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mntalbrakdown · 9 months

Text

sober thoughts - C. Fisher

masterlist!

mentions of: underage drinking, cussing, fluff, smut. MDNI. piv, unprotected sex, fingering

synopsis: you were once friends with conrad until summer happened and he just stopped talking to you

wc: 5.7k

“don’t ever forget me” your little twelve-year-old self whispered to Conrad who was a year older than you

“never,” he said playing with your hair as you both lay on the grass watching the fireworks on the fourth of July. your head laying on his chest.

“y/n are you almost ready” Belly yelled at you trying to get you to hurry up for the party you were about to go to with her and Taylor

“yes almost,” you say playing with your hair and making sure each strand is not misbehaving

“chill belly being hot takes time,” Taylor says applying more lip gloss

“anyways y/n how are you and Conrad” Taylor puts away her lip gloss in her purse

“he’s an ass and I don’t even talk to him,” you said

“What did you even do,” Belly asked playing with the ends of her hair

“I don’t know we were really close in Cousins and like two years ago in summer I started to get guys' attention and all of a sudden he got distant,” you said reminiscing the best summer of your whole life you told the girls you pulled 6 boys the whole summer but that came at a cost, losing the one guy you loved

“you had a glow-up,” Taylor says looking at you and holding your hand

“yeah, she did” you see Jeremiah at Belly’s door frame which made you smile. they've been flirting back and forth

“are we ready,” Belly asked and you nodded

you all headed downstairs to see Susannah and Laurel in the kitchen probably stoned and said goodbye to them. when you arrived at the car Belly called shotgun which meant you and Taylor would sit in the back of Jeremiah’s Jeep.

“so y/n you're the driver tonight right” Jeremiah looked at you from the rearview mirror

“when am I not” you scoff looking out the window. it wasn’t a rude remark it was a sarcastic one because you don’t really do any substances. so it was common sense that you would drive

everyone in Cousins lived close to one another so it didn’t take long to hear the loud music and the screams coming from a house. the house was already spilling bright colors on the street making you excited. when Jeremiah finally parked he handed you the keys because one time he held onto them and lost them. it was a whole ordeal, you spent an extra hour at the house trying to find them when he had them in a random coat that was hung up by the front door.

“hey Steven is here” Taylor pointed out to his car seeing that they also just got here.

“who’s that next to him,” Belly asks as you were getting out of the car looking at your phone for any new notifications when you accidentally bump into a tall stature

“oh sorry,” you both say looking at each other

"con what is wrong with you" you yelled at him. it was no use when he was in his own world he stayed there for at least a week. usually, you could get him out, but something was different that summer, you couldn't change him

"leave me alone" Conrad yelled at you, he was running up the stairs and the next thing you heard was his door closed shut. it was hard to miss, it echoed all over the house

"I'm so sorry for him," Susannah said.

the plan that day was to go watch a movie that was playing in the drive-in and then play at the beach with the whole group and watch the tide as you and Conrad listened to the music and possibly help you surf. but all that went down the drain and you didn't even know why.

“conrad” you say looking to meet his gaze.

“Conrad is here, y/n let’s go, no,” Taylor says screaming ready for you to get into the car making him laugh which you missed hearing

“Taylor it’s ok,” you say as she is getting out of the car with a stank face already plastered on

“hi Conrad,” she says moving her way in between the two of you and grabbing your hand to drag you to the party

as you were getting dragged into the party you were greeted by a group of people already by the door and a couple making out at the end of the hall

“hey I'm going to go get a drink” Taylor yells at you trying to get her voice to be heard over the music. you on the other hand were ready to go to the living room just to people watch

the thing was when you were at parties you would straight b-line to the living room because although people liked to conversate, that is the last place they would go. You liked to sit there and try to find other drivers there and you would make friends with them. It was hard to talk to a drunk person because they were boring and slur their words together. Today you saw Cameron, he is always there. You grew to like him like it was hard to anyway. He was so nice and you both had things in common.

"hey" you heard his little smile in his voice

"hi cam," you say receiving a bottle of water he got you

"so who are you here tonight with" cam asked you

"Jeremiah, Taylor, and Belly," you say

"so Conrad is still being weird," cam asked

"yeah," you said a bit disappointed. you told Cam everything because he was there and being sober at a party is pretty boring

"that's weird because he is staring at us," Cam says looking over at him; making you follow his gaze. Conrad had this weird look on his face, his eyes were dark, but it wasn't because of the lighting it was something else. hatred? you brushed it off he isn't your problem, never will be.

"y/n want to play uno" Conrad yelled at you from the bottom of the stairs.

Uno was your favorite game to play at Susannah's house in the summer. It was always perfect. The adults were never there so it would make you feel comfortable with everyone else. It was when you would sit next to Conrad before he was unavailable and you two would team up without everyone knowing. In reality, everyone knew. and you both would win. you would take turns on who would win to make it seem "less" suspicious.

"so" cam says snapping you from your haze

"right duh" you laugh grabbing the mini uno you would always carry it around because it helped you make friends with people

"ooo can we play" Some random girls joined in and you said yes because you had no real reason to say no, plus uno is best played with more than two

"I'll join too," Conrad says gripping his beer rather firmly. he sat next to you on the couch ready to get the cards you shuffled.

when the games began you kept beating everyone. the games were simple, leave the best cards until the very end, unless and only if you ever need them, then go for it.

bzzz bzzz

you quickly checked the notification that came from your phone trying to not miss what was going on in the game.

"who is it" conrad asks his jaw clenching

"no one," you say giving him a weak smile, it was also none of his business because he doesn't care about you anymore

"sure" Conrad says putting a plus four that is directed towards you. so this is how he wanted to play the game? you grabbed the four cards, getting nothing that would help you against him. it was Cam's turn and he put reverse to try to protect you from Conrad

"your little boyfriend is now your new buddy," Conrad questioned under his breath

"not like you give a shit" you retort back

"you are so clueless," Conrad says making you the most confused person at the party. you just continued to play after the game ended you decided you wanted a coke. so you got up and told Cam you would be back for another round

you walked through crowded groups and at one point you saw Belly makeout with Jeremiah. taking note of that to bring up later. You than saw Taylor with another man who looked like three years older than her. When you finally got your coke you opened it taking a sip going back to the couch

"oh fuck" you let out spilling some of the coke onto your white tube top.

"sorry" you hear a familiar voice come out it was Conrad.

"we have to stop doing this or else we might actually get hurt," you say smiling at the way Conrad was trying to get napkins to clean the mess up. It was no use. your shirt was ruined.

"it's the universe trying to get us together" Conrad blurted out "I'm drunk" he tried to fix the situation, but he was never drunk, he was only ever tipsy.

"drunk words are just sober thoughts" you say looking down at your shorts to see if they were dirty.

"can we talk" conrad asks looking down at you

"yeah" you smile at him

he grabbed your hand and led you outside to the front yard where there were only a couple of people out. he saw that the stain on your shirt only got worse so he gave you his button-up shirt that he never lets go of.

"what's up," you say to him

"the stars look beautiful don't they" conrad was looking up

as a kid, you were obsessed with the moon and the stars. you had a friend that was the stars to your moon. you missed her, and you kept in touch but if you could you would bring her to Cousins. you would always talk about her to the others, knowing they would love her as well. You also face-timed her all the time. Conrad would get mad, saying that you were his for the summer and that she has you all year round. that she was selfish

"it's my time," Conrad says to your friend who was on your phone screen

"con give me my phone," you say slapping him and tugging at his hand

"it's summer byeee" he says as he pressed the red button on the phone

"i hate you," you say to him

"in your sweet dreams you do," he says cockily

"Conrad I thought this was going to be more of a serious conversation," you say trying to shake the idea of the summers you once had with the man standing in front of you

"I miss you," he says to you. sober thoughts. it took you aback it wasn't something you expected from him

"that isn't my fault," you say back with an attitude

"i know, i just got jealous" he said to you

"jealous of what con" he could have grabbed you and kissed you on the spot. he missed that name from your mouth. he craved it every day to the point he would replay voice memos you would send to him back when you two would speak

"of other guys," he said looking into your eyes to see if he scared you off, but all he saw was your face brightening up

"you were the only person on my mind con," you said to him grabbing his hand. if this was a dream, never wake him up. "you were the only thing coming out of my mouth when I was at school, all the guys that you saw hit me up are left on seen, I wanted you, I want you, I always have" you say looking at his face finally tug at his lips to form a smile

"good because I don't want to share," he says leaning down ready to kiss you. As he did he wrapped one arm around your waist the other in your hair tugging at it as you were smiling through the kiss and your hands on both his cheeks.

"get a room" Steven yelled at you two, leading Conrad to release the hand that was in your hair and flipping him off. making you laugh while you both kissed.

"let's get out of here," Conrad said to you

"i can't," you said, you had a job

"fuck the others Steven can drive them," he said in a way that he just wanted you to be by his side

"but how will they get home" you try to reason

"Steven has his keys c'mon let's go to my house, please" he kisses the top of your forehead.

"fine, but if they complain that is your fault," you say pointing at him

"that is fine by me," he says carrying you to spin you around

as you two were getting in the Jeep you started to fasten your seatbelt as Conrad did the same. He looked over at you, seeing how you adjusted the mirrors to get all the angles.

"I think this is the first time I see you drive," he says admiring you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear

"get used to it con," you say looking at him, melting at his touch

"Oh I will" he whispered

you started the car, you hated driving the Jeep it was so big and excessive. But desperate times call for desperate measures. You played some music in the car for the six-minute car ride. you could feel Conrad's eyes on you the whole time, seeing how you turned and how you checked the mirrors.

as you arrive at their house you park the car and let him get out, you were collecting your things in the car to get out when Conrad opens the door for you.

"thank you" you smile, he closes the door behind you and you lock the car. he holds your hand as he heads over to the front door to open it

"hi conrad" you hear Susannah

"hi y/n nice seeing you two together again," Laurel says from the couch

"glad to be back" you smile at the two adults

"oh you are so beautiful, we missed you," Susannah said

"thank you I missed you too" you smile and let go of Conrad's hand to hug her. She was always so sweet to you

"Mom, she's mine back off, we're going to my room" Conrad says taking your hand again

"bye talk to you guys later" you scream as Conrad is dragging you upstairs

once you got upstairs you see Conrad's door. he opened it with his free hand and led you in. It was still the same. the beach aesthetic and the colors. He had the plush you gave him. it was an orange cat with a pink collar, you named it Lasnaga and you had an orange cat with a blue collar named Garfield. it was funnier when you actually named them.

"oh ignore that" he said looking at the cat

"you still have it" you question, a smile forming on your face

"yeah" it looked like he slept with it and he even still had the perfume you gifted him it was now half empty

"I miss you" you heard from the other line of your phone

"I miss you too," you say back, it was almost Christmas and it was a time when you wished you could go to Cousins, but your mom would say no. "I got you a Christmas present," you say smiling through the camera lens

"yeah, I got it, thank you" One of the gifts was a perfume bottle, it smelled like vanilla and it was your go-to scent "Thank you" Conrad says

"I don't use that scent anymore," you say picking it up

"what" Conrad looked defeated, he was spraying that scent to remember you and you switched scents. he felt betrayed

"I'll get you a new one for Christmas" You smile at him grabbing his hands which made his smile come back

"y/n" he grabbed your attention using his pointer finger to make you look at him

"yes con" one moment you were just staring at his eyes the next thing you knew Conrad was leaning in to kiss you. this kiss was more meaningful as if to pick up from lost time, from the time that was wasted on jealousy and insecurity, because even though it wasn't official that you were Conrad's, you both knew you were meant for one another

Conrad's hands went back to their respective place, one in your hair and the other around your waist. yours were on his cheek and the other in his hair.

"fuck I missed you," he says catching his breath from the kiss

conrad went back but deepened the kiss, it was something that made you happy. You kept smiling through the kiss. you couldn't believe this was happening. Conrad pulled at your hair to make you moan so he could slip his tongue in and fight for dominance, he obviously won; you were still smiling throughout the make out because you couldn’t believe what was happening. Conrad guided you to his bed, he sat on the corner making you straddle his lap.

"are you ok with this," Conrad asked pulling away from the kiss, you could see some of your lipstick on his mouth

"yes, god fuck yes Conrad," you say giggling at the way his face quickly erased his worriedness to pure excitement

Conrad continued his attack, but this time it was on your neck, making sure it would show to others that you were his, that even though people haven't seen you both together for almost two years, you guys are better than ever. Conrad tugged and took off the button-down that he gave you and the dirty tube top. You weren't wearing a bra underneath, and Conrad couldn't be more excited

Conrad carried you off the bed for a second and laid you down on his bed. your hair was perfectly sprawled on the pillow as if it made a halo. Conrad could’ve sworn he saw a little heart that was made from your hair. as you waited for Conrad to take his shirt you got the cat to play around with.

"you're so beautiful," Conrad says going down to kiss you

when he pulls away he takes off your shorts and shoes followed by your socks making you giggle at his fast antics. you were wearing a lace thong that was pink making Conrad smile.

"what's going on in that pretty head of yours,” you say reaching for Conrad's face as he melts into your touch, practically purring.

"you, you're all I think about" Conrad says smiling at you his hand traveling down to your thighs removing your panties too, and then he feels how wet you already are. he licked his two fingers as a lubricant and started to finger you. he slipped two fingers in seeing how tight you were and kept pacing in and out. you followed his fingers as they disappeared and reappeared. sucking on your bottom lip to not draw attention to his room. he looked at your face seeing how it contoured to the way the rhythm, then added more stimulation by massaging your clit.

"fuck Conrad, so good," you say almost screaming as you scratch his back with your nails

"shhh, look at me" Conrad says covering your mouth, but he loved the way your eyes looked at him "Sound so pretty but they can't hear you or the fun is over," he says leaning in to kiss you to muffle your screams.

Conrad soon leaves your mouth to go to your tits to suck on as you grab his hair for extra support. you tugged once and heard a yelp, making you want to fuck him already

he continued with his action. adding fingers as he goes. As he did you gasped, you kept your nails on his back almost drawing blood. conrad was circling your clit with his other hand to speed the process up. he needed you.

“god you’re so tight” he says looking at you with lust filled eyes

Conrad added a third finger as he saw you were about to release and reattached his lips onto yours wanting the fun to continue. he saw the way your body arched off the bed and made sure to continue the pace you were on. to make you orgasm

“look so pretty, come for me” he said spurring you on

“fuck conny” you say pulling at his hair to kiss you and something inside you snapped when he kissed you. you were leaking off his finger. when he looked down in between the two of you he saw the mess grabbing some of your liquid and putting it in your mouth

“fuck so hot” he said going in to kiss you tasting you as well

“my turn” you say with your fucked up makeup and some of your cum on the side of your mouth

“no i just really need you right now” conrad says taking his pants and underwear off as well as everything else.

“i want to be on top” you say to him biting the bottom of your lip

“whatever you want pretty girl” he says grabbing you and putting you on top of him

once you were on top of him you saw how big he was. you grabbed his member massaged him than started to glide him into your heat seeing how he threw his head back in pure pleasure

“stop teasing” he said grabbing onto your wrists and leading his length to your heat

“fuck fisher” you said mad he took all the fun out

“i’m trying to” he retorted making you laugh but that made you sink into him and turned into a loud pornagraphic moan making Conrad startled soon hearing footsteps leading to the door and a knock

“conny is everything ok” you could hear Susannah but this made the experience even better you fucked him up and down side to side to try to make it hard for him to answer his mom

“y-yeah everything is good there’s a porn scene on the horror movie we were watching- fuck” he said yelling to his mom

“oh ok” she says retreating backstairs

“you’re so dead” conrad said to you, but he never meant it. you looked so beautiful riding him as your boobs bounced up and down and saw how your hair was messily parted to the side and fell beautifully over your body. he knew you knew you looked great by the way you bit the bottom of your lip

“god you’re so big” you say looking down at him. putting your hand on his chest for extra support

he couldn’t help admire you. how your tits would go up and down and he had to massage them with his hand. the other was on your waist wanting you to go faster, but he just made your body lay against his as he took your lips with his teeth. his hand that was once on your tits went to your hair and tugged on it earning a low moan from you. the other traced his name on your back adding tickles to make you moan and hopefully come close. once he noticed your body become sloppy he held onto your waist and switched positions with him

“holy fuck that was hot” you said out loud to him

“only for you” he says leaning into your neck to suck on your sweet spot making you moan even more

he saw the way your hair fell back on his pillow. the image he once had of you will forever be tainted by this memory. the memory of him fucking you into oblivion. how his penis would go in and out of you seeing his length covered in white paint from the two of you

he didn’t know that you liked the way his hair fell from his forehead and floated in the air as he fucked you. how his arms would be veiny and how you followed them like a dog to bacon. that every time he wanted to show you something you just looked at his hands.

“fuck me harder” you said to Conrad as you dragged his face to yours to go in for a kiss. he took his free hand and started to massage your clit wanting you to come already.

“come for me again, want to see you come on my dick” he said so close to your face that his hair tickled you, his breath as well. “need you to come for me” his blue eyes following yours and how they were sparkling from pure euphoria

with one last thrust you came for him. his lips covering your mouth and when you were done moaning. his mouth was on your chin ready for another hickey. he nibbled at it. when his thrusts started to become sloppy you started to nibble at his ear. moaning in it to spur him on and saying sweet nothings like “god you’re so big” “taking me so good” “fuck me just like that”

“im yours conny, only yours” was the one that made him shoot his load into you

“oh fuck i’m so sorry” he said as he still kept thrusting into you coming down from his high

“don’t worry about it i’m on the pill” you say looking at his fucked out face and tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear

he leaned in to kiss you deepening the kiss he felt the cum that was leaking outside the two of you. when he was ready to let go you bit the bottom of his lip to see what he would do

“god you’re all i need” Conrad said going back to kiss you. when you both got out of breathe he went into his bathroom to get a cloth to clean you up

“you look beautiful from this angle” Conrad looked at you wanting to take a picture of the way your legs were open for him as the liquid oozed out of you

“get used to it” you said to him as he cleaned you up. he smiled at the thought that this wasn’t a one time thing

“oh i will” he says going to your face and peppering your face with kisses all over

he went over to a drawer he had always designated to you. it had some clothes that you left there when you would stay over. he handed you some shorts you always wore when you were here that did nothing but show your ass, but they were cute; they were white with pink polka dots and tossed you a shirt that was Conrad’s but you always used to use it because it was baggy and had your home state with it.

“i don’t want to wear that shirt today” you said

“what why” Conrad asked puzzled he didn’t do anything to that shirt

“you wear it, not in the mood to wear a shirt” you say to him mischievously. he took the hint as he was putting on some shorts and was ready to go under the covers of his bed making you follow behind

“than neither am i” he said kissing your forehead “some makeup wipes are on the nightstand by the way” he says pointing at the drawer next to you

“thank you” you say taking one and wiping your face off when you were done you threw it away in the trash can that was next to you

“so you never forgot me did you” you asked as you were going to cuddle his chest

“no never” he said looking down at you as he was turning the tv on to watch superbad one of your favorites

“and you never forgot about my things did you” you say giddily seeing what he was doing

“nope, i watched this every time i missed you” he said it as a matter of fact

“kiss me” you say out loud. and he did he leaned down to kiss you as you waited for the movie to load in. he was so delicate this time as if what he did was not him and someone else. that he would always be delicate with you

“you’re all i ever wanted” he said whispering it into you making you smile as the movie played.

you both laughed at the scenes. this movie has seen it all: your childhood, Conrad being by himself without you , and the two of you after you fucked each other. when another funny scene happened and you didn’t laugh Conrad looked down to see you asleep in his arms. your boobs were pressed against his chest and he decided it was time for him to go to sleep as well.

in the morning it was Conrad who woke up first from the rays of the sun. he then saw his clock and saw that it was only 9 am. he decided to just look at you sleep. how you would breathe and how you looked in his arms. the little smile on your face as your dream progressed. god he wished that was him making you smile. Conrad reached for his phone to take a picture of you. knowing this would be a perfect wallpaper. the way the hickeys he left on you were now visible. how you had no makeup but your hair was still as perfect as it was last night and this time noticing the locket necklace he got you from when you were kids on your thirteenth birthday

“thank you Conrad” you say hugging him once you finished opening the box that held the necklace. it was a picture of the two of you from when you were younger when you were both about seven and six.

