggested my wife was going insane.

- “No. She is…”- I bit my tongue ‘cos I didn’t want to share something that I knew was going to upset my wife.

- “I’ve seen it happen.”- Morgan smiled and JJ turned to him immediately.

- “When?”

- “Ehh…”- he hesitated and nearly answered, but decided to change the subject instead. - “Is she upset you are on the field today?”

- “No, she just worries, but it’s normal. We talked about it and everything is ok.”- the less they knew, the better. I know we are together all the time, but I don’t want the team into everything that happens in my relationship.

- “Well, you know what they say.”- Derek said as he parked the SUV- “Happy wife, happy life.”

I quickly got out of the van and stared at the scene in front of me. A new victim was displayed in the middle of the street, and for the first time ever, it was a man and not a woman.

- “This is a first for them.”- JJ said as she stood next to me, followed by Morgan.

- “Aside from gender, the M. O. is the same.”- Agent West pointed from the side of the corps.

- “Something in their dynamic must have changed.”- Morgan walked closer as I maintained my distance from the body.

- “A male victim most likely caters to the female unsub's desires.”- JJ added and turned to me for a second.

- “They haven't displayed that behavior before. Up until now, it appears it's been the male picking the victims.”- I said, trying to connect the dots.

- “Which typically indicates a dominant/submissive relationship.”- Morgan pointed out, still staring at the corpse in front of us.

- “It looks as though her psychopathology could be evolving.”- I know it was obvious, but I had to say it.

- “Ok, we need to look at this from a marriage perspective. Compromise is the key to any long-term relationship's success. What if this murder was their way of sharing responsibility?”- I don’t know if JJ was saying that because it fit the case or the conversation we were having in the SUV earlier.

- “He let the woman choose the victim. That could be problematic.”- I replied only because it made sense to the case, not because it made sense in a relationship.

- “Now that she's been given control, she might not want to let it go.” - Morgan added and looked at me- “Sounds familiar, kid?”

- “Shut up.”

The teasing didn’t get any better when we delivered the profile. Now that I know there won’t be any more moments like that again in my life (at least at work), I guess it can be a little nostalgic. But I specifically remember how annoyed I was that day.

After the crime scene, we went straight back to the police station. We had a brief meeting with the team and then, we decided to deliver the profile.

- “We believe we're looking for a married couple, to whom we can attribute at least 13 deaths since 1994.”- Hotch started explaining.

- “He's a sexual sadist, and she's a scopophiliac, which is Greek for "love of looking, " meaning that she gets off on watching her husband kill.”- my wife added as she crossed her arms on her chest and stared at the police force, taking notes around us.

- “Like Karla Homolka and Paul Bernardo, who raped, tortured, and killed at least 19 people, this couple's homicidal tendencies most likely surfaced once they met.”- I walked from the side I was standing and moved closer to my wife, ‘cos I didn’t feel comfortable when she was far from me. I needed to feel I could protect her and our baby by all means.

- “It's possible that the use of a shower curtain is a sign of remorse on the part of the female unsub.”- Rossi started talking as I stood right next to (Y/N). I could actually feel the warmth from her body next to me, though we weren’t even touching.

- “Up until now, all the victims were females, so it's possible that the change in victimology could be the husband's way of subjugating his own needs for his wife's happiness.”- Derek explained, but looked at me for a slip of a second.

- “But a sexual sadist doesn't typically subjugate. We think he could have committed crimes on the side that got him arrested.”- JJ continued.

- “But wouldn't we have the bodies to prove that?”- Agent West asked, confused.

- “Yes. Which is why we need to take another look at all strangulations within the geographical profile that occurred during the gap years.”- Rossi explained. I slowly rested my hand next to my wife’s and moved my pinky carefully toward her fingers, caressing her skin slowly. (Y/N) didn’t move, didn’t look at me, she didn’t even notice what I was doing. But I felt her shoulder dropping and relaxing as soon as I touched her.

- “Without his female partner's influence, the male's independent M.O. should present differently.”- Morgan said and locked eyes with me, making me stop what I was doing right away.

- “Learning the nature of how that differs from their team dynamic will be the key to driving a wedge between their partnership.” - my wife said, making eye contact with as many officials as possible. I just stared at her and nodded, supporting every word.

- “In the meantime, all transients are at risk.”- Blake continued talking - “Now that the wife has gotten a taste of control, she'll crave that feeling again.”

- “And if the husband sublimated his needs with the last kill, his desire to fulfill his own will be what’s driving him now. Thank you very much”- Hotch finished and dispatched all the police. We all remained in our spots to continue with the profile review.

- “What can you add, Reid?”- Morgan asked and raised an eyebrow- “From your husband's point of view, not talking as an SSA.”- he asked me as soon as everybody else was out of the room. I just looked at him and raised an eyebrow but didn’t reply. And (Y/N) turned to me wondering what he was talking about.

- “Morgan.”- Hotch raised an eyebrow and stared at Derek, who raised his hands and walked to the coffee pot.

- “What was that about?”- (Y/N) whispered as she stood next to me.

- “Just ignore him. I do”- I held my wife’s hand and kissed it. She smiled as I did and both of us pretended Morgan wasn’t there anymore.

During the rest of the afternoon, we analyzed unsolved strangulation cases within the geographical profile. I can’t say it was the best way to spend an afternoon, but at least I could spend the time with my wife. And the rest of the team.

- “How are you feeling?”- I whispered as I sat next to (Y/N) and noticed she had left half of her dinner untouched. We had ordered Chinese food for dinner for the team, and I knew she loved that.

- “I’m good”- my wife replied and continued reading.

- “You are not hungry? I thought you’d love dinner. It’s one of your favorites. You are not into Chinese anymore?”- my wife shrugged and looked at the files in her hands. JJ walked in sipping a gigantic soda, and I heard (Y/N) sighing. So that was it, she was self-conscious of her weight. It hurt me knowing my wife was so scared to gain weight during pregnancy. But most of all it pained me to know she was comparing herself with JJ. It was logical, JJ had had a kid and she hadn’t lost her figure after giving birth. But, how could I explain to my wife that I thought she was very sexy with that round tummy? I know I had told her, but clearly, it didn’t make any difference to her.

- “Chipmunk…”- I whispered, but JJ started talking about work, and (Y/N) ignored me to focus on her.

- “I have a 1989 strangulation victim dumped 10 miles from where the first body was found, only she was raped and stabbed.”

- “His comfort zone. Could be our unsub.”- (Y/N) said looking at the team.

- “Well, I've got two more, '01 and '03, except these took place in Clifford, Delaware. The M.O.'s an exact match.”- Rossi added and looked through the files he had read.

- “I got another one here from 2013, Scottsdale, Maryland.”- Morgan didn’t look from the papers as he spoke- “He was smart enough to cross state lines.”

- “The Crestview rapist was operating during that time.”- JJ pointed out. I looked at my wife for a moment, rubbed her tummy, and tried to focus on work, though most of my brain was trying to find a way to make her feel better.

- “The male unsub never went dormant. Only the female did.”- Derek said and there was a short pause.

- “So when this guy kills without his wife, his signature changes to stabbing and sexual assault.”- (Y/N) sighed after talking and she stood up to walk closer to the board and look at the crime scene pictures.

- “Well, stabbing is indicative of rage, and it's most likely towards women.”- Derek added.

- “And the sexual assault is his way of establishing dominance over them.”- Blake seemed focused, I wasn’t keeping track or paying much attention.

- “Maybe their marriage isn't as solid as we think.”- Rossi suggested- “Clearly he has issues that he's working out when the wife isn't around.”

I don’t know why Derek looked at me. I don’t know if he wanted to see if I reacted to that statement or if I was affected by it.

- “Well, if she emasculates her husband at home, that could be the reason why she now needs to have control over the murder.”- JJ proposed and Derek’s eyes could burn holes in my skull as she did.

- “Hey, guys, we have a survivor.”- my wife interrupted the moment and I moved closer to her to look at the file she was reading- “Hannah Franklin, a 23-year-old waitress who was attacked on her way home from work back in 2008.”

- “Do you have a contact number?”- Hotch asked as he looked at my wife from the other side of the room. She just nodded and grabbed the file with the information.

- “When she gets here, JJ, I need you to talk to her, and try to get as much information as possible.”

- “Can we talk? after you make that call.”- I whispered into my wife’s ear. She turned to me and nodded and in a second, she was out of the room.

- “Everything ok?”- Blake asked me and I just smiled and nodded as well.- “Everything ok with (Y/N)? She seemed a bit off yesterday.”

- “Yeah, she is ok.”- I paused and looked around for a second. - “Let me ask you this: did you guys eat anything this morning while we were out?”

- “Eat? take out?”- I nodded and Blake shook her head immediately- “This is the first meal I’ve seen since breakfast, and I nearly fainted. Why do you ask?”

- “It’s nothing, I’m just worried (Y/N) might be skipping meals.”

- “Is she still feeling sick?”

I didn’t want to tell my friend anything else about it, so I just agreed with her inference and watched my wife on the phone, just outside the room.

- “Well, being pregnant is very challenging. Your body keeps changing and whenever you feel like you are ok with the stage you have to face, your whole hormones go crazy and you lose it again.”- Blake explained and smiled at me- “She is lucky to have you. I can see you’ve been an amazing partner for her.”

- “Thank you.”- I think I blushed at those words because I knew Blake wasn’t saying that just to be polite. However, I didn’t feel like I was doing enough. I knew (Y/N) was going through something more complex than what she was sharing, and I needed to show her she could count on me.

(Y/N)’s point of view

The rush of emotions I had felt that entire day was crazy. It was my first pregnancy, and I didn’t know any better. I had no idea what was going on. One thing is reading about how much your body is gonna change and another completely different thing is feeling alienated from your own body.

I didn’t want to talk about it with Spencer. After what had happened the day before, I felt like oversharing my feelings and mental instability might drive him away. So I pretended to be ok. Which, of course, didn’t work because my husband is a genius and could read me like a book. Also, leaving my leftovers around hadn’t been very bright. I was still starving and wanted to eat what was left of my dinner. But when I looked at my swollen feet and round body, all I could think of was: you have to stop eating. Which I did.

- “Hey”- Spencer walked to me as I poured myself a cup of ginger tea- “I brought you your dinner.”

- “Thank you, honey bunny. But… I’m not hungry.”

- “You left pretty much all your sweet and sour pork, and I know you love it.”

- “Yeah, but… I’m full and despite what everybody says, I don’t have to eat for two.”- I sat down and stared at my hands as my husband followed my moves and sat next to me.

- “I know that. I’m just making sure you are getting enough nutrients and vitamins for our baby.”

- “I am, trust me. Our baby is fi…”- but before I could even finish that sentence, the weirdest and most beautiful feeling interrupted me. I opened my eyes wide and turned to Spencer. He stared at me confused and scared something was wrong. But everything was perfect.

- “What is it, chipmunk? are you ok?”- I grabbed his hand quickly and placed it on the side of my tummy- “Wh…”

- “Shh!”- I commanded and looked at him with tears in my eyes - “The baby is kicking.”

- “Wh.. wh.. are you sure?”- I couldn’t argue Spencer it was obvious I could feel a human kicking my guts from the inside out, because the baby suddenly moved and kicked again, and this time he felt it as well.

- “Oh… my… god.”- he whispered and looked at me, tears filling his eyes in a second. - “Our baby is right there.”

- “This is so weird…”- I had never even imagined what those kicks would feel like, and I wasn’t ready for them, at all. I looked at my husband, his eyes were beaming with happy tears as he kept his hand on my tummy, rubbing it and waiting for our baby to kick again.

- “That’s…”- he whispered and peered at me, analyzing my reaction - “Does it hurt?”

- “No, it’s just.. odd.”

- “Come here.”- he moved his chair closer to mine and cupped my face with both of his hands - “I love you so much, (Y/N). So, so much. I still can’t believe we are gonna have a baby.”

- “Your baby is kicking already, so you better believe it.”- I joked and he chuckled as he rubbed his lips against mine. Spencer kissed me gently and sweetly. I didn’t last long, because we were at work, but it was the kind of loving kiss that gave me a peaceful feeling in my heart.

- “Reid.”- Hotch said as he walked into the room and looked at me. It was weird at the beginning when I changed my last name and our Unit Chief started calling me by Spencer’s. Now I was used to it, though most police forces and sometimes the rest of the team were often confused.

- “We got a suspect. I need you to talk to the wife. Judith Anderson.”

- “Right away. Tell me what we have.”

I knew Hotch and Spencer were with Blake behind the window, analyzing every second of my interview with the suspect. I guessed because I was pregnant, my Unit Chief thought the unsub wouldn’t see me as a threat. I asked the cop in the interrogation room to uncuff her and sat in front of her. She was small, red-haired, and looked like she knew exactly what was happening.

- “Hi, Judith. My name is (Y/N). Can I get you anything to drink?”- I tried to be nice and welcoming.

- “I’d like to make a phone call.”- she replied right away.

- “To who? Your husband?”- I questioned her and Judith didn’t answer. - “You're coming up on your 20th anniversary. Congratulations. That is a huge accomplishment.”

Judith glued her eyes to my wedding and engagement ring for a few seconds. She didn’t say anything, she just sat there and stared at me. So I continued talking.

- “We recovered a used condom with Alan's DNA in it. Nothing odd about that, except you've had a hysterectomy. So, why use condoms if you can't conceive?”

- “You seem to know a lot. You tell me.”- Judith finally answered, and her voice was menacing. But I just shrugged and sighed, playing innocent.

- “Well, you just don't strike me as the unfaithful type. I mean, Alan, on the other hand, he's a different story.”

- “You know nothing about my husband!”- clearly I hit a sensitive nerve, ‘cos her face changed completely.

- “Well, actually, I know a lot.”- I opened my case file and started listing everything we had on them- “Let’s see. I know your husband tested positive for an STD back in 2010. You two were married in 1994, which tells me he isn't as committed to your marriage as you think.”- I made a short pause and stared at her, waiting to see if she had anything to add. And she did.

- “There was a point in time when both of us were unfaithful in our marriage. When I found out he had cheated…”

- “You thought if you retaliated it would make you feel better.”- I interrupted her, nodding, showing her I understood what had happened.

- “My husband and I no longer keep secrets. I've known he's had an STD for years. The reason we use condoms, to answer your question, is because he insists on protecting me. That's how much he loves me.”

I smiled at her and nodded again. Then, I stood up and started opening all the case files for the investigations of the murders that we knew her husband had committed.

- “I can't wait to see where this is headed.”- Judith smiled and looked at the files I was placing in front of her. I just exhaled and stood in front of her.

- “When you discovered your husband was cheating, you took away the one thing that mattered most to him. His partner in crime.”- I told her and made a short pause- “Now, how do you think he dealt with that?”- but her face didn’t make a move.

- “Do you recognize any of these women?”- Judith didn’t even look at the pictures, she just stared at me with her best poker face.

- “How many times are we gonna go through this? No, I do not.”- she wasn’t even raising her face, I wasn’t reacting to anything. So I just continued.

- “And these are only a few of the victims that he raped and murdered without you.”- finally, I could see her facade starting to shatter- “And which one do you think gave him the STD? Just take a look for yourself.”

And she finally did. She scanned the pictures right in front of her and tried to maintain her attitude.

- “His DNA is all over each of these women.”- I continued talking - “It's the killing without you that's most painful. It's the cheating that you can't forgive.”

- “You're married.”- Judith said and looked at me with cold eyes.

- “Yes, I am.”

- “Where's your husband?”

- “Standing right behind that glass.”- I replied and pointed at the one at my back.

- “Huh, so you know what it feels like to share an interest with your husband. What would happen if he were to slip up? If he is a Fed who can cover his tracks, how would you know?”- I smiled at her words and simply answered:

- “A wife knows. Which is why you know I'm telling you the truth.”

- “My husband and I aren't perfect.”

- “No marriage is, Judith, but look at these women. Look at the way he treated them.”- she closed her eyes for a moment and refused to look at the victims. Instead, she started explaining.

- “We're rebuilding step by step, brick by brick…”

- “He hates them because he hates you.”- I ignored her words, and she lost it.

- “He loves me! I want to talk to a lawyer!”

And that was the end of my interview. Luckily, we had enough to find and catch her husband before he would kill again.

- “We are rebuilding step by step”- I said as soon as I walked into the room from where Rossi and Spencer were following my interrogation- “Interesting choice of words.”

- “Oh, I've heard those many times before.”- Rossi started talking as my husband handed me a packet of cashew nuts.

- “Where?”- Spencer innocently asked David.

- “Somewhere you two will never go. Marriage counseling.”- I chuckled at those words and opened the snack my husband had given me, ‘cos I was starving.

- “That would explain how they were able to move through Alan's infidelity.”- I said as I chewed and hummed happily- “They were seeing a therapist.”

- “Maybe they still are.”- Spencer suggested and grabbed his phone.

And he was right. They were seeing a therapist to work on their issues as a couple. And Spencer profiled that the emasculation our unsub felt didn't come from his wife. It came from their therapist.

I was left at the station with Rossi and Blake, while Spencer and Morgan drove to the therapist's office, she was the last victim, and we were against time to save her life. Meanwhile, I sat in the kitchenette and swallowed my leftovers, because I was too hungry to keep living. Besides, the anxiety of having Spencer on the field dealing with a serial killer made me feel uneasy, and eating was a way to deal with it.

- “How are you feeling?”- Blake asked as she walked into the room and headed straight to the coffee machine.

- “Like I could sleep for two days. You?”- I replied and continued chewing my sweet and sour pork.

- “I just wanna spend the entire weekend in my pajamas watching movies. That would be my perfect Valentine's”- Blake answered and sat next to me. Great, I had totally forgotten about Valentine’s Day, again. - “You did great with Judith.”

- “Thank you. It was hard to remain calm knowing she was trying to protect a serial killer and a cheating bastard.”- I mumbled as I continued chewing. Alex just smiled and held her cup with both hands.

- “Hungry?”

- “Starving. I feel like Kirby.”

- “Who?”- Blake didn’t know who Kirby was, so I swallowed my food and explained in the easiest way possible.

- “It’s a videogame character, it basically eats everything in front of him. I feel like that most of the time ‘cos I am always hungry.”

- “Spencer was worried you might be skipping meals.”

- “I know.”

- “You know this is just temporary. While you have an actual human growing inside of you.”- I chuckled at Alex's explanation and nodded- “You will be who you were before.”

- “Rationally, I know that. But an irrational part of my brain takes charge of my thoughts and emotions at the worst possible moments.”- I explained to Blake, knowing she would understand. I didn’t feel like talking with many people about my feelings at that point. As I said, I felt I was losing my sanity, and I hated it when people were condescending to me just because I was pregnant.

- “You probably are. You are pregnant, it’s a complicated process.”- Blake sipped her coffee and I finished my pork. I was suddenly in the mood for some dessert, but I knew there was nothing left in my bag.

- “It’s useless to talk to you about the hormone levels changing, right?”

- “Trust me, Alex, Spencer started reading the books the second I told him I was pregnant. That means I’ve heard his talks about pregnancy for the last nineteen weeks.”- she chuckled at my words as I sighed and continued - “Knowing why it happens doesn’t help stop it from happening. And sometimes I overthink every single little thing until I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

- “You are not, (Y/N). Trust me.”- Blake smiled and caressed my hand for a second. - “We all feel like shit during the whole process, and no one but we can understand it. So, if you ever need to talk about it, I am here.”

- “Thank you.”

Spencer’s point of view

We solved the case and made it back to DC on time to spend our Valentine’s Day at home. I had reservations for (Y/N)’s favorite restaurant, but we both agreed we were too tired to leave the house, so we changed plans and decided for some delivery and relax on the couch, watching a movie.

I honestly didn’t care what we did for our Valentine’s, as long as we were together, I was always happy. But I couldn’t help but feel my wife’s disappointment with the plans, even though they had been mostly her idea. She was extra exhausted after the case and the trip, of course staying at home made perfect sense.

I filled the tub with hot water, salts, and bubbles while my wife prepared a tray with snacks to share after dinner, knowing it was most likely she’d start craving something sweet, sour, or probably both. I lit a few candles and held (Y/N)’s hand as I walked her to our bathroom.

- “What are you doing?”- she giggled as I covered her eyes and guided her through our apartment.

- “Just because we are staying at home doesn’t mean we can’t make this a romantic moment.”- I explained and uncovered her eyes.

- “Oh, honey bunny.”- she gasped as she looked at the tub, filled with bubbles. - “This is perfect.”

- “You deserve a moment to relax.”

- “Are you gonna get into that tub with me?”- she asked and I nodded.

- “Anything you want.”

We brought two cups of peppermint tea and got in before the water got cold. (Y/N) hummed in satisfaction as she sank, and I sat right behind her, feeling her back resting against my chest. I kissed her neck and wrapped my arms around her, my hands took a second to find her tummy, and I started caressing it right away.

- “Wanna know something embarrassing?”- I whispered in her ear and she nodded immediately.- “Ever since you told me you were pregnant, I’ve been scared you are gonna blame me for making you go through all those changes and awkward moments.”

- “I could never blame you… I was as horny as you were when we did this, and we both wanted to have a kid.”- she whispered and though I couldn’t see her face, I knew she was smiling.

- “I know pregnancy has been getting more challenging.”- I said after a moment - “I just want you to know I’m here. And nothing will ever change that.”- she didn’t say a word, I just felt her sigh and saw her fingers play with the bubbles around her. It took a few minutes until my wife finally opened up about what she was going through.

- “You know how people always say our story is like a fairy tale?”

- “They do?”- I questioned surprised.

- “Every single time I tell people our story, they think it’s fanfiction or a fairy tale.”- (Y/N) made a pause, probably picking the right words to explain her mind. - “I know you loved me for years before we started dating. The same way I loved you in silence. I know you waited for me, you took care of me, you were always there.”

- “And I will always be.”- I whispered and kissed her temple.

- “That’s what I keep doubting now. I’m sorry.”- her voice was barely perceptible.

- “But what makes you doubt me?”

- “It’s not you.”- my wife replied before I could even finish asking, - “I just feel like… you deserve better than me.”

I felt my heart shatter with those words, ‘cos how could anyone be better than her? How could anyone make me feel the things she did? No one else had that smile that made me feel weak in the knees since the day I met her. She was the only woman on earth I wanted. And I had always felt like she deserved better than me.

- “How could I ever think that way when I have the most perfect, smart, and gorgeous woman on earth here in this tub with me?”- I murmured, holding her tight against me and peeping kisses on her cheek and neck.

- “Spencer…”- I hated when she called me by my name outside work. It always meant she was being serious.

- “Mrs. Reid, trust me when I tell you, nothing will change the way I feel for you right here, right now.”- She moved from my arms and turned in the tub to look at me. - “I dreamed of this life with you for so long, I will do whatever it takes to keep you by my side and make you happy.”

- “I feel like I’m going insane, hon. I yelled at you in the car the other day because you didn’t reply to my texts. That’s not me! And I’m jealous of JJ ‘cos she looks gorgeous after having a baby and I feel like a whale. And I can’t stop eating, I try to stop, but I’m hungry all the time, and moody and my feet are swollen already and I’m just nineteen weeks pregnant!”

Tears fell from her eyes as she continued talking and I carefully wiped them away from her cheeks with my thumb.

- “Look at me, I can’t believe I am crying over this! I cry all the time now! Why does everything make me so emotional? Stupid hormones!”

- “I am so in love with you, nothing will ever change that. I will love you until my very last day and most likely, from beyond my grave. So trust me, please.”- I whispered and cupped her cheeks with both my hands, staring into her eyes as I spoke.

- “I feel like if I tell you everything that happens inside my head, you will run away from me.”

- “Never.”- I rubbed my lips against her and kissed her, sweet and slowly, feeling her whole body relaxing.

- “I’m sorry”- she whispered and rested her forehead against mine.

- “You have nothing to apologize for, chipmunk. Did you know that some studies suggest that as many as 90% of new mothers experience unwanted thoughts related to their child during pregnancy or shortly after birth?”- my wife smiled as I kissed her one more time.

- “I love it when you drop statistics.”

- “I have more.”- I replied and heard her chuckling, one of my favorite sounds.

- “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

- “But instead of statistics, I was thinking you should just lay here against me again and I could read to you for a little. What do you think?”

- “I don’t deserve you.”- my wife whispered and I shook my head immediately.

- “You deserve everything I can do to make you happy, ‘cos you make me the happiest I ever dreamed I could be, ok?”- she sobbed and nodded. I kissed her again and then helped her move back to her original position in that tub, lying against my chest. I grabbed a book from the side of the bathtub, kissed her temple one more time, and started reading “Wuthering Heights” for her. 

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[gastersreturn]

YOU HAVE FOUND HIM

by : tinybrainboy READ IT ON : ComicFury - DeviantArt

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GASTER'S RETURN MASTERPOST

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PROLOGUE

1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16/17/18/19/20/21/22/23/24/25/26/27/28

CHAPTER 1

Scene 1 : 1/5- 6/10 - 11/15 - 16/20

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GASTER'S RETURN - FAQ

What is the plot ?