“you’re welcome. you were practically begging for one all year” he said glad you liked his gift and ever since than you never took it off

he was infatuated with you.

“i’ll never forget you” Conrad whispered into your hair kissing the top of your head

“hey” you say in a raspy voice

“morning” he said back with a big grin on his face

“smells good” you could smell the muffins from downstairs. making Conrad laugh. he looked at you for about thirty minutes admiring you and the first thing you think about is food? “you look pretty con” you said kissing his lips. his hair was messy and his eyes were brighter today. he looked happy.

“so do you” he said smiling at you. if only you knew.

“what time is it” you ask finally rubbing your eyes. when you were done Conrad gave you his phone to look at the clock but the first thing you saw was you. the photo he took this morning. “con did you take this right now” you asked looking into his eyes

“yes do you like it” he asked looking to see if you were mad but he only saw a smile form on your face

“it’s cute i need one now too” you say trying to let go of his grip to get up and get a muffin

“no stay” he says grumpy

“i need one of those muffins, i’ll come back” you say prying at his hands

“fine i’ll race you” he says getting up and trying to find a shirt as you do the same when you did. you ran out the door fighting Conrad downstairs almost falling like ten times.

“woah” you here from downstairs

“i thought we were going to go into war right now” Jeremiah joked

“shut up” Conrad said hitting Jeremiah’s chest

“oh hey y/n didn’t know you were still here” Laurel said

“yeah I accidentally fell asleep to superbad” you say which wasn’t a lie. it was hard to lie to Laurel she could smell bullshit from a mile away.

“wait what happened between you guys” Taylor asked looking at your neck making you hide your hickeys with your hair

“nothing, we just made up” you said looking at her and the last muffin

“more like made out” Belly added which made you send her a death stare which caused you to lose the muffin to Conrad

“fuck you” you whisper to him

“oh but you already did” he said with the most shit eating grin you’ve ever seen as he eats the muffin. when you hit his stomach he hands over the muffin with a loud groan

“thank you” you say kissing him

“eww get a room” Jeremiah said

“we just came out of one” Conrad said as quick as the speed of light making you look at him with wide eyes

“I missed this” Susannah said “y’know ever since you left y/n he has never been this chipper”

“is that so” you say looking at Conrad all this time you thought he was fine especially with all the girls he dated

“so true” Steven added

“we missed you” Belly said. she meant it in the way you could finally be in the same room as all of them without having to walk on eggshells “also Cam told me to give you this” it was your uno cards from the other night

“thank you” you smile at her

“give me another bite” Conrad said as he wraps his arms around your waist and you practically feed him “thank you” he said which followed by an mhm coming from your mouth

“want to go to the beach later” you asked looking up at him to see if he would agree or not

“sure” he replied. making you already excited and smiling back at the muffin before taking a bite and feeding another piece to Conrad

“can we go at night” he questioned

“and skinny dip” you whispered for only him to hear which made him already look forward to see the moon.

“this is seriously cute” Taylor says to Belly who nods

“i love you” Conrad said to you kissing the top of your head as he saw how everyone was so welcoming of the new couple

“i love you more” you say looking up at him which made him kiss you

—-

a/n: part two..??

3K notes · View notes

lizthewriter · 6 months

Text

i'm right here / billy loomis

PAIRING fem!reader x billy loomis

SUMMARY you and billy had been dating for quite a while now. you had always been so dependent on him, so clingy, so needy, and you were starting to realize that maybe he didn't like you nearly as much as you thought he did. when you stop calling him and ignore him completely, he's not just angry, but he comes to the realization that he doesn't know who he'd be without you. he's lonely and he needs you just as much, if not more, than you need him.

TAGS fem!reader x billy loomis, angst, fluff, if you squint, sexual tension, smut, only on the clothes stuff, billy wouldn't dare break my underwear rule, teasing, making out,, desperate men >>>, deranged men >>>>>, billy is a lil' toxic, just a lil' bit, cursing, slight stalking (come on, we're talking about ghostface here, get with the program)

QUOTE "i'm calling you, pick up your phone . . . well i don't give a fuck about your friends, / i'm right here, here / well baby talk a look around, / i'm the only one that hasn't walked out, / i'm right here," - right here by chase atlantic

WORD COUNT 2.1K

WRITTEN 10.25.2023

A/N this is my first smut 😭😭😭😭 also i watched scream for the first time and if billy and stu weren't murderers ... omg 😭😭😭 anyways, i will get up another fic on sunday and one next wednesday ... PLS SEND REQUESTS FOR BILLY AND STU 😭😭😭😭

You once again hung up the phone in a huff - Billy has tried calling you for the fourth time that evening. You would have let the phone ring if the sound of it didn't set you off.

You tossed the clunky phone back onto the other end of the couch and settled onto the cushions with a relieved sigh. Finally, some time for yourself - you had been swamped with so much work recently, it was nice to finally take a moment to relax. You flicked on the television, channel surfing before the phone went off again. You groaned and picked up the phone, pressing the decline button before setting it back down. You let out an incredulous laugh at the irony of the situation. You were ignoring Billy because he barely spent any of his time with you and didn't seem to be putting anywhere near as much effort into your relationship as you were. You were so tired of being taken advantage of and eventually being walked out on by friends and family that you finally, for once, walked out on someone else first. But now, now that you've broken things up with him, he seemed interested in you.

"Asshat," you mumbled under your breath, finally settling on a channel playing some mildly entertaining thriller that was gripping enough to keep you interested, but not so much so that you were discerning and questioning every detail. You laid back down on the couch, head lolling to the side as you space out and got lost in your own thoughts. The one thing that startled you from your own head was the sound of the phone ringing once again.

More than irritated, you grabbed the phone and finally answered, shoving the clunk of plastic next to your ear. "Listen here Billy, I told you once and I don't want to say it again, I'm. Done -"

The voice at the end of the line spoke only your name in greeting, but it soundly oddly gruff and robotic. Not Billy's voice, which made you pause in hesitation. "Yes, that's me . . . what do you want?"

"I always thought The Sixth Sense was a sort of underrated masterpiece."

You launched up from the couch, fear settling into your gut as you glanced out the back patio doors outside. "What kind of prank is this? Stu, are you fucking with me again? Because I swear -"

"It's not Stu, sweetheart. Guess again."

You paused. It was a long shot. But why would he change his voice? You decided to play a little game of your own. "You know what I'm watching, so you must be somewhere outside, in the backyard, right?" You got up from the couch and stared out at the backyard, but no one was there. "Who is this? Randy? Bobby? Which ass decided to piss me off today -"

"I did." The voice, unexpectedly, came from behind you. You jumped at the sound and turned around to face Billy, who was holding up a portable phone. He hung up, tucking away whatever kind of voice modulator he'd been using, and took a step towards you. In return, you took a step back, placing your house phone on a nearby surface.

"What are you doing in my house, Billy? I'm having friends over soon, you can't be here."

"I came over to apologize."

"You?" You asked him incredulously. "Apologize? That's rich. I didn't know the word 'apologize' was even in your vocabulary."

Billy offered you a grimaced smile and took another step forward. "I really mean it this time, all right?"

"Oh sure, yeah, and I'm the Queen of England," you retorted with a roll of your eyes. You glanced at the clock and decided it would be best to prepare snacks now, before your friends got here. You began to walk past him, in the direction of the kitchen. "Go home, Billy, I'm done with you and your indifference."

Before you even took another step away from him, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into his chest. He stared down at you, hunger, desperation, adoration in his eyes. You couldn't help but soften as you stared up at his face - even if you were doing this for yourself, you couldn't help but miss him. And fuck, was he the most beautiful bastard you've ever seen.

He ran his index finger along your cheek, his head bowed as his eyes trailed all across your face. "I didn't appreciate you like I should have . . . I realize that now. I guess it's true. You don't know how good something is until it leaves." He bowed his head closer and closer to you, and you couldn't help but feel yourself weaken. As though you hsd fallen prey to his seduction spell. You had to admit, it was easier to ignore his calls then to ignore his prescene, that sultry voice and those beckoning lips, the brown strands that you wanted to tug on oh so badly. "Give me one more chance. I'll prove it to you that I can be better . . . " And he said the one word you've never heard leave his mouth ever. His voice came out as soft as a whisper, as hot as the fiery gates of hell on your mouth. "Please. I need you."

Your breathes came out hot and heavy - you wanted him bad, so bad. But you knew you shouldn't. You always followed the same toxic, hurtful patterns. You needed to let go of the people that hurt you, but God you couldn't let him go. You tried to find an excuse.

"Billy, my friends are going to be here in ten minutes." Your voice came out much weaker, less assured then intended.

"I could give a flying fuck about your friends. They don't treat you right, no better than I did. Yet here you sit, cleaning the house, buying food and renting movies, all for people who could care less. If you're going to give someone a second chance, let it be me." He held up your hand, pressing gently kisses along the edge of it. His eyes met yours again, dark and lustful, filled with meaning. You just couldn't help yourself - you knew you'd regret this, but honestly . . . you didn't care anymore.

You finally grabbed the back of his head and pushed him down to meet your lips, hands tangling in those chocolate locks of his. His mouth tasted like pennies and cigarettes, apricot and clove. He was far from being shy, he equally reciprocated your actions if not overcompensated and pressed back into you hungrily. He was slightly rough with you, never enough to hurt you, only rile you up. He pushed you back towards the couch, your knees buckling as they met the cushions, forcing you to sit yourself down on the couch. His eyes roamed your body and he gestured towards your shirt.

You leaned up, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and pulling him down to your level. "No. I'm tired of initiating. If you want me, come get me." You released his shirt, sitting back on the couch with crossed arms and watching his next movements.

His eyes widened in slight shock. You had never been one to take the lead and boss him around, but now that you had, he found it incredibly arousing. And he also felt he owed it to you to give you whatever you wanted. After all, he'd been a terrible boyfriend and if he was truly being honest, you deserved better. But that selfish, possessive side to him couldn't let you go, craved you like a starved man.

He pulled off his shirt, revealing the chiseled chest beneath. He wasn't paticularly buff, but he was certainly well built and plenty aesthetically pleasing. He bent down, latching his lips back onto yours. He allowed your hands to roam over his bare torso, smirking slightly at the groan that left your lips. His hands gradually slipped under your shirt, pulling it overhead and revealing the lacy bra beneath. As strong as he was, he was easily able to shift your position so you were laying along the length of the couch. He crawled on top of you, one hand laying atop your breast, the other being used as a crutch to keep him balanced. His lips returned to yours, wet and burning with passion, running along yours smoothly. His other hand slipped down to your waist, tightening around it as his tounge poked through your lips and into your mouth. You couldn't help the soft moan that left your mouth, hips rolling up to meet his. You jolted as you were met with something hardened, a shiver running down your spine.

"Billy . . ." You whined, eyes pleading with him to stop being so painstakingly slow. You wanted him and you wanted him now. "Please. I missed you . . . need you."

"S'okay baby," he responded, lips now meeting the skin of your neck. You missed the feeling of his nose brushing against your skin with every kiss, his roaming hands exploring every inch of your body, those glances from.his darkened eyes that almost unsettled you. "I'll take care of it, I promise."

He rolled his hips up into yours, causing a moan to spill out of your mouth. You had wrapped your arms around his back, hands digging into his shoulder blades. "Missed your pretty little moans, baby." He lifted his head away from your neck, hand running through your hair as he looked down at you. "Promise I'll be better, hm? You'd like that?"

He rolled his hips up again with a smirk and you shut your eyes tight, only able to respond with a high-pitched "mhm!"

"You're - such a tease," you gasped, opening your eyes again, a faint blush spreading over your cheeks.

"I thought you liked when I teased you, pretty girl." You hated the smug smirk painted across his cheeks, but the thing you hated the most was that he was right. You loved the teasing, the degradation, the humiliation, the praise. He knew just how to get you hot and bothered, so much so that you couldn't help but snap at him. You know he did those kinds of things on purpose just you'd give him an attitude and he'd get to punish you. But if you were being honest . . . it turned you on.

"Just - please."

"Please what?" He asked with innocent eyes, rolling his hips up harder but keeping the bulge in his jeans pressed against you this time.

You groaned loudly, clawing at his back. "Not - not fair."

"What's not fair? This?" He rolled his hips upwards against, drawing another moan from your lips.

"N-no, stop -"

He let out a mock sigh of disappointment and began to draw away. "All right, I'll stop, if that's what you really want."

"No!" You exclaimed loudly, grabbing his hand and pulling him back towards you. "Don't leave . . . please."

You wanted to smack that stupid little grin off of his face, but then he dropped his knee between your thighs and the words you had wanted to speak suddenly left your lips. He glanced down at your pajama pants, toying with the waistband teasingly.

"Say the words then."

"What?" You responded with furrowed brows.

"Say, 'Billy, I want you to fuck me.'" His eyes bore into yours - the sweet chocolate now turned to charcoal black. He loved the effect he had on you, he loved messing around with you. Especially when you got all flustered and embaressed like this. "Come on, say it. I know you can, sweetheart."

You paused. "Billy, I -"

The doorbell rang, followed by the sounds of giggles. Your friends all shouted your name and dissolved into another bought of laughter. You glanced back towards Billy, torn about what to do.

He pulled away with a gentle sigh, planting a final kiss to your forehead. "We'll pick this up another time, yeah?" Desperate sex with Billy was always good, at least, you thought.

You held onto his hand for a few more seconss before it slipped away as he walked backwards towards the stairs. He must have crawled inside your bedroom window like he usually does. "Okay. I'll call you in the morning?"

He grinned. "Sounds good, sweetheart. I'll pick you up, too."

The doorbell rang thrice more, your friends yeling at you to come answer the door. Billy grinned and departed up the stairs, but not before grabbing his shirt on the way out. You picked up your own shirt from where it had been discarded on the floor and pulled it on as you approached the front door.

Your friends greeted you enthusiastically as they entered your house and while they were all excitedly chattering about the movies you selected, you could only think of Billy, stupid, seductive Billy.

#— [ glizzy posts ☆ ]#billy loomis x reader #billy loomis smut #scream #scream 1996 #billy loomis #my writing #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my fic #writing #fanfic #billy loomis x you #ghostface x reader #ghostface x you #ghostface

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shojizbae · 10 days

Text

Yeehaw!

Spencer Reid x reader

Warnings: This is spicy! Use of alcohol, behind drunk/drunk sex, Oral fem! receiving, cowgirl position

Everyone could tell with just one look at you that you were Southern. That being said, anytime there was a case in the South, everyone knew to take a step back and let you lead. This time, there was a string of murders in Aiken, South Carolina, and the team knew that you were all over it.

"Weren't you from a Carolina?" Derek chuckles as we board the jet.

"Yeah, I spent most of my time on Camp Lejeune with my daddy, then I went south for college in Charleston."

"So that means Hotch has been demoted for this." Emily snickers

"No, I just know the South, and I'll get a little gun-happy when I'm back home. It wouldn't be no different had we gone to Chicago, Derek."

"Wow, mama's go home heat today." We settle on the jet, and Hotch and Rossi debrief us. I take a nap as we head south, and unfortunately, the power of the state takes me over. I march up to the sheriff and flash my credentials.

"So, how's it happen?" The sheriff speaks in an accent so thick it makes grits look like juice. I glance at the team, and they seem to sigh in relief when they realize I can understand him. Tirelessly, we worked the case for 73 hours. We met at a fresh crime scene every morning. The unsub seemed to be in a frenzy. He was dangerous and mixed with a high concentration of amphetamine addiction in this area. It was likely he had no clue he was killing.

But, due to the trace amounts of meth, we knew that he was unstable and would trip up eventually. We got some sleep after the fourth body, and there was a trip up in the morning. A fifth, but he had left some of his powdered sugar at the crime scene.

I put a glove on and lifted the little baggie, showing it off to Reid.

"Hey, Spencer, check this out."

"Hey, I've been clean for years," He mopes

"Aw, I'm sorry, sugar," A detective approaches me with an evidence bag. "Here, swab it and run this through CODIS." Spencer and I kept sweeping the crime scene for any molecule of evidence. Nothing all that exciting. The killer left the knife in her this time. Indicative of the fact that they were out of control. I squat next to the body and ghost my fingers over the entrance wound.

"Hey Spencer," He perks up like a gopher, "If you were going to kill someone and you were going to stab them to death, how'd you do it?"

"Are you sure that's an appropriate question?"

"I'm just curious."

"I'd probably use something with a curved blade. It would do the most damage and be the hardest to remove." His eyes go kind of dead, as he explains. An awkward air hangs between the two of us as we survey the wound.

"Damn, Spence, that's messed up."

"You asked." He sasses

Not later that evening, a woman called to suspect a strange man was in her house. We move in immediately and find a man pacing in circles in the bathroom. He's violent and angry, and his nose is bleeding. He tried to swing a knife at Morgan, but I grabbed him by the wrist and slammed his head into the wall. I use my hips to push him forward and cuff him while Emily helps the woman safely out of her house.

I march him to the car while he screams that I'm a bastard whore. Finally, I shoved him into the police car and muttered a good riddance. I even patted my hands like a baker getting flour off.

"I need a drink." I put my hands on my hips

"I could use something to cool off, too. This southern heat can be beat." Derek wipes his brow

"Hotch you think we have the leeway to spend the night here?" Emily asks

"That's all up to JJ, anything pressing enough that we need to get back to Quantico?"

"Well, nothing too scary that we couldn't cut loose after working for six days straight." She smiles at the team

Hours later, we showered, ate a full meal at a steakhouse, and put on the nicest clothes in our go-bags. The team was shocked to discover I had a cowboy hat in my bag. We moseyed our way to the bar, a small dive bar with a pool table. A mechanical bull is in the center of the room, and my eyes light up at the memories. Rossie buys us a pitcher of beer, and we all unwind from the stressful week.

As we knock 'em back slowly and let college stories fly, the team starts to forget what we had seen. Rossi tells us some funny stories about going to college during the summer of love, and Reid accidentally brags about going to Cal Tech.

"Well, what about you? Didn't you go to school nearby?" Emily says as she refills her glass.

"Uh yeah, in Charleston, South Carolina." I clarify

"So you must have spent most of your nights like this." Derek motions around the bar, playing honky-tonk music. Pool balls clack around us, and there's a thin layer of dirt around the edge of the bar.

"Well, most nights I spent in my dorm or the library. Every other Saturday, my roommate and neighbors would go to a dive named Fat Daddy's. We would make bets with the alcoholic dads about being able to ride the bull, and if we stayed on longer than they said so, they'd buy us all a drink. I didn't pay for my own liquor for three semesters." The team stood in shock. Hotch's jaw was agape and Rossi just nodded his chin in acknowledgement.

"Well, now, baby girl, I have to see you in action." Derek almost commands

"No, I ain't dressed right. And ain't nobody betted me."