Everything is in the title, it's a story about Gaster returning from wherever he was after his accident that broke him between time and space. This story is set after the Pacifist ending, months after monsters have been freed from the Underground

What are the main themes of this story ?

I would say it's main focus is about letting go, like the original game in a way

Is it an AU (Alternative Universe ?) ? And how close it is from Undertale ?

Yep, it is. I want to keep it as close of the canon as possible, in order to really tell a story based on the game. But it won't be exactly the same as the canon.

Several details change in this story and this is why I call it a "AU", the main ones being :

Gaster : My interpretation of Gaster resemble the general interpretation of the fandom about him a lot, but not completely. It will be fun to play with what you know, or what you think you know about him :)

Sans and Papyrus's origins : In the original game, I strongly think that Sans and Papyrus don't come from Undertale, but from Deltarune (I won't elaborate more on that subject, you can make your own researches on this theory if you're interested), however it's not the case in this AU. In this story, Sans and Papyrus really come from the Undertale universe. It will change their characters, especially Sans, but I'll do my best to show them accurately (at least more accurately than the general fandom's representation of them)

Frisk : Frisk's personality have been imagined and adapted to this story. I wanted Frisk to be like a fusion of their actual personality in the game (because, yes, they have one even if it's really subtle) and the one of the player. So, you get it, the player in itself isn't really a thing in this universe (But it doesn't mean you won't have a role to play...)

How did you get the idea of making this AU ?

At the very beginning, I just started to make some random drawings of Gaster, and some KingDings (AsgorexGaster) sketches, then other Gaster related things, and a story began to form into my mind. I decided that I wanted to make something out of it.

So does that mean there will there be KingDings in this AU ? :0

Well, not really. the main focus of this story won't be romance. At this point of their lives, neither of them are ready for a relationship (if I want it to be healthy). I have thought about making a KingDings mini serie after the main one to develop their relationship, but I don't know if I really will, I didn't even wrote anything for it yet.

When will the next pages come out ?

I try to make approximatively 5 pages every two weeks (I have another Undertale so I'm working on one and the other every week)

How long is this going to take to complete the story ?

Long as hell, I have written a prologue and 3 chapters to finish the story, wish me luck

Am I allowed to make a dub of the comic ?

I honestly don't know if anyone would ever want to make one, but if you do, sure you can ! (as long that you credit me of course)

You are also allowed to make fanarts, or any fanwork based on this AU, again I'm not sure if anyone would, but just in case x)

Am I allowed to repost this AU somewhere else ? Or to make a translation ?

Mmmh….I would allow it, but I want to be informed of it before you do. DM me to ask me, and if you see someone else than me reposting it somewhere, please tell me ^^

The only places I post this AU in here, on DeviantArt and on ComicFury, anywhere else isn't me

Russian translation just here !!

I have other questions !!!

Then you can ask them ! I will answer the ones who are interesting/doesn't require me to spoil my own story

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WILL YOU KEEP SEARCHING ?

[bruhnze]

PLAYING FOR KEEPS

CHAPTER 9 – New Years

Summary: Ona Batlle has had a crush on Lucy Bronze for a little while now… how will it go when she joins Barça? A 10 chapter series.

Warnings: Slow burn, angst, fluff, smut. All the things, but I give this as a complete warning for the whole series. Not every chapter involves all the warnings :).

masterlist

Dec 2023 – Spain

The drive back to Barcelona felt longer than usual for Ona.

Though her Christmas with her family had been full of warmth and love; she’d missed them, of course, and the joy of being home had its own kind of magic. But, this year something had been different. Her heart and her thoughts had been elsewhere the entire time.

They had been with Lucy.

She had imagined what Lucy’s smile looked like on Christmas morning, wondered what it would’ve been like to share Christmas eve with her, what they would do with presents, if they would do them. They had texted each other, sure, but it wasn’t the same. The ache of being apart had settled deep, a constant reminder that this was the person she wanted to share everything with.

So when she finally returned to Barcelona, it was like the world clicked back into place.

Lucy was waiting for her, standing by her apartment with Narla, a wide smile lighting up her face the moment she spotted Ona with her little travel bag.

For Ona it felt like coming home in every possible sense.

The days after had blurred together in a beautiful dream. The two of them had fallen into a rhythm that felt perfect. They woke up together, walked the dogs, picked up pastries from the little bakery they loved, eating them outside on a bench or stone ridge, it was perfect.

But even mundane things like tidying up their apartments or running errands, felt easy, fun even, because they were doing it together.

But beyond the day-to-day bliss, there was also an not-so-unspoken heat between them. They spent time of time… uhm.. between the sheets, or.. in the shower, or.. on the couch.. or wherever else the moment led them. Every second together felt charged, full of a amount of love that they couldn’t seem to contain. It was like the outside world had stopped existing, leaving only the two of them in this perfect, intimate bubble.

..

Today was different, though.

It was December 31st. The last day of the year. Yesterday they had discussed some plans to end this year and start 2024 perfectly.

Ona stirred first, blinking as the soft morning light filtered through the curtains in Lucy’s bedroom. The warmth of Lucy’s arm draped over her waist made her smile as she carefully shifted to face her.

Lucy was still sound asleep, laying on her side, her mouth slightly parted, looking perfectly at peace. Ona couldn’t help but feel a wave of affection wash over her, watching the rise and fall of Lucy’s chest.

She gently brushed a few strands of hair from Lucy’s face, letting her fingertips graze her cheek. Lucy stirred slightly but didn’t wake. Ona smiled to herself, savoring the moment.

For a minute, it was as if time had slowed, all that mattered was Lucy. The woman she loved. The more she looked at this beautiful face, the more she was sure she wanted to spend the rest of her life waking up with this view.

As Ona’s mind drifted, thinking about how tonight would be the last night of the year and how they’d spend it together, Lucy’s arm tightened around her, pulling her in. Lucy blinked sleepily, a lazy grin tugging at her lips as she spotted Ona gazing at her.

“Mmm… morning,” Lucy mumbled, her voice husky with sleep. She rolled on top of Ona, burying her face in Ona’s neck. “Do we have to get up?”

“Yes, we do.’’ Ona chuckled softly, running her fingers through Lucy’s hair. ‘’We’ve made plans, remember? We have to get things ready for tonight.”

Lucy let out a soft groan, refusing to let go just yet. “We could just stay in bed all day,” she murmured, placing a gentle kiss on Ona’s collarbone. “Celebrate it our own way.” She said teasingly, rolling her hips against Ona playfully.

Ona rolled her eyes, a heavy chuckle sounding in her throat as she pressed a kiss to Lucy’s forehead. “We can’t. The dogs are going to revolt if we don’t walk them soon. Besides, we’ve got to go to the shop still, cook, clean up, eat, celebrate.” Ona trailed her fingers down Lucy’s back, ‘’but.. if you still have energy left after all of that...’’ She said suggestively, squeezing Lucy’s ass.

Lucy groaned again but sat up, reluctantly letting go of Ona. “Fine,” she sighed dramatically, “but only because I love you.”

Ona grinned. “I like that answer.”

Lucy chuckled, still sitting on top of Ona. Her eyes roamed Ona’s face, as if she had something to say.

“What?,” Ona asked with a smile.

Lucy reached down, brushing a hand through Ona’s hair. “I love you…” she paused, a small smile tugging at her lips, “and I have something for you.”

Ona blinked, her curiosity piqued. “Oh?”

Lucy shifted, climbing of her girlfriend, reaching over to the nightstand and pulling out a small, neatly wrapped box. “I was going to give it to you for Christmas, but, well… we both had to be with our families. So, I saved it for the first next special day.”

Ona propped herself up on one elbow, looking at Lucy with a mixture of surprise and affection. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I wanted to,” Lucy replied softly, handing her the gift with a warm smile. ‘’Consider it a new years gift.’’

Ona took the box, her fingers lightly tracing the edges of the wrapping before carefully untying the ribbon. She lifted the lid and her breath caught slightly as she revealed a beautiful watch, sleek and elegant, with a subtle touch of gold around the edges.

“Luce…” Ona whispered, her eyes sparkling as she admired the gift. “Wow, I- ..thank you, it’s beautiful.”

Lucy smiled, propping herself up on her elbow next to Ona to be closer. “I saw it and thought of you. I wanted to give you something that you could wear. A little reminder of me, even when we’re apart.”

Ona’s eyes softened, she looked at the watch before looking back at Lucy. “I love it. I love you.”

Lucy smiled at her girlfriends reaction, she reached out, running her hand gently along Ona’s arm. “Here, let me help you put it on.”

Ona held out her wrist, her heart fluttering as Lucy’s fingers brushed lightly against her skin, fastening the watch with gentle precision. The simple act, Lucy’s soft touch and the quiet intimacy of the moment as they were silent until the strap was secured. It made Ona feel like everything in the world was exactly where it should be.

"But... I didn’t get you anything," Ona confessed softly, her voice tinged with guilt.

Lucy smiled, her hand sliding from Ona’s wrist to her cheek, caressing it gently. "You didn’t have to. We never talked about gifts, I just wanted to. Besides, you’re the best present I could ask for."

Ona’s heart melted at Lucy’s words. She leaned in, closing the distance between them until their lips met in a slow, tender kiss. Lucy’s sweetness overwhelmed her. Ever since that day of confessions, they had shared everything, no more hiding their feelings. Ona had realized just how much Lucy had been holding back and how deeply she felt for her. While they both were in love, Ona wondered if Lucy’s feelings were even stronger, sometimes almost overpowering in their intensity, like how Lucy could look at her so adoring it made her feel like she was the most precious gem stone or something. Their kiss lingered, deepening as they got lost in the warmth and affection they had for one another.

"I love you," Ona whispered, her forehead resting gently against Lucy’s as they broke the kiss, their breaths mingling.

"Mhm, I love you too," Lucy murmured, her thumb softly stroking Ona’s cheek. "I’m so happy you're my girlfriend now."

"Mmm, I am yours," Ona replied, smiling as she gently pushed Lucy onto her back, settling on top of her. "And you are mine."

Lucy groaned as Ona began to kiss her neck. "You’re definitely not acting like you want us to get out of bed."

‘’A few minutes more wont hurt.’’ Ona said, already breathing heavy as she trailed down Lucy’s neck, ‘’just don’t wake the dogs.’’

Lucy laughed, ‘’No, lets go do the things you wanted to do, hmm, go to the shop.’’ She started teasingly, ‘’cook, clean, celebrate and if you still have energy after alllll of that.’’ She squeezed Ona’s ass with both hands.

Ona propped herself up, looking at Lucy indignantly with an open mouth. ‘’Oh, you’re bad.’’

Lucy smirked, ‘’now you know how it feels.’’ She whispered before disappearing out of the bed.

..

Their morning routine was as effortless at it was the couple of days before. They got dressed and made the dogs ready for their morning walk.

The air outside was crisp and cool, the faint winter sun casting a glow over the city as they strolled along the quiet streets. During their walk they were talking about what food they wanted to make for the evening.

By the time they got back to Lucy’s apartment, they were ready to dive into everything. Ona took her coat and shoes off, and they let the dogs settle in their favorite spots while Lucy grabbed her iPad to help make a shopping list.

Lucy sat at the kitchen table, the iPad and a piece of paper in front of her. ‘’Oh babe can you-

‘’Grab a pen?’’ Ona chuckled, taking place on Lucy’s lap, with a pen in hand. ‘’Ofcourse.’’

Lucy smiled, wanting to take it from Ona. ‘’Thank y-

‘’Nuh-uh,’’ Ona shook her head, ‘’the cost is a kiss.’’

‘’Oh really?’’ Lucy chuckled, ‘’That’s a bargain, I’ll take a hundred then.’’

..

After a – not-so-short – distraction they refocused.

Together they scrolled through recipes and ideas.

“Ohhh, something like this charcuterie board?” Lucy asked, her finger hovering over a mouth-watering image of cheeses, olives, and slices of different sausages.

“Yes,” Ona nodded. “That one looks very good, it has some sweet things too.” She grabbed Lucy’s arm, in a moment of eureka ‘’ohhh, can we go by the chocolate shop.’’ She looked at Lucy with puppy eyes, ‘’get those truffle chocolates.’’

Lucy chuckled. “Ofcourse,’’ Leaning in to kiss her, ‘’anything my baby wants.” She murmured against Ona’s lips.

They continued planning out their list, sorting their groceries in order of the stores they were visiting. Every now and then, Lucy would kiss Ona’s temple or playfully bump her shoulder, drawing out a laugh from Ona. She was completely hooked. She was just so perfect.

“You’re distracting me,” Ona whined playfully, her finger hovering over the screen as Lucy kissed her cheek again.

“I can’t help it,” Lucy grinned. “You’re too cute when you’re in this.. focused mode.’’

With the shopping list finally complete, they bundled up again and headed out to the different stores.

The shopping street was bustling, full of other last-minute people preparing for their own New Year’s Eve celebrations, but Lucy and Ona didn’t even notice as they moved easily through the shops.

“Should we get a bottle of champagne?” Lucy asked, pointing at the liquor store.

Ona gave her a playful look. “I thought we said we weren’t going overboard.”

Lucy grinned and pulled Ona in the store’s direction anyways. “It’s New Year’s, we can have a little toast on us.”

Ona shook her head, laughing. “Alright.”

As they made their way through the streets and the stores, they found themselves stealing little moments. Some small kisses here and there, quiet whispers and at all times they would be connected, either interlinking their pinkies or Lucy guiding her with a hand on the small of her back, they couldn’t go a second without. It felt like they were in their own world, moving in sync.

..

When they got back to Lucy’s place, the dogs greeted them with excited barks, tails wagging as they darted around the apartment.

Laughing, Lucy set the grocery bags down and gave Narla a quick scratch behind the ears while Ona bent down to ruffle Coco’s fur.

After unpacking the groceries and washing their hands they dove into prepping the food. Lucy stood at the counter chopping vegetables, while Ona made slices of the cheeses and fuets.

They danced around each other effortlessly, moving in perfect sync, stealing quick glances and smiles between tasks. Every now and then, one of them would sneak a bite of food into the other’s mouth, giggling as they fed each other little samples of what was to come.

 “You know,” Lucy said, looking around the kitchen as Ona finished setting up the charcuterie board, “this place is kind of a mess.” They had prepared an home-made soup, dips and spreads, sliced a baguette and their master project was the charcuterie board.

Ona raised an eyebrow and looked around as well. Not only the kitchen was a mess but the apartment, while cozy, was still marked by the remnants of Lucy’s family visit. It wasn’t a chaotic mess, but it definitely didn’t scream ‘romantic night in.’

“You’re not wrong,” Ona laughed softly, finishing up the last touches of a spread and putting it in the fridge. “We could move this party to my place if we want a proper clean slate.”

Lucy wiped her hands on a towel, smiling as she glanced over at Ona. “Exactly what I was thinking. We’ll finish here, pack everything up, and head over then. Have our romantic night at your place.”

Ona grinned, stepping closer until she had Lucy pinned between herself and the counter. “Romantic night, hmm?”

Lucy’s breath caught slightly, her smile widening. She placed her hands on Ona’s hips, pulling her closer until their bodies were pressed together. “Oh yeah,” Lucy said, her voice low and playful, “I’ve got plans.”

Before Lucy could lean in to kiss her, Ona pulled back just enough to tease, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Any specific plans you’d like to share?”

Grinning, Lucy cupped the back of Ona’s neck, her thumb brushing lightly over her skin. “Let’s just say you won’t be bored.” Her voice dropped to a soft whisper.

Ona chuckled, her lips brushing against Lucy’s, but she didn’t close the distance just yet. “Okay.. I’m curious,” she murmured, before finally leaning in to kiss Lucy.

..

They worked together to finish preparing the food, arranging everything carefully in containers so they could transport it. As they packed the charcuterie board and desserts into bags, Lucy grabbed a backpack and went to the bedroom to pack some nice clothes.

“I’m bringing something nice to wear,” Lucy said, seeing Ona’s curious look. “We did all this effort so we might as well go all out now.”

Ona smiled as she packed up the food. “Okayyy, I like it.”

Once everything was packed and ready, they gathered up the dogs, grabbed their bags, and headed out the door.

As they stepped into Ona’s place a minute later, the clean space felt welcoming. They put their things in the fridge and on the kitchen counter, ready to be eaten in a few hours.

“You think we have enough food?” Lucy asked laughing sarcastically, folding the empty bags.

Ona chuckled. “Well… I don’t know’’ she teased back, ‘’with you here.. hm, we might have to order food after this petite appetizer is finished.’’

..

After a quick walk around the block with the dogs, Ona and Lucy found themselves back on the couch.

The golden glow of the evening sun filtered through the windows, casting the apartment in a soft, dreamy light. They had some time left before dinner, though they still needed to shower and change into their nicer clothes.

The day spent together in the kitchen had left them both feeling tired apparently, and before long, they were curled up in each other’s arms. Ona laying comfortably on top of Lucy, both of them sinking into the warmth of the couch, nearly dozing off.

The steady rhythm of Lucy’s heartbeat beneath her cheek was enough to lull Ona into a light, peaceful haze.

That is, until Ona’s eyes suddenly fluttered open. “I have to pee,” she muttered quietly.

She carefully shifted off Lucy, trying not to disturb her too much, but Lucy woke up instantly, blinking at Ona with sleepy curiosity. “What are we going to do?” she asked, her voice slightly groggy.

Ona chuckled, shaking her head. “We aren’t going to do anything. You can stay right here. I’ll be back in a second.”

But Lucy wasn’t having it. She sat up, immediately following Ona. “Nooo,” Lucy whined playfully, reaching for her hand. “I want to be with you.”

Ona’s soft chuckle turned into a laugh as she gently nudged Lucy back onto the couch. “I’m just going to the bathroom. I think you’ll survive.”

Lucy flopped back dramatically, crossing her arms. “If you’re gone too long, I’ll die of loneliness.”

With a teasing roll of her eyes, Ona smiled and headed toward the bathroom, leaving Lucy behind with a pout.

A few minutes later, Ona returned and slipped back into her spot on the couch, settling against Lucy once again. They resumed their earlier position, Ona resting comfortably on top of her, their limbs entwined, the familiar warmth of Lucy’s body instantly soothing.

But as they cuddled, the soft conversation between them slowly shifted. Ona pressed some gentle kisses to Lucy’s neck, and the mood in the room began to change. Lucy sighed, her fingers brushing lightly against Ona’s arm, the casual touch making her shiver.

Ona shifted, leveling her face with Lucy’s. They looked in to each others eyes a couple of seconds before all they could think about was kissing eachother.

The kisses deepened, and Lucy’s hands found Ona’s back, pulling her closer. Their lips met in a slow, deliberate rhythm, growing more intense with every passing second. Their hands started to wander, exploring familiar territory with renewed urgency, and soon, their breaths came heavier.

After a few minutes Ona pulled back slightly, her lips hovering just above Lucy’s, “hmm… I missed you.” She hummed slightly out of breath but with a cute smile, her cheeks slightly pink from the intense make out.

Lucy grinned, her voice playful as she teased, “See? You should’ve let me come with you to the bathroom.”

Ona shook her head, rolling her eyes affectionately. “No, I mean I missed you today.”

Lucy frowned slightly, confused. “We were together all day, though.”

Ona leaned in again, brushing her lips softly over Lucy’s before whispering against her skin. “Not like this… I missed you.”

A slow smile spread across Lucy’s face as she caught on to what Ona meant. “Well,” Lucy murmured, her voice low and teasing, “you did say if we had any energy left…”

With a swift movement, Lucy flipped their positions, pinning Ona gently beneath her on the couch. “And we still need to shower anyway,” she added with a grin, her lips brushing against Ona’s neck.

Ona closed her eyes, her breath catching as Lucy’s hand started to toy with the waistband of her comfy pants. “Mhm we do,” she whispered, her body already responding to Lucy’s touch.

…

Jana paced nervously outside Ona’s apartment building, her phone still clutched in her hand. “Yeah but it’s been two days,” she muttered.

Vicky crossed her arms. “Maybe she’s just having a quiet start to the year. You know how she is sometimes.”

“Yeah, but not responding at all? That’s not like her,” Salma added, her brow furrowed. “We just need to check in, make sure she’s okay.”

Jana nodded, determination setting in. “Let’s just ask the doorman. Maybe he knows if she’s home.”

The three of them made their way to the entrance, where the doorman greeted them politely. “Good afternoon, how can I help you?”

“We’re looking for Ona Batlle,” Jana said, flashing a bright, reassuring smile. “We’re friends with her. She hasn’t been answering her phone, so we just want to check in.”

The doorman raised an eyebrow, glancing between them. “Miss Batlle? I’m afraid I can’t just give out information, you understand…”

Salma pulled out her phone, flipping through her camera roll before holding up a picture of the four of them together, laughing during one of their many group outings. “See? We’re really her friends. We know she’s a footballer,’’ She laughed, ‘’We are footballers too. We just want to make sure she’s alright.”

The doorman hesitated, studying the photo before nodding slowly. “Miss Batlle is home. She’s been in for a couple of days now, with… her friend.”

Jana and Salma exchanged curious glances, while Vicky leaned in. “Her friend?”

“Yes,” the doorman said, sounding uncertain. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.’’ He cringed.

The trio exchanged intrigued looks. A friend? Was Ona hiding someone from them? Was this why she cancelled going to the party tonight with just one simple text?

“We could just go in and check, right?” Salma suggested, her voice playful now, eyes gleaming with curiosity. “We don’t want to disturb her if she’s busy, but we…’’ she looked at her two friends, ‘’want to surprise her.. she was going to this party with us tonight and it would be nice if I we can surprise her here, give her our best new years wishes.”

The doorman hesitated again, but Jana was quick to reassure him, her smile wide. “We won’t cause any trouble. We’ll just pop in, say hi, and leave her be. Promise.”

With some reluctance, and after a few more reassurances, the doorman sighed, grabbing the spare key to Ona’s apartment from the little office behind him. “Alright, but I expect this key back within the hour.”

“Of course!” Vicky grinned, already eager to get inside and satisfy her curiosity.

As Jana, Salma, and Vicky made their way up to Ona’s apartment, their playful banter filled the hallway.

“Do you think she’s been hiding a new girlfriend from us this whole time?” Salma teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Either way, we’re about to find out,” Vicky added, holding the spare key in her hand, the excitement building as they imagined finally meeting this mystery friend who had kept Ona so occupied.

‘’Honestly, I thought she was going to get something with Lucy.’’ Jana said, ‘’those two have so much chemistry.’’

Vicky chuckled, ‘’OMG, what if it is Lucy.. the mystery friend.’’

Salma shook her head chuckling, ‘’no way, Lucy lives in this building too, the guy would’ve known her name, and by the way, isn’t Lucy like way older?’’

‘’Age is just a number baby.’’ Vicky said, laughing loudly.

‘’Ew,’’ Jana shook her head, ‘’as a minor you shouldn’t say that bro, you are not dating someone that’s above 18.’’

Vicky shrugged, ‘’What if their hot.. besides isn’t your girlfriend like 5 years older?’’

Jana blushed, ‘’yeah but we met when we were both of legal age.’’

‘’Anyways, I bet it’s a hot chick.’’ Salma said, ‘’if Ona doesn’t even answers her phone for two days.. she must be very distracting.’’

‘’OMG, what if we walk in on them fucking.’’ Vicky chuckled.

‘’VICKY!’’ Salma and Jana hissed, nearing Ona’s apartment.

It was strange for the group of three, they had only been here a couple of times. Always with Ona leading the way. But they knew which door it was.

They stayed silent as Salma carefully opened the door.

They followed eachother. Jana stepping inside first. “Ona! Surprise!” she called, chuckling to herself. “We figured you lost your phone so we came to grab you, to drag you and your secret friend to the party!”

The trio giggled, quickly walking further into the apartment, trying to stifle their laughter. “Ona, are you home? We miss you!” Vicky added, her voice lilting with amusement.

It was a bit creepy to just walk in to someone’s house, even if it was their friend’s. It felt invading.

As they stepped into the living room, all three came to a sudden halt, the scene before them causing their jaws to drop.

Ona was laid out on the couch, her body arching under Lucy, who was kneeling between her legs, very clearly in the middle of… a very intimate moment. Ona’s fingers were tangled in Lucy’s hair, her head tipped back, completely lost in the moment, unaware of her friends' entrance. Whimpering as Lucy was groaning between her legs.

The room was thick with the unmistakable tension of the moment, and for a split second, none of them could speak. It was Jana who broke the silence, unable to keep it together any longer.

“Oh. My. Fucking. God.”

Ona’s eyes flew open, and her entire body jolted in shock. “Holy shit!” she gasped, pushing Lucy’s shoulders gently as she whipped her head around toward the three people, her face instantly turning beet red.

Lucy, who had been too focused to notice anything, jumped up in surprise, quickly reaching for the nearest blanket and throwing it over Ona. “Jesus!” she muttered, scrambling to get up from the floor, her own cheeks turning pink.