"I bet you won't last seven seconds on the mechanical bull," Spencer interjects "If you do, I'll buy you that coconut margarita that you've been eyeing."

"Alrght, there's my bet." I march up to the bartender "I'm'onna ride that bull." I point at it and he looks me hat to boot.

"Alright," The bartender seems disinterested. He hits a button, and lights around the bull flash like a carnival. I draw the attention of the whole bar as a pre-recorded announcer calls me a brave challenger.

Big men with fat beer bellies gather around, and I readjust my top. If I play my cards right, I might get more than a coconut margarita out of this. I'm not wearing anything too special—just one of my combat scoop-neck tees and low-rise daisy dukes. The bartender offers his hand, and I use it to mount the big plastic bull.

"You ready, little girl?" He asks

"Yes sir." I grip onto the handle at the 'bull's nape and a bell rings. Slowly the bull starts lurching forward and back while exciting music bounces around the bar.

one Mississippi

The bull speeds up

'ride it, cowgirl!" Derek yells from the edge of the bull enclosure

two Mississippi

It starts going sideways

three Mississippi

I fake with my appearance that I'm struggling and readjust my grip

four Mississippi

I use my hips to grind with the rhythm of the bull as men whoop and cheer

five Mississippi, six Mississippi

My heart starts to thump against my ribs

Seven Mississippi, I win.

The team cheers for me. I keep going, getting bold enough to grind more dramatically. I hear more whoops and hollers as I lift my arms and squee. Someone yells, and another man whistles. I hold onto my hat as the bull speeds up, and I feel my shirt lift.

'Yeehaw!' I hear, and the bar just erupts. I feel so full of life, and I jump up on the bull, riding it like a surfboard. I drop down and sit backward on the bull. I twist around and ride the bull until the bartender slows it down.

"You done broke our record. 39 seconds on the highest speed." The bar screams in glee, and the team closes in on me, handing out high fives. Reid hangs behind the group, and I see him ask Derek a question

"Did you know that (Y/n) has a stomach tattoo?"

"Wow (Y/n), that was incredible." Emily looks starstruck

"I told you I didn't pay for a drink for 18 months." I give JJ a hug, and Reid emerges from the crowd

"I guess I owe you a drink." He smiles, and I fidget with the hem of my shirt

"One coconut margarita, please, sir." He leads me to the bar, where the bartender makes one for me. I hold the glass up to his face, and Reid takes the first sip.

"No, that's fine," He pushes the glass from his cheek

"C'mon, you paid for it."

"Listen, you know that coercion isn't a great thing to do. Most serial killers are more coercive than a skeezy lawyer."

"Aw, you're using my metaphors." I coo and step closer to his chest

"When did you become so flirty?" he braces me on the hip

"All that shaking around must have got the beer movin' in me." I giggle and sip on my glass. "I saw you askin' Derek 'bout my tattoo. y' wanna see it?" I start to roll up my shirt

"No, no, that's fine," He holds my wrist to stop me. "Why don't we get you some water."

"No, this is yummy." I smile and down the cup. He grimaces at the action and tries to walk me over to our table

"Hey, Spencer, you wanna know why I'm so good at riding that thing?" I halt to play with the button of his shirt, and he stops, too.

"Uh sure," He swallows

"Ever the curious doctor," I slur. I'm good with the bull because I love riding," I whisper drunkenly in his ear. He swallows hard and tries to shimmy us back to our table. His hands shake as he grips my tricep.

"Why're you so nervous?" I ask the side of his jaw. My voice swings up an octave, but I snort as I survey the team.

"The liquor got to her quick. I'm gonna get her back to the hotel."

"Oooh, why don't you take me someplace fancy," I tease

"Well, make sure you use protection." Derek snorts as he lifts a brown bottle to his lips

"Aw, you ain't gotta worry. I've got an IUD." Spencer soothes my sentence with a pat on my shoulder, and I slide a hand down his back

"That won't be a problem. I'm just going to ensure she has water, Advil, and comfortable clothes." He jumps away as I make an attempt to grab his butt.

"You sure you don't want either of us to take her?" JJ offers and points between Emily and herself. I rest my head on his chest. I can feel his heart pounding against my temple.

"You gonna take good care of me, Doctor?" I smile up at his concerned face

"I'm not that kind of doctor." He scolds. He helps seatbelt me into one of two FBI SUVs. Slowly and carefully, he drives me to the highway motel we were placed in, and he marches me into my room.

"Alright, are you sober enough to shower?" He sits me on the bed, and the mattress shrieks beneath me

"Yeah, so long as you help me get my shirt off."

"No, I won't be doing that," He finds a glass and fills it with water. He digs in my go-bag and finds the bottle of Advil. He drops two in his hand and gives them to me as well as the cup. "Drink this," he tucks some hair behind his ears.

"My feet hurt," I whine and put the pills in my mouth.

"Well, you're wearing those ridiculous boots," He stressfully tucks some hair behind his ears

"They ain't ridiculous." Stick out a foot and twist it to see the whole design, "Maybe a little flashy." I tuck my foot in and look up at him. "Will you calm down if you held me out of these sugar?"

"Yeah, sure." He kneels down and tugs each of my boots off, and lines them up with the rest of my shoes.

"Aww, you're so caring. C'mere sugar." Reluctantly, he finds me on the mattress, and I pat it next to me. He's hesitant, but he sits, and I lean against him. "Hey, Spencer?"

"Yes, (Y/n)?"

"You wanna ask about my tattoo?"

"No,"

"Really, because you keep glancing down at my stomach. I may be a drunk one, but I am a profiler. What about it? Gets you going so much?"

"What?" He scoffs in shock "It doesn't 'get me going'." I hold onto his arm

"Really? Because I'm pushin' my tits against you, and you're still lookin' at my stomach."

"I uh I'm not." He's distracted enough that I can swing my legs across his lap "(Y/n), this is really inappropriate conduct for coworkers."

"I ain't on the clock," I slowly drag my shirt up to reveal the design. Two big blossoms of overlapping lavender and olive flowers. Any protests he tries to make are halted as he studies the image.

"These ones, "I guide his apprehensive hand as hi pointer finger traces my stomach "Are olive blossoms, they stand for peace. and these are lavenders."

"They mean feminity and grace." He clears his throat

"I've got more," I whisper playfully

"C-can I see them?" He swallows. I cross my arms at the hem of my shirt and pull it off, lifting the hem of my bralette.

"There's some text under my boobs."

"te amo para siempre." He reads without an accent, so it sounds stilted. "Did you get that for a boyfriend?"

"No, it's something my grandpa used to tell me." he runs his thumb over the cursive, "And on my collarbones." I guide his wrist to my right clavicle.

"'An eye for an eye,' I guided him across my chest, and he traced like he was reading braille.' leaves the whole world blind.' He connected his eyes with mine. His pupils were real big.

"Aw gee, I just realized I'm a little underdressed."

"Of course," he shifts around to encourage me to get off

"Uh uh, it could be you're just overdressed," I hold onto the knot in his tie

"No (Y/n),"

"You know, darling, your mouth is saying no, but your body is saying yes." I slide my hips forward and feel him suppress a shudder. I direct his head to look at me with blown-wide puppy dog eyes. "Maybe we should tell your mouth to let your body take over." I sink my lips against him, and he melts into me. Our lips smack as he pulls away

"(y/n), no, this isn't professional," he tries to disable my arms as I slide his tie knot apart

"Well, that's good. If I were professional, you get a hotel in a local jail for soliciting a prostitute." I get the knot loose and free his neck, making headway on the buttons. He shiftsbutI kiss his complaints away. Soon, sounds of complaint turn to moans as he succumbs to his body.

"Hey, Spencer," I pull away briefly and chew on my lip at the view. His hair is fluffed, and the top half of his shirt is flipped open. "I've got one more tattoo, and I think you'd really like it."

"I would?" he pushes his hair back "Why." I give him a peck as I reach for the button on my shorts. He grabs my hand and undoes the button himself. I guide his hand to the zipper, and he tugs it down. Instead of shimmying out of the shorts, I hook his finger in the elastic of my underwear. He pulls it down just enough to read the black text that slowly faded to show green.

"C6H12O6?"

"Yeah, you remember what that means?"

"It's the chemical formula for sugar." He snaps the underwear back into place, and I jump at the sensation, "Why?"

"Because I'm so sweet." I dive back in and kiss him. Heated aggressively like he's got the last cup of water on his tongue. He reaches into my hair to steady me, and with his second hand, he grabs my hip. I continue to unbutton his shirt until he shores it off into the distance.

"Well, look how handsome you are," I watch him blush, but I run my hands up his chest and over his collarbones. He blushes but guides my hand to his belt buckle. I love the sound a belt buckle makes. Before I can get his pants off him, Spencer surprises me. He picks us up and twists us, so my back slaps against the squeaky mattress.

He slithers down my body, kissing down the various tattoos. Gently, he slides his fingers into the waistband of my jeans. He slides them down and separates each of my knees. Almost entranced he licks up the gray cotton panties I wore.

"Spencer!' I moan in shock

"Please, this is my favorite part." He pulls the underwear off and tosses it to the side. I don't protest any further. It's rare to find a guy willing to go down on me, much less one that initiates. He wraps his arms around my thighs and places my knees at his shoulders. He wastes no time diving in.

With every man I've slept with, I've never felt someone go down on me with such fervor and skill. I'm taken down. He clings onto my clit with desperation. He drops my right leg so that he can trace gentle circles around my pussy.

"Spenc- Uh"

"Sh-sh -shh, just relax." He soothes me and rubs my inner thigh. I try to look down at him, but as he continues his ministrations, I lose my strength and flop my head back. Slowly, he sinks his pointer finger in, and I take a sharp inhale.

"Spe-EUUh!" His skill is shocking as he slowly moves his finger in and out. Once I was acclimated, he pulled out and put both his pointer and middle in. I do my best to suppress it for the comfort of the surrounding guests.

"Don't hide from me." He comes up and looks my face over

"There's other people around, Spencer."

"Then let them hear." He places a kiss on my forehead and sinks down to continue devouring me. I don't hold back as much as I'm embarrassed. He starts a 'come hither' motion and I roll my hips up into his face. He braces a hand on my hip.

"Sit still." He commands

Steadily, I felt a climax rising in me. I felt the muscles in my stomach clenching and tensing. I feel like yellow waves of pleasure ripple through my body.

"SPE—Spencerr, I'm gonna!" I desperately reached around and threaded my fingers into his hair. With my other hand, I felt around for the disheveled comforter. I balled my hands into a fist around what I held: his hair and the blanket. I climaxed faster than I had expected. Accidentally, I locked Spencer in with my legs. Desperate to keep the pleasure close to me.

It took me a moment to catch my breath. When I came to, I released my legs, and he resurfaced, wiping his mouth as he checked on me.

"How are you doing? Was that any good?"

"Good?" I gaped, and I saw him crumble a little in insecurity. Spencer, that was the best head I've ever had." He chuckled boyishly as I held his pants so he lay on top of me.

"Spencer?" I ask slowly

"Yeah," He kisses me on the side of the mouth

"I'm gonna fuck you now,"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," I sit him up and unzip his pants and pull them down. His legs are ridiculously long, and it feels like an eternity to get him naked. I geek at his boxers. His cock is jumping against the fabric, and there is a small precum stain. I rub over the fabric, and he keens into my touch.

"Aww, so you're all talk," I tease

"S-shut up, you were just writhing under me." He leans back on his arms. The veins in his forearms are bulging, and I can see his stomach shift as he shifts under my pawing.

"Yeah, and now you will be."

I slide my fingers under the elastic, and he lifts his hips to help me free him. Gently, I stroke him, and he gulps back and moans. I mount him, letting Spencer guide himself into me. I sigh as I feel him slide in, and his hands gravitate to my hips.

"Woah," he grunts. It's probably the strangest reaction I've gotten, but I appreciate being such a stunner.

"How are you doing, Reid?"

"I-I'm sublime. How are you?" I shift my hips in contemplation, feeling my eyes pool in the back of my head.

"Oh, I'm doing-g just-" My sentence cuts itself off as the head of his dick kisses a sweet spot inside me. "Can you just give me a little boost?" He holds each of my hips and drags me across my lap.

"Oh fuck," I sigh, and I pick my hips up. We fall into a sensual rhythm as the world disappears around us. "Spencer, that feels so..." My forehead collapses against his collarbone. There's something about his dick that itches a scratch I didn't know I was feeling. Similarly, he mews below me.

"(Y/n)," he groans out below me "Don't stop." and I don't. Instead, I pick up the pace. I brace myself on his shoulders and slam my hips back and forth until my thighs burn. And when the sensation becomes overwhelming I keep fighting.

"Oh my- uh," He groans beneath me "(Y/n), (Y/n), I'm gonna cum." He sounds desperate. "(Y/n) you have to get off." He whimpers

"No, I'm gonna cum too. I won't-" I keep my hips galloping against his thighs, "PLEase- fuck, I'm gonna." I feel his cock twitch inside me, and warmth spreads through my thighs.

"Uh, nice and deep." I halt myself for a second," Spencer I gotta keep going."

"M'kay." I ride with such speed that I'm scared the legs on the bed will snap. Finally, I feel the point of no return—like watching a slow vase fall over, knowing you're too far away to stop it. I came. My knees buckled, and I fell chest-first onto Reid.

"Are you okay?" He holds my back steady and gently rubs my spine, and I catch my breath.

"Yeah, I'm okay." I sit myself up, and Spencer tucks some frizzy hair behind my ear. "Probably some of the sex I've had in... ever." His face lights up. I use his shoulder to stand up, and I feel it slide down my thigh.

"I'm gonna need a shower, but there's always room for two." I smile and trot off to the ensuite. It's not long before Spencer is chasing me behind the vinyl curtain to wet his hair and press a kiss to the back of my shoulder.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #the south #mechanical bullride #smut

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cryptidghostgirl · 3 months

Text

Make You Wish Chapter Four -- Vox

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: I don't think there are any for this chapter? Correct me if I am wrong.

Word Count: 1,225

Previous Part: Chapter Three -- A Reunion

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Make You Wish Master List

A/N I wasn't planning on posting this until tomorrow, but it seems to have some rather excited fans so here is chapter four (and the fourth thing I'm publishing today. We're very done for the day. I am tried and have actual work to do.) Also guys, I'm screaming. I accidentally deleted the whole things right before I was gonna post it. Thankfully I had a draft from when it was almost done save but like, god that sucked.

On the screen was Vox, seated behind a desk.

"Top of the hour and we're discussing a certain has-been how has been spotted cavorting around town after a seven year absence." Vox was saying, a poorly drawn image of Alastor displayed on the screen to his left.

Y/n saw Alastor's ear twitch with irritation.

"Yeah." she sighed, folding her arms across her chest, "Vox has gone kinda crazy since you left. I told you, things got tough."

"Did anybody miss him? Did anybody notice? More on tonight's program." Vox said through the TV, shuffling a stack of papers.

Alastor changed the channel with another flick of his finger.

"Hun, don't worry yourself with it." Y/n advised, "He's still gonna be there tomorrow."

The new channel showed a talk-show set up, Vox-2-Nite, where Vox was both host and guest.

"So, the old Radio Demon is back in town." host Vox was saying to himself as guest.

"Why is he hanging around?" guest Vox asked, taking a sip from a mug that had 'fuck Alastor' written on the side.

"Al." Y/n warned, sensing her friends irritation growing.

"What does that mean for your family?" Host Vox asked before Alastor changed the channel again.

Vox was on the screen again, before a bright red curtain.

"Well, handily, I've got good news." he was saying theatrically, "He's a loser, a fossil, and I don't mean to sound hostel-"

Alastor changed the channel again. This time to one of Vox's mega church broadcasts. Vox stood in the center of the screen wearing a pope's hat with an inverted cross on it.

"But the demon is a coward!" he announced, his words matching the previous channels sentiments perfectly.

"Jesus, V." Y/n asked, eyes wide, "How many channels are you running this on?"

"You can take that as gospel. Pulling my viewers? Impossible. I'm visual, he's barely audible."

"Y/n." Alastor hummed, his eyes still fixed on the screen.

"Yeah?"

"You wont mind if I handle this quickly. We can have our little chat after, I promise. It wont take more than a moment."

"I don't know, Al..." Y/n sighed, crossing her arms and tapping her foot slightly, "This isn't good for you, letting him get under your skin like this."

Alastor changed the channel again. A cooking show appeared and Vox was standing before the oven, singing along to the music playing in the background.

"But he should've stayed away! While he hid in radio, we pivoted to video!"

Vox on screen turned to the oven as he sang, opening it and pulling out a deer's head on a plate. Y/n bristled at the site, her horns growing just the tiniest bit longer, her teeth just the smallest bit sharper.

"And now his medium is getting bloody rare!"

"Al?" Y/n asked sharply.

"Yes, darling?"

"I lied." Y/n turned to face him, "He took this shit musical. Rip him a new one."

"Oh!" Millie exclaimed, excitedly grabbing onto Moxxie's arm, "We're gonna get a show!"

Alastor's grin widened at Y/n's words, if that was even possible. He stuck his hand out to the side, his microphone materializing in his grasp.

"Lucky for me, I've got the best voice this side of the divide on my side." he noted, shooting Y/n a look.

Her eyes flashed red.

"You flatter me."

Alastor brought his microphone to his mouth, suddenly exceedingly calm. The imps present in the room watched in shock as his ears flattened along his head.

"Salutations, good to be back on the air!" he announced into the device, "Yes I know it's been a while since someone with style treated hell to a broadcast. Sinners rejoice!"

Vox's brow furrowed on the TV screen as he inched up close to the camera.

"What a dated voice." Vox shot back, clearly listening to Alastor's broadcast on the set of his cooking show.

"Instead of a clout chasing, mediocre, video podcast." Alastor continued, not showing any sign he had noticed the TV demon's insult, "Is Vox insecure, pursuing allure? Flitting between this fad and that, is nothing working?"

"Ignore his chirping!" Vox commanded from the TV.

Y/n laughed and, turning to face Alastor, realized the man held a hand out to her. With a smile, she took it and he spun her into his arms as he spoke. The music echoed through the office as Alastor raised the volume on the TV once again.

"Every day he's got a new format."

Alastor spun Y/n back out again as the pair began dancing.

"You're looking at the future!" Vox yelled back, "He's the shit that comes before that!"

As Alastor spun Y/n back into his arms, she laid one of her hands on top of his holding the microphone and pulled it closer to her face.

"Is Vox as strong as he purports, or is it based on his support?" she sang in a clear voice, Blitzo, Millie, and Moxxie's eyes widening with recognition at the sound, "He'd be powerless without the other Vees."

"That's true!" Alastor noted, pulling the microphone back to himself as Y/n let go of his hand and he spun her back out again.

"It can't be..." Moxxie muttered under his breath.

"Holy shit!" Millie cut him off, excitement creeping into her voice, "There's no way, Y/n is the guest star?"

"The fuck are you two talking about?" Blitzo asked, turning to Millie and Moxxie as they watched the couple continue to dance.

"Well, Sir," Moxxie began, fiddling with the cuffs of his jacket, "back before the Radio Demon went missing, he used to bring guests onto the show on occasion. There was one guest he never named during his broadcasts however. She mostly just sang songs and chatted with him but, she sounded an awful lot like Y/n did just now."

"You don't say." Blitzo hummed, his arms crossed as he turned back to Y/n and Alastor, "So much for little miss 'oh, my life has been so boring. You'd probably just fall asleep if I started talking about it!' She is so gonna get it later."

Alastor let go of Y/n's hand and leaned into the microphone, beginning to sing as well, using the music emanating from the TV as a base.

"And here's the sugar on the cream: he asked me to join his team!"

"Hold on!" Vox yelled.

"I said no and now he's pissy, that's the tea!" Alastor finished, ignoring the demon once again.

"You old timey prick!" Vox exclaimed, his face glitching slightly as Y/n wandered back over to Alastor.

She leaned an elbow on his shoulder, tilting her head to the side in amusement as they watched Vox struggle.

"I'll show you suffering!"

"Aww, the TV is buffering." Y/n said, leaning into the microphone, her voice dripping with sickly sweet pity.

"I'll destroy yoo-o-u-u" Vox exclaimed as his technical difficulties seemed to grow worse.

Alastor and Y/n exchanged a wicked pair of smiles as the TV flickered out. Shadows crept from the edges of the room, encircling their feet. Alastor held an arm out to Y/n once again which she took with a smile. In a flash of darkness, they were gone.

"What the fuck was that?" Loona asked, stalking into the room.

----

Next Part -> Chapter Five -- The Conversation

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ixiot-ghostrebel · 4 months

Note

Read that one with Creator!Reader, who favors Nahida. To be honest! I love her. She is the only one who has tried to help Aether find his sister. And I love Aether, and whoever is kind to him automatically gains my favor.

I haven't finished Fontaine story, so I'm not sure about them.

Nahida Lovers Are gonna be having the Party of a lifetime here 👍 I am going to shove a little bit of Aether into this, but it can also be read as Lumine if other ppl want to :)

Nahida's ALWAYS Off the Hook :D

(Warning: Might be OOC!)

You liked Nahida (platonically, don't get other ideas). She was the only archon that was able to find any information on Aether's sister, and was the only one who made many efforts to find any information regarding Lumine.

It was nice and refreshing for once, to see the Famed Traveler finally getting some help in return of their deeds for the nation. You were so stoked, you started cheering and screaming like this was the best victory you've ever witnessed (it might've actually been).

Nahida, after hearing this, felt even more happy than before. I mean, you were kinda just praising her on the spot for something she thought was just...right to do.

Yet you're making a huge deal out of it. Were the other nations...not that helpful? I mean, the way the Traveler just turned down help and all that was proof, but you praising her for something as simple as this for a "thank you"...Nahida is kinda glad she'll be the first to do it.

It also seems you're starting to favor Nahida alongside the Traveler, which she isn't sure how she feels entirely, but she is for sure happy!

The moment you leave, Nahida's smile is a whole lot bigger, and she's basically grinning from ear to ear. It feels like she truly has spread her wings once the cage was opened. She can only hope her flight can make the Almighty Creator continue to smile and cheer.

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: I really have no clue if this is meeting expectations or not, but I do hope y'all like it! Usually these one characters aren't really something I usually come around in my mailbox, so this was definitely practice for the future lol!

I might open up my mailbox again, but only for a day or two (maybe, no promises for the re-open). I still have a lot of other requests lying in my mailbox, but it's good to have experience out here :D

Anyways, I hope this helps with the Nahida Lovers :) Remember, Nahida is platonic when your reading my blog!

Also, if you're the people waiting for The Lost Divine God of Celestia, I might have to disappoint you in saying that I think I might discontinue the series all together. I have been trying to write the fourth part of the series, but I just come out with nothing in the end. It's kinda depressing seeing the draft in my draft box sobbing. I'm so sorry, but I'll see how I feel about it before I make an official announcement on the matter.

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

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youunravelme · 7 months

Text

it's nice to have a friend

author's note: this is a little all over the place, but i saw a tiktok edit of seven by taylor swfit and then thought to myself, what if i ignore all my wips and wrote childhood friends to lovers with a hint of childhood trauma? and this was born. and if the timeline isn't perfect with reality, oh well. i'm but a human girl. also!! if you have ever experienced or currently experiencing abuse, please know that it was never your fault. you don't deserve to be treated that way.

pairing: mat barzal x reader

summary: wherever mat went, you were never too far behind or the one where you are childhood besties

warnings: cursing (as always), mentions of parental abuse and alcholism, tumultuous childhood, drinking, mentions of sex

there was a saying that floated around in your elementary, middle, and high school days, surrounding you like a warm oversized cardigan.

wherever mat went, you were never too far behind.

the saying could also be flipped, the two of you stuck to each other like glue.

mat, despite not being one for fights, had a bad habit of running his mouth whenever you were concerned. in fourth grade, he used newly learned vocabulary words to berate a girl who made fun of your beat up shoes and nearly got detention for it.

and you had a nasty habit of squaring up with anyone who looked at mat wrong, even if they towered over you.

your friendship worked well because of it.

age eight

you could remember summer days swimming in the pool with mat and liana, laughing as you and mat teamed up against his little sister until his mother scolded the two of you when she started crying.

but there was always a darkness that sat in the corners of your memories like fingerprints that had damaged an old photograph.

you didn't have to try to remember your parents' screaming and yelling at each other, just like you didn't have to try to recall the smell of alcohol on your father's breath. it didn't take any effort to remember the way your hands shook when you locked your room at night and climbed out of a second story window to go to mat's.

you could feel the splinters digging into your fingertips as you climbed the trellis up to his window. you could still feel the way your stomach dropped when you slipped and fell halfway up in the pouring rain, nearly breaking your arm in the process. you could still hear nadia come out and usher you inside moments before mat's eight year old feet came pattering down the stairs.

he didn't even give you time to explain, he just wrapped you up in a hug.

it took you that long to understand it was never raining, it was just tears.

the next week, you found yourselves at the park laying on your backs in the grass.

"what would you do if a genie gave you one wish?" mat asked out of the blue.

the summer sun kept you warm as the breeze kept sweeping in and blowing strands of hair into your face.

"get far away from here."

"would you bring me?" mat asked.

you turned your head to look at him only to find him already staring. "i wouldn't go anywhere without you." and you meant every word, spoke them with as much conviction as an eight year old could have.

mat reached out and squeezed your hand in his own.

"what would you wish for?"

he shrugged. "to be bigger."

you furrowed your brow. "why bigger?"

"so i could protect you better."

age nine

at nine, you and mat were playing cards in your room when the front door slammed. it was like you were on autopilot. of all the times that had happened, mat was never home with you. immediately, you were locking your door and shoving things in your backpack, pulling mat towards the window and climbing out as quickly as you could. the two of you ran to your bikes and biked all the way to an empty field where you collapsed in the tall grass and cried.

mat immediately brought you into his arms, hushing you and running his hand down your braids.

"what if--" he started stopped abruptly to clear his throat. "what if you stayed with me and liana and mom and dad? we could get bunk beds and a night light, if you want, and you wouldn't have to lock the door."

you just sobbed harder into his chest and shook your head.

it's not that simple, you wanted to tell him. but i wish it was.

age thirteen

you never moved in with mat, never got to get the bunk beds, but by middle school, your mom moved the two of you out of your old house. it was then that he started packing two lunches, one for you and another for himself.

things hadn't changed much since leaving your dad in that shitty house full of demons. you still spent most of your time at mat's house (your mom was working). still spent your saturdays going to his tournaments and games. you still cheered him on and let him cheat off your homework on sunday nights.

things shifted though, regardless if you wanted them to change or not. time, you found, never gave a shit about your opinion, thoughts, or desires.

because it felt like just yesterday, you were riding your bikes down the street, racing each other back home.

now, you were helping mat draft msn messages to a girl he had a crush on in your biology class. there was an uncomfortable sensation in your stomach that was comparable to the time you got food poisoning, but you couldn't place a reason for it.

you could paint the pink on his cheeks as the girl replied.

and you would've given anything to be the reason for it.

maybe it was silly, a small crush for the sheer convenience of it all. maybe it was the fact that he'd saved you so many times from the darkness that always seemed to follow you. maybe it was because he was a tether for you, pulling you back when you went too far in your head.

so when he laughed at something she said (which wasn't even really funny), you wanted to go back to the times the two of you would cloud gaze in the middle of the day just so you wouldn't have to be home.

age fifteen

you knew mat was a kind person, knew he was handsome and a good hockey player, that was never in question.

you just didn't realize other girls realized it too.

mat always walked in front of you in the hallways because he could make way through the crowds in ways you couldn't. (he grew like a weed over the summer and while you hated how you couldn't reach things when he held them above his head, you appreciated the way crowds moved out of the way for him).

you were used to him being in front, his grip light on your wrist as he tugged you behind him. you weren't used to walking behind his new girlfriend, chloe, who had the honor of walking beside him.

mat used to tell you how much it irritated him that people would take up so much space in the hallway and make it impossible to move around them.

but there you were, an awkward moving triangle of your best friend, his girlfriend, and you trailing pathetically behind.

chloe was cool. she never felt threatened by your friendship with mat, which might've hurt your feelings if you were delusional. you knew you had no chance with mat, so you'd take him in whatever form you could get him.

lately, that looked like spending time with liana in the stands at mat's tournaments. you would both do your homework before dissolving into gossip sessions while you braided her hair.

chloe even showed up for some games, smiling and cheering as he played. at one game, he scored and came up and tapped the glass in front of you, pointing at you and smiling.

they broke up two weeks later.

age sixteen

you openly cried when mat left for seattle. you were used to times when mat had hockey camps and would be gone for two weeks, a month at a time. but he would be gone indefinitely now.

and leading up to the day he was leaving, you thought it would be harder on you, considering mat hadn't shown anything but excitement. but when it came time for him to leave, he wouldn't let you go.

both of your moms had to pry you apart with promises that he would call and text as soon as he got to seattle.

and he did.

he hadn't even gotten into his new home when he was facetiming you.

you did your best to smile as he showed you around his new place, but your eyes were watering still. he was indefinitely two and a half hours away from you.

"you okay?" he asked when you stopped responding.

you gave him your best smile, but knew he wouldn't buy it. "just miss you is all."

he nodded, eyes going blank for a second before you saw water appear in them. mat wasn't as emotional as you were, and he for sure wasn't as teary eyed as he used to be when you still lived with your dad, but his eyes were watering all the same. "let's just treat it like summer camp," he said. "i'll be back before you know it, and if you need something, you can always call me."

you had no intentions of calling him with your problems, but then your dad showed up at your house screaming and beating the door and calling for your mother while she was at work. the doors were locked, he had no way in, and the police were on the way, but your hands were still shaking.

you couldn't run to his house to hug him anymore.

so you called him sobbing.

he picked up on the second ring.

he was lounging in bed, playing call of duty or something like it. "hey--" he cut himself off and paused his game, jumping out of bed. "what's wrong?"

"my dad," you sobbed.

mat was back in coquitlam in three hours, holding you tight to his chest and rocking you back and forth. you were openly weeping into his shirt, clinging to him. you weren't gonna let him go, and mat wasn't willing to give you up either.

you and your mom spent the night at the barzal's, with her taking the guest room while nadia brought a twin mattress into mat's room under the pretense that you would sleep on it.

you didn't.

everyone knew that you got into mat's queen sized bed and clung to him all night long.

just like everyone pretended that mat wouldn't have to leave in two days to go back to seattle.

just like you pretended like you wouldn't absolutely shatter on impact the second he left your sight.

age nineteen

when mat was drafted to the islanders, you stopped breathing. sure, it was dramatic, but you only moved into vancouver for school.

mat was moving across the fucking continent.

but he came back to seattle, and for a moment, the world was right again.

until he went to new york full time.

and the full weight of his absence hit you like a damn eighteen wheeler.

you'd watch him on the tv, when you used to watch him live in much smaller stands. you used to use puff paint to make t-shirts with his name on it, now they were selling his jersey in the arena he played in.

he didn't pick up the phone as much as he used to. he would respond to your texts days later until you stopped texting him altogether.

you should've seen it coming, especially when you saw him hanging out with instagram models and going out to bars. were you really expecting him to sit at home and wait for you to call him with a panic attack?

you had to get a grip.

so you did.

you threw yourself into your studies, pretending you didn't know his game schedule or stats. and when a cute boy named thomas came along and took interest, you allowed him to get to know you better.

you told him you grew up in coquitlam, that you were an only child, and your favorite school subject growing up was english.

(you never told him that your favorite color was the shade of mat's eyes, that you haven't spoken to your dad since the night your mom left him, or that every night, you fall asleep to career highlights of the best friend you haven't spoken to in months).

you learned he was a business major, something that should've been a red flag, but you were so focused on proving to yourself that you could be loved, that you overlooked it.

you went on dates, had sex, made plans for the future, met each other's families.

but he never met the barzals, despite the fact that you could drive to their house blindfolded.

no, they felt like a precious secret. the world could have number 13, they could have the calder memorial trophy winner, but you would not allow them to have the little sister whose hair you braided, the mother who brought you inside after you wrecked her trellis, the father who covered your scraped knees with bandaids and neosporin when your biological one was drunk at 2pm.

you might have lost mat to the awful curse called distance, but you would not lose his family.

you couldn't afford to lose them too.

now thomas, you lost a month after you turned twenty when you found him balls deep in your freshman roommate.

you went back to your apartment and cried, because it hurt, but mainly because you realized how alone you were. you had no one to call other than your mom or liana. but liana didn't even know about thomas, and your mom was dating a new guy now.

your thumb hovered over mat's contact for five minutes before you locked your phone and just went to bed.

age twenty-three

you were single for a whole year before you met dawson. his brown eyes and salt and pepper hair captivated you.

you were hooked, despite the seven year age gap.

he gave you the number to a good psychologist to help you work through your past and was willing to listen to you talk about it or sit in silence when your therapy session was emotionally exhausting.

he remembered your favorite flowers and brought a bouquet of them to your college graduation and kissed you in front of your mom and the barzals (minus mat, but that was a given at that point).

and on your twenty-third birthday, he proposed.

you said yes while actively trying to forget the dreams you and mat had when you were six.

you were building a fort in his bedroom with thumbtacks and blankets and sheets you'd stolen from around his house. when the project was complete, the two of you found yourselves laying in it, staring up at the blanket canopy shoddily held up by thumbtacks pushed into the wall.

"do you wanna get married?" mat had asked randomly.

"only if i get to marry you," you replied.

mat smiled a toothy grin, it was the only time you remembered him having imperfect teeth, given that he'd just lost his two front teeth. "i thought the same thing!"

and it was the most honest you had ever been. though, that wasn't a strange concept, most people were the most honest when they were either children or drunk. and considering you stayed far away from alcohol (guided by the anxiety in your stomach and the advice of your therapist), your childhood memories held the most truth.

despite not having seen him in years, you still thought of him often. you tried to see if you could remember the sound of his laugh without looking up an interview. you tried to recall the way his hair felt through your fingers.

but you couldn't.

it was crazy how much he meant to you as a child, how you still remembered the order in which he ate his breakfast, but you hadn't spoken to him in years.

you found yourself sobbing at the kitchen table one night as you poured over who to invite to the wedding. liana was a bridesmaid, mike and nadia had to be invited.

but what about mat?

you felt sick to your stomach at not inviting him. when you were in high school, when you'd gotten a grip on reality, you believed he'd walk you down the aisle in lieu of your piece of shit father.

but you hadn't spoken to him in so long.

though you couldn't imagine which would suck worse, not inviting him, or mat rejecting the invitation.

that was how dawson found you, sobbing over photos from your childhood that you wouldn't let him see. and when you tried to talk to him about it, he suggested talking to your therapist.

he broke off the engagement two weeks later. he said he didn't feel "the spark" anymore.

age twenty-four

you'd been out of college for two years now and all you had to show for it was debt and a stupid piece of paper. you were working in a coffee shop ten minutes from your mom's house and wishing you could've gotten out of coquitlam like mat did.

maybe this was your cursed existence, going to the grocery store wondering if you were going to ever run into your father again.

you'd just gotten off your shift at the coffee shop when you stopped by your local grocery store to pick some things up for dinner. it was supposed to be a normal day, but you turned the corner out of an aisle and damn near ran into someone.

"sorry, my bad--"

you looked up and suddenly the earth stopped in its rotation. you hadn't seen in him years but you'd know him blind.

his hands were around your elbows, keeping you upright. his touch almost burned you. it was an uncomfortable feeling, like putting on jeans you loved and realizing they don't fit anymore.

you pulled away, ducked your head, and started walking the opposite direction without another word.

but you should've known he would follow you, like a moth to a flame. or maybe that wasn't the right analogy, you were used to being the bug while mat was the light of your life.

but he followed you like there was a string attached to your wrists and he wasn't used to you pulling in an opposite direction.

he managed to catch up to you in the self care aisle right in front of the menstrual products. any other man you'd known would've shied away from standing in front of the tampons and pads as you deliberated which products to get, but mat's eyes wouldn't even leave your face.

you should've known he was going to come back eventually. you'd avoided seeing him in the offseason pretty well considering you were off doing internships and working out of town in the summer.

but now you were stuck in a dead end job with no passion for anything anymore, feeling more alone than you had ever felt before.

and because nature or god or the universe hated you, naturally, that was when mat showed back up.

when you had nothing to show for the years you didn't speak.

you could see the wheels turning in mat's head as he tried to think of something to say. it was an interesting turn of events that simultaneously sent an ache straight through your heart. when you were kids, he never hesitated to say exactly what was on his mind. now, he was deliberating.

"you wanna come over for dinner?" he asked. "mom's making tomato soup and grilled cheese."

you wished you could've denied him, it would've been smarter in the long run. mathew michael paul barzal could get you to do anything, and you hated that even after all those years, he still could.

you found yourself sitting at his old kitchen table surrounded by his family, dipping your grilled cheese into the soup like you were six years old again.

except the difference now was you were laughing with liana, sitting next to liana, instead of mat.

you'd occasionally meet his eyes from across the table, but it wasn't the same.

when you were kids, you sat next to each other at every opportunity. when you were kids, mat pretended to steal food off your plate. when you were kids, you knew everything about each other.

but you were adults now. and he was effectively a stranger you knew too much about.

after dinner, everyone scattered. you tried to leave, but mat caught up with you.

"what're you doing tomorrow?" he asked.

"working," you replied.

he nodded and looked around. "can i see you?"

you wanted so badly to say no, that you were busy, but as much as you wanted to pretend that he didn't, mat knew you better than anyone else, even if he had been absent for five years.

you ended up going for a walk in the park the next day, deciding that getting dinner wasn't worth the headache of mat getting recognized.

his hands were shoved in his pockets with a baseball cap pulled down low over his face. if you were brave enough to look over, you could still see his eyes taking glances at you.

"how's your mom?" mat asked, immediately jumping into topics you'd planned on ignoring.

you shrugged. "fine."

he nodded and scuffed his feet along the sidewalk. "how have you been?"

"fine." you sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. you didn't mean to be cold, you meant it even less when you looked over and saw mat desperate for connection with you again.

in the end, you could never really deny him anything he wanted.

"life sucks right now," you admitted. "feel like i've wasted my life away here."

mat nodded along. "didn't you say your genie wish would be to leave?"

"i think my words were to 'get far away from here.'"

"you know," he started. "new york is far from here."

you couldn't help yourself. you looked up at him and saw the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "are you being serious?"

he nodded. "as a heart attack."

could this be the moment? the moment your life suddenly comes back into color? things haven't felt right since mat left for new york, and maybe moving, being with him all the time, would fix whatever existential crisis you were currently having.

the two of you were packing up your childhood room a month later .

you were on a flight to new york city two days after that.

mat was bouncing on his toes when he picked you up from the airport, having come home a few days early to get his apartment set up.