Jana, Salma, and Vicky stood frozen, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, until Vicky let out a loud, hysterical laugh. “I knew it!” she cackled, covering her face as she doubled over.

Jana blinked, her shock quickly melting into a grin. “We fucking knew it!” she exclaimed, pointing a finger between the two of them. “Finally, you cleared things up between you two.”

Ona buried her face in her hands, letting out a loud groan. “Oh my god, you guys—why are you here?!” she squeaked, her voice muffled by her hands.

Jana shook her head, trying not to laugh, but failing miserably. “We were worried! You haven’t been on your phone for two days, even for you that’s long, we thought something had happened. Turns out, something did happen, just not what we expected.”

Salma nodded, her eyes still wide. “I can’t comprehend this. You.. with Lucy?!.”

Lucy, still blushing, cleared her throat, managing a sheepish smile as she adjusted the blanket around Ona. “Yeah, well, surprise?”

“You know what’s surprising?” Jana chimed in, still laughing. “That it took you guys this long to get here. We’ve all been watching you two moon over each other for months.”

Ona’s mortification was clear, her cheeks still burning as she peeked out from behind her hands. “I hate all of you,” she muttered.

“Come on, we’re just happy for you,” Vicky teased, stepping forward and grinning. “Though next time, maybe give us a heads-up before we… you know, get traumatized.”

Lucy cringed, ‘’Fucking hell, Vicky, I hope you didn’t see anything.’’

Salma and Jana looked at eachother, ‘’so for us two it isn’t traumatic?’’

Ona pulled the blanked over her head, ‘’It is traumatic for all five of us, please leave.’’ She muttered from under the blanked.

Salma smirked. “Yeah, I guess we’ll leave you two to… finish this... but we expect you guys tonight at the party.”

Vicky burst into laughter again, while Ona just groaned, pulling the blanket tighter around herself. “Please go away. I’ll see you guys next year, when everyone has forgotten this all.”

With a final laugh and a few knowing looks exchanged between the friends, they began to back out of the apartment, still chuckling to themselves as they left, not believing what just happened.

As the door clicked shut, Ona let out another long groan, burying her face in Lucy’s chest. Who had dropped besides her on the couch. “I can’t believe that just happened.”

Lucy wrapped her arms around Ona, kissing the top of her head. “Training will be horrible. But at least the news is out now I guess, we don’t have to be secret anymore.”

Ona peeked up at her, her expression still mortified. “Yeah, but did it have to be like that?”

Lucy smirked, brushing a strand of hair from Ona’s face. “Hey, at least they seemed happy for us, well… mostly.”

Ona sighed, leaning back against the couch. “I’ll never live this down.”

“We’ll be fine,” Lucy said sympathetic, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Ona’s lips. “Besides, we’ve got more important things to focus on right now.” She said, removing the blanket from Ona.

masterlist

[phie04]

Inconvenience | g.clarke

Chapter 4: Tough Day

Summary: The boys try and help Noa with a new project

Word Count: 1.2k+

Warnings: swearing, George being a dick (again)

Roughly a week or so had passed since Noa moved into her new apartment, and her hopes that George would warm up to her hadn’t been achieved yet.

Even though she spent most evenings with the boys, he would still only talk to her if the others were there, and whenever he could he avoided her at all costs.

It was beginning to bother Noa. She couldn’t understand why he was acting this way towards her, and after thorough discussions with his other roommates, they confirmed that she hadn’t done or said anything to cause this behaviour.

Luckily, Arthur Hill and her got on like a house on fire, and being one of the better housemates at DIY, he aided in building most of her new furniture whenever he wasn’t recording a video or working on his new song.

“So when’s it coming out? I feel as if I can only listen to the same sound bite before I go crazy.” Noa said, glancing up from her laptop to look at Arthur, who was sitting on her kitchen counter.

“Should be done in a couple of weeks, just trying to iron out the wrinkles and sort the bridge out.” He replied, taking a long swig of tea out of the mug that she had leant him. “What are you working on? I feel as I can hear your brain whirring.”

Noa grumbled and massaged her temples. It was moments like these that she wished she had an influencer job, with complete creative freedom and a flexible schedule, instead of her gruelling 9-6. “Trying to find as many different types of ancient column design as possible. Well, not too ancient because the clients want their building to look modern enough.”

Arthur gave her a sympathetic look. “You really are bottom of the food chain in your firm aren’t you?”

“Yep. That’s what you get when you’re the new kid, all the tasks that no one else wants.”

“But at least you’re not having to make coffee and do paperwork right?” He asked hopefully.

Noa raised her eyebrows at him. “Why do you think I’m having to do this at home, and not in the office.”

“Ah.”

“Ah indeed.” She muttered, scrolling through another page of Grecian inspired pillars. “Honestly, sometimes rich people have too much money to spend. I mean, who needs a foyer with the three types of alternating pillars, that match the fountains? Do you know how expensive that is Arthur?”

He winced. “I’m guessing a lot.”

“Correct.”

“Noa!” Chris yelled, swinging the door open. “You, me, George and the two Arthurs and the club. Yes?”

“Chris, it’s a Thursday night.”

“Exactly! Thursday night, do you have anything better to do?”

Noa blinked at him. “Be up in the morning with ample amount of sleep ready for work?”

“God I forget you have a boring actual job.”

“Someone has to remind you guys there’s an actual world out there.” She muttered, typing quickly on her computer, eyes widening as her stomach let out a low growl.

Chris and Arthur slowly turned their heads to look at her. “Okay, new plan. Order takeout and watch a movie?”

“I could be up for that.” She said quietly, absentmindedly chewing on the end of her pen, before going to jot down some notes. “Just need to finish working.”

Chris’ eyebrows raised. “And when will that be?”

“Before the end of time.” Noa said. “Or at least I hope so. I’ve gotta figure out the best combination of these pillars and then I’ll be done.”

“And how many combinations are there?”

“Well there’s eight main types, but then there’s different patterns within those. I might have actually lost count.”

Chris moved so that he could peer over Noa’s shoulder, and winced at the number of tabs open she had on her computer, as well as the scribbles that adorned her notebook.

“Gonna be honest. I’ve got no clue at what looks good. But I believe in you Noa, if anyone could figure it out it’s you.” He said reassuringly, patting her head. “Right, Hill let’s order food, at this point in time Noa will probably eat whatever we put in front of her, so what are we feeling up for?”

arthurhill

liked by arthurtv, maxbalegde and 28,039 others

arthurhill everyone drop your favourite pillars and columns to help with Noa’s latest design

Comments open

fan1 everyone knows the correct answer is doric

⮑ fan2 booo temple of winds supremacy

maxbalegde scared and confused at this comment section

⮑ noamurphy they’re all just architecture nerds like me

arthurtv correct answer is ionic

⮑ noamurphy no it isn’t I promise

⮑ arthurtv one day you’ll see

⮑ noamurphy sure. also we’re getting take out if you wanna join

⮑ arthurtv I am running to the elevator

fan3 noa in the ikea vlog is everything 😫🤌🤌🤌

⮑ fan4 she is a divine queen

⮑ fan3 her and George in the bed 🤌🤌

⮑ fan4 nooo that was the most forced and uncomfortable thing I couldn’t with it-

gkbarry_ we stan a hardworking queen

⮑ noamurphy love you boo

⮑ gkbarry_ okay now girlie take a break

“Okay Noa, maybe take Grace’s advice and stop? Surely it would be better to rest up and then be able to finish it when you’re not exhausted?” Chris asked gently, reaching to slide the laptop away from her grip.

Noa glared at him and swatted his hands away. “No Christopher. No.”

Chris gave her a stern look, only looking away when the door slammed open again, revealing Arthur Television in his pyjama trousers and hoodie. “Food, when?”

“The one with the law degree decides to speak like a caveman.” Chris muttered, shaking his head, as a much calmer George walked through the door.

Walking into her apartment, George was hit with the realisation that he’d never been in Noa’s apartment before - she’d always been at theirs, or if Chris and Arthur where heading down he’d give the excuse that he was busy planning videos.

He was pleasantly surprised. Well, he didn’t exactly know what to expect, but it definitely wasn’t a light and airy apartment. Maybe he thought there would be neon lights everywhere, like the ones that adorned Chris’ room or stacks of books like Arthur.

The living room was cosy, and he recognised the two sofas that they had picked out in Ikea, as well as a plush rug, with a coffee table that matched the dining table and chairs. A couple of pictures adorned the walls, a simple beach watercolour as well as some cinematic shots of her playing football with Arthur and Chris.

His brow furrowed. Neither of them mentioned that she played, and since she’d arrived they had filmed a football video for Chris’ channel, but she didn’t take part. Surely if Noa was good enough to warrant her to have photos of her playing, then surely Chris would want that talent in his videos?

George cast his eyes to Noa, who was hunched over her laptop, still trying to finish the designs. Arthur TV sat next to her, and the pair were discussing which column designs worked the best together.

“Maybe that person was onto something bringing temple of winds into the conversation…what if you put them with some Doric pillars, then…” Arthur trailed off, stumped.

“You see? Finding two designs that go together is easy, but a third? A fucking third?” Noa sighed, resting her head on the keyboard.

“How rich are the clients, ie, what’s the budget?”

“Yeah, are they Ronaldo rich, or so rich that you’ve probably never heard of them?” Arthur Hill asked.

“The second one.” She muttered. “Which is why it has to be perfect, because they are paying us a lot.”

Noa sighed and pulled up the designs of the fountains that had been chosen. She studied them meticulously, trying to find a hint that could help her. Even though it was strenuous work, this was one of the reasons that loved designing buildings, once you found all the right pieces, it perfectly fell into place like a puzzle. It was incredibly satisfying, and seeing the final projects always made her heart swell with pride.

But this was really trying her patience. Why couldn’t she figure it out? It didn’t also help that she had a live audience watching her stress over it. “Do you know when the food’s getting here?”

“Should be about five minutes.”

“Thank god.”

“Oh never mind, the guys here.” Chris said, slipping his shoes on, that had been previously abandoned by the door. “Arthur can you help carry it?”

“Sure.” Both of them replied, following Chris out of the door, leaving George alone with Noa.

She was silently cursing the three that had just left, physically wishing all the curses and ailments upon them for leaving her with George. Who, was silently leaning against her kitchen counter.

George didn’t know what to do. Ever since the trip to Ikea he hadn’t been close to Noa again, not that he wanted to, but he wasn’t sure if he should mention it. Why should he? If she hadn’t mentioned it then surely she was fine, right?

Not that he even wanted to talk to her.

George couldn’t fully see into Noa’s room, most is it being blocked by the angle at which he was looking in, and from what he could tell, it was just like the rest of the apartment, except with more decorations. He wasn’t sure why, but he was curious about what was inside, how Noa had organised her bookcase, what perfumes she used, how she kept her jewellery, the way her plans laid out on her sketching desk.

And he didn’t know why.

As far as he was concerned he actively disliked Noa, and so he couldn’t fathom why a part of him was so interested in her, why he wanted to know the little details of her life.

Noa closed her eyes. She was genuinely considering giving up, but she knew she couldn’t. This had to be finished that evening so that it could be sent to her supervisor ready for the next morning. Pushing her chair back, she stood up and paced into her bedroom, unknown to her that George’s eyes followed her every step, hoping that one of her books would provide her with some inspiration.

But it wasn’t any of her architecture books that caught her eye. It was the battered copy of the third Percy Jackson book - it was her favourite of the series, and would read it religiously as a child. Partially, as a child it was her dream to become a Hunter of Artemis, and so she could read the book over and over again without tiring of it.

Somehow, this was the prompt she needed to let the puzzle pieces fall into place. “OH MY GOD!” She exclaimed, sprinting out of her room and skidding on the wooden floor to the table. Noa grinned whilst nearly destroying her keyboard at how quickly she was typing.

“FOOOOD!” Chris called, carrying the plastic bags and setting them down in front of Noa.

“Dude give me two minutes I’ve figured it out.”

“Really?” Arthur TV asked excitedly, pulling the chair next to her out, so he could see what she was working on. “Caryatids? Noa that’s genius! They match the f-“

“Fountains yeah, because they’ve got marble women carved into them, and so they’d match perfectly.”

“Have we ever said you’re a genius?” Chris asked, smiling proudly at her.

“Only when I do genius shit.”

[nocturnesanomaly]

Chapter 9: Sacrificial Lamb

(Series Masterlist: Divine Violence) (Read on Ao3) (Inspired Playlist)

Series: The Divine Violence - chapter 9: Sacrificial Lamb

Wordcount: 5,3k

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish x Gn!Reader

TW: (View masterlist for full series tw and tags) - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, Religious Trauma, PTSD, Flashbacks, Hallucinations, Anxiety, Paranoia, Disturbing themes, Panic attack, hallucinated body horror

Description: You visit the local church.

A/N: I still have not recovered from Arcane...that show will forever reside in my soul

[Prev chapter / Next Chapter]

It's an odd morning, and while the odd has become your normal, this isn't within what you typically expect. Your reflection in the bathroom mirror is completely in view. No pesky shadows of your mind blocking your vision from yourself.

It's hard to tell if it's due to the pounding headache and the nausea in your stomach, or a different underlying factor. Just like It's hard to tell how much you drank last night, though you have a better idea on that thing than the other. It doesn't really matter much to you in the end, you clearly ended up thoroughly wasted.

Your hand reaches up to touch against your cheek, you lean in, inspecting your own skin for bumps and scrapes. You half expect some sort of illusion to start distorting your vision, but that doesn't happen. You're just there. It's just you.

You let your hand fall down, reaching instead for the chain around your neck and the connected cross. Your hand encircles it, holds it in a fist till it hurts. You tug a little, with no real force behind it, before you let it fall back against your chest with heavy weight.

You splash cold water in your face, breathe out and stabilize yourself against the sink. You'd woken up alone, in the wrong bed. There are still vague memories of the countless ways you must've embarrassed yourself last night. In one of the possibilities, you'd fallen asleep next to someone.

An unlikely reality staring at you in the face. Why had you done that? Why had you allowed it?

You should never have touched that alcohol, should never even have considered it. Now you had to do your own damage control. You had to make sure this didn't come with unwanted complications later on.

You reach for the towel and dry off your face. Your hands clutch tightly and the cloth, and you scrub hard until your skin feels raw and aches. A single glance back into the bedroom reveals the wide landscape outside of the windows. The constantly falling snow, letting snowflakes plaster to the windows themselves. It's getting colder out.

"Good morning sleepyhead," Soap is too chipper. Way too awake for the early hour. The sun hasn't even graced the world with its face just yet. Soaps personality this morning might as well be a replacement for the sun, however. An action taken in the name of fun and bordering obnoxious for your tired head.

You make a tired sound as you force your body across the kitchen, taking a seat opposite of Simon, who silently reads a local newspaper. A now cold, abandoned tea rests next to it as he seems completely engrossed in whatever is printed in today's issue.

"Not a morning person then, ah take it?" Soap abandons the pan to sizzle and stands in front of the table.

You shrug, you've hardly been able to tell with yourself. Your sleep is as irregular as the voices in your own head. "Didn't sleep too well I guess," you lean back in the chair, taking a glance at the stove behind him.

"Thought I'd make ye some breakfast, hope ye don't mind," he gestures behind him with a quick motion of his hands. Your eyes, however, are fixated on his smile, how it widens across his cheeks, and gets his eyes to crinkle just a little bit in the corners.

"No...no it's...it's nice."

He hums approvingly, adding a nod to send the feeling home. Soap turns back to the cooking meal, a new pep in his step at your approval. Are they not going to acknowledge it at all. What had happened last night? Or what hadn't happened.

Your brain isn't being clear to you about your memories, but that unfortunately isn't something that's new.

"Uh...did we...sleep in the same bed last night?" Your question hangs heavy in the air.

"Ye got quite knackered, fell right into bed ye didn't seem to care which one it was" Soap chuckles and shakes his head in a playful manner, "Yer not hungover? No headache or nothing?"

"Massive one yeah."

He gives you a sympathetic smile, "ah think we got some painkillers in one of these cabinets." He turns around, about to go through probably every single one of them, if you had deciphered his type well enough by now.

"Oh no that's okay, thank you Soap" you smile awkwardly, your hands waving in a dismissive gesture to not trouble himself. "I'll live," you add in hopes he'd stop his search. He doesn't, instead tutting and crouching down to reach into a cabinet that stored light medicine.

"Ye talk in yer sleep, ye know?" you can hear the grin in his voice.

Shit.

What did you say? Since when do you talk in your sleep anyway, it's nothing you've noticed before. Did you have a dream? Did you say something you shouldn't have? Did you reveal anything, did you unconsciously dig your own grave?

He stands back up, coming over to the table and putting down the little box of pills in front of you. A precaution.

"Who's Emma?"

Oh.

You bite down on your lip, and hide your hands beneath the table. "Just someone I met at bootcamp..." you say dismissively, looking anywhere but at Soap, who's walks back to the kitchen counter.

You don't miss the way Simon's eyes flicker to you briefly, before returning to the newspaper. "We sort of became friends but...I lost track of her over time," you shrug, doing your best to sound as uninterested as possible.

"Tends to happen...ah met a few fine lads back then too, don’t know whether they ever continued the struggle," he chuckles quietly to himself, earning him a huff from Simon.

You look back and forth between them and find your curiosity itching on your tongue. "How did you two meet?" you bite down hard on your tongue as soon as the words leave your lips.

There's silence for a moment, the only sound reaching your ears being that of Soaps messing around with kitchen utensils. He looks back, just about to answer, when Simon looks straight at you.

"We got assigned to the same mission, years back now...got put on the same task force and things grew from there."

You swallow and nod.

Your attention is split in three when you notice Price coming up to the opening in the kitchen wall. "Oh good, you're all here" he sighs exhausted. Catching the particular attention of both Simon and Soap.

"What's wrong cap?" Soap places one hand on his hip as he turns off the heat on the stove.

"Gaz is sick," Price shakes his head "lad won't be coming with you today, MacTavish, take Spider instead, they know their way around that sort of stuff."

"What?"

Soap nods quietly, taking a seat beside you when Price moves into the kitchen and starts rummaging around. He takes a glass from the cabinets above the counter and fills it up with cold water, afterwards looking into the same cabinet that Soap had just been in to retrieve medicine.

"Woah, woah, take me where?" your brows furrow, every fibre in your body ready to stand in protest.

"Mctavish and you will be heading to the local church today, you'll be attending as regular people looking for a new community to become a part of," Price lays down your cover despite your frown and clear distaste. He stands back up, grimacing at the popping in his knees.

"But I haven't-"

"That's an order, Spider" Price says with little budge, "we need two of you for the safety, and you'll fit the skills needed."

You remain quiet, foolishly trying to convey your meaning through a look alone.

"Am I understood, Spider?"

You sigh, and fold your grimace. Soap comes over to put the plate of breakfast in front of you. There's little choice, in fact there's no choice. You were here to help, after all, there has to be some meaning to it all.

"Yes sir."

Soap tries to spark a conversation with you the entire way there. The part of you that's not busy sulking over the decision made for you, applauds him for his relentless effort.

Where he gets his steadfast energy, you aren't sure of. It feels like a bottomless pit he can continuously reach into and get something new. You envy him. It's not often you've met people like him, and the few you have always got their light quenched before they could truly look around.

It's refreshing in a way you can't take.

His constant chatter becomes a soothing background noise. Somewhere along the way he stops expecting answers, taking notice of the way, you lean against the window of the car, silently listening to his ramblings. He continues, whether you really register his voice or not.

But as the car comes to a stop in the parking lot, the metal box fills with silence louder than his chatter. You pick your head off the window, orient yourself on your location and become fixated on the raised walls of white in the church.

It's not the grandest thing you've seen. Rather modest really. It didn't need to be big and flashy, it instilled dread in you either way.

Soap lets out a deep sigh, loud enough for you to give him a questioning glance. He isn't looking at you, instead up at the bell tower being rung. "Didn't think ah would be back at church this soon..." he looks almost reminiscent at the church itself.

The chances he's been here before seems too low, but not impossible.

"You're religious?"

He doesn't answer immediately, rather takes a surprisingly thoughtful moment to think about it. He turns his head to look you in the eye. You quickly grow squirmy, avoiding the eye contact he's asking for. "Ah....sort of was raised religious yes...don't know if ye can say ah am any more though, don't know if ah even could be if ah wanted to."

You could understand that. If you dug deep enough within yourself you could probably even relate to it. At least on a certain level. The conflict to follow one's family, and to choose your own path forward could be a hard thing.

You thought you chose a different path. When in reality you should've stayed behind.

"I...think I understand," you mumble. "You know how they keep saying that no matter what, you can always ask for forgiveness and have it granted?" He nods. "I keep thinking there has to be a line...how many times can you sin before it's done and gone. Is it really unconditional love or is there secret conditions behind the veil."

You take the chance to look at him, and the shocked expression on his face makes your stomach drop. Great, you've made yourself out to be a freak, and it hasn't even been that long. Why can't you just keep your mouth shut.

Soap lets out an exasperated huff, a small grin on his face as he looks away from you. His hand comes over to smooth over his short mohawk. "Ah wouldn't know...but ah think in the end it doesn't matter that much...as long as ye have faith, right?"

You shrug, feeling even more awkward by the minute.

"Hm, ah think they're opening the doors...should we find us a seat?" he plasters on a cheeky grin, and pats your arm.

"Yeah...let's head into the den of wolves," you huff, taking off your seatbelt and opening up the car door.

The inside of the church isn't much to look at either. You simply refuse to. Leaving your eyes glued to the ground and using the heels of Soap's boots for guidance. He speaks to somebody in front, but their voices are garbled nonsense in your ears.

Soap turns to you and says something just as unintelligible. Your eyes snap up.

"What?"

"Ye want to take your jacket off?" he asks in a confused tone, already in the process of shredding his own coat to put it on the rack on the wall. There's a quiet little echo in the room, reverberating the many sounds that fill, bouncing off the walls in symmetry and into your own skull.

You allow yourself to breathe long enough to shrug off your own jacket. Soap reaches out, taking the thing out of your hands, his skin brushing against yours enough for you to retract both your hands too quick. He almost drops it, but he doesn't get mad. He catches it in time with a soft chuckle and hangs it up with the rest.

"Ye a'right? Seem a bit jumpy," he takes a step closer to you to lower his voice.

"Yeah," you say too quick almost cracking your own voice, "I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?"

He gives you a look, that makes you squirm away, going for the doors to the inner part of the church instead of risking more of a conversation with him. "It's starting soon," you say dismissively as you put a hand on the doorhandle.

You open it but come to a complete stop as your eyes meet the altar at the end of the room.

When he had first told you there was a special surprise for the congregation, you weren't sure what to expect. The first thing your mind went to was a special announcement about expanding the territory. The next thing would've been a renovation of one of the places of worship. Some update about the caves, or some other activity you never got to do as a community often.

Whatever it was you could have imagined, it wouldn't have been this.

It feels like regular mass, for people you've never met and never seen. Outlining the walls of the church, stands people you do know, other members of the collective bearing the mark that The Father has set for you all.

Most paint it on themselves in various places of their body, sew it into clothes or make patches. Anything they can do to show their pride.

You haven't done it yourself; it feels too outspoken, but if that's what The Father would wish of you, you'd have little choice in the matter any more. He seems pleased with them, with every single one of the children here.

You don't doubt that if he could, he'd go on about how important unity is for him. You're spared the lesson from the priests speaking over the crowd, into the room. His voice holds power, binds the minds of each and every one under one single faith.

Despite the surplus of people, this seems like a normal occasion. There's no outrageous surprise, nothing new or exciting. Not that it needed to be, but it only serves to feed into your confusion on what he had meant.

"Patience, angel" he whispers to you as if reading your thoughts as clear as the emotions on your face.

You feel The Father's presence at your back, his hand keeping a strong hold on your shoulder. You're stunned as soon as the doors to the church opens. In comes a young girl. She can't be much younger than you. Clad in white, her skin practically glowing, the softest of smiles on her lips with a white bouquet of lilies in her hands.

She looks like a religious symbol, an icon of faith. She was the type of girl you'd sacrifice yourself for.

It made you wonder if she had been put through the same things you had. If she could be as lethal a weapon as they were making you. It was doubtful, her smooth skin lacked the marks that littered yours.

She was untouchable, a glowing light with the kindest of smiles. She could lead a revolution, probably.

"What is she-"

"Quiet Angel, just watch and you'll understand."

Each step she takes makes your throat feel wound up tighter. All eyes are on her. Both familiar and unfamiliar. The attention is hers, as above as below, and she carries it with grace and humility.

There's a pit that opens in your stomach, ready to swallow you whole. It grows bigger, deeper, as she closes in on the altar itself. There's quiet chanting all around, hymns of hope and wonder. The promise of salvation, the promise of the new Eden, the promise of God.

She lays down on the altar and the priest who had started calm and collected shouts the words of prayer to the congregation. They rise and your brows furrow. You see the glint of the blade, and you go to take a step forward.

A hand around your mouth muffles all sound you try to make.

And the blade collides with her chest in a bloody sacrifice.