"you have to meet tito," he said as soon as the both of you got in his car. "you'll get along just fine. my childhood best friend meeting my other best friend? things couldn't be more perfect!"

you smiled though you felt like dying inside. no wonder you two lost touch, you were too ashamed to message him and he was too busy befriending his entire hockey team.

the apartment itself was large. larger than you could've ever afforded, even in coquitlam. mat brought your bags to your room and gently placed them on the floor.

"do you need any help unpacking?" he asked.

maybe a bitter part of you wanted to say no, but you'd waited for this moment for years. you nodded and mat's face lit up like a christmas tree.

while he was putting your clothes away in the dresser, he told you about his team, about his career, and all that you missed. he tried to ask about your life, but you kept up the story that nothing much had happened to you. and for the most part, you weren't lying.

you hadn't spoken to your dad, you hadn't dated anyone seriously in the last year (you conveniently left out the failed engagement. you just got into town, and couldn't afford a plane ticket to fly back to coquitlam just to bail mat out of jail).

but mat was more than content to listen to your work stories from when you were working at the coffee shop. he asked questions along the way, and momentarily, it felt like everything was headed back to normal.

you shooed him out of the room so you could shower. it was kinda incredible how a nice apartment meant that his shower was better than any other one you'd ever had growing up. when you stepped out into the nicely updated bathroom and changed into some gym shorts and a t-shirt, you felt the full weight of your insecurities hit you all at once.

your mat lived down the road from you. he had a twin bed until he was fifteen when his mom could no longer ignore the way his ankles hung off the end. he had posters of sidney crosby hanging up on the walls of his bedroom.

but this mat had expensive bathrooms and egyptian cotton sheets. you didn't get to see it yet, but you were willing to bet he had state of the art kitchen appliances that he didn't fully understand how to use outside of making eggs.

you were fully ready to walk into the living room, where you heard mat clicking through what must've been streaming services (because he could afford all of them), and tell him moving here was a mistake. too much had changed, he didn't know you anymore.

but you walked out and saw blankets and sheets strung up, pinned to the walls with pillows on the floor.

almost on cue, mat's head popped out from the makeshift fort, a bright smile on his face. "i don't have bunk beds, but i thought this would be a nice alternative."

you could've cried. you almost did.

but you sat down on a pillow and watched a movie with him instead.

two months later

mat had introduced you to anthony the second week you lived in new york. anders and matt you met the next week. the rest of the team you met over the course of the two months you'd lived with mat so far. they were all nice, and you could see why mat was so enthusiastic about his job, his passion for the sport aside.

you met his "not-girlfriend" as tito called her the day before. ashley was nice enough, but clearly not in the same tax bracket as you, who had recently gotten a job working at an indie bookstore while you worked on grad school applications.

you pretended to be too busy to notice the ache in your chest when he held her hand, remembering chloe and the nasty sensation internally of insecurity bubble up. you weren't dumb enough to not know you were jealous, insecurity was a closer friend than mat was, you'd known her longer.

and if comparison was a sport, you'd be making more money than he was at this rate.

because if it wasn't the way ashley laughed, it was her smile, or her stomach, or the gap between her thighs.

or the fact that mat looked at her with something more than a savior complex.

you stupidly agreed to go out to a bar with him, ashley, and a few islanders that night. it was dumb, you knew that going in, but you were finally with mat again, why wouldn't you spend every free moment with him?

it turned out to be a mistake.

you were left sipping a diet coke by your lonesome while he was dancing with ashley. you knew you shouldn't have done it, it was a bad idea, but you found yourself at the bar asking for a shot of literally anything the bartender would give you.

but anthony slid into the seat next to you a beat later and fixed you with a knowing look. "where's your diet coke?" he asked.

your mouth dried up when the shot was placed in front of you. your heart was pounding and for a moment, it felt like you could've thrown up.

when you didn't respond, anthony nodded and stood up. "wanna go take a breather?" and he sounded so genuine that your eyes immediately welled up with tears as you nodded.

the two of you walked outside and stood in the cool air, letting the wind hit your wet cheeks.

you looked out onto the street while anthony texted on his phone. "do you want to go home?" he asked as soon as he slipped his cellphone back into his pocket.

you shrugged. "i don't know what i want."

that was a lie. you wanted to go back to a time where mat was just your best friend, before he was number 13 for the islanders, before he won the calder memorial trophy. you wanted your best friend, the one who raced you down the neighborhood streets on bikes, who drove three hours to see you when you had a panic attack.

you wanted a childhood that wasn't tainted with the darkness of your father's mistakes. you wanted to be able to go into a room and not immediately check if you could lock the door. you wanted to be able to fall asleep in a dark room without being deathly afraid.

mat was outside a second later, huffing and puffing like he'd just run a mile. his gaze was fixed on you almost immediately, while he ignored the way ashley hung off of him. "what's wrong?" he asked. he even went as far as to pry ashley off of his body so he could frame your face in his large hands.

in the corner of you eye, you saw anthony usher ashley back inside while you and mat had a staring contest. "what happened?"

you shook your head and tried to speak, but more tears spilled out. mat nodded and pursed his lips before grabbing your hand and walking you home.

he didn't say anything else until the front door shut behind you. you had no intentions of staying in the common area, you just wanted to curl up in bed and cry yourself to sleep out of shame and pity.

"what were you doing at the bar?" mat asked before you could go anywhere. "you still had diet coke in your glass."

your throat seized up at feeling caught, but you stood your ground.

"i didn't think you drank," he continued. "mainly because--"

"because my dad's an abusive alcholic? yeah, you don't need to tell me that, mat, i already know."

"so if you know that, why did tito see you order a shot from the bartender?"

you threw your hands up in the air and shrugged. "i don't know, mathew. why do you invite me to bars when you know i don't drink?" he didn't have an answer. "you don't get to shame me for considering having a drink when a bar is the only place i get to hang out with you during the season!"

"that's not--" but he cut himself off. "what're you talking about?"

"i hardly see you! why did i move across the continent if i have to go to a scary place just to spend time with you?"

"i--"

"i mean it's not fair, you left and now i have to pay the consequences of it--"

"i'm sorry, what?"

"you left--"

"i heard you. did you forget the part where you stopped contacting me?" you rolled your eyes to keep yourself from crying even more. "uh uh, don't do that. don't blame me without taking accountability for this friendship ending."

you blinked.

but mat wasn't done. "because i always called you back when i missed your calls. you were the one who stopped texting me."

"you were too busy!"

"i'm in the nhl! did you expect me to just be laying around my apartment all day? i have practices and meetings and games at weird times, but i always made sure to get back to you."

you said nothing, the tears welling up behind your eyes, but you kept them in. the verbal lashing from mat was enough, you didn't need to further embarrass yourself by crying too.

he kept going, yelling and waving his hands around, occasionally pacing and dragging his fingers through his unruly hair.

but you zoned out.

you could hear glass bottles rattling as your father came up the stairs. you sat on your bed, hoping to god he'd just keep walking. mat was out of town for a tournament, and you were grounded.

your dad stopped at the top of the stairs and looked at you. your heart was racing in your chest and you wanted nothing more than to text mat, but your mom had your phone. "what're you lookin' at?" he slurred.

it was only 1pm.

and your mom was still at work.

but he apparently didn't feel like bothering you because he turned into his bedroom and shut the door.

you could feel the air release from your lungs before you went back to reading your book.

but the peace never lasted long. thirty minutes later you could hear him yelling and screaming obscenities before he opened his door. you launched yourself out of bed and slammed your own door shut, quickly locking it with an efficiency you'd learned at a young age. the door handle rattled and you flinched backwards, nearly tripping over clothes on the floor.

but you weren't a stranger to this situation.

you opened the window and climbed out.

but he was ready for you this time because he was at the front door screaming at you as you rode away on your bike.

you didn't stop pedaling until you got to the park where you collapsed on the grass and cried.

something in your face must've changed, because mat stopped yelling and looked at you, really looked at you.

"hey," he said, voice much quieter than before. "where'd you go?"

you shook your head, tears falling down your face uncontrollably.

"don't do that," he said. "don't shut me out." mat took a step closer to you, but you immediately stepped backwards. he breathed your name, but something in his eyes shifted, like he could read your mind. "i'm not him," he whispered. "i'm not your dad, i'm not going to hurt you. you know me, you know i wouldn't do that."

"you left," was all you could say.

mat nodded. "i did, but i didn't leave you, okay? i would never leave you." he closed the distance between you and held your face in his hands, his thumbs wiping away the constant flow of water from the corners of your eyes.

"but--"

he shook his head. "no, you mean too much to me to leave you, okay? you're my best friend. if you had called me and needed me? i would've been there as soon as i could."

"you would've been too busy--"

he pulled back, a bit bewildered. "when have i ever been too busy for you?"

you held your tongue, knowing that it wasn't him per se.

"what is it?" he asked, his eyes searching your own. "what aren't you telling me?"

so you told him about how you hadn't talked to your dad, and even though you were thousands of miles away, you were still scared he'd find you and ruin your life even more. you told him about thomas, about how you thought he could be the thing that fixed you, but he cheated on you.

you told him about dawson, who was older and more mature. you told mat how dawson got you going to therapy which you thought was a good sign, until you realized he never actually wanted to talk about your bad days. he proposed, you said yes, and then he broke off the engagement when he saw you sobbing over invitations.

your eyes were too blurry to see the way mat's jaw clenched, but you could feel him pull his hands away.before you could even stop yourself, you stretched out for him, but he was just out of reach.

"mat, what," you weeped. "what's wrong?"

"you were engaged?" he mumbled. "you were engaged and didn't tell me?" you expected him to look mad, but the only thing reflected in those deep brown eyes was hurt.

"that's why he broke up with me, i was crying over childhood photos while trying to figure out if i should invite you even when we hadn't talked in years." you shrugged pathetically and gave mat a watery smile. "guess he thought it was too immature of me."

mat's hands were clenching and unclenching by his side, like he couldn't decide what he wanted to do with them.

"please don't hate me," you whispered. "i don't think i could handle it if you hated me." but he didn't say anything, mat just resulted to pacing the living room. "i think my dad fucked me up beyond repair." your eyes never left his profile. if he wouldn't look at you, that was fine, you'd continue to stare at him. "i think i'm too codependent and messed up for anyone to love me." mat's head snapped up at that comment.

"i mean," you continued. "i wasn't enough for my dad to get sober, i wasn't enough to not get cheated on, i wasn't enough for someone to marry me. maybe it's not them. maybe i'm the issue."

"no," he said immediately, shaking his head in the process, crossing the room until he could pull you into his chest. "no. that's not true."

"yes it is! my dad doesn't love anything more than alcohol--"

mat cut you off. "anyone would've been proud to have you as a daughter."

"thomas wanted my freshman roommate--"

"thomas was an idiot."

"dawson couldn't handle me when i wasn't happy--"

"fuck him too. he was thirty dating a college student."

"and you left and i--"

mat pulled you back far enough to look you in the face. "and if i could do it all over again, i'd take you with me." he pressed his forehead against yours. "here's what we're gonna do, we're gonna make a fort and watch the mighty ducks. and tomorrow, we're gonna find you the best therapist money can buy and set up an appointment because i don't like you talking about yourself this way." your stomach twisted at the idea of therapy, hesitant because of dawson-- "and i wanna hear as much as you're willing to tell me, okay?"

you nodded.

"now, i need to see you smile so i know we'll be alright." you gave him a watery smile right before he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "there she is."

you held onto each other for another minute before reluctantly letting go to gather blankets and pillows.

four months later

you hadn't been able to make it to many of mat's games until tonight when they played the devils at home. you sat with sydney and grace and their kids.

earlier that night, you'd gone to your therapy session and cried your eyes out. after years of feeling like you weren't a human being worthy of love, you just started seeing value in just existing.

and mat was as supportive as ever. he gave you space after therapy sessions to process until you were ready to talk to him, if you wanted to. the two of you made plans to hang out at cafes and central park rather than at bars every weekend.

"look at your man go," grace nudged you with her elbow. "he's feeling good tonight."

"i'm sure it has everything to do with you being here," sydney commented. "i've never seen that man more in love than he is right now."

you could feel the heat crawl up your neck as you shook your head. "he's my best friend."

"a best friend who loves you so much, he's willing to keep things platonic for your sake."

almost immediately, an insecure thought popped in your head, but you stopped it in its tracks, imagining the thought on a conveyor belt, moving down the belt until it was out of sight completely.

your shoulders relaxed.

you deserved to be loved, and it if was mat, great.

if not, you'd still have him as your best friend.

a buzzer sounded through the arena and a quick glance at the ice told you all you needed to know. mat was skating into a cluster of his teammates, smiling wide before pointing up at where he knew you were sitting.

grace and sydney jostled you around a little while fans, male and female alike, screamed at the idea of the mat barzal pointing at them.

when the game ended (5-4 with the islanders win), you followed sydney and grace down to the locker rooms. you met up with the other wags and smiled when they greeted you. some chatted and passed time while others rocked babies in their arms. you however were anxiously looking through your photos on your phone, specifically the album labeled mat that you'd had since you'd first gotten an iphone. you didn't glance up until you hear the sound of doors opening.

mat was the seventh person out, not that you were counting. he wore a bright smile when he saw you standing there and immediately crossed the distance between the two of you to wrap you in a huge hug.

"how was therapy?" he asked.

you rolled your eyes but couldn't help but smile. "why do we always talk about me?"

"because i care." he lightly nudged your shoulder. "so how did it go?"

"it was good, actually," you remarked. "figured out and accepted that i deserve love."

if it was even possible, mat's smile got wider. "yeah you do."

"and maybe there are people waiting around for me to figure it out..." you trailed off before shyly meeting his gaze. and before you could stop yourself, before you ran out of courage, you stood on your tiptoes (like you've been doing since he hit his growth spurt in seventh grade) and pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips.

you lingered for a moment before pulling away and loooking up at your bewildered best friend whose mouth was wide open.

"what?" you asked. "did i read that wrong? sydney and grace said--"

"that's all i get?" he asked. "i've waited for this since i was six years old and i don't even get the real thing?"

you furrowed your brow. "what're you talking about? six years old?"

but mat was leaning in and capturing your lips with his own. "six year old mat had the biggest crush on six year old you," he said.

"and what about twenty-four year old mat?"

he kissed you again. "head over heels for you."

age twenty-six

after a less than stellar playoff run, you and mat headed back to canada for a portion of the off season, mainly to visit family.

but it was also nice to get out of new york, even if it was just for a short period.

in hindsight, you should've known something was going to happen. your mother, nadia, and liana took you to get your nails done and to grab lunch while you were out shopping. but you were so caught up in how nice it was to be back home (words you never thought you'd ever say), you paid no attention to the lack of mat time.

so when you walked into the backyard of his parents' house and saw a giant projector screen with blankets and pillows strewn about to make yet another fort, you almost cried.

mat's head popped out from the middle with a smile on his face until he saw the tears in your eyes. "why're you crying baby? this is supposed to be happy!"

"i love you" was all you could blubber out.

mat laughed to himself, taking your hands in his own. "i love you too baby." he knelt down and the tears kept coming down your face. "ever since i was a kid, i thought i'd be the one walking you down the aisle to the man you'd marry because i never thought you'd be crazy enough to fall in love with me."

you scoffed. "i'm definitely the one batting out of my league here, mathew."

"don't talk about the love of my life that way," he said before continuing on. "we've gone through a lot together, and i couldn't imagine getting through life without you by my side." mat took a deep breath. "so tell me, do you wanna get married?" mat asked.

you nodded through your weeping. "only if i get to marry you," you smiled.

#mat barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal imagine #mathew barzal #mathew barzal imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl blurb

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randombush3 · 5 months

Text

audentes fortuna iuvat

alexia putellas x reader

part one, part two

words: 9541

summary: alexia and you as posh + becks III

content warnings: there’s some (a lot of) cheating + postpartum depression. it’s more frustrating than sad though x

notes: this covers 2019-22(ish). It was SUPPOSED to be the last part. It’s not anymore. I’m gonna do a fourth to deal w the mess I have created in a more self-indulgent amount of words than the 3k i had planned. That will probably have smut in it 😛

“Y/n left me.”

The limousine you are in is completely black, save for the white lines being measured out right next to you.

“What?” says Jenni.

“She left me,” Alexia says once more. The hotel room is a non-committal beige. They lie in the same bed, the older of the two welcoming her lost teammate wordlessly and without judgement. Tomorrow, they will return to Barcelona, losers yet another time. “She moved back to london. She took Nico.”

“She can’t just take Nico, can she?”

“Y/n, how’s Nico?” Your stomach turns, but whether that is provoked by the thought of the baby boy you left crying in your father’s arms or by the white powder outlining the rim of the woman’s nostrils, you don’t know.

Your son’s creasing eyes, red face, and grabbing hands appear in front of you. He screams as you walk away. He doesn’t understand why he has not smelt Alexia in weeks, and he misses the comfort of home.

Everyone waits for your answer. No one comments on the bags under your eyes. “He's fine,” you say with a smile. “He loves it here.”

“I think she is depressed,” Alexia tells Jenni, comforted by the arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close and tightly and reminding her that she is not as alone as you have made her feel. “She told me that she couldn’t be in Barcelona anymore, but she said that without giving me a chance to come with her. Her bags were packed before the conversation started — she might as well have called me from the plane.”

“Are you angry at her?”

“Yes.”

Alexia thinks about it.

“No.”

“No,” you say when they point at your very own line. The drug holds a place of both familiarity and hatred in your heart. The fine, white powder reminds you of greatness – of being the most successful girl group in the UK – but, also, of hospital visits. It’s not a past addiction, but it could have been. You light a cigarette instead, though it will make the vehicle reek. “I can't. I have a son.”

“You’re not a saint.” They boo. “You’re allowed to have fun. I saw you the other day, and you had no qualms with any drugs then.”

“No, I'm not a saint,” you reply. You regret that night — however little you remember. “But I am a mother.”

“Is it that thing? Postpartum?” Jenni asks. “The baby blues are really shitty, I've heard, but they’re not supposed to cripple you. Maybe the relationship has other issues.”

“I'm not angry at her, Jenni,” Alexia repeats. “I miss Nico. He looks like her. He has started to look a lot more like her now.”

“He would definitely suit those sparkly bralettes.” Jenni giggles at the thought.

With an understandable lack of good humour, Alexia ponders something more realistic. “He would suit a Barcelona kit.”

“He would be made for it. You are his mother.”

“I'm not angry at her,” Alexia says for the third time, just to make herself believe it. Just to carve those words into her bones and tell herself that it isn’t anger, what she’s feeling. “I don't want to be angry at her. I think I'm going to see if I can move to arsenal.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Well, I'm not angry at her.”

“Alexia.” Jenni cups her cheek tenderly. “Ale.” She knows she shouldn’t. She’s not angry at you, and so there is no punishment needed. Not that… Not that kissing Jenni would ever be utilised as a weapon to get back at you. Or that she’d actually kiss her.

“Daddy, I can't get him tonight. No, I don't want to stay over. Daddy, I…” You hate the baby. You hate yourself. You hate that Spain hasn’t done well, and that your fiancée is disappointed that nothing is how it was supposed to be. Alexia is probably lying awake in bed, missing her son, and missing you. You expect one of her teammates to call you soon, and tell her that she needs you. You’re her person. “I'm going to get some sleep and I'll pick him up tomorrow. Probably around lunchtime, okay?”

“Alexia, bésame.”

…

You had passively bought your house. It’s how property sale works when you’re a celebrity. People are always willing to do things for you if you know the price, and it never hurts to use your name to add a new flashy level to whatever stupid business they are running. It’s a mutual exploitation, to some extent.