You're pulled back by him, colliding with his chest as you weakly struggle against his hold. Your eyes refuse to believe what you're seeing. It has to be fake, right? It has to be a nightmare, an illusion, it has to.

You look wildly around at the others, and your eyes land on a form that's familiar. You hadn't spoken to Emma in a while but seeing her here, so vivid and falling to her knees in worship and prayer over this, it made you want to throw up. This had to be wrong, right?

"Breathe, my angel," he whispers reassuringly in your ear. "This is what we have to do, this is good, this is what is demanded of us, and very soon you'll understand exactly how you will serve."

His proud words do nothing to quench your fear.

"It's all part of god's plan...and one day, it'll be you up there."

Your throat closes up. There's not enough air in the room for you, and you know that you have to get out. You should've never gotten this close. You should've fought harder against it, and fled before Soap could've led you to the seats and locked you in place.

Soap's attention is ripped away from the priest. He glances at you from the corner of his vision, his brow furrowed in both confusion and a tinge of concern. There's no real explanation you can give him for your turmoil, as if he'd ever believe you either way.

Your breath wavers, hitching as your eyes meet with the altar. It's covered in liquid red, thick and pungent. A copper taste in your mouth, a rotten smell in your nostrils. It bleeds into the floorboards, down the tile and stone and seeps into the cracks to create the ritualistic patterns.

And there she sits atop of it all.

Her empty stare keeps yours locked. Her eyes gouged out leaving empty sockets of pulsating flesh, because where she's going, she doesn't need eyes. She doesn't need a tongue; she doesn't even need her senses.

Her cheeks are stained by golden tears, and the light surrounding her head forms like a halo. She's reached the true angelic state you never could. Forever bound to the darkness, you could only dream of the glory she got. The recognition, the hope, the faith, instead of the fear and disgust your role elicited.

She's been the lamb a lot longer than you have. The only true difference is you got out, or so you've convinced yourself to believe.

"Nervous Spider?" Soap's joking tone is a lot quieter than it should be. Your blood runs hot and cold, an antsy feeling settling in your muscles, compelling you to move and fast. "It shouldn't be that long right...how much time do they use on these again...an hour or two-"

Abruptly, you rise from your seat, shocking not only him but the few people around you as well.

"Spider?"

The girl's hollow sockets follow you; her lips move in a whisper only you can hear.

Welcome home

Without a word of warning, you move out of the row, hurried steps towards the back of the church, through the backdoor you know leads deeper. You can hear Soap's shout behind you, the shushes of people telling him to be quiet, but by the lack of rushing footsteps he doesn't seem to immediately follow.

Can you feel it?

They only get louder when the heavy wooden door closes behind you. Quiet whispers of her, of him, of them all. Layered a thousand times, echoes the songs and whispers of prophetic angels.

Can you feel him?

They make it so painfully obvious that you'll never find a place to be truly alone. It doesn't matter how much you beg or plead, it won't go away, it never will. They'll continue to fester in your mind, triggered by the most miniscule thing, until you lose your own mind.

You're already losing it.

He's calling you.

You lean up against the wall. It's curved near the ceiling, making the room feel even smaller than it already is. Everything feels all too familiar. The room itself is stocked with boxes, white sheets over furniture, and enough dust to make you cough. Whatever this room is supposed to be, it hasn't been used in ages.

But you hardly have time to reflect on the reasoning, neither on the chair placed in the middle of the room, nor on the blood stain near the window.

Can you feel how close you are to home?

And that's the thing that gets you because you do.

This place is one of pure truth, one of holy worship and connection. Its raw vitality is what keeps it upstanding, it's got a breath of its own constantly blown to a bigger flame. You'll never be closer to Him than here. You'll never be closer to your salvation than right here.

Come back to me

And it terrifies you.

It would so easy to find your path back to him. It's laid out for you, as if a beacon in the distance showing you the way home. You know exactly where to go, who to ask, who to beg. You know exactly what it would entail and how you'd be taken right back home.

It would be so easy.

You push off the wall, grab your own throat tightly to steal away your own air. It's getting increasingly harder to control yourself, and you realize maybe a few minutes too late that there's nothing to do but ride the wave of panic out.

Your body moves of its own volition, forcing your legs to take steps towards the back exit that still remains in clear view. It can't be done here, if anybody finds you here alone, vulnerable, not even you yourself have any big ideas of what you would do to them.

Sometimes you wonder whether a breath of cold air is just what you need to vein off the symptoms. It doesn't matter how many times you try it; you never receive the result you want, other than a deeper-rooted panic and the discomfort of the freezing temperatures, without a jacket.

You stumble down a step, almost drop to your knees before catching yourself against the tiles of the building leaning up against the church. You do not know where your legs are carrying you, away from there is all you can surmise, and still you let it.

All the buildings look the same to you, all a mash of dull colours and housing each of their own sinners. You know how to cull them, but you know even better that you can't. You almost get consumed by the idea before you trip over your own feet.

You let out a pitiful yelp as you come to a stop at the corner. Your hand grips the tile of the building as your eyes lock on the group further down. A few teenagers, one adult. An adult you'd rather die than meet up with again.

The shepherd to herd the flock, a trainer, a dim light to follow, a tormentor.

Follow the leader, become a leader. You're better than this. You're worse than this.

You meet his pupils at the moment he goes to turn, and you want you weep your final thoughts, but before any recognition can befall his eyes and blow your cover, you're pulled backwards by a set of much stronger arms.

Your mind whirls, grasping at straws to make sense of your vision. To call upon what little control you still have to figure out what remains truthful and what's a cruel joke on you. You want to cry out, but his hand closes on your mouth and reassuring words are whispered in your ear.

You're pulled further away, your legs barely working with him. You don't go quietly as much as he wishes you would. You claw, scratch and bite, fight within an inch of your life, but none of it holds weight in your state.

Only when the only noticeable noise is the buzzing in your ears, and the gentle music from within the church fades, are you let go from the embrace. You slump against the wall, your body tense and lax in a taxing combination.

Your eyes find his, looking into them like they could be an anchor behind the skull print. "Easy," he says but you might as well have gone deaf. You try to use his voice to guide you through the fog, like he used to do when you were kids and the impending pain was looming over your head. Only now that memory only adds to the agony, the knowledge that it is no longer like that, and it will never be like that again.

"Spider, I need you to breathe...come on, love...just follow me."

He's gentle. Too gentle with someone like you. Gentle movements are not for you, that sort of comfort does not belong to you. It never has, and he could try all he wanted, but those touches would forever be foreign on your skin. It's how you want it to be.

You're guided down. Unwelcome hands on your shoulders and arms to force you into a crouch, and then a seat on a box. His shrouded figure crouches in front of you, tries to coax you with more honeyed lies.

"C'mon...breathe with me, in...and out."

You try to follow along. To do one thing right today would be an achievement enough on its own, but it seems you can't even do that. It starts to make you frustrated, which does nothing good for your pounding heart.

"Hey, hey, it's okay...try again."

He's so insistent. So sure, you can do it. You can't even begin to imagine what he must think of you now. In a back alley looking like an unqualified lunatic in the midst of a breakdown during important parts of a mission you should have been able to do.

Neither can you even begin to imagine what sort of punishment that could bring.

You can feel it creeping stronger in the back of your mind, in the corners of your vision. The hot and cold sweat wreaking havoc on your senses. Shadows creep closer, taking shape as vile little creatures using their claws to break the earth.

Your eyes follow them and their every move. You watch them crawl closer, wide-eyed stares, leaking mouths and jagged teeth. Targets your hands itch for, and you silently thank yourself that you're not technically armed.

Then your attention is ripped away from it. You start to feel a steady thump beneath the palm of your hand, along with a steady warmth against your chest. You look down to see his ungloved hand resting above your own heart, he's taken your hand, moving it to his own chest, to his own beating heart.

"Nothing is going to hurt you..." his voice is quiet, but it reaches your ears, and for a moment you freeze completely to listen to it, "I've got you...promised, didn't I?"

You let out a shaky breath, heaving in for another one. The wind swishes in your ears, the whispers try to gouge your attention back to the dark state, but no matter how much you want to look away, your eyes are glued to him, to his hand, to your own hand to his chest.

"What are you-"

You bite down on your lip, cutting yourself off from finishing that sentence in such a shaky voice. You'd surprised even yourself with it, it wasn't often you heard your own voice in your own head so clearly, so unclouded and burdened by emotion.

"There you are," the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly. His hand remains in place, coaxing you through it with a display of dramatic breaths. You hate how well it works. How it makes you calm within minutes, how it takes your mind out of the moment and into a cloud of nostalgia you'd rather disperse.

"Come back to me, Spider," he lets out a quiet little huff. Your breaths start to even out and turn back to the normal pace.

"I'm sorry," you sound breathless, your response still quick and short to conserve energy. His eyes flicker with a different look of concern, before he shakes his head no.

"What happened in there?"

For a moment in time, you actually consider telling him everything. Right from the beginning when he left to how you ended up here. It would probably take a day and a half to go through it all, not even to mention the unbelievable things you'd have to say.

And still, for a moment you want to. You want him to know, you want him to understand.

You want his help.

You foolishly open your mouth, years of fear and terror ready to spill out.

"Agh there ye are! Ye can't just run off like that. Ah had no idea what went wrong, are ye alright? What, Simon, ye're supposed-"

Simon hushes Soap as he comes closer with his frantic questions.

"Quiet down, we're fine, Johnny."

There it is again.

Johnny. Johnny. Johnny.

He would make a pretty offering.

You shake your head to get rid of the thoughts, because what the hell was that. You almost succeed in it as well until he starts to take steps towards you again. Each one making the inner whispers into talk, into yells.

And then, he places a jacket over your shoulders and it stops.

It almost gives you more whiplash than when Simon had placed his hand upon your heart. "Yer going to catch a cold like tha'" Soap. Johnny. John. Speaks.

He looks down at you with concern that mimic Simon's, a quiet care that might have started to grow through Simon's relation towards you. One you can almost familiarize yourself with, one you could almost allow yourself to want, to crave.

It's foreign for you to feel like that. How your walls against him are being climbed that easily. Maybe you're just losing your edge, or maybe the tough exterior you've tried to craft was never as solid as you thought it was.

You want his care, his concern, his attention.

You know exactly how to get it, how to coax it out of him. You were taught very well, but still, you don't want to do that again. No part of you wants it to be like that again, and would you even know how to do it differently?

"Come, we should get you home before anyone of us causes more of a stir than we already have." Simon stands, extending his hand for you to take.

You're treading dangerous territory, and you can feel it in the way your stomach flips uncomfortably.

It's a type of territory that will get you killed sooner rather than later.

And wasn't that your entire goal? Survival?

Maybe it's changed.

Perhaps, it could be something else.

Your eyes meet his, and you take his hand.

Likes, Reblogs and comments are always appreciated, love ya! <3

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[metalmonki]

Objection Part 2

Rafael Barba x fem!Carisi!reader

2.8k word count

Summary All you wanted was to be a lawyer like your big brother Sonny. So what happens when you get a job working under the famous ADA Rafael Barba

slow-burn, colleague to friends to lovers

Note: The end of this is pretty meh, I had to get 3 wisdom teeth removed and I'm still pretty out of it on pain meds so maybe I'll fix it later, maybe I won't who knows.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Early the next morning I was up and at the table reading my way through the paperwork. It was normal job forms and a job outline. It was simple enough I just had to do what Barba wanted. I was so excited to get to work Barba, the man was considered a God in the land of lawyers. His no-nonsense attitude, his exceptional win rate and the iconic three piece suits. He was not a man you wanted to make your enemy. Being honest I had a bit of a crush on him during Law School having watched footage of a lot of his cases as extra study. How best to learn if not by watching the professionals at work. I had laid out my outfit the night before. A grey pencil skirt with matching suit jacket and a white button up with black heels. The plan was to get the paperwork done, shower, get dressed and head for Barba’s office at the Manhattan District Attorney’s Office building. I didn’t want to show up right on 3 and seem over eager but I didn’t want to show up super late in the day and seem completely uninterested either. The plan was to show up right on 3:30, early but not too early.

The closer it got to 3:30 the more nervous I got and the harder it was to concentrate on the paperwork. Sonny had told me before he left that Barba wasn’t fussed about the paperwork being completely collect so long as I brought might degree or a copy of it along.

“You learn more about someone by talking to them, then by reading about them” Sonny had said trying to mock the man.

I got the paperwork finished at 11:30 and added a copy of my degree to the pile of paperwork before heading for the shower. I spent so long in the shower trying to simultaneously calm myself down and talk myself up that I was certain I had used all of Sonny’s hot water.  You’re going to ace this, Barba is going to love you, this is the beginning of your dream career. By the time I had built up the courage to get out of the shower, get dressed and leave the house it was 2:30 so I knew even with traffic I would get to the DA’s office just before 3. Earlier then I wanted to be but then again it would give me time to find Barba’s office.

I stood in front of the building for a few minutes trying to work up the courage to enter, having lost all mine the second I step in front of the building. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and was about to push open the door when I heard a familiar voice behind me.

“Hay y/n you made it” Sonny smiled walking up behind me with a familiar 3-piece suit wearing man beside him.

“Hi Sonny, Hi ADA Barba, I’m y/n, Sonny’s sister” I held my hand out to the man.

“Sonny has told me all about you, a fellow Harvard graduate I hear?” Rafael smiled grabbing my hand in a firm yet gentle handshake. Intimidating yet handsome, I thought.

“Yes, although I only graduated 9 months ago so I still have lots to learn but if what Sonny says is anything to go on, I’m sure you’ll make a fine teacher” I smiled back.

“Carisi better not have given away all my secrets I hope” Rafael raised an eyebrow at Sonny.

“Not at all” Sonny chuckled tucking his hands in his pockets.

Rafael stepped forward and opened the door motioning for us to follow him in. He led us through a series of hallways and up elevators. I knew for a fact I was going to get lost a few times before I work out my way around this building. Sonny and Rafael where chatting about a case and that Sonny wouldn’t stick around long that he just need to grab the warrant and go. Rafael stopped briefly to speak to a woman sitting at desk who quickly gave a thank you and hurried off out the door. He then turned and opened the door next to her desk motioning us in. Stepping inside I was greeted with a large fancy corner office. A large flat screen TV adorned one wall and a fireplace lay unused on the opposite end of the room to a large heavy desk on which rested a brass name plate engraved with the name ADA Rafael Barba. I let out a whistle as I looked around the space.

“Fancy corner office” I looked between Rafael who was smirking and Sonny who was looking at me horrified.

“Okay Carisi here is the warrant you need tell Liv, I’ll send y/n here down with Amandas as soon as I can find a judge not on lunch to sign it” Rafael handed Sonny a piece of paper which he took and headed for the door.

“Barba take it easy on my sister, okay?” Sonny gave him a serious look as he walked out the door. Rafael just nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets as Sonny left.

“In your dreams” Rafael chuckled when he was sure Sonny was out of hearing range. “So y/n I take it you read the job outline?” Rafael turned to me.

“Yes I…”.

“Good you start now.  I have seven files here I need run down to the courthouse all of which we’ve worked out plea deals for, by the time you get back from that I should have the warrant signed for you to take down to SVU and you can pick up our latest lot of cases from them while your there” Rafael hung up his jacket and moved towards his desk to grab the files as he spoke.

“I am a qualified lawyer not some glorified secretary” I took a step towards him now mad.

“Yes, and it is your job as a qualified lawyer to help me complete parts of my job whatever it may be. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but crime is at an all time high in this city and as a result my case load is also at an all time high, so your job weither you like it or not is to do as I say. If I ask you to file paperwork you’ll do it, if I ask you to stand in for me at court you will do it, if I ask you to deliver a warrant you will do it. If you don’t think you can do that there is the door, feel free to leave” Rafael came to a stop in front of me holding the files out to me. I took them and walked towards the door to shocked to say anything in response.

“Great, I’ll get a desk brought up for you in the next couple days” Rafael smirked and walked back over to his desk. I had just stepped through the door when I heard him mumble to himself. “Es una luchadora” (She’s a fighter)

“Por supuesto” I giggled before walking away. Leaving Rafael shocked at his desk.

…

Rafael’s P.O.V

Once y/n had walked off and I had regained my composure I immediately rang Carisi.

“Detective Carisi” He answered

“You never told me your sister speaks Spanish”.

“I can’t tell you all her secrets”.

…

Y/N’s P.O.V

 I’d made it to the courthouse and was madly looking for where I was supposed to drop the paperwork. I had walked up to the reception desk, and they had given me some long confusing directions on how to get to records where I was supposed to drop the files. I’d asked if there was someone who could walk me down to records, but everyone was busy. So, I wandered around aimlessly trying to find a sign or anyone who could point me in the right direction. I must have spent the 40 minutes just walking up and down hallways looking for someone to help me or a sign to guide my way. I was about to call it quits and try to make my way back to reception when it occurred to me that I probably wouldn’t be able to find my way back out there either and it would just lead to more aimless wandering. I found a bench in an empty hallway and just sat down, calling it quits. I dropped the pile of files beside me and dropped my head into my hands. Barba was going to fire me; Sonny would be so disappointed in me after everything he done to get me this job. I was letting down a lot of people today. I heard footsteps enter the hallways but refused to look up hoping whoever it was would just walk on by me. The footsteps however had other ideas. They came to stop right in front of me. I removed my hands from my face to be met with a familiar pair of black dress shoes. I sighed, this way it, my life was over.

“How did you end up over here at the judges’ chambers?” Rafael chuckled.

“I got lost” I looked up defeated at the man who now had a cocky smile on his face.

“You do realize you walked straight past the door to records the second you walked into the courthouse, right?” Rafael held out a hand helping me stand up from the bench before grabbing the files.

“Nope I never even noticed” I sighed again.

“Come I’ll walk you down there” He smiled handing me the files.

As Rafael lead us back towards the front of the courthouse, he told me about he had gotten lost looking for records on his first day too and I could rest assured he wasn’t going to fire me over such a small mistake.

“And here we are records” Rafael came to a stop in front of a pair of large double doors with records written into the frosted glass on the door. “And since I have you here is the warrant its needs to go to Rollins and uh the other Carisi and make sure to tell them that it because it’s for a shared house…” “It’s for the named persons room and common areas only” I interrupted him.

“Exactly, when you get back I would like your help going over a case we’re prosecuting starting tomorrow, always best to have a second set of eyes to make sure we’ve covered everything” Rafael smiled.

“Of course, thank you for everything” I gave him a smiled before walking into records.

It took me almost an hour to fill in the paperwork. Each form I filled in I got quicker and quicker at filling in. It was basically filling in a summary form of what was in the files and once I knew where to find the information it made filling in the form quicker. The last form only took 5 minutes. Coming out of the dark records the bright light of the city day almost blinded me. I let my eyes adjust and made my way to the SVU squad house. It only occurred to me when I was in front of the building that the only person, I knew there was Sonny. I had never met any of the team. I mean he told me all their names and had given me a basic description but if he wasn’t here, I was screwed. The lovely receptionist immediately had me picked as a Carisi and directed me to the SVU bull pen. I stepped into the lift and went to press the button to the right floor when a hand shot into the door. A Cuban man around Sonny’s age stepped into the lift.

“I’m sorry didn’t mean you scare you” He smiled at me. “Heading to the SVU bull pen?” He looked down at me.

“Yes, you too?” I smiled back.

“Detective Nick Amaro” He held out his hand.

“Y/N Carisi” I smiled shaking his hand.

“Carisi has told us all about you it’s so good to finally meet you, does this mean your officially working with Barba now?” He asked turning to face me.

“Yeah I am, I was actually just coming up to drop off a warrant” I held up the piece of paper.

The lift dinged, opening on our floor. Nick placed a hand in the small of my back and guided me out of the lift and towards the SVU pull pen.

“Have you met anyone else here?” Amaro asked walking me through double doors into a busy room.

“You’re the first person here I have met” I chuckled.

“Well then let me introduce you to everyone” He smiled. “Guys can I grab your attention for a minute” Amaro came to a stop in the middle of a group of desk.

A blonde woman looked up from one desk and an African American man who was walking away turned around to look at me.

“ADA Y/N Carisi allow me to introduce to Amanda Rollins and Odafin Tutuola” Nick motioned to each person “Fin, Amanda this is Y/N Carisi our new ADA along side Barba”

“Yeah, we got that Nick” Amanda smiled.

“There is no way your related to Carisi your way to pretty to be related to him” Fin held out his hand.

“Aw thank you, Sonny has told me so much about you all and I can’t wait to work with you, which is actually why I’m here, I have a warrant for you Detective Rollins” I smiled handing her the paper.

“Oh, please just called me Amanda no need to be so formal” She smiled taking the paper.

“No problem, Amanda, Barba wanted me to remind you that unless the other members of the shared house give you permission the warrant covers the suspects bedroom and the common areas only”.

“Great, Carisi’s in interrogation with Liv at the moment so as so as their out we’ll set off” Amanda looked over the warrant.

“So how are you finding working with Barba?” Fin asked crossing his arms leaning against his desk.

“His actually really sweet, I mean we had a small disagreement this morning but other then that he has been great to work with”.

“Barba? Rafael Barba the grumpy Cuban?” Nick looked at me in shock.

“Yeah, why? How does he treat you?” I looked between them confused.

“His always so grumpy and snappy with us, he knows how to do his job though I’ll give him that” Fin said.

“The only person his nice to around here is Liv and we all know why that is” Amanda said looking between Nick and Fin.

“Why is that?” I asked.

“He has had a crush on Liv for as long as he has worked with her but the man just doesn’t have the balls to ask her out” Nick chuckled.

“Sounds like Sonny and his crush” I tried to deflect feeling a small pang of jealousy in my chest.

“And who is he crushing on Amaro?” Fin chuckled.

“What are we talking about” Sonny walked over to the group.

“Carisi why have you never introduced us to your sister she’s amazing” Nick smiled at me.

“I’ve had my reasons” Sonny gave Nick a look that told him to stay away from me. “What are you doing here anyway?” Sonny looked at me.

“I was just dropping off that warrant for you and Amanda Barba told you about earlier” I smiled at him.

“Great your getting along well then?” Sonny asked.

“Great he has been really good to me, I think I’m going to do well with him”.

“That’s great! Look I’m not going to make it home for dinner tonight probably won’t make it home at all so don’t worry about cooking for me okay” Sonny smiled

“After the day I’ve had I’ll probably just grab something on the way home anyway” I shrugged.

“Why are we all standing around?” A tall dark haired woman walked over to the group.

“Sargent Bensen? I’m ADA Y/N Carisi I’ll be working along side ADA Rafael Barba” I held out my hand to her.

“Please call me Liv” She shook my hand. “How are you finding working with Rafa so far?” she smiled.

“I was actually just telling the others that he has been really nice to me” I could see why Barba would be crushing on Olivia, she was gorgeous. “Anyway I should get back to his office”

I gave Sonny a quick hug and waved to everyone else as I walked out of SVU. Once back out on the street I made the decision to go grab a couple of coffees for myself and Barba to say thank you to him for saving my lost ass before heading back to his office to work on this case he wanted my help on.

[anki-of-beleriand]

Bad Liar ch. 14

Summary: Life is about lessons, and Wanda has been learning some harsh facts that had define her life and taken her to a place in which she was given a second chance. Then, all of a sudden, she meets you, and she realizes why it's easier to lie to yourself than to accpet what's right in front of her.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff/ Female!reader - America/Kate - Mentions of past Vision/Wanda - past Natasha/Reader - Some Female!Reader/Carol Danvers - Mentions of Natasha/Maria being married

Warnings: Slow burn - Enemies to friends to lovers - Mentions of abusive relationships - Toxic relationships - angst - drama - mentions of abuse - more tags as the story progress.

Author's note: When everything seems to finally fit in their universe, the shadows of the past come chasing after them.

Guys, we are almost there!!! Please rmemeber English is not my mother tongue so forgive my grammar, spelling and funny mistakes, hope you like this one.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18

Chapter 14

The Day before New year

Christmas Eve from 2023 would become one of the most memorable holidays in your life.

Wanda had shared a piece of herself not even her children had met before. She filled the household with Sokovian traditions while letting her mother tongue to wrap around her words and the stories of her home. Her children had been quite shocked when they heard the strange, yet familiar, language of Sokovia slipping out of their mother’s mouth while you and America had asked for more with excited smiles.

Soon it was not only Sokovian that everyone was trying to learn, but you and America made it their duty to start teaching Spanish as well. It was a nice experience, and you noticed how Wanda’s mood improved whenever her children tried to pronounce one word or another while looking up at their mother for corrections. This only showed how much Wanda had freed herself from her previous marriage and how, little by little, she had been conquering her own identity while also sharing with you and her family the glimpses of who she really was.

The weekend ended faster than you would have liked it, and by the time you made it back to your office you were missing all of them dearly. 

You leaned back against the chair in your office, the morning light sneaking inside your office while your eyes drifted to the clouds gliding right above the buildings with your mind replaying the events of the weekend. Your lips broke into an easy smile, the sight of Billy and Tommy laughing and bouncing excitedly while they uncovered their gifts or the sight of Wanda gleaming with happiness whenever she was close to you was everything that fuelled your sanity.