Highgate is beautiful. The house is beautiful.

The reception room, with its high, decorated ceilings, is your favourite place to numbly take in the twisted jigsaw of your life when Nico has cried himself to sleep. The nursery is on the first floor. He is near enough for safety, but at a distance that allows you to regret all the mistakes you have made.

You watch him roll over onto his stomach, eyes trained on the baby monitor though your fingers graze the ivory keys of your new piano, attempting to compose something worthwhile. At this rate, your solo career is going to fail just like your relationship seems to be doing.

Yesterday, while Alexia seemingly disappeared from the face of the Earth, you came out. It was an off-hand comment during the Graham Norton Show. A quick ‘my fiancée named him. She’s from Barcelona’ was all it took. You hope Alexia, wherever she may be, has heard about it. Jenni would have told her. You trust Jenni to be somewhat on your side because she always has been.

The doorbell rings just as you sniffle, wiping away the tear that slips down your cheek. “Don’t be pathetic,” you mutter to yourself. “You didn’t pay five million pounds to sit here and cry. You chose to come back home.”

Being in England – colder, drearier, lonelier England – has made you realise that your decision was not the right one. Or maybe it was. It has proven that you are as terrible a mother as you convinced yourself you were back in Barcelona, and it has also shoved the cavity Alexia leaves in your life when you refuse her entry right down your throat in the form of a constant lump and a dull stabbing in your chest whenever you think about anything past whether Nico has had anything to eat. You can’t even feed him properly, despite it being supposedly in your nature. You buy formula from the nearest Waitrose.

The doorbell rings again.

The insistence is not uncommon seeing as you are, at the minute, the English press’s number one target. You open the CCTV app on your phone so that you can decide whether or not to ignore the potential stalker, and your heart rate spikes when you see the hooded figure standing on the porch. Back to the door, it is not possible to determine the threat. A well-buried maternal instinct kicks in for once, and you ensure that Nico is still peacefully out cold before getting up to answer the door with the poker from the Victorian fireplace firmly in your grip. Just in case.

You are a mother, in whatever capacity you have decided that role looks like, and so you undo the three latches on the door with brave, protective fingers. The baby monitor’s volume has increased, and the fuzz of white noise is audible if Nico were to make a sound. The vague repulsion at the idea of it all is only an aftertaste in your silent prayer for the hooded figure to not want to kill you. Some sick part of your brain imagines Nico dead, as well. It tortures you.

The poker in your other hand, for the most fleeting of moments, is almost plunged into your chest. The imaginary, self-inflicted wound makes you think of the blood and how the baby upstairs would wail until someone found him. The grimace of annoyance on your lips is nothing new, but you have no more time to torment yourself because the doorbell is pressed again, rather impatiently.

You open the door and the hooded figure is right in front of you. “He’s asleep,” you say, the Spanish foreign on your tongue.

Alexia shrugs, and her hood falls down, revealing the brunette tendrils that hang from her slowly sinking bun. “I came for you,” she replies, so earnestly that it is as if nothing ever happened: past pain forgotten and replaced by sprouting memories of soft kisses and mornings where leaving was too hard to do. Some of them, you think, are not real. They don’t seem to be. Your blank stare is unsettling. You almost don’t believe her. “Can we talk?” she tries, and you notice the team-issued duffle on the tiled floor she is standing on. Then, from the pocket of her hoodie, she extracts a pastry box. The plastic window is filled with circles of different colours, and she holds out the macaroons to you as if to bribe her way into a home in which she is unsure she belongs to.

Stepping aside, leaning the poker against the wall by the door, you scratch at the bare skin of your neck. Alexia, while sweeping an arm down to collect her bag, fixes her gaze onto the ring you are wearing, and the diamond glistens with hope that this can all be fixed. “Would you like to come inside?”

She swallows the whine of anguish that tears her heart open at the idea that this might never be her house to live in, too, and she follows you dutifully as you lead her through hallways far more luxurious than the flat in Barcelona could ever be. This is what you left her for – the person you are, no longer in worn clothing with messy hair, is quite the opposite of the woman with her back to her moments before she had to focus on football. The necklace draped on your sharpened collarbones is new, and she does not dare believe what she has been hearing is true. Yes, there are pictures, but she trusts you. She will always trust you.

“Have a seat,” you say, gesturing to the wooden dining table. It is clean enough for her to determine that it is unused. Alexia places the macaroons in front of her, and aches at how you sit at the opposite end.

“I…”

“I thought you were going to give me all the time that I needed.” It is a statement of distance, as if your location is not enough.

Alexia, eyes widening at how unwelcome she suddenly feels, needs only to remind herself of the impending date of the wedding. It is beginning to loom uncomfortably, with the excitement of getting married drained out like a low tide on a deserted beach. “We have two weeks. If it isn’t going to happen, then you should tell me now. We have to give everyone notice so that they can cancel their flights.” Your silence spurs her on. “You will need to contact the wedding planner, because you refused to let me have a hand in any of it so I don’t even have their number. I’m sorry that you won’t be able to wear your dress. Vivienne Westwood is a big thing for you, I know. I’m sorry that it’s inconvenient.”

“But Alexia,” you whisper, “I don’t not want to get married.”

Her eyebrows furrow, head tilted slightly to the left. “I know. That is why I am saying this.”

Your voice grows louder. “No, no. Sorry, that wasn’t the easiest thing to understand.” Across the dining table, your love that has faltered, that has hesitated and been reconsidered and been stamped down over the past month, extends towards her: its final destination, always and forever. Alexia feels it grab her by the throat, wrenching the words from her before she can even formulate a thought in response, and her body is so drawn to you, in such a powerful fashion, that she pushes her chair out from the table with a grating scrape and is stepping towards you with a finality that makes her wonder if she’ll ever leave your side.

As she approaches, the idea that she is here becomes a little too real. You have played with the fantasy of it, of course, but the tenderness in her usually fierce eyes does not match the anger you had expected, and, in the most feeble fashion, you have never felt more apologetic in your life.

“I’m so sorry,” you begin to say. Tears stream down your face with freed anguish, and the words are so simple yet they bear the weight of your entire soul. “I’m so sorry, darling. I made a mistake, and I have been met with the most crushing of realisations: I can’t do this without you, Alexia.” I still want to marry you, Alexia.

The room seems to close in on your despair, attempting to bottle it, almost, and keep you trapped underneath a haze of emotions you don’t quite know how to sort through. “I… I’m beginning to hate him.” The confession hangs heavy over Alexia’s bowed head as she stands frozen in place, stuck in her journey towards you but unable to arrive. “I’m acutely aware of how cruel it is,” you continue, this next admission being what agonises you the most. It floods the room with guilt, and your voice trembles with self-condemnation that reigns harsher than any other voice in your head.

“It’s ridiculous. I’m evil and I’m wrong, and I just feel like it is inherently in my nature to be like this, as though some fault has been built into me with warning signs we evidently ignored.” You struggle to breathe. “I wish I could take back the day we decided to have him,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper, lips doused in tears, skin searing with shame when Alexia cups your cheek with a strong, calloused hand. “He should not have to be stuck with me as a mother.”

Your chest heaves, and you are finished. You have never verbalised it before now, and it is impossible to decide whether it has helped remove the lead lining of your heart where it has been bolstered against your will. Her other hand steadily rises to your face, but then, with only a second of hesitation, she is pulling you upwards and enveloping you in her embrace. You feel a little bit closer to her. “Mi amor,” Alexia murmurs, tone cracked with sorrow and regret. “Lo siento mucho. Desearía haber sabido, desearía haber estado allí para ti.”

Gently, she tilts your face upwards to meet her gaze. “You are not evil and no estás equivocada. Estoy aquí ahora, y no te dejaré enfrentar esto sola nunca más.” You collapse into her. “I’m here, cariño, and I am not going anywhere.”

The sentiment is wonderful, and Alexia makes good on her word.

When Nico begins to cry, the sound piercing through your choked sobs, Alexia realises she has missed all of her life with you. Being separated and being apart due to work, she now knows, are two excruciatingly different things. The whiny wails from upstairs visibly jar you, though you pull away from Alexia to attend to him. “I will do it,” she declares, though her firmness is not mean. “Sit down. Eat the macaroons – they’re… ‘to die for’?” You nod with instinctive encouragement. “Sí. They’re to die for. Try. Jenni says that the pink ones are the best.”

“Jenni picked them out?” you ask with a briefly regained humour, eyebrows raising. “Had to get your friend to choose your apology gift?” In truth, neither of you know what Alexia would be apologising for, but Nico’s crying grows more incessant and Alexia is climbing the carpeted staircase before the topic can be discussed.

Alexia reaches her son with tears brimming in her eyes. The failure of Spain at the World Cup is amplified by the idea that she has disappointed him, though he does not yet possess the tools to pledge his allegiance to her country. In fact, Nico has been sleeping in Manchester United attire (your father has been his primary carer of late, and he does not charge you money, so the price is obviously Alexia’s sanity). She is more than glad to smell his nappy, and delighted about the opportunity to change him into something less hideous.

“Mama loves you so much,” she tells him as she manoeuvres his chubby legs into a plain, inoffensive onesie. “I promise, petit. I am going to help her, okay? And we are going to get through this together.” Alexia forgets about the taste of Jenni’s lips and the heat between them. “Mama just doesn’t see the direction she is going in. It is like her eyes are covered, and she is telling herself that she is walking down the wrong path, but this is not true. You are the most special thing in the world to us. You are the sunrise, the sunset, and the hours of the day.”

She pauses to stand him up on his tiny feet, hands hoisted underneath his armpits. He is heavier than when she last held him, but she is stronger than before, too. Women’s football is growing, along with her muscles. Nico babbles out a vague reply, but Alexia hears what he is trying to say. “I agree. We’ll be alright.” And, with all her heart, it rings true.

…

The following day, she calls the doctor for you, script written out on a piece of paper in front of her, translated perfectly so that her concern does not waver the information she needs to tell the receptionist. The clinic is famous and discreet, and they are quick to prescribe you antidepressants before the week draws to a close. You won’t be able to drink at your wedding, and everyone might think you are pregnant again, but Alexia reassures you that it will be worth it.

Wrapped up in your own bubble, the three of you enjoy London in a way that isn’t possible in Barcelona.

Here, Alexia has no commitment to football. There are no training sessions she must rush off to, there are no teammates to pry, and no one else to interfere with your private little routine. You quite like it, and she does too. It is only temporary, before you fly out to Menorca and hand Nico off to Eli in order to enjoy your respective bachelorette parties and then, in exactly seven days, your wedding itself.

“You’re still smoking,” Alexia says disapprovingly, the sleep in her voice enough to make you feel a pang of guilt. It’s late at night when Nico has finally been soothed from his aching gums, and she has been able to climb back into bed expecting to find you asleep already. “Why are you awake?”

“I’m still smoking,” you tell her. She sighs at the way you parrot her words, but presses an affectionate kiss to the junction of your neck and shoulders despite the lingering smell of cigarettes. “If I can’t drink, I’m going to smoke. This is Hollywood.”

“This is Highgate.” Her accent curls around the name with something a little too foreign for her to ever consider this place home. “Why are you awake?” she repeats.

You look down at the open notebook in your lap, the pages either blank or full of crossed-out lyrics. “He was so loud, but I can’t seem to write anything either so, really, it has been quite redundant.”

“I had to get a glass full of ice and hold it to my fingers so that I could help him. I could have lost some very important assets, but it seemed to do the trick.” He’s teething. You’re telling yourself that the antidepressants are little pills of miracle, and have kicked in already. “Feel.” She presses two freezing fingers to your cheek, and you gasp, flinching away from her.

“There’s a teething ring downstairs, you know,” you tell her. She shrugs. Maybe it isn’t clean. “Don’t give yourself frostbite. I happen to quite like your fingers.”

Alexia’s smirk is beyond suggestive, and her lips hit your neck once more with an entirely different heat to them. “Yeah?” You push her head away. “I bet it would feel good. Nice and cold.”

“You’re delirious.”

She continues to kiss you. “I don’t know what that means,” she mumbles into your neck, until her lips reach your face and she is near climbing into your lap – notebook long pushed onto the floor. “Dímelo en español.”

“No lo sé.”

“Ah. Una palabra inteligente.”

“Claro.”

She laughs into the kiss she presses against your lips. She never has never felt like this with anyone else. Never this relaxed, or loved, or safe. “Me vas a matar con tu inteligencia y voy a sentirme estúpida para siempre.”

“I love you,” you state softly. “I love every part of you.” Alexia, in that moment, decides to never do what she did with Jenni again, and to never break your heart by informing you of her betrayal.

…

You’re married.

You’re married to Alexia, a woman who bears the beauty of a goddess and the strength and will of someone who could capture the sun and tame the fire that rages on its surface.

You admire her as she sleeps so peacefully beside you, tanned skin warmed by the sunlight streaming in through the large windows of the hotel room. Later, you will get on the ferry, go back to Barcelona, and then fly to Capri for three days alone before Alexia’s preseason starts. Aside from a few meetings with Dave, you theoretically aren’t swamped with anything. You’ll be joining her in her city with Nico with a bit more permanence than last time.

Alexia buries her face in the covers, crawling into your open arms the minute the sunlight rouses her. “Everything is sore,” she groans, her bare skin slightly sticking to yours, the sweat from last night not yet gone.

“What happened to ‘mi vida, one more time won’t hurt’?” you tease, impersonating her heavy accent over your English with enough drama to get her to elicit another grumble. This time, it’s something about being bullied. “Darling, we have to get up. We’re having breakfast with our parents, and apparently Nico has been upset that we got a night to ourselves.”

“Pobrecito,” she replies with a newfound level of English sarcasm. She spent the wedding reception avoiding the dance floor, engaged in a long conversation with your father. The topics spanned over most areas of life, and briefly touched upon how you are doing now. Alexia, with much pleasure, confirmed the improvement, however miniscule it has been. She is very proud of you, and he is too. “I only want one thing for breakfast.”

Her hands begin to roam, the band of her wedding ring hitting your pubic bone. “Mi vida, one more time won’t hurt,” she mocks you from before but in her sexier, Spanish husk, sucking at your collarbone, straddling your waist.

You replace your near moan with a thoughtful hum. “I really want pancakes. Do you think they’ll make me some?”

Downstairs, where it is brighter and impossible to conceal the hickeys on both of your necks, you greet your parents, brother, Anya, and Gio. Alexia’s mother, her sister, and Jenni are sitting at the table, too. Your baby is pretending he isn’t teething, and grinning like an angel.

“How’s married life?” Anya asks as you take a seat opposite her, Alexia to your right. The table has a gradient of bilingualism, but Gio discovered that she picks up Spanish quite easily considering she can already speak one romance language. “We’ve already found, like, four articles talking about it.”

“How?” you ask, but you are not offended.

Gio shrugs. “Drones, I guess. Nothing bad, though. Some speculation about the other bride – if the article does mention that. Most talk is on the dress.” It was a bloody good dress. “And I suspect that there’ll be a juicy little question about who was your Maid of Honour.”

“Don’t be salty,” you tell her. The MOH issue was sorted out years ago – perhaps 2015 – when you binged Friends together despite having watched it thousands of times before. Anya has been yours, Gio will be hers, and you will be Gio’s. And they say trios never work.

“I left Mia with her dad for this.”

“You shouldn’t have had a baby with a man-slag,” Anya says with a snort, enjoying her second mimosa and Gio’s grimace at the idea of her daughter having to put up with her father’s revolving door of one-night-stands. “You’re one to make terrible decisions. At least our girl over here’s married someone who looks at her like she’s hung the moon.”

Alexia turns to you with a smile, as if on cue, with Nico in her lap. You glance at his rounded cheeks and shining eyes, looking back up at your friends as though to check they are still there. Alexia leans forwards so that she can whisper in your ear. “Te amo. Nico, también. Mi familia es perfecta.”

…

Returning to Barcelona comes with one negotiated condition on your part. You buy a bigger apartment, where there is space for an office and extra bedrooms. Alexia says her teammates will be taking the piss out of her grand new place the minute she sees it, but she is more than content to contribute to the finances with her new-and-improved salary for this season. “It’s weird to think that I’m from Mollet,” murmurs Alexia, standing in the middle of the large lounge area, surrounded by boxes. Most are from your old flat, but a few have been flown in from London. Alexia wanted you to have your Grammy with you. “This place is so fancy.”

“It’s half of what the men’s team get,” you remind her, holding Nico with care as he gnaws away on a frozen carrot. His saliva drips onto you, but the antidepressants are working, and the therapy has been effective enough for you to start taking childcare in turns. (You had tried to previously, but Alexia wanted you to focus on yourself, knowing that things will change for all of you once the season started.) “Hey.” You place your hand on her shoulder. She tickles Nico’s chin. “We deserve this. You deserve this. Why don’t you host one of your team’s dinners? I’ll take Nico round to your mum’s – God knows she’d love to shove some food down my throat, too.”

She shakes her head, strands of brown unstraightened due to the stress of the move and falling out of her bun with a determination to defy her hair bobble. “They would kill me if I did it without you. They’re all far too grateful that you invited Taylor Swift to our wedding.”

“She’s a friend.” If you hadn’t been distracted by various other happenings that night, you’d have clocked that Alexia’s side of the guests were completely up to their ears in celebrities they’d never expected to meet. “Okay, so do you want me to stay here?”

“I always want you to stay here,” she answers.

“Not what I meant.”

“I won’t take it back.”

Nico babbles an incoherent yet cutely Spanish-y noise, though his words are getting closer to being said at the old age of eight months. Then, suddenly, something in him clicks. “Mama,” he squeals, his little fist scrunching up the fabric of your t-shirt. “Mamama.”

“Nicolau!” Alexia replies with just as much enthusiasm, cupping his cheeks. She kisses his nose, and then his forehead, and then his chubby knees and socked feet. “Nicolau, sí, la mama et té a las mans! Bon noi, el meu bon i intel·ligent noi.”

“Does that count?”

“Mama,” Nico repeats, tugging your earlobe. “Mama. Mama.” It is easy to forget about the (lessening) resentment you harbour when he speaks. Alexia gets him to say it as many times as she can before he goes back to his carrot, but, even then, the two of you stay in that spot, marvelling at your creation.

Slowly, she turns around in a circle, absorbing the plain walls and towers of boxes. “This is going to be good. Life is going to be good,” you declare with such a firmness that it has to be true. “Darling, let’s get to unpacking and then we can think about a date for this dinner party.”

“We are going to plan the party?” She raises her eyebrows at you. “Is this party going to start at five o’clock?”

“Not all of us shit yellow and red.” (In a national sense – you’d have haemorrhoids for United any day of the week.)

Alexia takes Nico off you, in a show of cultural dominance. You’re actually outnumbered, considering he isn’t a British Citizen, and though he shares no DNA with your wife, he has inherited the same ability to narrow his eyes just enough to serve absolute cunt whenever he so pleases. If you weren’t feeling so ganged up on, you’d be a little impressed. “Nico y yo vamos a hacer croquetas de jamón. Adiós.”

“Darling, the kitchen isn’t–” But you cut yourself off, deciding that she can discover that on her own, along with the criminally empty fridge. You don’t hide your smugness at all when she finds you in your almost-finished bedroom, wearing a look of utter disappointment and mumbling out a heartbroken request for a food delivery as soon as possible.

…

November marks three years of being together and, also, four weeks of having Alexia’s ‘DNA’ – a pomeranian called Nala, whose Instagram account is run by her favourite parent after you called it silly and told your wife you’d much rather attend to your own seventeen million followers.