You had gotten used to Wanda, the twins, Kate and America to be by your side in the last week that you forgot your own duties back at the office. You winced remembering the scold you received from Tony, Pepper and Maria and their demands for you to take up your laptop and join them to the meetings for the closing of the year. It had been a really long week, with meeting after meeting and report after report, you had gone home late at night while leaving early in the morning for three long days. 

The buzzing from the intercom broke your thoughts bringing you back into your reality, you furrowed your brows leaning in to click on the calendar on your computer but that time of the morning was completely clean. Actually, it was your lunch time, something you had almost missed completely while daydreaming about Wanda and your family. With a light frown, and a scrunched up nose you pressed the red bottom on the intercom, the buzzing sound easing out and allowing you to communicate with your secretary.

“Yes, Mrs. Valerie?”

“Mrs. Y/L/N, you have a visitor, Mrs. Van Dyme is requesting a moment of your time, and Mrs. Hill wants me to remind you of the appointment you have with Director Fury at 3.”

You rolled your eyes at the obvious reminder of such an important appointment, Maria had made it almost impossible for you to evade such an important meeting since it would be the last straw to get Jarvis under Federal custody.

“Very well, Mrs. Valerie, tell Hope to come in and tell Maria to stop bothering me.”

There was a moment of hesitation before the other woman answered, “as you wish, ma’am.”

The door opened to reveal a smiling Hope making her way towards you, you stood up meeting her halfway wrapping your arms around her.

“God! You’re so busy sometimes!” Hope reproached, leaning back shaking her head, “if you’re not here at the office you are out there with Wanda and the children…which is not bad, but certainly shows where your priorities lay.”

You dipped your head away trying to hide the blush in your cheeks, Hope smirked glancing at your watch before nodding to the door. 

“You still have some time before that meeting with Director Fury,” Hope teased you, grabbing your hand and dragging you out of your office, “you owe me a lunch and a good story since as of late you had been quite busy with Wanda Maximoff.”

“Humph, please I have a lot on my plate right now…” You tried to justify yourself but Hope merely snorted, leading you to the closest restaurant just around the corner of your building. 

“Not for your best friend, it has been quite some time and our phone calls or chats are not enough. Come one!” Hope replied making sure that you did not fight her over while taking you into the lift.

The restaurant was the same as it had been the last time you were in.

You were taken to a seclude area, the one right across to the table you had shared with Carol so long ago. The memory of the blonde-haired woman made your heart twisted in regret. Hope made the order for you turning her eyes to you, a teasing smile decorating her lips.

“Well, spill.” She placed her elbows on the table holding her face in her hands, you rolled your eyes leaning back on the chair.

“That Friday was perfect, we talked and we got to dance…” Hope tapped her cheek impatiently, you huffed, shaking your head, “and of course, we kissed.”

You couldn't help but laugh when Hope squealed like a teen, she grabbed your hand with excitement visible in her face.

“And, then what happened?” 

You took a deep breath licking your lips before narrating the events of that Friday night and what had happened in the following days. Hope was patient, absorbing your words with avid curiosity and the hints of sisterly affection you had always identified in her. She laughed and gasp in the right parts of the story, and her eyes never stopped the real emotions going through her when she caught glimpses of your deep affection for the other woman and her children.

Hope had always known of the fragility of your heart. It was so easy for you to love and to fall for someone, that she was really not surprised at all when she caught those words dripping with love and longing. What little she had gotten to see from Wanda, Hope could tell you had made a great impression on her though the path Wanda was taken at that moment in her life might lead to things being slow.

She was not surprised this was what you told her, how Wanda was ready to give you and herself a chance, with the fear and reluctance still at the back of her mind that history might repeat itself. Hope wished she could convince Wanda that you were a good person, that if she were to choose someone to start anew and give her heart a chance you were the right option. But that wouldn't be fair, Hope had been your best friend since kindergarten and her opinion was clouded by her relationship with you. 

Whatever was to happen between you and Wanda, whatever relationship the both of you ended up building should be under your own terms. And no one could intervene, so time and patience was necessary for this.

“I guess that's why she was seeing you,” you took a long sip from the glass of wine you had in front of you, “is she part of the underground railroad?”

Hope held her hand midair, her eyes drifting from her glass to you before she set it back down on the table. You snorted, offering a bitter smile.

“I know you can't answer, but you don't need to,” you shrugged looking right outside your window, “I guess as much, you know? And, either way she told me something about her ex-husband…”

“Are you okay with that?” Hope gauged your reaction, she could tell the whole thing bothered you to some extent but she was not sure if it would affect your perception of Wanda or the relationship you wanted with her.

“I guess that explains a lot about her shyness, her insecurities, the fear she sometimes shows in public.” You clenched your fist closed, the tension around your jawline was enough to tell Hope where your heart on the matter was. “I can't believe there is someone out there ready to hurt her or the twins, that someone would dare to put a hand on her instead of loving her.”

Hope broke into a sad smile, “not everyone can be good, Y/N, you know that.”

You nodded shrugging, “I wish she could tell me more about it, that I could help her in some way. I know she is filling out the divorce papers and the full custody of her children but…”

“You have the resources and the power to destroy him.”

You grunted looking away to avoid the knowing glance from Hope.

“Don't.” she stated with force behind her words. “That would only worsen things, and some process must be done without help or intervention. Let her come to you, let her ask for help…right now, what Wanda needs is someone she can count on. She needs someone that can love her and show her that love and family can be something amazing, something she deserves.”

“I want to give her the world, Hope. To her and to Billy and Tommy, I want to…” you trailed off opening your eyes at the sudden realisation of the deepness of your emotions for Wanda.

Hope softened up, she placed a hand on top of yours offering a kind smile.

“I know, Y/N, and that's why this is all worth the wait.”

Your heart beat fast, your abdomen dropping into a single revolution of tingles that made you yearn for Wanda. The smile forming on your face was all the confirmation Hope needed to understand you were already far too involved with Wanda to back out and do nothing else than what you had just stated: give the world to Wanda and her children. 

“Well, now that we got that out of the wait, tell me all about Kate and America, I hope you got pictures because I’m all in to tease my little sister.”

Hope laughed, putting her mobile out of her pocket, her face a mask of pure mischief.

“Oh, I caught the exact moment they kissed for the first time.” 

You laughed with Hope soon narrating how everything happened from her perspective. You and Hope were so distracted about the conversation you were having and about the recent events you never noticed the man sitting right behind your table paying close attention to every word you two exchanged; the man kept his glare away from you but his body was trembling with rage just as his hands clenched tightly around the papers he had been reading, once you had stopped talking about the newfound love with Wanda Maximoff, Edwin ‘Vision’ Jarvis stood up and left the restaurant. 

He couldn’t wait any longer, nor if Wanda had already filled out the sole custody of the twins. He had already received the notification of the divorce, but his children…oh, no, Wanda would never get his children for herself…No, either they faded away with their mom, or they submitted to his wishes.

Vision clenched his jaw, time to make them pay.

_________________________

Wanda signed the last one of the files she was handed over by Natasha, Happy Hogan reviewed the file nodding in approval before stretching the young woman's hand.

“I think this is all, he already received the notification for the divorce and the authorities are aware of your situation and the custody battle.” Happy put the paperwork away furrowing her brows while glancing at Natasha and Wanda, “the judge signed the restriction order, and the State already failed in your favour now we are only waiting for the final approval and he won't be able to fight custody on American soil.”

For the first time since all her journey began, Wanda let go of the tension in her shoulders with a breathy sigh leaving her lips. This time around there were no tears, nor any feelings of inadequacy or fear, there was only peace. Relief.

Wanda stood in the background, the conversation between the lawyer and Natasha completely muffled by the sudden feeling of freedom she got from this last step. She turned around to see Billy and Tommy playing with Liloh, she wrapped her arms around herself allowing a tender smile to grace her lips.

“I think this is a good way to end the year,” Natasha came to her, sharing the same smile while turning her eyes to the boys and the cats.

“I don't know how to thank you for everything you have done for me, Natasha.”

Natasha shook her head, shooting her a mischievous glance while nodding to the kitchen.

“How about by telling me what has been going on with you and Y/N?”

The full blush that adorned the younger woman's face was everything Natasha needed to know that something was really happening. Not that it was any surprised for her or anybody for that matter, ever since you two crossed paths and the quarrel became a friendly banter, Natasha could tell there was something else hidden behind Wanda's submissive and accommodating behaviour that soon was replaced with the woman that was standing right now in her kitchen.

And while this was all Wanda's hard work for recovering herself, without a doubt you and her children had helped her out in some way or another.

“We have been…” Wanda started but soon she trailed off, for the very first time she was wondering what exactly were the two of you, she blinked a couple of times frowning, “I could say that we are dating, but actually we have been spending time with Billy, Tommy, Kate and America, these last couple of weeks had been so…amazing. She makes me feel things I never…”

Natasha cocked an eyebrow making her way to the coffee maker, she waited until Wanda explained what had happened since the Yule Ball, the weekend and the nights spent together, the Christmas day and night and the gifts you two exchanged. Her hand moved to the necklace you had gifted her, while she suddenly realised in all of this you two had just spent a couple of hours alone. Everything had been revolving around her and her children, and Wanda had to wonder why.

“Y/N is just like that,” Natasha served the coffee shrugging, “she tends to be selfless to the point she sometimes forgets she also deserves to be taken care of.”

“God, I must look like a selfless idiot.” Wanda placed a hand on her face, all of a sudden she remembered how you were always there making dinner, breakfast, helping around the house, taking her and the twins out while just standing by her side with nothing more than stolen moments in the middle of the night.

“Nah, I don't think Y/N sees it like that, but perhaps it could be a good opportunity to just have a date.” Natasha could really see the distress in Wanda, the young woman was overthinking once more and Natasha stopped that by clicking her tongue and tapping on the counter.

“It's just that, well…” Wanda didn't need to explain, she had already shared her fears with Natasha and the older woman could understand where they came from.

“Look, take your time, she already told you she is ready to wait.” Natasha offered a comforting smile, “you could also plan something simple, a dinner or an outing to a museum, she loves those things a lot…”

“She does,” Wanda nodded, biting her lower lip, “I just…god, this is sometimes so much, I'm afraid I'm not what she wants, that I can't give her what she wants or needs.”

“One step at a time, Wanda, don't rush it, but give yourself a chance to experiment.” 

Wanda turned those words inside her head, she nodded absentmindedly, lifting her face to the older woman. Natasha narrowed her eyes, an idea forming inside her head while she leaned forward.

“I know Strange and Christine invited you over to the New Year's party.”

“They did, yes.” 

Natasha chuckled, wiggling her brows, “Well, how about dressing up to spend midnight with her.”

The way Natasha changed her voice into a suggestive tone let Wanda know exactly what the other woman was thinking. Wanda was not a stranger to such thoughts or suggestions,everytime that you and her were alone and shared an intimate moment Wanda felt her heart rate increase and her body and lower abdomen tingling with want. It had been so long since she last felt desired, or needy. Sometimes Wanda found herself on the verge of asking for more but once she opened the mouth the words had tangled in her tongue and she just asked for time, for patience, for cuddles. 

“I actually was thinking more about a date,” Wanda dropped her stare hiding her blushing face, “I could ask America for help and just…seduce her first?”

Natasha laughed when Wanda lifted her face smiling shyly at her, the spark of curiosity and mischief gleaming in those green eyes. The older woman leaned back nodding decisively.

“Very well, do you want me to help?”

“Please.” Wanda dropped on the table, she sighed in relief and uncertainty shown in her face soon after, “I really want to make it special, and I want to…I mean, I'm not completely ready but I just want her and…I mean…”

Wanda's babbling was stopped by Natasha who merely rolled her eyes at her.

“I'll help you, now let's start the planning.”

_______________________

The last week of the year was usually the hardest one.

You dropped your head on the desk, the amount of paperwork you had left to sign and the meetings you had to attend were ridiculous and it only showed the great effort you dad made to get back home to his family.

Maria tapped the table, her eyes piercing you with a familiar glare. Fury held back his expressionless face, his lone eye checking over the videos saved on the laptop Maria and Coulson had prepared for the agent in charge of the case. 

“You know? Tomorrow is New Year's Eve, can you like…catch him up before that?”

Fury ignored you completely, Maria huffed but said nothing under the sheepish smile you shared with her. The case of the industrial espionage had given the desired results; the man Vision had fallen into the trap without really knowing or actually realising what he was doing. What surprised you the most was that the man had good ideas, he was smart and quite inventive, but he lacked the motivation or the willingness to put some effort in the actual work. He was waiting for everyone to work for him and give him what others had won with hard work. 

It was not difficult for Tony and his team to place a tracker, and soon Vision was stealing information they had hidden as classified and highly volatile technology that in reality would end up in nothing.

“It is not a matter of time, Y/L/N,” Fury leaned back closing the laptop, “we are waiting for the final deal, he is to sign with one of the most prolific warlords in Eastern Europe, and as soon as we received the Intel of the deal we will take our guy into custody.”

You straightened up, squinting your eyes at the man sitting across the desk. For the last couple of weeks you had done nothing more than to comply with the Agency and help the government in the case, but the names that had been tossed around involved with Vision had left a bitter taste in your mouth.

You didn't want your company nor anyone inside the building to be at risk, and having a group of federal agents storming inside the place could end up in drama.

“Fury, I hope this won't be an issue, I really don't fancy the publicity that may come from this, or anyone getting hurt…”

Fury shifted on the spot, he turned to Maria who was suddenly quiet and stoic with her eyes completely centred on you. You frowned, pursing your lips while your eyes gleamed dangerously to the older woman.

“What is it?” Your voice dripped coldness, Maria sighed, putting a different file from under the pile she had with her.

“Kingpin is his main investor, he has been the one providing him with the money, the resources, and the people.” Maria winced when you grabbed the file forcefully, “they had been watching over you and America…”

“Fury…” you started but the man didn't flinch, he sat there waiting for you to speak. “What the actual fuck?”

“It was bound to happen, you can pretend to be surprised when you and I both knew this was a huge possibility.” Fury shrugged, “you and America were not left unsupervised, of course, but we know he won't dare to make any rash movements if he can prevent them, Vision on the other hand…”

“It's a cage animal.”

You huffed turning around and pacing around the room, you didn't like this conversation nor the deal you had been made to uphold for old time sake. You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose before turning rashly towards Fury and Maria.

“How long? How long before I can stop housing a thief? How long before I used my money and power to stop this?”

This time around Fury winced, he could tell you were mad but not unreasonable. He faced you lifting a single finger. 

“One week.”

“One week, Fury, one week and then I want my family and my company out of this deal.”

Fury took in the seriousness behind your words before nodding curtly, so far you had done more than what was expected and he knew the danger you had been put through was far greater taken into consideration the man you had been kept under the company's roof was the very same man that had hurt your recent love interest.

“I know this is not ideal, and that you were reluctant to follow up on this, but I want to thank you for the cooperation.” Fury stood up presenting his right hand to you, you nodded curtly taking his hand. “I won't forget this, and I can promise you that nothing bad will happen to you or your family.”

“Pretty well, I guess one week is nothing at the end of the day.” You rubbed the back of your neck turning to Maria, “let’s keep a low profile and have normal meetings with him, if I'm not wrong I'm supposed to supervise one of his experiments tomorrow.”

“Yes, he is trying out a new program that needs your approval,” Maria then changed her face, softening slightly, “you want me to come with you?”

You offered a half smile shaking your head, “nah, I can take Bruce with me or Hank it won't take long and either way you have the meeting with the board. I hate those meetings at the end of the year.”

“Very well, then Fury, is there anything else we can do for you?” 

Fury smirked, understanding the clear dismissal from Maria, he shook his head grabbing the USB from the laptop.

“No, for now I will be on top of the DA to make sure the paperwork is ready, I don't want any surprises and what we have so far should be enough to extend the warrant for Vision's arrest.”

You saw as Fury and Maria left your office, leaving you all alone to your work and your thoughts. The year had been strange, to say the least, but what was playing in your mind was the woman and the children waiting you back home.You smiled knowing that as soon as you get home she would be waiting for you in her living room, if only to catch up before sharing a sweet kiss and going back home. It was a hard commitment sometimes, to work long hours and knowing as of late all you could offer were mere minutes of your time.

With a sigh you proceeded to finish your work, at least for today you aspired to leave the office early and go home to share with America, Wanda and the twins. Tomorrow would be New Year's and you couldn't afford to be late.

________________

Edwin Jarvis had become a man of simplicity.

He loved money, and the good life. He had come to love being in charge while also giving himself to the pleasures that women, gambling and alcohol could offer. His father had taught him well, women were meant to serve and men like him should always have a woman by his side that showed how respectable and responsible he was. Wanda had been an easy pick, herbfather had money and position and when he died Wanda was left with enough money Jarvis had used and spent in his lifestyle. Of course, handling someone like Wanda had been difficult, and he thought that he had her controlled, she and the brats, but alas some people were just plain ungrateful.

Monday Morning came with a single, and regretful encounter with a courier from the court. Jarvis had been furious enough to almost hit the man, but he contained himself when the spring voice of the man he was making business with stopped him.

“Take it up like a man, and don't hurt messengers.” The voice was filled with power and a warning, and Jarvis had taken the court that actually held the paperwork of his divorce and the paperwork for full custody of his children.

He had been beyond embarrassed and while he was well aware of Wanda's intention when she ran away from him, Vision was not about to give her the satisfaction of a win. His first instinct had been to ask for legal advice, and it was there and then that he found the full case being built against him.

“I think I made the deal with the wrong Jarvis,” Kingpin had mocked, grabbing the paperworks and the files brought by the court official working under his payroll, “your wife just built one of the most solid cases against you, tsk.”

Vision had been furious, that day he had broken the they used to share and had burned the little belongings she had left. But then, he calmed himself, money was not a complete issue for him, he had already thought of taking his children and Wanda away, perhaps teach her a lesson while putting a chain on her neck and hiding her from the world.

A place with no extradition.

Either way, who would miss Wanda?

She didn't have family or friends, Vision had taken care of that. But now…

Everything she had done, she was not that smart, she was a dumb bitch only good for sex and not even that! She had help! 

And thanks to Agatha, Vision knew who had helped her.

His plan had been simple, Kingpin would sell him out if that served his purposes, so Vision would gather whatever he needed, have everything ready and take what was his.

Simple, right?

He grabbed the picture in which Billy and Tommy stood by his side, he had each boy on each hand while Wanda stood a step behind him. His lips curled into a nasty grin, Wanda could have had everything with him if only she behaved and was the good wife he knew she could be.

But alas, he no longer had the patience to teach her, and in reality he could get a new pet to educate properly.

With a last glance to his house, he grabbed the black box on the counter and went to his car. Everything had been set up, and now it was time to end the year with a blast.

______________________________

The day before the end of the year broke with a single light of a cold sun, Wanda tried to wake up early to make sure she could say goodbye to you.

But as it had happened the last couple of days, you left far too early after having arrived far too late the day before. Wanda hated the longing in her heart, the way she craved to be near you and to enjoy the same attention you had given to her days prior. She continued with her routine while getting Billy and Tommy ready for the day while also making sure that America was well-fed.

That day, however, was to be different.

That day, Wanda planned for it to be special.

She really owed it to you to have a moment for just the two of you, for perhaps getting that second date to get to know her and to dive into the relationship she was starting with you. Wanda shivered at the thought of your kisses, how good you felt against her, how safe and loved she felt 

Love.

Wanda shook her head focusing on her reflection, she fixed her hair back, applying light make-up while giving herself a very critical glance. It had taken her almost all week to get this prepared, and now that the day was here the old glimpses of doubt shadowed her mind. It was the inadequacy built up after trying to please the man she thought she loved. 

With a heavy sight, shaking away those darkening thoughts, Wanda smiled at her reflection once more and exited the bathroom. America, Billy and Tommy had been waiting for her right outside, her children lit up running to her while hugging her tightly while America tried to hide away the flush on her cheeks and the awestruck while trying to keep her eyes right above the neckline.

“So, what do you guys think?” Wanda lowered her gaze to her children who smiled back at her.

“You look beautiful, mommy!” Tommy was the first one to answer, Billy nodded glancing at her tilting his head while examining her face.

“You look like a Princess.”

Wanda chuckled this time around, turning her attention to America, “so, what do you say?”

“I can only tell you, Professor, that my sister won’t know what hit her,” America softened her stare, “you really look amazing, Professor.”

Wanda smiled sheepishly, placing her hand on her children’s head. 

“You know you can call me Wanda, right? We’re not in school anymore.” Wanda could see as America relaxed nodding, she then straightened up glancing at the watch on her wrist. “I guess I better go, you guys are going to be fine?”

“Yes, mom!” The twins answered at the same time grinning widely.

“I left some food and early dinner for you guys on the stove, please don’t cause too much trouble and go to bed early. Tomorrow we have a long day and I need you to be well-rested.”

Wanda then turned to America, her gaze on the young woman.

“Is Kate coming over?” She asked, and soon she could tell the answer to that question to be positive since America blushed, Wanda rolled her eyes playfully. “Please, behave and you know where to reach me or Y/N if anything happens.”

“Yes, ma’am, don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything, now…go, I bet my sister would be more than happy to see you like this.”

Wanda dipped her head hiding away the flush on her cheeks before strolling down the hall and going down the stairs. She grabbed her purse and with a last deep breath left the house. Her heart was hammering hard against her chest, the pool of tension and tingles growing as she thought of what the night might bring. Of what a night out with you could really mean.

In all honesty she had never been to this part of the city, the town she had been living in was a small suburb area enjoyed by the people who did not like or actually enjoy the overbearing atmosphere of the city. The building you and your family had built stood tall in the middle of the city, right beside the Stark Tower and where everyone could admire not only the name of one of the most important businesses in the country but also the power that came with it.

A lot had been said about you and your family and Wanda had learnt most of it from you and from the news, America and you had been protected by your parents from the spotlight, and you had always enjoyed of the simplicity of life without having to go through the harsh realities others might face. At least, no monetary struggles.

When Wanda first came across your face into one magazine and the news on social media her breath caught in her throat. No longer was the woman dressed in denim or loose pants, or the woman who would dress casually while also staying at home reading or watching movies with her teen sister.

The woman she found was someone with money and power.

Yet, it was not the woman she had come to know and to actually have feelings for. Wanda took a deep breath, she glanced at her reflection through the glassed windows her heart hammering against her chest as she noticed the woman standing in front of her. With a single smile, she took a deep breath and went inside.

Jarvis checked his watch while holding onto the cup of coffee he bought on the street; he had little time to finish what he needed to before leaving the building that day. His mind had been planning out the next steps of his plan, when a voice he had not heard for quit sometime reached his ears.

“Eh, hi, sorry…I’m looking for…Maria Hill?” Wanda tapped the counter offering a nervous smile to the receptionist, the woman lifted her eyebrows taping something on her computer.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No, not really I was supposed to…”

“Wanda!!” Maria came running from the hall leading to the private lifts on the left, Wanda sighed in relief pointing at the woman approaching them.

“Here she is.”

The receptionist smiled pointing to the security turnstiles allowing Wanda access to the building. Maria came to her, her eyes flashing around the main entrance before grabbing Wanda and dragging her down the hall into a more seclude area.

Jarvis stood in the shadows, his resolution crumbling at the sight of his wife looking so…so…slutty. He almost broke the coffee cup he was holding, trembling as the other woman disappeared in a restricted area, protected by the high security surrounding Alchemax. For what seemed like an eternity, Vision stood in the shadows with dark thoughts crossing his mind while the plans he had set up changed in a second.

Without wasting more time, he grabbed his phone and wrote a quick message to the only person that was ready to fully support him, then with the same nasty smirk he wore back at home while saying goodbye, he went to his lab.

Time for payback.

____________

“This building is amazing.” Wanda stepped closer to the glassed walls of the lift, Maria offered a half smile nodding while checking the status of Vision.

When Natasha told Maria of the date they had planned out with Wanda to surprise Y/N she had been excited. Work has been almost impossible as of late, and Maria had seen the stress building up in Y/N every day, it was not only the amount of work but the lack of family time she had had with America and Wanda and the kids. It was funny, though. Almost a couple of months ago, she had become workaholic and then, all of a sudden this woman comes in, and everything changed.

Maria let out the air she didn’t know was holding, Vision had been out when Wanda entered the building and was now in his laboratory. Not a chance of them crossing paths at all.

“It had been renovated countless of times; you know? The last time it was done, was by Y/N father who wanted it to be self-sustainable.” Maria approached the young woman glancing down into the city before turning to her. “You look amazing, by the way, and your idea is something Y/N would love.”

“You think so?” Wanda asked in a thin voice, “I guess I’m still nervous about this, about the date and that something may end up…”

“No, don’t let dark thoughts take away from you these moments of happiness, Wanda.” Maria lifted a hand stopping whatever else Wanda wanted to say. “You look amazing, and today it’s going to be equally amazing.”

Wanda nodded taking a deep breath, “thank you.”

“Don’t mentioned it.” The lift made a bumpy stop, the doors opened showing a great lobby with a single desk.

Wanda stepped forward, her hand playing with the hem of the purse. Her eyes wandered around the place taking into the paintings on the wall, the soft music sounding in the ample space and the couple of chairs and sofas spread out the place. Maria walked towards the desk, leaning forward to whisper something to the woman sitting at the front.

Both women turned to Wanda who stood still, standing awkwardly in the distance without knowing what to do. Maria motioned with her hand, Wanda took a couple of steps forward and Maria couldn’t help but smile at the nervousness in Wanda’s demeanour.

“Okay, you can go in, she is not busy so…”

Wanda straightened up, her body hurting with all the pressure she had put it up to while waiting this moment. She let her eyes go from the desk to the office door, then back to a reassuring Maria and a exasperate Valerie.

“Thank you, for everything.”

“Don’t mention it, Wanda, go and enjoy the evening.”

Maria watched as Wanda disappeared behind the door of your office, she turned around grabbing her tablet until something caught her eyes. She could see the screen of the security camera that had been placed in the laboratory offered to Vision, the man was sitting still talking over the phone. That in itself didn’t bother Maria too much, what caught her attention and made the bells of alarm inside her head started playing was the fact he was alone. There was no one inside the office, or the floor for that matter. In all the time the man had been offered the floor of investigation, it had never been left alone, there was always someone there being it someone from his own bucket or someone from Alchemax.

It was empty but by the man sitting by his desk.

Then, Maria noticed the picture, it was a picture of him, Wanda and the twins.

Never before, not until now he had said or even hinted to having a family, and while Maria knew this for obvious reasons, the fact he all of a sudden appeared with this detail of his personal life was suspicious. The woman hesitated, right beside the picture was a laptop, a green one she had never seen before. Pursing her lips, she decided this was best to be consulted with Fury and the head of security in the building.

Maria hesitated; she turned around to see your door closed. For a moment she played with the idea of telling you about this, of warning Wanda but something stopped her. It wasn’t as if Vision knew about Wanda, as if he knew about what would happen to him in a weeks’ time.

 “Mrs. Hill, is everything alright?” The secretary asked furrowing her brows in confusion, Maria turned to her chuckling.

“Yeah, just begging this year is over already.” Maria locked the tablet turning around, “good night, Mrs. Valerie, you can go home now if you want to, Mrs. Y/L/N will leave soon and you could use the rest.”

________________

You were finishing the last of the files Maria had put on your desk so kindly early that morning. Your eyesight was already blurry and your eyes felt tired.

You yawned resting the piece of paper on the desk, leaning back on the chair you turned around to see the light of the day fading away slowly. If you put your mind into that last report, you could make it home on time and actually see Wanda without having to rush the conversation. America had already told you she was going to be at her place, and you knew you could convince her to take care of the twins while you took Wanda out to drink something. You smiled thinking about that, perhaps surprising them…

“For all your talk about being busy and having to work so hard, you look awfully unoccupied and quite lazy over there.”

You almost fall off of the chair when the voice of Wanda reached you out, you turned around to see the woman standing right there in the middle of your office wearing the most stunning black dress you had ever seen on her. She had her hair put up into a beautiful ponytail leaving her neck and collarbone exposed to your eyes, Wanda had not moved from the spot she was in and you could barely stand up while taking into her beautiful form. She had chosen a black dress, with a V line going all the way to the chest area, and thin straps pressing softly on her shoulders. The dress wen all the way down, but there was a side-slit that gave her the chance to show her creamy legs.

Wanda had been reluctant to wear the dress at first, she had argued with Natasha and Hope the wisdom behind wearing such an article of clothing but both women had felt that it would not only fit her figure, but it was also a chance for her to feel past her insecurities. Now that she was standing in front of you, she understood what they meant.

“Wanda…” You stuttered shaking your head while striding towards her pulling her to you and kissing her hard.

The kiss took her breath away, and her hands let go of the purse while they went around the back of your neck. You kissed her with the pent-up emotions you held for her, with the longing you had felt that week for not being able to see her the same way you did the week before. And finally because she looked stunning.

“I take it you like the dress?” Wanda was breathing hard, holding onto you with a shy smile.

“I…” You held back before you said something that you might not be ready to say, you hesitated and then kissed her again, this time around slowly.

“You look amazing, love.” You whispered leaning back, you looked at her again before grabbing her hand and leading her to the closest sofa. “This is the best surprised ever, and not that I’m not grateful or anything but, what are you doing here?”

“Well, I just thought you had been having such a rough week, and actually you are the one that always is there preparing something or inviting us…” Wanda shrugged, lowering her face to try to hide her blush, “I just thought I cold surprise you this time around.”

“You did.” You sat beside her, tilting your head to the window then back to Wanda, “aren’t you cold?”

“Oh, I left the coat back in the car, I just want you to see me in the dress.” Wanda gave off a mischievous stare that made you laughed.

“So, you came all the way to my office to pick me up or do you have more, mischievous intentions, Mrs. Maximoff?” You asked teasingly, Wanda shrugged playfully chewing on her lower lip while locking her eyes with you.

“I actually came here to ask you out.”

Your eyebrows went up, just as your pupils dilated thinking about the meaning behind Wanda’s words. The young woman sat there waiting for you to say something, but when nothing came she straightened up sitting at the edge of the sofa while looking at you, hare hand falling on your knee and her green eyes filled with uncertainty and expectations.

“I want to have a night with you, just you and me,” she started tumbling over her words, trying to keep eye contact with you while revealing her emotions, “I know you had been working hard, and I…I have never missed anyone the way I missed you. I just thought, in all this time, we are always with someone by our side, I think we deserved a night out, just the two of us, if you want to.”

There was a long silence after Wanda stopped talking, she wanted to keep holding your stare but all of a sudden it was hard to do so. She looked away giving off a reluctant smile, her heart hammering hard against her ribcage and the old insecurities attacked her mind when your answer took more than what she expected.

“I mean, you don’t have to…”

Wanda held her breath when your hand rested on her naked leg and you leaned closer to you. There was nothing on your face to reveal what you were really feeling, or experimenting at the moment, but when Wanda locked her eyes with yours her breath was taken away, and she just leaning in until your lips were bushing against hers.

“Of course, I would go out with you, Wands.” You whispered tenderly, your fingertips teasing the skin around her knee while your lips sent tingles down her back, “Wanda I…”

You closed the distance between the both of you, the kiss this time around took your breath away with how soft and tentative it was. It held no lust or need, only…

Love.

You let your lips do the talking, you tried to tell Wanda everything you felt for her in a single kiss. Your hands leaving behind a trail of burning desired that made Wanda whimper into your mouth, tilting her head to deepen a kiss you directed in slow and tentative paths. By the time the both of you parted, you knew without a single glimpse of a doubt that you were in love with Wanda Maximoff.

“I am dying to see what you prepare for us love, but…” you could see the fear flashing in her green eyes, you soothed her with a tender smile, “I need to finish a report, it’s one page and my signature and we are good to go, would you mind waiting? Can we afford that delay?”

Wanda nodded holding your hand on her knee.

“Yes, I…I came here early so,” she turned to her purse that was still on the floor, “do you think I can call back home? Find out how they are doing, and we can meet back at my car.”

You scrunched up your nose, standing up while offering your hand to Wanda. She stood up well-aware of your eyes on her body, a bubble of satisfaction filled her chest and there was some pride into knowing you could not take your eyes off of her.

“Yeah, sure…but, you didn’t park here?” You walked to the purse bending to pick it up before bowing in front of Wanda, a teasing smile showing on your face, “my lady, someone a beautiful and as regal as yourself should not worry as long as I am here…you have me at your mercy.”

Wanda blushed giggling at your antics while grabbing her purse.

“I don’t park here, dummy.” She sneaked her arm around your hips pulling you closer to her, she enjoyed the gasp that escape your lips and the way your eyes went wide open at the sudden hold she had on you, “I was supposed to surprised you, so I parked in the visitors lot.”

You shivered under her embrace, and Wanda was suddenly enjoying the fact she was not the only one that got affected by these gestures. Your mind went fuzzy for a moment until an alarm coming from your phone woke you up.

“Okay, okay…” You stepped back shaking your head, Wanda pressed her lips together trying to hide her smile. “You can call them and, give me 10 minutes? I will be down and we can go.”

“Okay, sounds perfect.”

“By the way, where are you taking me?” You finally asked, Wanda shook her head walking backwards, her lips curled into a mischievous smile.

“Nu-uh, it’s a surprised, love. I’ll wait for you downstairs.”

“Wanda, you really look beautiful tonight, I just…” You hesitated not finding the right words, Wanda seemed to understand, she could read it in the way your struggled to say something without being inappropriate.

“I know, me too.” She confessed shyly, “I just…”

“Hey, it’s okay, I know.” You approached her kissing her lips one more, “I’m not in a hurry, I just want you to know how stunning you are, how amazing and intelligent and…”

Wanda laughed pecking your lips shaking her head, “yes, yes, I know go back to your work, I give you ten minutes or there will be a punishment.”

“Ugh, do you promise?” You asked back winking at her, Wanda opened her eyes her jaw dropping at the suggestive tone you used.

“Y/N!”

“Wanda!”

Wanda opened and closed her mouth; she huffed turning around and leaving your office. You stood there for a couple of seconds thinking about Wanda when your phone rang. You jumped startled making your way to the desk.

“Yes?”

“Ah, Y/N I’m glad I could catch you up before you left,” You blinked a couple of times trying to catch the name and face behind the voice, in less than a minute you remembered who was at the other end of the line.

“Oh, Jarvis, yes, I’m finishing some reports, tell me how I can help you?” You winced knowing your deals with this man should be short but yet professional enough as to not raise any suspicions.

“There is something urgent I need to discuss with you, you see, my family…my wife, she…she has not been feeling well, and we may need to leave but… would you mind coming here? I would like to speak with you but I can’t leave the current experiment I’m working on.”

You were actually surprised by this request, the man sounded genuinely worried and there was something else in his tone of voice you couldn’t quite name. You hesitated for a moment, the file you had been reading could wait, but what really worried you was the fact that Wanda was waiting for you.

“I’ll be right there,” you hung up turning around to pick up your things ready to leave the office.

The walk to the lift was a quiet one, you wrote Wanda a message before hesitating. You could tell Fury what Jarvis had just told you, the man was ready to leave apparently and while you were pretty sure Fury knew about it, you decided it would be best to send the other man a message.

I just talk to Jarvis, he wants to see me because he has an issue with his wife. He just told me they are leaving, so you better hurry up, Fury, seems he will leave town soon.

With a sight you put the phone inside your pocket and marked the fifth floor.

The place was completely empty.

This in itself was strange, but not really unheard of.

You stepped into the corridor going through your last conversation with Wanda until you reached the office at the end of the hall. Without bothering to know you enter the place, the office was empty, with the light coming from the screen reflecting on the dark shades covering the windows. You frowned looking around to see if perhaps you had missed Jarvis at some point but there was nothing. Turning around, you were about to call the man when one of the lab doors opened and there was the man wearing the same creepy smile you had seen on that first encounter.

“Y/N, thank you for coming.” He smiled pointing to the lab with his thumb, “I was working on something…”

“Oh, right, you mention it,” you made a face, “sorry I forgot, so let’s go inside then and tell me what happen.”

You entered the lab noticing the changes the man had done to the place, several computers had been connected to a single source of information. In normal days, the offices were always full of people trying to make a software or a military program to work, but that day the silence was daunting. There was something strange in all of this, and it wasn’t until you heard the door closed behind you that the alarms inside your head rose with a single blasting red that filled you with an unpleasant shiver.

“So, Jarvis, what is it you wanted to tell me? I’m sorry, it’s just someone it’s waiting for me.” You tried to ease out the conversation, letting him know you were not alone.

The man smirked, he could no longer held back his expressions, and the smirk on his lips made you tensed completely. The man started walking, his footsteps feeling out the silence in the room, you clenched your fists but he walked past you.

“I noticed the young woman that came for you, I must say she is quite beautiful.” He commented offhandedly, you frowned not really knowing what to say, but before anything could be said or done he lifted a picture frame he had on the desk.

“Here, I think I never got a chance to show you my family, did I?” The way he made an emphasis on the word mine shook your very core.

You narrowed your eyes, the man had not lost his smile, and his hand held the object with a glint of anger by the way they trembled and clenched around the glass. You hesitated before stepping closer and grabbing the frame.

Your blood ran cold when your eyes fell upon the single figure of Wanda Maximoff standing behind Vision. It couldn’t be! It couldn’t be! Why didn’t Maria or Fury tell you? Your head was spinning out of control, nausea raising up inside your throat when the full meaning of this meeting, of this man, of the whole situation came blasting right in front of your eyes.

It happened in a second.

Your eyes blasted fireworks, while a piercing pain went through your head and back. Your lips parted letting out a bloodcurdling scream filled with pain. You staggered forward dropping the frame to the floor, the sound of crystal breaking filled the room and give you enough time to hold onto the table and rolled to the side before Jarvis could hit you again.

You were still trying to get a hold of the pain and your surroundings; the man was speaking while he came onto you hitting you on your left arm.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out? That I would never notice you were with my wife?” The man was screaming, the flashlight he had used to hit you with laid on the floor but then he found his fists could do the job just fine.

“Did you really thought I was going to leave that fucking bitch? That I will leave her for you?”

“You…” You staggered backwards, moving aside until Jarvis hit the window, the man let out a scream, and the moment of distraction was all that you needed to hold your head and then ran forward.

Your fists hit him straight on the cheek, you winced before lifting your other fist and hitting him on the stomach.

“I am not someone you want to mess with!” You exclaimed hitting him with a precision born out of those months of training you had spent in high school and college; you were out of shape but you remembered enough to try and stop the violent attack against your persona.

Jarvis snarled lifting his leg, his mouth breaking into a satisfactory laugh when you crashed against the glassed window, blood coming out of the wounds on your head. He strode towards you grabbing you by your clothes and putting you up.

“That fucking bitch thought she was going to run away with my children? That she will escape me? That bitch is mine, and after I have kill you I’m going to enjoy breaking her.”

“NO!”

You gathered strength from deep within your core, your hand scratching his face and poking his eye until you felt something exploded in there. He screamed out crashing your head and back against the wall, you let out an exclamation of pain kicking and struggling until the man hit you on your face and let you on the ground kicking you a couple of times before staggering backwards.

“If…if she…” He breathed out pointing a finger at you, blood poring from his nose, lip and eye, “if she is not with me…she is for no one.”

You tried to stand up but your knees failed you, Jarvis came onto you and with another punch he made you fall backwards. Consciousness slipping away from your, whimpers of pain leaving your lips until he lifted you up only to crash you against the floor several times. The last thing you thought of was Wanda, and you wished the message you sent to Fury would be enough to make them curios.

“Wanda…” you breathed out, Jarvis snarled at you grabbing your phone while going over the message you shared with Wanda.

“I’m in the parking lot waiting, love, America said the twins are fine ready to watch a movie.”

The man threw the phone towards the closest wall hearing with pleasure the crashing of metal and glass. He kicked you once more, your eyes closed and your breathing difficult while your body spasmed.

“Next time, you will only see her rooting corpse.” Jarvis said, he was not in better shape, he staggered towards the door trying to hold onto the burning pain on his eye and body. He opened the door and closed it, locking it behind himself.

His hand went directly to the gun he had kept on his pockets, he had been tempted to put a bullet in between your eyes but Jarvis had only three bullets, and there was a name on them already. He smirked, the best vengeance for you would b that you were useless and, at the end of the day, you could not save Wanda, Billy, Tommy and your sister. __________ Wanda stood by her car wrapping her arms around herself, the flush she had been wearing since leaving your office was still present accompanied by the soft smile she wore with thoughts about you. Her heart was still beating fast, and her body was tingling with want. 

She lowered her gaze to the city, the traffic filling out the streets and the light of the day fading away. Wanda shivered feeling the cold of the afternoon, she hesitated playing with the idea of taking her coat out of the car, but she decided against it waiting for you to help her warm up.

Her mobile vibrated on her purse, furrowing her brows she was about to pick it up when the sound of footsteps reached her ears. She smiled turning around only to have her heart dropped down and her blood running cold inside her veins, her smiled dropped and her feet stepped back but it was not fast enough. She let out a groan when he his fist crashed against her face.

“Wanda, dear, I'm so glad I finally found you.” Jarvis narrowed his eyes, his fist closed and ready to strike again, “my love, is that any way to greet your husband? You master? Your owner?”

Wanda put a hand on her cheek, eyes going wide opened as she took in the man in front of her. Her green eyes went to the disheveled clothes he was wearing, filled with glass and blood, his face swelled around his broken lip and nose, and his left eye bleeding. There was a thin layer of sweat on her skin, and he was breathing hard. 

Jarvis leaned forward grabbing Wanda by her hair, he crashed his lips on her forcing a kiss that came with teeth and bruises. Wanda retchet trying to get away only for Jarvis to pull her hair harder, hitting her again.

“Now, my love, you know better than to fight me, aren't you glad to see me? You didn't really think you could escape me, did you?”

Wanda was completely frozen, her mind going over a hundred and a thousand question while she also looked for a way to escape. She thought about you, soon you would come…

“Y/N…” she whispered your name without meaning to, it had been more than ten minutes since you wrote to Wanda informing her you were going down. 

And Jarvis…

The man smirked pulling Wanda by her hair before throwing her to the ground. His hand reached for the gun that was now pointing at her.

“Ah, yes, your lesbian lover…she is…indisposed at the moment,” Jarvis was trembling, he lifted his leg ready to strike Wanda but decided against it, “I thought she may join us in our family reunion, but I think we will need a babysitter while I claim your body and clean you up for ever thinking you could let anyone but me touch you.”

“No, no, no…” Wanda stood up fighting against the hold Jarvis had on her until the gun pressed against her cheek.

“Nu-uh, dear, you keep fighting I will put a bullet in your head and take the children with me.”

That was all Wanda needed to know to stop struggling, her eyes opened in horror and Jarvis smiled caressing her face.

“Why must you be so difficult? We could have been forever, Wanda, and now I have to punish you.” Jarvis straightened up pointing to the car. “Now, let's go, I missed my children and I think it is time for the family reunion.”

_____________________________________________________________

Next Chapter: Reader is badly injured but even like that she makes a foolish sacrifice that leaves everyone devasted, the twins, America and Kate are fine, but Wanda may need more time to recover. Jarvis gets what he deserves and Agatha is just a memory. In the end, New Year doesn't seem to come with a happy ending-

[deceptive-daydreams]

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Twelve - The Holiday Season Begins

W/C: 8.7K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

"I've got my eye on you."

Say Yes To Heaven - L.D.R

A/N: Wow I think this is the longest I've gone without posting a chapter. I really hope you guys enjoy this one. I wrote it in bits and pieces and read it over several times. I would really really really love to know what you think, this one is so special and personal to me.

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Sugary apple goo.

You think back to Thanksgiving back home, a ruckus constant in the kitchen as dinner is prepared, more than enough food to feed an entire village.  Pots and pans clank together, trays create an echo as they are not-so-carefully placed atop the counter.  Dinner rolls are burned but still enjoyed with warm cinnamon butter.  The potatoes are a touch too lumpy but still desirable with notes of rosemary and an ungodly amount of garlic.  Various smells, both sweet and savory flood the house, your poor, stressed out mother churning out dish after dish, siblings all engaged in some kind of ball game out in the street just after watching the Thanksgiving Day parade.  

You tend to the green bean casserole, an easy dish that you couldn’t screw up even with your limited attention span.  Cream of Mushroom soup from a can seemed so repulsive in itself although it brought the whole dish together.  It didn’t matter that seconds prior it slumped against the green beans still in the shape of the can, nearly gelatinous.  Once stirred in and baked with crispy onions layered over the top, it was a masterpiece.  A five star dish in your book.

It would only be a matter of time before grandma showed up with her famously delicious apple pie, the crust coated in extra amounts of grainy sugar, the dish still piping hot.  And the “sugary apple goo” as you used to call it at the age of three already had your mouth watering just thinking about it, crispy apples so fresh and topped with syrupy caramelized sauce topped off with cinnamon and nutmeg, all wrapped up in a flaky, buttery crust.  

You sigh, piling the apple mixture on top of the homemade graham cracker crust.  It wasn’t clear to you just how lonely Thanksgiving morning would be without anyone around.  Sure, you had Donnie’s to look forward to this evening but until then, you were on your own, the parade quietly playing on the TV though you hadn’t been very impressed with the floats this year.  Holiday depression was kicking in, a kind you hadn’t experienced yet.  They were usually always a happy time, family surrounding you and distracting you from the lonesome thoughts you usually had.  This year it started feeling more like a ton of bricks was sitting on your chest, no one able to aid in providing you with some kind of task such as the honor of making the green bean casserole to ease the pressure.

It wasn’t like you couldn’t just make the controversially delicious dish, you had everything stashed in the pantry.  It just didn’t feel right.  It went unnoticed by you that tears were slowly sliding down your cheeks until a fat one landed on your wrist as you finished spooning the apple filling.  

Again?

In that moment you swear you looked the most pitiful you had ever looked in your entire life, tears trailing down your face silently, all alone, homesick.  You should be in your pajamas playing some kind of a board game on the coffee table in the living room, surrounded by your siblings.  Not throwing yourself a pity party while spreading apple goo.  To top it off, your hands had gotten completely covered, the sauce making your fingers undesirably sticky.  You hadn’t quite reached the point of sobs yet though you suppose if you let the goo linger on your hands any longer you would.

Some comforting folk music your grandpa used to play religiously rang through the house though you felt no such comfort.  Not as much as you’d hoped anyway.  It brought a familiar sense of his essence to you, his passing three years ago not settling right in your heart.  It only made you more homesick.

But you weren’t going to let yourself soak in salty tears and sticky apples.  No, you washed your hands in soothing warm water, the sludge sliding right off and into the metal of the sink, eyes puffy and red but void of tears for the time being.  You’d sucked them back and changed the music to something more upbeat, some Elvis that your grandpa had also engrained deeply into your brain though you hoped the faster tempo would brighten your spirits and ignite the happy memories.

Only, it landed you on the couch in a whole new sea of sobs this time as Unchained Melody lingered in the lonely room.  There was no getting a grip on the gut-wrenching, stomach-aching isolation you were feeling, sanity was long gone.  You were supposed to be trimming the dough that was meant to create the criss cross pattern for the pie, you were supposed to be enjoying your glass of wine as you sang under your breath to familiar tunes, you were supposed to be okay.  

It was you, after all, who had made the decision to move, right?  It was you who picked up your entire life and plopped it right in the middle of some unknown mountain town in search of yourself.  You feared that you were just losing yourself instead, forgetting just after a few months what it felt like to be surrounded by loved ones, forgetting how it felt to come home to a full house after a grueling shift at the local Denny’s.  You smelled of burnt coffee and dry eggs, your hair greasier than the literal grease trap, but none of that mattered the second you stepped into the coziness of the living room, all family dysfunction left at the door.

The tears wouldn’t stop though you still managed to force yourself off of the couch, wiping snot away with the back of your hand as you stared at the messy kitchen in despair.  Everything suddenly seemed so…impossible.  How were you meant to do anything while simultaneously questioning your entire existence, your entire meaning of life?

You had been in such disarray that cleaning up as you went didn’t even seem close to an option, nearly every pot and pan either set on top of the stove or thrown in the sink, whisks and spatulas scattered among the mess, and apple skins littering the floor.  Now you were taking in the aftermath, not even having the finished product to show as an excuse for the complete disaster, even the dough still rolled out on the cutting board.  You had hours left to prepare though it felt like seconds ticking by to inevitable disappointment.  

The end of the world felt like it weighed down on your shoulders yet you did what you did best each time.  You set it aside and pressed on.  It was never simple, weak hands grasping the dull knife, slicing through the dough to create uniform strips.  Motivation was running dry, the desire to grace everyone with the most delicious apple pie they’d ever tasted was out the window, you could only do what your body allowed.

And like every other time you had to pull yourself out of the gutter.  Life began to bleed back into your eyes as your creation came back to life.  Puffiness still remained throughout your face, eyes still droopy but slowly your drive kicked back into gear.  Sniffles from previous snotty tears continued but nothing felt better than laying down the last layer of dough over the apple filling, a quest conquered.  

Finishing off your cheap red wine, you reward yourself by licking off the spoon you’d used for the filling.  The kitchen still required a good scrub down but you could live with the mess a little while longer as you indulged in the sweetness.  Something well deserved.  You didn’t even want to think about the nightmare that Christmas was about to become, decorating your tree with only the company of your dreaded thoughts.  That was a scenario you were not willing to wander into, at least not until it would actually happen.  There was no sense in making yourself live through it twice, your brain longing to torture you with irrational possibilities.