Towards the end of the month, after a well-spent morning and then a family outing to Barcelona Zoo, Alexia meets Jenni Hermoso in a restaurant in what Jenni calls ‘your new rich-people neighbourhood’ in her text to Alexia.

Alexia, really and truly, is happy to have her best friend back in Barcelona. She missed her last year, when Jenni had returned to Atleti, and that separation maybe made what happened the night Spain was knocked out of the World Cup just that bit more understandable. “You’re a Culer, no matter how hard you try to fight it,” Alexia had said when she had climbed back into her own bed, not wanting to fall asleep in Jenni’s arms. “It was terrible to not have Y/n or you.”

You and Jenni: Alexia’s people.

“How’s your wife?” Jenni asks with a grin, two glasses of wine into a pleasant evening at an expensive restaurant. “You’ve left her with Nico, so something must be working.”

In truth, you have been determined to get better. There were articles released not long after the photos of your wedding were circulated, and those speculated a lot about how you are finding motherhood. The baby pictured, captured by long-range lenses and invasive drones, was the world’s first glimpse at what Nico Putellas L/n looks like, and reminded many of them that you had a child to care for when in London, yet were frequently spotted at nightclubs and parties. You rise to most challenges, however, and find it a lot easier to adapt to weekly therapy sessions and pills every morning when you have a wrongful image to disprove.

“It’s as if it never happened,” Alexia says, both with pride and surprise. “She now seeks to spend time with him. She takes him with her to the recording studio – the album’s coming along well.” It’s your first on your own. Nico plays with one mixing desk, while Dave (flown in from London with the promise that the Barcelona sun will do wonders for his wife’s misery) plays with another. “And… Jenni, we’ve been talking. The clinic that we used for Nico asked us if we wanted to reserve sperm when we first had him, and now they have called asking if now is a good time. I think… I think that she is really considering it. She told me yesterday that her therapist wants me to sit in on the next session, so we can go over how we can make this time different.”

Jenni frowns, which is not what the woman opposite her had expected at all. “Why are you two having more children? You’re only twenty-five, Ale. Isn’t this going to affect your career?”

“The men do it all the time.” She’s done a spot of research. They are younger than her when their girlfriends start getting pregnant, and they continue to play with the added admiration that they are fathers as well.

“Yes, but they have the benefit of getting paid millions. They don’t have to fight with their federation for pitches or pay, and they can focus on football without their career sparking controversy for even existing.”

“Then my children will grow up with a mother who fights for change.”

“Or they grow up with a pop star who only wants things she cannot have and a footballer who can’t spend any time with them because she is too busy speaking at various conventions so that the next league match isn’t cancelled.”

“Jenni, do you think your opinion would be different if Y/n was a man?”

This elicits laughter from the other woman, who rolls her eyes in a way that can only be described as condescending. “Alexia, you’re forgetting that I’m a lesbian too, which is a magnificent feat.” Jenni references the kiss they shared, and what happened after that. “But, no. I don’t. I want you to be the greatest footballer in the world, and you want that too. What are you going to do when Y/n tells you she wants to move back to England? Are you going to give up your future here for her?”

The waiter interrupts briefly, collecting their empty plates and carting them off with a mission to retrieve the bill after a sharply declined offer for the dessert menu. “You don’t even know if that will happen,” Alexia scoffs, though she is a little sad that her exciting news hasn’t been well-received. “I was going to say that I’d think about the name Jennifer if it ends up being a girl, but now I’m leaning more towards María…”

She is kicked under the table, and she has to hold in her cry of pain because this restaurant is one of your favourite places to eat. “Mapi cannot have this victory over me. She’d be insufferable. Ale, you simply aren’t allowed to do that.” There’s another kick, but it is more playful this time.

Alexia laughs, smiling and thankful that the tension has diffused. “I’m only joking. Y/n has a list scribbled in the back of her lyric book. She’ll probably be called Elena.” That is much more acceptable to Jenni’s ears, and she files that information away for next year, when she’ll tell Mapi that Alexia doesn’t like her name.

…

It works. Alexia and you are lucky. The doctor tells Alexia that, if she were a man, the two of you would have to be extremely careful. Your wife marvels at your ability to destroy your body and stay fertile, but she supposes that you are not the kind of woman to be a lesbian. Sometimes, she wakes up in a cold sweat, believing that you have changed your mind and left her.

The New Year is a fresh start. Alexia decides to fix the (not so) hidden cracks in your relationship. She confides in her newly-acquired therapist. She may have made a mistake once; the secret is sandwiched between her worries about your susceptibility to depression and how Nico is a decided food critic.

Though the therapist, a lovely bilingual woman named Sofía, raises her eyebrows, she does not pry. She slides a paper calling card over to Alexia. The paper squeaks along the coffee table between the two comfortable armchairs of the office. “I specialise in couples. Seeing as your wife is already a client of mine, I think you should consider a joint session.” Alexia is new to the idea of mental health. Before, she had been too focused on football to care about it. Even when her father died, any professional she spoke to was only hearing how her mind worked because she knew it was what was best for her performance. “And, Alexia.” She looks up at the therapist with a small, nervous smile. “Congratulations on the pregnancy. I am sure Nico will make a wonderful older brother.”

Morning sickness drags you out of your shared bed most days.

Alexia asks you about couples’ therapy when you have finished your dry-heaving one morning.

“I mean,” you begin before pausing, gulping down the sour taste in your mouth and hoping nothing else is trying to hit the toilet water until tomorrow. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise.” She is dressed in her training kit, but she slings her jumper over your shoulders as soon as you shiver. “Do you think it’s a good idea?”

“It would do no harm.” As long as Sofía does not bring up Alexia’s confession, your statement will ring true. “You book the appointment. It’ll be easier to work around your schedule that way.”

“When are you flying back to London?” Her question is not filled with hatred for the city, but with resignation to the fact that your job involves you being stretched between here and there.

“Not until next month. I thought that I could take Nico to an away game with my dad if I got a flight for Saturday. The rest of the week would be interviews and photoshoots.”

“How’s the album doing?”

So far, your songs are only written when Alexia has paid you enough attention to swirl your thoughts and blur your vision. It is in these moments that the lingering, sinking weight inside of you dissipates. “Dave remains hopeful. It won’t fail, but I need it to be better than what we currently have.”

Shamelessly, Alexia is aware of her effect on your songs. She smirks; “Alba has been begging to babysit, you know.” With no care for your current state, Alexia’s eyes rake up and down your body. You grow embarrassed by how you are slumped over the toilet, and how she is standing above you as though she runs your world. “You look beautiful, mi amor,” she murmurs as you bashfully duck your head between your bent arms.

“You’re a flirt.” It feels too late for her to still be in the flat. “And you’re going to miss training if you don’t get a move on. There are eggs in the fridge, and Nico definitely liked the omelette you made him a few days ago. He’ll be waking up soon.”

A small sigh escapes the midfielder’s lips, but the prospect of the things she loves most in the world appearing in her life consecutively is enough to convince her to pad her way out the bathroom, swanning into the corridor with a little grin on her face as she sings out ‘bon dia’ to an impressively multilingual toddler and heads into the kitchen with the domestic intention of getting breakfast started. She leaves an omelette out for you, which you attack shortly after Alexia and Nico disappear into their daily routine. She drops him off at preschool, and you pick him up a few hours later, taking him first for lunch with Alba, and then to the studio.

You come home to a showered Alexia who is memorising her most recent match. She lets Nico slide into her lap without hesitation, but she stays focused on the football even when he tugs on the strands of hair falling out of ponytail. You marvel at the idea of having enough room in your heart for so much love. You decide that you are not like Alexia, though it is not necessarily a terrible thing. A further observation from watching your wife settle her son with a calm, muttered Catalan telling-off, coaxing him into loving football as though he does not already, is that you are so very content with your life at the moment.

But 2020 kind of sucks.

For the entire world.

You’re cut off from your home in any other manner than a digital one, and being stuck in a luxurious penthouse in Barcelona isn’t the worst fate, but it really isn’t ideal.

Elena, however, has the benefit of coming into the world with ever (physically) present parents, who could recite the java script for Zoom given that they spend hours on therapy calls. Elena, bright and smiley and the picture of her mother, spends the first few months of her life in a happy, happy family, protected by an entire football team and a fierce older brother. (And a yappy Pomerianian called Nala.)

“Y/n doesn’t like the name María,” Jenni tells Mapi when Alexia sends the first picture of your new addition to the Barcelona group chat.

“The next baby is going to be a Jennifer,” Mapi says, to both the forward and the unimpressed midfielder walking a few paces in front of such a silly conversation. “For that, I can only feel sorry for her.”

…

The routine changes the following year.

It starts with an abrupt but expected conversation. One that Alexia has been dreading.

Your album – the first one that is just you – was released two months ago, and it has done too well. Selfishly, Alexia had hoped it would fail. You have enough money, and she is earning more and more each season. Success, unfortunately, means that this little life can no longer exist. Or can it?

“I have to do it,” you whisper to her, tears in your eyes though the smell of sex still lingers. The quietness of a child-free apartment allows for you to hear her gulp. “It’ll be different this time, darling, but I can’t be here anymore. I can’t fly out to London every few days. I can’t leave you with a five-month-old and a toddler when you are training every day and playing matches every weekend. It’s not fair on anyone.”

Alexia kisses your bare shoulder, hands slipping round your waist as she pulls your sweaty body into her. Her chest presses against your back, but she is only behind you in this bed. She does not agree with you. She does not support it. But, like she always does, she bites her tongue. “If that’s what you want,” she replies, and part of you dies with the thought that she does not really care. “I love you. I want what’s best for you. For us.” And she tells Jenni all about it when she goes to see her a week later – the flimsy excuse of meeting a childhood friend for dinner enough to wrap a cloth around your eyes and leave you at home with a screaming toddler and a baby whose only flaw is that she grows distraught the moment she is put down.

In the dimly lit living room, the tension hangs thick in the air. You lock eyes. “Why can't you just move with us? Everyone will want you, darling, and life would be easier,” you plead, a month down the line. The house in Highgate has been readied for your more permanent return.

Alexia takes a deep breath, her gaze unwavering. “Why can't you get it into your head that I'm not leaving Spain or Barcelona? This is my home.”

“What about the children? School? Life? My career? Does it mean nothing to you?”

Her eyes soften. Your heart breaks, and the piece of you that has already died somehow dies again. “I'm thinking of the children. All the time, I think of them. About the reputation of my name – their name. Putellas, the greatest in the world, or Putellas, the one with potential wasted at West Ham?”

“You're being selfish, Lex,” you snap. “This is an opportunity for all of us, not just me. Think about their future!”

“Their future is here, in the culture they know, the languages they speak. I won't strip them of their identity for the sake of a 'better' life. And my career? I've worked too hard to build what I have here. I won't throw it away.” I don’t want to throw it away. Underscored by Don’t leave me again.

The room echoes with the weight of her voice. “Their identity comes from both of us.” It’s too final for either of your liking. Elena begins to cry in her cot. “I want to try it. I want you to be open to trying it.”

She gestures to the suitcases by the door. “Trying it and doing it are two different things. You’re taking them from me!”

“You’re probably going to love life without them anyway!” you shout. You feel like the crying baby, except the tears rolling down your cheeks carry much more suffering than hers. “You’ll – what? You’ll go out with your friends, and you’ll be able to go to the gym whenever you want. No arguing, no crying, no toddler to entertain, no nappies to change. You never wanted children. I forced it upon you. I regret it, and I’m sorry. We’ll go.”

“Don’t go.”

I don’t want you to go.

“I have to.”

You turn your back to her as you fly through the corridor, prepared to console Elena in a taxi. Alexia slips her ring off her finger, and clutches it in her palm instead. Desperately, she searches for a solution. There is nothing within her reach, not even you.

…

She is an island amongst a sea of happy people. She is going to be the greatest footballer in the world. It kills her to realise that she can now focus on football.

Nico starts nursery, attending the same school you once did. He adjusts to life in London seamlessly, and Elena does not seem to care either way. He learns more English every day, and his other mother calls him nightly to read to him.

With childcare more than sorted, you are free to be interviewed, pictured, and invited to events. You rake in the publicity, especially after laying so slow over the course of the lockdown in Spain.

“Alexia.” Jenni’s hands knead her tight shoulders, partly teasing her. Alexia wears a frown, eyebrows knitting together with an emotion she’s not sure she can name. “Ale, it’s the same game as always. Nothing has changed.”

“I know,” she murmurs. “I don’t understand why I feel like this.” She has continued to speak to Sofía, though your joint sessions have now come to a halt while you spend your time doubling as a singer and model. The therapist, try as she might, cannot evaluate the situation effectively enough. Eli and Alba have both tried to help, hoping that weekly dinners and the constant reminder about the invention of aeroplanes would ease the turmoil of Alexia’s mind. It does not. “I am so alone, Jenni.”

Nala is too small to fill the emptiness of the flat. Screens don’t allow for her to kiss you, or play with Nico. She is scared she will miss Elena’s first words.

“You don’t have to be.”

It only takes a month for Alexia to break, and it sort of works.

In Jenni’s bed, it works. Hips keening, soft pants falling from her mouth.

Quiet moans that stay locked in Jenni’s apartment.

Each time Alexia leaves, though Jenni repeatedly requests that she stays, she walks out as half a woman. She blinks back her tears and she checks her phone. When she calls you – not a video call – you are never any the wiser to the scratches down her back.

Alexia remains an island, but the sand beaches are tainted with the arrival of someone else.

In this way, she is functional.

She can do sex. She can deal with borderline romance. She can fill the space that you are tearing open with every passing minute spent in that god-awful country you insist on calling home. She can fix it a little bit with Jenni.

She tells herself that it does not mean anything more than a bandage means to a wound. Who wears the bandage once the gash has healed?

Where does she put the used bandage?

Why is she focused on bandages?! She’s having an affair. It’s not an affair! (It is.) Alexia doesn’t… quite… wanttoadmititjustyet.

…

The buzz of your phone is the final push that gets you to conclude the current interview you are trapped in. Before checking what the notification is, you glance at the time. You have half an hour before you need to pick up Nico, and your parents said they would drop Elena home once they returned from London Zoo.

Alexia: Jenni has had a really good idea

It’s an intriguing text amongst the more practical ones that oil the mechanics of managing the distance. Tonight, Barcelona play their last match of the season. After this, she’ll be flying out to London. You have missed her. The last time you saw her in person was after Barcelona embarrassed Chelsea in Gothenburg. Elated and filled with pride, it was incredibly nice to have the biggest room in the hotel to yourselves. Her medal was almost as beautiful as her.

You: Go on…

Alexia: Just draw a heart on Nico’s hand from me porfa. You’ll see.

You slide into the driver’s seat of your newest self-indulgent car; a Porsche. Momentarily distracted by a camera flash, your turn onto the main road is a little risky, but you manage to make it to the school in time to collect your son.

“Was he good?” you ask his teacher as she hands you Nico’s book bag. You take in the sight of him: hair messy, school uniform stained though they require the little ones to wear aprons for most of the day. “It’s a little different here. I’m hoping that he’s enjoying himself.”

“Our new assistant is from Spain,” says the teacher with a small, tired smile, batting her long eyelashes at you. “We had to pry him off her.”

You let out a laugh. “He misses his mum.”

“He’s extremely intelligent. He knew to speak Spanish to her and English to us.” Though your grasp of Spanish is near-fluent after such reluctance from your wife to try English, you know that the two-year-old has a talent for juggling the three languages he is growing up around. You’re proud of him. “You shouldn’t worry about him. And, speaking of, we have a parents’ coffee morning just around the corner. It’s always great for the parents to get along – it helps the school feel even more like a family. Will it just be you attending?” Nico’s teacher is around your age, and you can smell her rose perfume that mingles with the soft hint of ready-mixed paint. She has deep, brown eyes, and she is definitely flirting with you.

“Next week, right? I’ll have to check with my wife.”

It’s then that a toddler-sized hand grips your fingers and tugs. “Mama, me voy,” he groans; something akin to Alexia’s impatience. It reminds you of when you used to go shopping and she’d herd you out with the threat of getting in the car and driving away. “Venga.”

“One sec, sweetheart.” There are countless ways in which you miss Alexia. “My wife and I would love to come.”

Her smile does not falter on her lips, but there is a greyish disappointment that dulls the warmth of her irises. You smile as you turn your back and lead Nico to the car. You are so excited for Alexia to complete the broken puzzle.

You melt when she kisses the heart drawn onto her hand when celebrating her goal. Nico copies her, lips pursing and sloppily mimicking the action on a similar heart. “For you, sweetheart,” you tell him as he settles back into your side, careful not to jostle Elena who has fallen asleep on your chest (the therapist did wonders for you).

“It was for you,” Jenni tells Alexia after the match. Her goal is now serving as the move Alexia feared she’d make. They have changed and been massaged and done the media the are required to do (women’s football is growing): they are free to roam Barcelona if they so wish.

Her flight is tomorrow evening – “I have a flight tomorrow evening.”

“Come over tonight.” It isn’t a question, yet it is not quite a command. Mapi passes the two of them, eyes narrowing at the way Jenni has wrapped her hand around Alexia’s wrist. The defender is aware that something is going on, though it breaks her heart to imagine Alexia ever doing that to you. Not knowing they are being watched, Alexia steps in; cups Jenni’s face, brushes her cheekbone with a stroke of her thumb Mapi knows is meant for her wife. Mapi’s stomach lurches. She feels sick.

“I need to…” It’s not a ‘no’. “Jenni.” She hates that it is not a ‘no’.

“Ale.” There’s a beat. Mapi blinks twice, shakes her head, and backs away. “I’ll miss you, you know?”

…

Jenni doesn’t seem to mind when, the next day, blurry pictures of you on a family outing make rounds through the tabloids she usually doesn’t read. The fact that, up until now, no one has known that your wife is Alexia Putellas has no effect on her. She was stupid for thinking the last six months meant something. Winning together, losing together. Sleeping together.

In this deal, Alexia has fucked over both women who love her. Except, you don’t know. She hasn’t told you, though Jenni had hoped for it secretly – hoped Alexia chose her – and it is obvious. Obvious to Jenni, who is well acquainted with the blonde hair in the wings of your concert at the O2. Obvious to Jenni, who refuses to think of herself as the other woman.

She consults Mapi.

Mapi, who she has come to shamefully realise already knows.

“I can’t believe the two of you.” The defender is clear in her distaste and disappointment and, honestly, her disgust. “But I am not going to be the one to break that poor girl’s heart.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

What is she asking? What does she want from this utterly useless conversation?

“Mapi.” Jenni closes her eyes, but she sees two faces instead of darkness. Nico. Elena. She’s Elena’s godmother. You decided that – convinced Alexia to choose her best friend over her younger sister, told your wife that there’d be another for Alba to corrupt. “Mapi, I love her. I don’t know what to do.”

“She loves her wife.” The next sentence proceeds to brutally remind Jenni who that isn’t. “Tell her you’re done. Find someone else. Anyone but her.”

That is Jenni’s resolve, because she knows that Mapi is right.

…

June, July, and August pass with bliss.

Everyone says that you are a beautiful couple with beautiful children. Alexia beams with pride as she flaunts her practised English, and gladly claims ownership of Nico when he wins a prize on speech day. Every child in Reception is awarded something but that doesn’t stop her from boasting.

She explores the country with the children while you shack up in the recording studio, and brings hugs and kisses (and Red Bull) every evening after dinner. The visits are what reminds you of the sun Alexia brings, especially as the warmth follows her from Barcelona and London is blessed with golden days. Dog days.