Elvis’s voice continues to carry through the living room, a second glass of wine being poured in hopes of easing your homesickness, attempting to neglect thoughts of what you would usually be doing right now.  It was barely working, only leaving you feeling slightly lazy with a good layer of sadness still looming over you like a storm cloud.  There was no extinguishing the sorrows you felt for familiarity and the comfort the holidays were supposed to bring you.

Sudden knocking sends you into a brief panic, unexpected guests were not in the cards for your lonesome morning that had only served to encourage your crybaby tendencies.  At the very least you got a pie out of it.

The knocking persists as you scramble up from your depressing divot on the couch, a certain urgency waving over you at the speed of the knocks.  They were rapid, quick pecks at the wood, a worrisome speed that usually constituted an emergency in the end.  

Why today, why now?

With a heavy sigh, you swing the door open, glass of half-finished wine in one hand while the other runs down your drained face.  You expect some kind of eviction notice; god knows why since you own the place.  Maybe the check hadn’t reached the mortgage company, maybe it had been intercepted in transit.  The last thing you expect on your doorstep is a wide-eyed Eddie cradling a large bowl in one arm.  His gray sweatpants swallow his legs and hang low on his hips, a sliver of his tummy on display in between his t-shirt and pants.

It’s conflicting.  Do you act concerned and start begging the questions:  Did something happen?  Who’s injured?  Or do you exhale in relief as a tiny smile tugs at the corners of his mouth even in his somewhat distressed state?  It can’t be that bad if he still finds it in himself to smile, right?

“I, uh, I need help.”  He says sheepishly.

Ever since the night of the hoedown, he’d been a new kind of shy with you.  You couldn’t lie and say you didn’t adore it because truth be told, big bad Eddie Munson who previously chewed you out for being so bashful was now getting a taste of his own medicine.  Except you had been much kinder than he initially was, though it was fun to tease him and force his face to turn a vibrant tomato red.  

“Help?”  You smirk, swirling your wine as if you were some kind of connoisseur.  “My, my, how the tables have turned.”

“Bambi.”  He groans, still maintaining focused eye contact with the wood planks of your porch.

“Eddie.”  

It’s said so softly, in a way that reduces him to a puddle, his knees could give out at any moment if you so much as looked at him a certain way which had been why he refused to catch your gaze.  He internally curses himself for automatically counting under his breath, unable to stop himself: one, two, three, one, two, three.

In an instant your face falls, he only ever counted when he was stressed from what you could gather.  It was a learning curve, navigating Eddie’s quirks.

“Hey.”  You soothe, gingerly grabbing his wrist with your free hand.  “Hey, what’s wrong?”  

His curls bounce with a shake of his head, his eyes fluttering shut.  The counting stops but he still comes across as fuzzy.  Disoriented.  

“Come inside.”  You whisper, gently tugging him through the door, your wine abandoned at the entry table in the process.  “It’s freezing out.”

Instinctually he hands you the bowl he’d been cradling close to his body with a wooden spoon sticking out.  Upon further inspection, a mountain of mashed potatoes-or should you say lumps of potatoes are piled up within the bowl.  The skins are still intact, way too many if he intended to make smooth and creamy potatoes.  They’d be much less than enjoyable in the state they were currently in.

“I fucked them up.”  He whispers.

The sight you’re met with is that of a small child in a grown man’s body, his large eyes pleading.  You’re forced to realize that today may very well be much worse for him than it is for you.  He’d warned you that he didn’t do holidays and here he was, a nervous wreck turning up on your doorstep in a panic with lumpy potatoes.  And suddenly you felt so selfish.

“That’s okay.”  You assure him, tracing a tender thumb over his bicep.  He looked so lost.  “Eddie, it’s okay.”  You repeat with a nod.

“I just, I was gonna buy something from the store, and then, I just thought–I dunno maybe I’d at least try.”  He tugs on his curls, a bit too harshly for your liking.  “I don’t know why I even tried.”  He sighs in defeat.

It’s enough to break your heart.

“Eddie.”  

Turmoil flashes in his eyes, stress apparent in the way his brows furrow and his frown lines grow deeper.  His lips are red, most likely bitten, and he can’t stop twisting one of his rings around his finger.  He looks to be as much of a wreck as you felt although the symptoms seem to be much more apparent in his appearance than yours.  Your slightly swollen eyes were nothing compared to his tousled curls, anxieties littered across his face and trembling hands unable to be subtly hidden without the crutch of sleeves.

“I, uh, I-I shouldn’t have bothered.”  He mutters, reaching for the door.

You intercept him, your hand wrapping around his elbow while you attempt to meet his eyes.  He freezes in his escape, your touch rendering him paralyzed, your fingers suddenly too determined in digging into the meat of his arm.  Not meanly.  Never meanly.  More concerned.  Concerned for the way he cowers away the second he’s offered any fraction of help.  Perhaps it’s hypocritical of you to regard him with such worry when you yourself present the same behaviors under the same circumstances and expect no such treatment.

Your expression offers a certain softness that he’s come across one too many times since you’d barged into his life and taken his heart hostage.  You’d never know you committed such a crime.  And he’d never outright tell you of the ache that sat deep in his chest that he had no clue how to satiate.  All he knew was that he could not jeopardize this.  If he could get through the holidays, if he could get to January and you were still around, then, and only then would he be convinced that he had finally lifted whatever fucked up, out-of-this-world curse that had haunted him all his life.

“It’s okay.”  Barely above a whisper, you assure him.

Eddie doesn’t remember making his way into your kitchen, he can’t recall your delicate hand pulling him along until you let go to discard his potato concoction onto the counter and he realizes he’s taken the warmth for granted in a haze of existential dread.  Like a lost puppy, he stares at your fingertips as they linger on the counter while you lean over to reach for an empty casserole dish.  The entirety of your kitchen cabinets had thrown up all over the counters, a reflection of the way his brain felt.  Scattered.  

“Potatoes are actually super complicated.”  

His ears perk up, unsure of how to conjure up a response.  Instead, he raises his eyebrows, fearful of how dumb he could make himself look with just a few syllables.  It wasn’t like him to care so deeply what others thought of him.

“That’s why I avoid them.  Instead–”  You turn around only to pull out a can of green beans and a can of cream of mushroom.  “-work smarter, not harder.”

Eddie knows he should be hanging onto every word you say and usually he would be, he knows.  Except he can’t help but tune into the melody of Blue Christmas that had been echoing off the kitchen walls from your record player across the room.

The damn record player.  And the records.

He didn’t realize how much the records still affected him.  He had his own collection now, sure.  But anything that resembled the essence of his Mama, lived safely and soundly on its dedicated shelf in his room, untouched.  It took him years to rebuild Mama’s collection.

“Sorry can we-”  He makes his way toward the record player, his face contorted nearly painfully before lifting the needle.  “I just-I can’t think.”

Your motions were paused, can opener halfway through the can of beans as your eyes meet him with questions splayed across your face.  You don’t ask them.  An understanding smile works its way across your lips and god, he doesn’t know why you’re so patient with him after he stepped into your house and suddenly had the uncontrollable urge to shut off your music.  As he strides back into the kitchen, a series of apologies haven't even left his mouth and yet-

“So…Green Bean Casserole.”  You state, fingers tapping against the tin of each can.  “And Sugary Apple Goo.”  A vague gesture toward the uncooked pie.  “Kind of a…weird duo.  Or it will be if I actually get it in the oven-”

“Sorry, what?”  

“Apple pie.  The apple pie.  At home we just call it sugary apple goo, don’t ask why it’s just–it’s just a thing we do.”  You clarify, shoving the dessert into the comforting warmth of the oven, shivering at the sensation as goosebumps begin to prick your skin.

“Apple goo.”  He repeats.  A raised brow disappearing beyond his messy bangs.

Eddie almost forgets the reason why he’d been in such disarray, almost forgets why he even bothered knocking on your door in the first place, only remembers the fact that he was in a panicked state.

“Yeah.”  You sigh.

You busy yourself with slopping the now drained green beans into a nearby glass bowl.  Your blotchy skin and puffy eyes catch in the stream of sunlight, the kitchen window betraying you as it showcases your true state.  Avoiding those large brown eyes is the best you can do, the theory that if you can’t see him he can’t see you dumbly being put to use no matter how aware you are that it makes no sense.  Maybe if you act “okay enough”, he’ll chalk it up to the common cold, placing the responsibility for your rudolph-like nose on the yearly infection.

What you fail to realize is that by this point, he’s become too familiar with your teary eyes and sad worry lines that only seemed prominent in your times of distress.  Times that he had regretfully been the cause of previously.  Words can’t escape his practically sewn-shut-mouth, all sounds dying long before forming on his tongue.  It’s impossible to create comfort when he himself has trouble doing so for himself.  How could he possibly offer such comfort to someone who deserved kinder words from someone of a higher regard?

“Here, dump this in and mix.”  You instruct, forcing a can of cream of mushroom and a wooden spoon in his hands, yanking him out of his mind.

There’s no room for protest, not that he even intended to.  Not when you’re standing there with the ghost of tear tracks down your cheeks.  Not when you’re this kind.  Not when you’re you.  

“Okay.”  He mutters, a disgusting sound filling his ears from the lumpy soup falling into the bowl.

“After that, pour it in here.”  You place a ceramic casserole dish to his right, the dish nearly too large to fit on the cluttered counter though you’re too occupied with tidying up other parts of the kitchen to bother.

“Got it.”

Eddie Munson absolutely hates Thanksgiving.  But he doesn’t mind it so much when you’re rustling around behind him, a silent conversation hanging in the air that neither of you are alone in your holiday sorrows, whatever they may be.

You don’t ask why he continues counting under his breath behind you or why his hands are shaking.

And he doesn’t ask why tears linger in your eyes or why you pause to regain your composure after dropping a pan a bit too loudly for your liking, your lip wobbling.

Because the collective understanding is that neither of you is okay.  And maybe that’s okay.

–

“Careful, the bottom is–”

“Shit!”

“-hot.”

A ringed hand waves around in an effort to rid it of the burning sensation caused by the bottom of the piping hot casserole dish.  Eddie releases a series of curses, the side of the dish pushed against his chest as he balances it between his body and his single arm protected by one of your generously donated dish rags.  Your wide eyes caution him in his balancing act, a perfectly crafted green bean casserole at risk due to his negligence as he had taken the liberty of knocking on the door.

“What the fuck, how can fuckin’ beans be so goddamn hot?”  Brown eyes nearly roll into the back of his head, his fingertips more than likely singed an angry red.

It’s no laughing matter, not according to the scowl that makes its way across his handsome features but you can’t stop the pull of your lips from forming a large grin, giggles caught in the back of your throat.  His irritation disappears just as quickly as it came, harsh edges blurring into softness at the sight of your puffed out cheeks, inflated due to the humor just dying to crawl out of your mouth.

“Oh, shut up.”  A nudge of his shoulder against yours has you shaking your head, laughter finally escaping your perfectly glossed lips.

He could write paragraphs about them if it didn’t seem so creepy and stalkerish.  So he allowed himself the tiniest of glances, only hoping to paint the full picture in his head ever since you’d quickly puckered your lips in front of your mirror at home to complete your finishing touches while he viewed from the porch where he waited in his black button up and nicest pair of jeans.  He’d never been so jealous over a tube of lipgloss.  In fact, he’d never in his life been jealous of a tube of lipgloss and he never felt like more of a loser than in that moment.

“I told you.”  You mutter, an endearing side eye delivered right into his line of sight.  It was something almost child-like, something innocent and not at all like what he’d ever really been on the receiving end of.  Maybe because there was a certain flirtiness you were hinting at although he was no expert and had no right to assume.

“I told you.”  He mumbles back with a higher pitch, mocking you.

You turn toward him, a comeback on the tip of your tongue when his own tongue interrupts with a taunt, peeking out between his lips swiftly, his nose scrunching up meanly before his full attention is back on the door as it creaks open.  And then, a quick wink that only you yourself were a witness to, only creating a stir in your brain as you decipher that no one else would be able to confirm the action.

“Hey!”  Donnie greets, arms flung up in excitement as she ushers you into her welcoming home, smells infiltrating your nose, sweet and savory galore.

Before either you or Eddie can even get a simple “hello” in, she’s talking your ear off, something about who all is already in the living room, how far along the turkey is, where the bathroom is, all while guiding you into the spacious dining room.  She must have set out her fine china, the gorgeous dishes set all around the table lined with champagne colored silver on the edges of the plates.  Two tables had been pushed together, creating enough space for the large number of guests expected.  In the center sat an exquisite arrangement of various orange-hued flowers and some greenery.  

The house was comforting; not too large and not too small, a two story dream that no doubt had acres of backyard.  The Christmas tree had already been set up and decorated, the branches and lights hinting at you from the other room where men roared with laughter, a football game blaring from the TV that contrasted with the familiar voice of Frank Sinatra coming from the stereo.  Combined turkey and Santa decorations adorned the interior everywhere you glanced, surfaces that would usually be empty year around were occupied with tacky little figurines that were more endearing than anything.  Plastic garland traced the rails of the stairs, littered in fake plastic cranberries, the front room being far more grand than your entire home as you inspected it through the archway of the dining room.

Suddenly your nerves were simmering down, a familiar feeling nestling into the bottom of your chest as your shoulders fell from their tensed position, your fingers letting up on their grip on the pie tin you clutched so desperately.  Women squealed from the kitchen, a series of “oh my god”s erupting into the rest of the house, some kind of juicy gossip initiating several gasps as well as some laughter.  Your homesickness began to lie dormant, warmth overtaking you as Donnie went on and on about her family members, which ones to avoid sitting next to at all costs and warning you of the aunties that would corner you and beg for details on your love life.

“Just pretend I’m calling you and run as fast as you can in the other direction.”  She advises.  “And if that doesn’t work, tell ‘em you had too much wine and that it’s making a reappearance.  They’ll scatter like flies.”

You laugh along, taking mental notes as she grabs the pie from you, complimenting the smell as she sets it among several other desserts, a whole table dedicated only to sweets.  When she goes to grab the green bean casserole from Eddie, you can’t help but pause and watch as his doe eyes trace his surroundings, a clearly unfamiliar environment to him.  There’s uncertainty dripping from his demeanor, his single finger tapping against the dish:  One, two, three.  One, two, three.  One, two, three.

“Green bean casserole-Eddie, do you know how many green bean casserole we’ve got?  Like you all read each other’s mind, I swear.”  Donnie jokes.

“It’s-um, it’s hot.”  He cautions her.

Sauntering toward the main table, Donnie proudly sets it on top of a place mat to protect the wood from the heat.  Eddie doesn’t budge, seemingly glued to the carpet, his hands still lingering in the air like he had still been holding the dish.

“You okay?”  You mouth to him, looking up into his worried eyes, only hoping to soothe the crease in between his eyebrows.

He nods though you suspect he’s being a bit dishonest.  

“Oh, c’mon Eddie!  You know I’m just pullin’ your leg.”  Donnie reassures, a heavy hand falling against his shoulder.  “Shoot, I have to go check on the oven.  Yell for me if you need anything, both of you, okay?”  

“Sure.”  You mumble.  “Thank you.”

“There’s a fully stocked bar right over there, help yourselves.”  She calls as she backs herself up toward the kitchen.  “But don’t go too crazy.”  She sends a knowing glance, recalling both of your tendencies to take on more than you can handle.

“Why don’t we get some air?”  You suggest, unable to comprehend exactly just what was happening in Eddie’s mind although you knew enough to understand that he was miles outside of his comfort zone.

“No, no.  I’m good.”  A cleared throat doesn’t reassure you enough but you let it go for the time being.  Prying wasn’t going to help.  “”M gonna get a beer.”  He murmurs, chain jingling from his belt as he makes his way toward what you can only assume is the kitchen where Donnie had just disappeared to.

As pathetic as it seemed, you weren’t going to allow yourself to wander around alone, vulnerable to various conversations trapping you in small talk with strangers: an absolute nightmare.  Timidly, you follow behind Eddie at a safe distance, holding your breath as you take in the new room full of busy women and many glasses of wine.  The smell of gravy heavily lingers, a tinge of the sourly sweet alcohol peeking through as you release your breath and inhale finally.  

And then-they were all over him.  Sweet older women, ranging from around fifty plus years, all doting on him, cooing at him while complimenting how tall he is and his handsome features.  It only forces you to lean your hip against the counter and take in the most captivating scene you’d ever witnessed.  His cheeks redden, his entire face matching shortly after as he nods in response, small “thank you”s sneaking past his lips with a sheepish grin threatening to spread across his face, dimples prominent.  It’s clear he doesn’t know what to do with the attention, has no recognition of the power he currently holds.

“Is this one yours?!”  One woman shrieks, taking your hands in her bony ones.

“Oh-”

“You’re so lucky, he’s such a looker!”  Another chimes in.

“We’re not-”

“You better hope he holds onto all that hair throughout the years.”  A third nods.

Eddie’s face has never been redder, crimson painting his usually pale skin, a beer pinched in between his fingers as he avoids every single eye in the room.  You can only imagine the look on your own face, maybe slightly mortified with a hint of pink pulling at your cheeks due to the unnecessary attention.

“Alright, alright.”  Donnie interjects.  “Enough, you’re gonna scare ‘em away before they’ve even had a bite to eat!”  She waves her hands around, dramatics on full display as she shoos them away like pigeons.

“Thank you.”  You whisper, eyes large and surprised.

“Run, run.”  Donnie displays wide eyes, gently shoving you both out of the kitchen.

–

Throughout the evening, you kept Eddie in your peripheral.  Sure, he was grown and fully capable of taking care of himself but it didn’t worry you any less when holidays weren’t necessarily his favorite thing.  Anxieties lurked in the back of your mind the second he started counting earlier, never once fading away no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself that he was fine, now bantering back and forth with Sam.

“That Steve kid really can’t dance.”  Nathan laughs, pulling you back into the initial conversation you were having, perched on the couch with a glass of wine set in front of you on the coffee table courtesy of Donnie’s excellent hosting skills.

“Well that’s why he excused himself off the dancefloor.”  You softly smile, earning another hearty laugh from the man.

“Hey, but Eddie’s no better.”  He jokes, taking a swig of his beer.  “Looked like a damn giraffe stumbling over his own legs.”

“I wasn’t very coordinated either!”  You defend.  “We were a hot mess.”  You bury your face in your hands.

“Yeah, I bet Eddie thought you were hot.”

The recliner adjacent to you creaks beneath Jett as he makes himself comfortable, slouching with a beer in his hand.

“Whoa.”  Nathan leans forward, ready to reprimand him.  “What-”

“That’s okay.”  You speak softly, your hand covering the older man’s as an act of keeping the peace, something you did best.  Several seconds of contemplation and a glance across the room toward Eddie change your mind.  

“Actually-it’s not.”  You turn your body toward Jett, a man–child before your eyes that refused to even look at you after his comment.  Your hands shake and your cheeks heat with embarrassment, chalking your sudden confidence up to the glass and a half of wine you indulged in.  

“What?”  Jett furrows his brows, examining his beer far too aggressively as a means to avoid you.

“It’s not okay.”  You whisper, a wimpy excuse of a defense.

“What’s gotten into you, boy?”  Nathan scolds through gritted teeth.

Jett’s nearly-black eyes resemble something opposite in comparison to the warmth in those across the room currently harboring a twinkle in an engaged conversation.  The boy is unable to get a word in as you quietly begin to address him.

“Look, I’m sorry if I did something wrong.”  You regret the tremble in your tone, confrontation was well out of your comfort zone, especially with someone who had been so hostile for no reason.  It wasn’t in your DNA to be the “bad guy” even when it would benefit your wellbeing.

Something in your words softens Jett’s eyes, pulls a piece of him back into reality.  You weren’t terrorizing him and he couldn’t seem to grasp that ever since that night you had argued with Eddie behind the bar.  And you hadn’t spoken a word out of line but you weren’t clueless.  Clearly he had an agenda against you and Eddie, it never left your mind since Eddie mentioned that Jett got all over-protective suddenly that night and took it out on him.  But what could you do when all he did was puff out his chest rather than have a decent conversation?  His frayed emotions were not your responsibility, you owed him nothing if he was going to insist on acting like a toddler in adult situations.  You suppose some of it could be due to his lack of years behind yourself and Eddie, Jett still a teenager, almost twenty whereas you had been in your twenties for a few years now.  It wasn’t an excuse, just your brain attempting to work out his logic.

“You didn’t–you didn’t do anything wrong.”  He sighs, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

You don’t offer any words.  Only an expectant look.  Expecting of some kind of explanation as to why he’d been acting so cruel.  And as if the universe decided you didn’t live in enough anguish with your homesickness that morning paired with the current unwanted confrontation, Eddie’s eyes met yours for a brief moment before darting away, a deep sigh and suddenly slouching shoulders clearly indicating some kind of defeat before he quietly stepped out of the room.

“Can we get into this another time?”

You don’t wait for a response, excusing yourself to slip out of the room and follow the trail of cold out the front door, the chill seeping into your bones as your cradle your arms close to yourself.  The porch is spacious, something you hadn’t taken notice of earlier when arriving.  To your left, Eddie sits on a wooden bench with the family name “Scott” carved into it.  A cigarette takes its place between his fingers, his lighter flickering while he lets out a frustrated groan.  He places the stick between his lips and cups the flame to hide it from the wind, finally succeeding in lighting it, puffs of smoke escaping through the corners of his mouth.

“I’m not fragile, Bambi.  Stop following me around.”  He mutters, pulling the cigarette from his lips.  There’s no malice detected in his words, just something lacking hope as he stares straight ahead.

Carefully, you sit at the very edge of the bench, your skirt a tad too short to allow you to fully sit back due to the cold surface.  You catch a wave of his warmth as he rests his arm on his thigh.  It hurts, how far away he feels even being inches from you; his mind might as well be on Jupiter.  A momentary glance over at you causes him to sigh deeply, his head dipping down while he shakes it in disappointment.

“And dammit!”  Eddie snaps, face twitching in aggravation.  “I don’t have a jacket for you this time.  Learn how to dress for the cold.”  He gestures to your posture, your arms wrapped around your middle in an attempt to savor any warmth, and your jaw clenched shut as a means to keep your teeth from chattering though you can’t seem to contain the shivers nearly rattling your bones.

“I don’t need one.”

He scoffs, disbelief evident in his movements, a fidgeting hand reaching up to scratch the barely-there stubble at his jaw.  

“I don’t!”  You lie.

You were never one to willingly be dishonest but a little white lie in this case didn’t seem like the end of the world.  Not when Eddie’s fragile state of mind seemed to gnaw away at him.  You wouldn’t leave him out for the wolves to feed on him; wolves being his never ending thoughts that always without fail, won him over and forced him to crawl back into his comfort zone of isolation.  You suppose you weren’t so innocent either, always succumbing to the very same habits.

“Go back inside.”  A flick of his cigarette ash towards the ground ignites in the thin layer of snow barely coating the porch before extinguishing.

You can’t help the furrow in your brows, staring at him as if to figure him out, attempting to glance into his large coffee colored irises, to no avail.  His shiny eyes dodge your attempts, the windows of his soul closed off, even from you.  Not that you were immediately entitled, though you figure with each trauma he had shared with you, he’d at least be able to look you in the eye.

“Come with me.”  You chirp.  “We’ll taste all the wines.  C’mon, and then we’ll be nice and hungry.  Drunk eating is the best.”  You extend a hand out toward him, your freshly painted nails perfectly imperfect in his peripheral.

“I’m not in the mood, Bambi.”

His gravelly voice has a certain effect on you, one you find not appropriate to dissect right now.  He lifts the cigarette back up to his lips, the chance to take one more drag stolen from him as you pluck it from his fingers, tossing it into the snow without regret, stomping your foot on it for good measure.

“Well, get in the mood.  Let’s go.”  

Boldly, you tug at his arm, unable to move him by yourself, you know.  But he willingly melts into your touch, allowing you to pull him up despite his protesting frown.  Though he follows you to stand, he doesn’t budge much further than that as you try to drag him back into the cozy warmth of the house.  The rounded tip of his nose glows red, the threat of a cold only pushing you to tug on his sleeve with no success in ushering him inside.

“I think ‘m just gonna head home.  You think someone else could give you a ride back?”  The question is hesitant, no longer wanting to participate in the festivities but still concerned for your well-being, especially if you were going to continue to drink.  

Your track record with alcohol wasn’t exactly great and he’d never forgive himself if something happened and he wasn’t there just because the sight of you talking to Jett had left a bad taste in his mouth.  But he couldn’t stand it any longer, watching you act so graceful all the time, especially to someone you didn’t particularly like, and then having to pretend that a simple kiss on the cheek didn’t absolutely wreck him.  A kiss that you hadn’t since mentioned, and he wasn’t going to humiliate himself by insinuating that you wanted him in that way.  No one wanted him in that way.

“What?”  You breathe, face shifting into a sadness Eddie wanted to kick himself for.  “No, you can’t go–”

“I’m sure Jett is ready and willing to entertain you.”

Low blow.  He could always count on himself to deliver a low blow at the worst of times.

Eddie knew now that you had a distaste for Jett, he knew that.  And yet he was stupid enough to continue using Jett as ammo against you for no reason other than his own insecurity.  If he continued to push you away then it wouldn’t hurt so bad when you realized he was scum of the earth.  Trailer trash.  A nobody.  That’s what he kept telling himself.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  You fume, crossing your arms.

“I don’t know, Bambi.  You tell me cause I can’t figure you out.”

The use of his nickname for you stitched together with words of anguish only further confused you.  You couldn’t seem to win.

“Can’t–can’t figure me out?!”  You widen your eyes at him, only hoping to convey how ridiculous of a statement it is.  “Can’t figure me out.  What about you?!  You’re the one no one can figure out!”  

You’re on the verge of whining, begging in a sense.  Pleading with the most stubborn man in the world and god only knows what you’ll do if he doesn’t stand down.

“Maybe there’s a reason for that.”  He states simply, monotone.  It makes you want to yank your hair out by the roots and offer it to him, asking him if it’s enough.  If it’s enough to shut up the voices in his head.

“Yeah?  Because you don’t wanna let people in?!”  Uncharacteristically, you jab a finger into his chest, frustration making itself known across your face and you only know because his eyes ever so slightly soften.  “Eddie, all you do is give me mixed signals!  How many times do I have to tell you I want nothing to do with Jett?!  What do I have to do to get that through your thick fucking head?!”  He tries to get a word in but you don’t give him an opportunity.  “No, seriously!  I need an instruction manual or something because I’m trying!  I have been trying-”

“-I didn’t ask you to!”  He finally interrupts, sorrow filling his eyes.

With a deep breath, you calm your heaving chest.  It’s apparent you’re no longer cold, your skin hot from working yourself up.  Steam may as well be coming from your ears though it wasn’t your intention to get so irritated with him.  

“I wanted to.  I want to.”  Your voice comes out softer, a gentler approach to his sudden internal conflict.

“No.”

Turning away, he doesn’t quite move to leave but there’s no mistaking the fact that he’s trying to shut you out.  He’s trying to escape like some kind of feral animal but you refuse to give in.  You refuse to let him.  

“Yes.  Eddie–look at me!”  You demand with a small pull of his arm.

“No.”

He goes to turn his body even further away from you but the firm hold you have on his bicep stops him.  He keeps his gaze on the floorboards below, his nose twitching and eyes burning with the threat of tears.  You only know because you’re all too familiar with the mandatory frown that comes with holding them back.

“Stop doing that.  Please.”  You beg.

“I can’t be here right now–”

“What makes you think I can?”

He’s silent.  The world instantly feels so quiet, tiny snow flurries fluttering around you, making you feel as if you’re the only two people on Earth.  Echoes of the celebrating and hollering inside are faint although they don’t do much to pop the bubble you find yourselves in.  Then he breaks the silence, daring to plead with you this time.

“Bambi, please.”  He croaks.

Your initial thought is, please what?  You’d been pleading with him back and forth for god knows how many minutes straight and here he was doing it right back to you.  And for what?  It wasn’t a good enough plea, not for you.  You weren’t ready to let it go, if you even knew what “it” was.

“No, you’re coming inside and you don’t have to associate with me if you don’t want to but you’re coming inside.”

Your demand only seems to irritate him, his brows knitting together while he pinches the bridge of his nose in between his fingers.  If he was agitated then you were about to become enraged.  And that is not something you wanted.  You never wanted to display that kind of emotion toward him but he was practically pulling it out of you and you had to fight against it.  No one had ever been able to pull such a reaction out of you, not ever.  Even if you had gotten pretty close, you swallowed it down and hid it.

“Why?!”  Eddie seethes.

His outburst takes you back, though with the aggravation boiling within you, you were able to contain any reaction he was seeking, if any.  That wasn’t the case for long though as you then launch yourself into another tantrum after staring for a second too long at his snarled lip.

“Because believe it or not, I care, Eddie!”  You practically wail, your voice becoming hoarse.  “If you leave I’m coming with you because I’m not leaving you alone.  Not on Thanksgiving.”  Your head shakes in denial.

Against your own will, a single tear trails down your cheek and the moment you feel it, you’re rapidly wiping it away, hoping he never even saw it when you knew damn well his umber eyes followed it all the way down your face.  He only pulls his gaze away.

“I’m leaving.  You’re staying here.”  He decides, regret etched into his features.

In a final attempt to escape your grasp, he succeeds, feeling your fingertips linger for one last second before drifting away as he turns and makes his way down the porch steps, wood protesting beneath him.  The noise is the only proof you have that he’s actually leaving, that he actually feels he’s not worthy enough to stay.  

You refuse to give up so easily.

Your feet are already on a mission, nearly sprinting down the stairs even with the threat of slipping on the minimal amount of ice beginning to freeze over.  Eddie pays no mind to the fast paced footsteps crunching against the gravel behind him, making his way over to Sugar with his head hung low.  Your heart is racing, not just because you suddenly decided to sprint a few yards but because a healthy dose of dopamine has started coursing throughout your body, a good amount of anxiety accompanying it but not deferring you any longer.

Eddie makes it to Sugar, his hand reaching for the door only for it to be forced shut with a self-manicured hand.  If he didn’t know who the hand belonged to he’d be chewing the owner out for daring to touch his beloved truck.  Instead he rolls his eyes and turns as he prepares to reprimand you in a much more gentle manner than he would anyone else.

Except he doesn’t even have the chance when your lips are suddenly pressed to the corner of his mouth, your body pushing him against Sugar.  His hands freeze mid air, his eyes wide open.  Your hands are resting on his chest and–he can’t breathe.  You pull away, inches from him and he can’t breathe, he can’t speak, he can’t move.  As far as he’s concerned he isn’t even human anymore.  

“Stay.”  You whisper, your breath fanning over slightly chapped lips.

His lips won’t stop tingling, he can’t grasp the concept of what just occurred.  He refuses to even touch you for fear that you might disappear right before him.  Hell, he’s not even sure he’s allowed to.

It’s difficult to gauge his reaction, his heavy breath lingering with the smell of his cigarette that would probably gross you out had it been anyone else but for some reason, because it’s him, you don’t mind very much.  You must smell strongly of wine which isn’t always pleasant so you figure you’re even.

“Please stay.”   You repeat, nudging your nose into his.

It’s like he’s in a trance, his eyelids becoming lazy and his body relaxing when you reach up to trace your thumb ever so slightly over his jaw.  His forehead rests against yours, his eyes squeezing shut, and you can hear a gulp in his throat.  With his eyes still shut, he nods and before you can process it, he launches himself into your arms in a tight embrace, wrapping himself around you, his face buried in your neck.  A wetness catches against your skin catches your attention, Eddie’s body heaving slightly and you just know.

You know that the tear stains on your skin mean more to him than you could ever imagine.

Slowly, your fingers tangle in his hair, threading into the curls at the nape of his neck to lightly scratch his scalp soothingly.  The way he grips onto you tighter, his body shaking, only confirms that physical touch and affection was not a luxury he was allowed in his lifetime.  If he let you, you’d spend thousands of hours holding him, even in the cold.  Whatever he needed.

But the snow flurries began to grow larger and the wind started to pick up.  And you’d be damned if you allowed yourself and Eddie to catch a nasty cold when you could be doing the same thing inside next to the fire.  Though, as you thought about it, Eddie would probably shy away from your touch in front of everyone.  And that didn’t anger you in the way it normally would.  Because you couldn’t blame him, someone so touch starved that he began to sob the second he was willingly kissed and told he was wanted, for shying away from showers of physical affection in front of peers that only know him to be big, bad, Eddie Munson.  It would be too much of a change and you weren’t willing to force that upon him.

So as the cold grew more unforgiving, you continued to hold him.  He would be the one to decide when he felt he wanted to part from you.  And if you both got sick, so be it.  A stupid cold would be worth the price if you were able to provide him the touch he went so long without and so badly craved, even if he didn’t quite know it at first.

Eddie parted from you far sooner than anticipated.  His cheeks were rosy, his rounded nose matching, endearingly so.  His eyelashes were dotted with a few lingering tears, his eyes rimmed with red but sadness was absent from his features.  Instead there was a fondness dripping from his expression and though he parted from the embrace to gaze down at you, he still clung to you like his life depended on it. 

“Can I–can I kiss you?”  He whispers shakily.

You want to laugh, only because he’s acting as if you didn’t kiss him in the first place.  But you bury it deep down and only let a smile blossom.  

“Please.”  You whisper back.

This time, you’re more than happy to beg.  

Hesitantly, his shaky hand cups your jaw, the warmth from his skin more than welcome as he gently slots his lips against yours.  He’s slow with it, taking his time.  As you move in rhythm with him, you encourage him, moving his arms to circle your waist, pressing yourself closer and letting your hands travel up his chest to lock behind his neck.  

“I can’t stop.”  He laughs quietly, continuously pecking your lips like he can’t get enough.

“Don’t.”  You giggle into his mouth.

Teeth clash against teeth and though he hasn’t quite graduated to using tongue yet, you have the urge to introduce him.  Before you can pass your tongue along his plump bottom lip, he curses under his breath as he pulls away, only causing worry to spread across your face.

“You’re freezing.”  His hands rub up and down your arms to somewhat heat you up and only then do you realize your face feels completely numb.

“No, I’m fine.”  You protest against your better judgment.  It wasn’t exactly fitting to be in tights while one of the first snow falls of the year ensued.

“You’ll be a popsicle in like three seconds.”

Eddie softly smiles, reaching for your hand and tugging you with him toward the house.  A whine escapes you, a pathetic whimper but you manage to shuffle yourself along with him.  Before entering the realm of reality beyond the front door, Eddie turns to you, stars in his eyes, something glimmering.

“How’s my nose?  Snotty?”  He grins, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

~end~

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tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiesxangel @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel @mmunson86 @witchwolflea @kurdtbean @micheledawn1975 @tlclick73 @erinekc @hazydespair @whenshelanded @corrodedcoffincumslut @ms1oftheboys @lma1986 @uglypastels @aysheashea @dashingdeb16

[viktoriaashleyyx]

Dedicated to every big sister who needed a big sister. To Kirsten, Thank you for being mine ❤️

A lot happens in this chapter. New OC Staff in Spring and we travel back to the House of Wind, this time to meet with Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn. Fair warning: I never read ACOSF, everything I know about Gwyn and Emerie I read on Tumblr. If there is an ACOSF edit out there that only includes the parts with the Valkyries, please let me know.

This is a pro Tamlin, anti Rhysand self insert revenge fic. All characters belong to SJM, but she wasn't treating them right. Tam x reader, Tam x Rhysands Sister (OC), First person narrative. This will also reference Elucien and Neris in the future but we aren't there yet.

Word Count 2900

Ch1

Ch 8 >> Ch 10

Chapter 9:

As the citizens returned slowly, Tamlin began rehiring the staff at the manor. This was always an uncomfortable feeling for me, to have people who waited on me and cleaned and cared for my home. This place was vast and ultimately belonged to the people of Spring, and I understood the jobs it created. Tamlin did pay them well, of course I insisted on that, but he had been for his entire reign, so it didn't need changing. 

“Good morning, Lady.” a small frame nymph with light teal skin and soft rosey cheeks greeted me outside my room. It caught me off guard, but her sweet smile relaxed me. “My name is Amara and Tamlin offered me the job of your assistant, if you would like?” She further explained, searching my face for any indication of favor. 

My shocked face softened, this is the life of royalty again, I am not ignorant to it, but it has been a while since I've endured this experience. “Hello Amara, it is lovely to meet you. What kinds of jobs are you hoping to perform here, exactly?” I asked with genuine curiosity.

“Well, Tamlin just sent me here to see what you needed. I like cooking and making large magical feasts that everyone enjoys. I'm not too fond of the clean up after, I can also sew really well..” she rambled and I listened intensely. 

“I would definitely appreciate the help in the kitchen,” I giggled, “tell me, what is your favorite meal to cook?” I asked and I began leading her towards the kitchen. 

“My favorite is making homemade bread, I even brought my own sourdough starter in my bag here!” She reached into her bag and pulled out a large heavy jar with the living yeast inside. How did she fit anything else in there?  

“Yum! You begin on the bread and I will clean up after you, how does that sound? Just tell me what to do.” She was awestruck as we entered the large kitchen now at her disposal. “Anything you need, you let me know and I will get it for you. I am excited to finally have some help around here.” I gave her a wide smile and she returned it. She squealed as she got to work, rummaging through the cupboards for the ingredients she needed. 

She sat me at the table with a cutting board and a knife, “Here, you can chop up the fruit to go with it.” She demanded, more out of excitement than disrespect. 

“Yes ma’am” I giggled and did as I was told. 

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

After showing Amara around the manor and to her room, one of the large guest rooms, as we planned to renovate the “servants quarters” to be bigger and more equal to that of the guest rooms, I prepared to complete the tasks I had originally planned for today. I hate the term “servants,” they are professionals hired to do a job I don't have the time or skills to complete myself. I left her to settle in and decorate her room to her liking. I had apologies to give out today. 

♡♡♡♡

I arrived at the door to the House of Wind and knocked on the large iron door. Feyre's sister opened it and gave me a disgusted look. 

“Rhysand and Feyre are not here, this is my home now and I would appreciate it if you would leave me be.” Nesta snapped.

“It's you I am here to see. We got off on the wrong foot. I am truly sorry for using Fayre’s pain against my brother, it was wrong of me, and I would like an opportunity to explain.” I requested, Nesta softened and proceeded to open the door further and gestured me inside. “The spell I used could not kill her, it was purely theatrics, I relied on my brother not knowing that.” 

“It was in incredibly poor taste.” Nesta scolded me. I could see the power she held, power she wasn't even fully aware of. She was strong, forced to be. 

“You're right.” I commended, “I would like to earn your forgiveness.” 

“And how would you go about doing that?” 

“I could start by teaching you how to protect your mind, you live in close proximity to a powerful and self serving daemati, I am shocked they haven't taught you themselves.” I followed her as she invited me to, and she led me to a large kitchen, where two other women sat at the table, a red haired priestess and a stunningly beautiful illyrian. 

“This is Gwyn and Emerie,” Nesta introduced us, gesturing to each girl, “and this is Rhysands sister, Sky? I believe,” I nodded at her. 

“I am sorry I didn't mean to interrupt. I can come back another time.” I offered. 

“It's fine, we were just talking about what a bitch Cassian is.” Gwyn giggled. Nesta glared at her, but she brushed it off. 

“Oooh! Okay I am invested, catch me up, which one is he again?” I still couldn't remember their names, but that was mostly due to my apathy for the Night Court clowns. 

Apparently, Cassian and Nesta were ‘mates’ but he sure didn't act like it. Gwyn and Emerie gave me a few stories of his cowardice and what they witnessed in how he treated her. I stopped them when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nesta begin to shrink in embarrassment. 

“It is not that easy to leave him. We are mated.” Nesta sighed. I could tell she wasn't happy, Cassian didn't love her, and she knew it. 

“Nesta,” a gentle command to request her eyes fall to me, “you hold the power to weave your own destiny. The mating bond means nothing if you do not want it to.” 

“But they said I would be shackled to him for eternity. That I would always long for him no matter how hard I tried to let go.” Nesta spoke softly, remembering the atrocities the Night court committed against her to force her into Cassian's grasp. She had fought so hard against it, but they broke her down. 

“That is called having a heart, sweetie, and also a bunch of bullshit used to manipulate you. You can sever the bond as easily as cutting a string, but truly the one who suffers the most is the male. Who cares? Let him suffer.” She had clearly never had the mating bond explained so bluntly to her. “All the mating bond means is that the cauldron, the mother, or the gods, whichever you choose to believe,” I waved my hand in the air dramatically, “would find it entertaining to see you two together. Weave your own fate out of spite. I fully believe you can.” I looked deep into her eyes, tears began forming in them, she wasn't used to hearing that what she wanted mattered. "No one tells Nesta what to do, not even the gods.” 

Her face shifted to a rage full understanding. The Night court broke her down because she allowed them to. They harnessed the little ignorance she had of Prythia and the love she held for her sisters to keep her contained. Not anymore. It was time she chose herself. 

“You need to get out of Night. That would be the first step. You are always welcome in Spring with me, but if that doesn't sit right with you I have made friends across all of Prythia, just choose a court and I will ensure your living quarters are prepared and properly warded to give you the peace and freedom you need. Just say the words and you will no longer be a prisoner of the Night Court.” 

Nesta looked at me, a quick spark of hope flashed in her eyes before she averted her gaze to her lap, deep in thought.  

My gaze fell on the illyrian woman sitting in front of me, something was off about her. Her wings. Her wings were clipped. “Your wings are clipped.” I blurted out in shock. I should've handled that with more grace. 

“Uh, yeah? I don't know any illyrian women whose aren't, save for royalty.” She sneered, gesturing to mine. Fair, my utterly useless brother couldn't even ban wing clipping properly. I'm sure he tried, but it was just performative nonsense once again. 

“Would you like me to heal them?” I asked, softer this time. 

Her face lined with confused disdain. “You can do that?” 

“Oh yes,” I reached into my pocket portal, and grabbed a purple potion, rejuvenation. “Here, it tastes like really bad wine.” 

She cautiously took the potion from my hands. “This little vial will pull my wings back together?” 

“Yes, unfortunately there will be a scar. I've had to use it after a gravier decided my wings made good toothpicks.” I said that too cheerfully, she shuddered at the thought. I didn't expect her to know what a gravier was, but she was smart and could deduce it wasn't a pleasant creature. 

“Admittedly, I am nervous, I heard what you did to Feyre. Why should I trust you?” Emerie eyed the vial and weighed the risks. 

“Would you feel better if I drank one first?” I offered reassurance, “you can keep that, you don't have to take it right now, or ever. I have the means to help and would like to give you the choice.” 

Emerie studied the purple liquid in the vial, was that hope that flashed in her eyes? She didn't know of a single illyrian woman who could use their own wings, she had dreamed of being able to soar the skies. Why have them if she can't use them? 

“Inside the vial consists of a mix of three plants, Heart of the wild, Golden Sansam and Dreamfoil. While exiled, I studied and excelled in Alchemy. As an illyrian myself I have found no indication of these plants causing any harm or adverse effects. I will remain close and watch for any signs if you would like…” I trailed off noticing Emerie wasn't really listening. The other girls watched her intensely. Emerie had been through so much, betrayed so often, and now it was a matter of putting trust in Rhysands sister to possibly regain use of her wings. 

“I never even learned how to fly..” she whispered, “I wouldn't know where to even begin.” 

I took her hand in both of mine, “I will teach you. You deserve this. Your wings never should have been mutilated in the way they were… it's time to fly.” I looked at her with bright eyes. Tears welled in hers. 

“What if it doesn't work?” The many different emotions were becoming too much for her. Hope, hope to regain what had been stolen from her. 

“Then I will scour the realms to find something that does.” I promised. I had the means and the power to do so. 

With shaky hands she removed the lid, Nesta and Gwyn looking on in shock. “Now spread your wings out fully, and hold them there for a minute or 2 after taking the entire vial.” I got up and walked behind her to see to it the potion would work. She threw her head back and downed every drop. 

“Ugh,” she winced, “you did tell me it would taste like rotten wine.” 

“My apologies,” I muttered as Nesta and Gwyn jumped up and ran to watch the magic. I held my hands no more than an inch away from the scars on each wing, careful as to not actually touch the sensitive skin, willing the magic of the potion to the correct spot. 

The scars down her wings began to reopen and tie themselves together. Gwyn reached for Emeries hand, without removing her eyes from the magic she was witnessing. She knew what this would mean to Emerie. 

“Okay, close them and stretch them a few times, slowly,” a gentle command. She did so. Just as I warned, the scars remained but the wings were fully intact. “Beautiful!, I would give yourself a few days before putting any weight on them. Stretch, flap, and soak them to prepare the muscles. I can return in one week, if you would like, to begin teaching you.” She flicked her wings forward towards her and she fell back, not used to them actually catching wind. Nesta and I caught her and stood her back up. She then ran to the large mirror on the wall and admired the powerful wings of hers. Stretching them, twitching them, giggling and crying at the same time. I could see tears welling up in both Nesta and Gwyn as they watched her, hearts swelling with happiness, as did mine. 

“Thank you! I never could’ve dreamed this would be possible!” Emerie turned to me with the biggest smile, wiping away the tears of happiness that flowed down her face. She stretched her wings out wide, with pride. And ran to us, gripping all three of us in a giant hug, encasing us in her wings. She looked up at me, resting a gentle hand on my cheek as I returned the gesture. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with happiness. “What do I owe you?” 

I was taken aback by that question. Why would she owe me anything? What a horrid place the Night court is to anyone who is not a citizen of Velaris. “To see your smile, and to watch you fly, would be the best payment of all. You owe me nothing but that.” 

She wrapped her arms tightly around my neck and I slid mine around her back, embracing her for a few seconds. 

“It is getting late, I must be getting home.” I commented pulling away. “Remember, soak, stretch, and flap.” She gave me a nod, still so happy she could barely talk. “I will return in one week. But do keep in mind, the Spring Court has always been a sanctuary for those escaping abuse, and if you ever need it, we will welcome you and all of your sisters with open arms.” 

“Ugh. I don't know if I could ever trust Tamlin. He treated my sister like his property and sold me and Elain out to Hybern. I'd still be human if it weren't for him.” Nesta grimaced. 

“You should hear the way your sister speaks of you, Nesta” I responded softly, almost a whisper, “All I am saying is that your sources might not be credible. And Feyre sold you out to Ianthe, after Tamlin explicitly warned her that Hybern spies were still hanging around. Tamlin and Lucien are both innocent in that regard.” 

Nesta was stunned, Feyre had blamed everything on Tamlin. But how was it any different than when Feyre blamed her for their suffering in the cottage? 

I bowed to the girls before opening a portal and taking my leave. 

♡♡♡♡

It was late when I arrived in the manor, all the candles had been snuffed and the staff had returned home for the night. I knew Tamlin would still be up waiting for me. With a flick of my wrist, all the sconces down the hallway to Tamlins office lit up. Fire magic wasn't my strong suit, but I still had it. 

He sat there reading something or another, I was exhausted and didn't care. “Welcome home, sweetheart.” A deep tired voice mumbled as he put down his book and looked up at me. Without saying anything I dropped myself into his lap. He held me for a few moments. 

“I'm tired of being a person,” I whined into his chest, “I want to be ‘baby’ now.” He continued to hold me, rubbing my back and resting his lips on my temple. We sat there like that until my stomach growled, in the events of the day I had forgotten to eat. 

“Let's go, we are going to get you a snack.” He stood up and carried me to the kitchen. There was no point in arguing with him, I just wanted sleep, but he was right, I needed food.

He sat me down on the counter as he looked through the fridge for something quick. He pulled out a charcuterie board immaculately designed by, I'm guessing, Amara. I didn't believe he would be able to put this together. He picked up a cube of pepper jack cheese and fed me, while giving me a gentle kiss on the forehead. 

“Her wings were clipped.” I whispered, “almost shredded entirely. The one thing my brother has claimed to do for Illyria, and he doesn't even feel the need to enforce it.” I was lost in thought, the images of her wings, my imagination filling in the blanks of little girls, screaming as their wings are stolen from them. He just listened, carefully. “I can't just relax here, safe in my own court, knowing these atrocities are happening to my sisters.” I looked at him with tears in my eyes. 

He brushed my hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. “I have no problem welcoming them here, I have always offered sanctuary for people seeking safety.” 

“I know, I've already offered it,” I gave him a sad smile. 

“Just tell me what you need from me and you will have it.” He gave me another kiss on my forehead, and wrapped his arms around me.

Tag list: @ladythornofrivia @rcarbo1 @rin-u-pos @knoxic @lilah-asteria @littlefantasylover @julesvanslutta @thefatesofspring

[otdiaftg]

The Foxhole Court - Chapter Seven

Day: Friday, June 16th (*Friday, June 14th in TFC) Time: 9:45 PM EST

"Wake Andrew up, will you? Preferably without touching him." "What?" Aaron asked sleepily, rousing at Nicky's voice. "I can't remember which exit we decided was the shortcut. You?" Aaron answered by reaching around Neil and pushing Andrew's shoulder. Andrew's reaction was immediate and violent. Aaron got his hand out of the way in time, but there was nowhere for Neil to go. Andrew's elbow slammed into his diaphragm hard enough to double Neil up over his knees. Aaron, completely unsympathetic, snapped his fingers over Neil's head at Andrew. "Exit," he said. Andrew braced himself on Neil's back and leveraged himself between the front seats. He watched until they passed a sign and said, "Not yet. It's the exit that has Waffle House." "This is South Carolina," Nicky said. "Every exit leads to Waffle House. Still breathing, Neil?" "Yes," Neil said hoarsely. "I think."

Art used with permission by Marxandria. Thank you so much @marxandria!

*In The Foxhole Court, Nora wrote the date as Friday, June 14th which would be inaccurate to the dates stated, both previously and later on in the story. I have changed it after researching which date would be more accurate to the story and current time frame.*