“This isn’t permanent.” Alexia looks up from her phone, comfortable in your bed. The house in Highgate has flecks of Spain woven into the decor now, and you like it that way.

You climb into the bed beside her, and her arm lifts so that you can snuggle into her chiselled stomach (wow, she has been working hard this season). “What’s Jenni saying?” you ask, following your statement and hoping you’ll get her attention. She presses her phone screen into the duvet before you can translate the message – it is too long of a paragraph for you to handle. “Anyway, I wanted to tell you that this isn’t permanent.”

Alexia, over the past few months, has been the most affectionate, loving, amazing person with the same smile and giggle you married. You thought she had disappeared and was replaced with stern, career-focused Alexia Putellas, jugadora del fútbol. You were wrong.

“I’m thinking January is when we’ll come back. Nico’s English will survive.” Your parents are going travelling. They’ve never been on the Orient Express before. “I want to be with you.”

It is a good thing Jenni has just broken up with her.

“I love you,” you continue. “So much.”

Alexia hums. Her heart breaks, and she does not know for whom. “¿En serio?” She is happy, she thinks. Certainly, she is glad that the four of you will be reunited.

You are.

January 2022 ruins things for Jenni Hermoso. She calls Pachuca back.

#barca femeni #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #fc barcelona #woso imagines #mapi leon #jenni hermoso #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

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bubblegumspacebxtch · 1 year

Text

Primal Urges

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.5K

Summary: Aemond is horny af so he decides to wake you up with orgasms

Warnings || 18+ smut, minors DNI, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, pussy smacking (is that what it's called?), praise kink, a bit of degradation, unprotected sex (duh), multiple orgasms, squirting, a bit of overstimulation, creampie, somnophilia, breeding, spitting (yeah I'm nasty so what)

A/N: l imagine newlywed Aemond would be absolutely insatiable like I'm talking all day everyday ya'll are fucking. He sees you and he's like damn lemme go down on my wife real quick so of course I had to write about it lol also those in bold and italics are flashbacks

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The prince stretched his legs before letting in a lengthy inhale. His one eye fluttered open and it was greeted by the morning sun’s rays. Shifting a bit on his bed, he comes to face your naked back. A little grin makes its way across Aemond’s face as it dawns on him that both you two were still completely bare.

The memories of last night are instantaneous and he swears his skin starts itching to be against yours. He scoots toward you in order to drape an arm across your midsection, effectively bringing you flush against his chest. You were a heavy sleeper at least compared to him. Then again the pair of you did not stop making love until both were spent.

Your husband had you shaking beneath him, crying that you could not longer give him another, but Aemond knew better. He took from you countless orgasms, each more intense than the last.

As he continued to reminisce, you turned in your sleep to lie on your back. Aemond’s smile only grew as he was granted a view of your sleeping face.

“Good morning, my dear wife.”

He only received your soft snores in response. A gentle kiss was placed on your shoulder before his gaze wandered to the rest of you.

With your chest in constant motion as you breathed, Aemond felt a shudder run through him seeing your ample breasts littered with his marks. They’re red now but soon they will turn purple. He finds himself getting excited at the thought of you looking at your body covered in reminders of his kisses, how he was a passionate lover always eager to make a mess of you in bed.

Aemond was getting hard again remembering how sensitive you had been the night before. You screamed as he tortured your little clit. His smug smirk making an appearance as he relished in the memory.

“A-Aemond! Fuck… p-please…”

“Please what my little wife, tell me what you want.”

A groan went past his lips at the sight of your face, all fucked out and teary as you neared your fourth orgasm. The lewd sound of your wetness was maddening as he held the hood of your clit up to expose you even more before using the other to smack against the puffy button. He felt you clench even harder on him and the prince couldn’t help but want your lips on his again.

He moves his hand to tug on the covers, exposing your entire being to his lustful gaze. He presses another kiss, this time to your cheek and not a single reaction from you.

Aemond moves to hover over you, nothing but filthy intentions brewing in his mind. Butterfly kisses are made to your exposed chest before he paws at your breast, giving one a squeeze.

He continues down your sternum, succumbing to the urge to lick your skin. As the prince trails lower, he takes your thighs in each hand to spread you open.

The center of you was already wet and still swollen from his ravenous tongue and cock. A last kiss to each side of your hips was made before he used his thumb to spread your lips.

“Gods, you’re perfect…”

His thumb ran from your hole to your button, gathering the wetness there before popping his digit into his mouth for a taste. He stared at your little opening as he did so, moaning as longed to have that tiny hole stretch around him and milk his cock for all its worth.

Aemond lowered himself further, eager to bury himself in your heat. He looked up at you, still in deep slumber before leaving even more bruising kisses to your inner thighs.

“Hmmm… how pretty this cunt is and it’s all mine.”

The long tongue of the prince ran across your slit and his groan traveled around the room. He couldn’t get enough of you, burying his nose in the small patch of hair in your mound. Soon, puckered lips enclosed around your clit, and Aemond chuckled as more wetness seeped out of you and unto his awaiting mouth.

As he continued eating you like a man possessed, you let out a subtle whine despite still being unaware of your husband’s antics. His gaze was quick to snap to your face, waiting for your hazel eyes to look upon him.

One particularly harsh suck had his teeth grazing your sensitive bundle. The sensation had you jolting awake that Aemond had to tighten his hold on your thighs to keep you spread out.

“W-What? Aemond? Oh Gods!”

Your nimble fingers latched on to his hair and the prince watched amused as your back arched. Your moans soon filled the room as Aemond slid in two of his fingers in your weeping cunt.

“Gods, you’ll be the death of me, Y/N. My beautiful little temptress of a wife. Do you enjoy waking up to your husband’s mouth on you?”

At the lack of an answer from you, Aemond raised his hand only to bring it back down to smack your button. You cried at the feeling and the prince could only smirk at the mess he’s made of you once again.

“F-Fuck yes! I love my husband’s mouth.”

A surge of pride rushes through him as you whine and clench around his fingers. He can feel that your release is close so he resumes abusing your engorged clit with his mouth.

"Yes! My prince, I-I'm gonna..."

As you uttered those words, Aemond was quick to press on your lower abdomen. You thrashed at the pressure, crying your husband's name as you came, gushing into his eager mouth. Your climax was intense and Aemond couldn't help but moan as your release soaked his chin and your other hole as well.

You struggled to catch your breath and knowing Aemond, he gave very little respite in between orgasms so he was crawling to face you in no time. Taking a hold of his cock, he ran the fat tip along your slit, intentionally bullying your bundle. His lips met your before sliding in and stopping only when the base of him was rooted in you.

The prince wasted no time as his hips kept driving back into you. Your legs, on instinct, wrapped around his waist as you pulled him closer to wrap your arms around him for support.

"What a whore my wife is for my cock. I want you filled to the brim with my seed until your pretty little cunt can't take anymore."

He leans down to spit unto where you are connected, adding to the wetness he uses to swipe at your clit. You cry out louder, half the kingdom is guaranteed to have heard you by now.

"I love you... I-I love you! Please..."

Your admission only makes the prince fuck you harder, hitting a spot deep within you. Your toes have curled and the tears that brim your eyes give Aemond the sick satisfaction of knowing that in this moment, no thoughts, but of him and his cock, occupy your mind.

Your release is overwhelming and the clench of your cunt had Aemond cumming mere seconds after you. Warmth spread across you as his spend filled your womb.

Fighting the sensitivity, the prince thrusted into you a few more times to fuck his seed into you. This had you mewling, but Aemond silenced you with a kiss.

Your husband moved to lay beside you, but kept you close so as to keep him inside you. You shuddered as your husband kept you plugged up, passing thoughts of you of being with child soon at the forefront of your mind.

"Good morning, my dear wife. Did you have a pleasant sleep?"

The prince broke the momentary silence with a smug smirk on display as he teased you. You rolled your eyes at his behavior but you couldn't fight off the smile widely etched on your face.

"I cannot keep up with you, Aemond. My legs are shaky and numb... Again!"

The prince chuckled as he was reprimanded and you only huffed as you buried your face into his neck. You felt a soft kiss being placed on your cheek as you were pulled even closer for the prince to brush your hair away from your face.

"Am I to blame for how irresistible you are and how no man, especially not your husband, can keep his urges in line when you are around?"

"Aemond, your family will soon start to detest us if we keep at this. We're always late to occasions and meals because you insist on having me right when we are about to leave. The servants can't even look us in the eye anymore! They're embarrassed having seen us fucking everywhere."

You pinch the pale skin of his arm but he only laughs at you, clearly amused at your embarrassment.

"You must bear my children soon then, my love."

"Why? Will you have me less when I am with child?"

"No, but at least you'll be in bed more, so no one has to see me buried in your tight cunt around the castle grounds anymore."

"Aemond!"

"I am only teasing my beloved Y/N. Get some rest. I might have you crying on my cock again in a little while."

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aemond x you #aemond targaryen fluff #hotd imagine

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sillystargirll · 1 year

Text

Overstimulated with König ✧

all he wants is to see you squirt for him~

The smell of sweat and got sex lingers in the air. There's an ache in your wrist from the angle your palm is pressing against the headboard. Sweat coats your skin, rolling down the curve of your cheek to drip from the tips of your ears. Even more, sweat drips from König's body above to fall onto you.

n-no more Königgg , I can't ahh~." His hips are slapping against yours. you can feel his hot breath on your shoulder as he keeps ramming into you, You've already came a few times from his actions each one even sweatier than the last. But you're far too hungry to him, for this, to be ready to stop.

"Shit, you're so fucking tight, and wet, you feel so good around me Mein Schatz" said while reaching to rub my clit. you let out an especially loud moan at the contact. His movements were rough and ruthless as he pounded into you and rubbed your puffy nub.

Soon you felt yourself start to twitch and cum all over his cock again. Although you had came, his pace hadn't faltered one bit as he fucked you through your orgasm. Tears leaked from your lower lash line and you screamed, as the pleasure became unbearably good.

his thrust become more erratic as he chased his release. As he rammed against the deepest parts of me, you were on the verge of your fourth orgasm of the night. As soon as you felt his hot cum fill me, you saw white became completely fucked out. your juices started gushing and flowing out, further making a mess of the sheets, and soaking as well König as well.

König pulled out of you as you felt so full with his cum inside of you .

"You're so Beautiful y/n, Mein Liebling you know that right?" He said, you let out a whimper as he started to gently finger you.

"König please I-I can't cum anymore." you felt so tired you've felt like if your whole body was on fire.

"One more Mein Schatz , just cum for me one more time Mein Liebling" he demanded softly as he leaned over me and nibbled on the lobe of you ear. you moaned as he picked up the pace and added another finger.

As three fingers pumped in and out of my cunt, König whispered softly in my ear. Your brain was barely functioning and all you could focus on was his fingertips prodding at your sweet spots.

you started to feel another uprising orgasm, you move your hand to your clit and begin to rub rough circles on it.

"fuck! König I'm gonna cum~." I yelled out, König didn't stop but instead sped up as he continued to finger your pussy.

"Cum for me y/n, cum for, me~." he said as he brutally shoved his fingers in and out. you still tried your best to hold on and not fall over the edge. König pressed the palm of his hand against your stomach that put pressure on my bladder.

f-fuck König !"

Eventually, you couldn't hold on any longer and his fingers buried in your hole pushed you into a white-hot orgasm. Your body twitched rapidly and a stream of liquid came spurting from your cunt. you let out a quiet scream and your eyes glossed over.

"you did so good for me meine Prinzessin~." as he kissed your shoulders and rubbed your thighs with his big aggressive hands. he got what he wanted after all.

#koing #mw2 smut #mw2 könig #mw2 konig #mw2 fanfic #cod modern warfare #cod smut #konig call of duty #cod mw2 #smut #konig x reader #mw2 2022 #mw2 x reader #task force 141

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dameronology · 1 month

Text

we can't be friends (steve rogers)

summary: based on we can't be friends by ariana grande

warnings: angst, swearing

sorry for being absent for six months. even more sorry that this is what i came back with. enjoy!

Being loved by Steve Rogers was like sunlight on a stormy day. Peaking through the clouds, encouraging you to come out of whatever shelter you'd chosen; letting you smell the fresh rain on the pavement as the light finally came through, taking back the water until next time. It was warm on your skin, right through to your bones and your heart and to your very soul. You could have basked in it forever.

The mornings were your favourite, waking up to golden alabaster skin, carved into his muscles. They were slightly scarred, with jagged pink marks of stab wounds and bullet skims and far too many near misses for you to be comfortable. Of course, he healed faster than most but when you were as trigger happy as Steve Rogers was, barely a mission went by when he didn't come home with some minor wound or another. Still, him being there was the most important part. He'd let out a sleepy little yawn and subconsciously roll over to hold you, taking him in his arms and pulling you to his chest. That was where you felt safest.

No matter how busy he was or how demanding work became, Steve always showed up. Flowers waiting for you on the counter after a bad day; ordering take out when you were ill and always making sure your favourite show was recorded on the DVR. You never even had to ask. He'd buy you new roses before your old ones had even began to wilt; had your busiest work days recorded in your phone calendar so that he could step up, even when his own job was pulling him across the country. That was the thing about Steve Rogers: he always showed up.

Until he didn't.

Being loved by Steve Rogers was like sunlight on a rainy day, but waiting for him to love you back was a never-ending storm. Rain pelting down, hammering onto your clothes and seeping through to your skin and your bones and eventually drowning your heart. There was no dry escape. No shelter to hide from the rain. You always felt it - the wet, the cold, the shivering - no matter how hard you tried to escape. There was no getaway from the realisation that he no longer loved you back, or from the 19 miscalled waiting on his phone, or from the dead roses wilted on your kitchen windowsill.

Long conversations about your future had turned into silent, screaming pauses. The arguments felt pointless. You could only beat a dead horse so many times before you realised it wasn't coming back to life.

You sat on opposite ends of the sofa now. Slept on different sides of the bed. Watched your favourite show in silence whilst he tapped away at his laptop, barely even bothered by your presence. He'd sat too a high standard for himself. It was one he couldn't keep, but even the bare minimum was a golden standard compared to what he was giving you these days.

"I'm done."

You'd surprised yourself more than anyone with the words. Steve had come home from work late again. The fourth time that week, twelfth time that month and countless times overall. You'd made dinner. It was cold now, like the stony expression on his face and the watery one on yours.

"What?"

Steve glanced up from his phone, brow furrowed.

"I'm done," you said.

"With what?"

You sighed deeply, regathering yourself for a moment. Pushed down the lump in your throat, shoulders raised to try and show whatever tatters of your pride you had left.

"I'm leaving you," you said. "I can't...I don't want to sit around and wait for you to love me again."

Steve put his phone down, pausing for a moment. It looked like he was going to say something...maybe anything. Even though your mind was made up, part of you wanted him to beg. To get on his knees, take your hands and plead for your heart back. God knows that this time a year ago, he would have pleaded with you in person and with writing in the sky.

Instead, he just sniffed.

He sniffed, and you left. Keys to your shared apartment thrown into the dish on the side, never to be taken again. At least the Lego heart keys chain you had together would be together again - you know, when he was actually home.

Whatever time you had previously put into your relationship, you now put into yourself. Found a nice little loft on the other side of the river - it felt like the wrong side, but everything felt wrong without him - and decorated it with everything but photos of you together. There was a nice rug, and a beautiful sofa, and your marble counters were a nice welcome home.

Still, the bed felt cold. Not as cold as it had when he'd lovelessly laid beside you, but still. Cold. It felt strange only having one tooth brush in the holder, and only one bottle of shower gel on the edge of your bath. The toilet seat was always down now (Steve had had only one flaw, and that was it) and you always tripped over the shoes that you left by the door because he no longer tidied them away.

It felt like half your heart was missing, but eventually it grew back.

You forgot about Steve, and the Avengers, and that entire world until Natasha Romanoff texted you. It had been six months since your break-up by that point, and even though you missed them all dearly, it had been natural for Steve to get them in the break-up. You had your friends. He had his. But, it was nice that Natasha still thought of you.

Hey, hope you're doing well. I'm having my birthday party next week at my apartment. 7pm, same building as always. It would be nice if you came. Steve may or may not be but he's been annoying lately so I'd rather have you. Let me know <3

At first, it had been an immediate no. Then you thought about it some more, and it was a definitive no. Then, you found yourself calling Nat and talking for three hours straight.

Apparently Morgan was in her One Direction era, and had thrown an hour long tantrum when she found out they weren't together anymore. Pepper and Tony had tried to pay for a reunion, but they weren't interested. Bruce was doing an assignment in France and Clint and his family had moved a little closer to the city. Sam and Bucky were still working for the government and naturally, that had brought Natasha onto the subject of Steve.

Doing better. That's what she said. Apparently he wasn't working as late anymore and he'd cut down his hours. He was going to therapy, drinking less and working out more. She'd lingered on the last sentence, but ended it with he's more like your Steve again.

That made you want to go to the party even less, and yet the following weekend you found yourself stood outside Natasha's high-rise apartment building at 7:35PM. You'd put more effort into your appearance than usual; a more expensive fragrance, spent a little longer on your hair and worn the outfit Steve had always thought you looked best in. Maybe it was a calculated move, but you'd never been all that good at maths.

Your entrance was met with four or five hugs. Natasha looked amazing as ever, and Bucky was brighter now. Tony was elated to see you and you didn't ask about Pepper's little baby bump, but you could see it was there. Your mind was kept too occupied by all them to even think about Steve.

That - naturally - all came crashing down when you saw him across the room. He was leant against a pillar, hair longer now but fluffed up and a 5 o'clock shadow gathered on his chin. Not like the man with long hair and a beard that you'd left, but not quite the squeaky clean looking Steve you'd fallen in love with either. Still though, it was closer. He was showing through the cracks.

The question of whether or not you would approach him answered itself, because you blinked and suddenly he was stood in front of you.

"I owe you an apology."

Straight to the fucking chase.

You faltered slightly, but didn't let it show. "Yeah, I think you do."

Steve glanced around you at all your friends - naturally, they were all staring at you. They might have been superheroes but that didn't stop them being nosey fuckers.

"Let's go to the roof," he said. "I mean...if you want. You don't owe me anything."

You nodded your head. "Let's go to the roof."

The climb up the stairs to Natasha's terrace was awkward, but not as bad as the silence that quickly filled the cold air as soon as you got up there. Steve might have been one of the bravest men you'd ever met, but vulnerability scared the shit out of him. You suspected that was the case now.

"So?" you asked. "What could you possibly have to say?"

"I'll only say that I'm sorry once," Steve began. "So: I'm sorry. For pushing you out, for not trying, for letting work consume me. Even more for the fact I didn't even try to stop you leaving, because as soon as you shut the door, all I wanted to do was run after you, but I'm not stupid. I knew your mind was made up."

"Where are you going with this?"

"You leaving was like a bucket of cold water," he continued. "It made me realise a lot of things - about how much I'd left myself go, mostly. I've stopped drinking and started going to therapy, and I have my work hours capped."

You smiled. "Well done, Steve. That's really great."

"I'm better now. Not fully, but...I'm getting there," Steve replied. "I asked Natasha to invite you tonight. She wanted to anyways but it was sort of my idea."

"Why?"

"So I could apologise, but mostly because I want you back in my life," he explained. "As friends, as something more. Hell, I'll take you as my enemy if it means I get to see you again."

You sighed, eyes falling to the ground. What could you even say to that? Enemies sounded pretty good - and definitely well deserved - but you didn't hate Steve. You'd moved on, but that didn't mean you'd lost all capability to love him.

"How do I know you won't do it again?" you asked.

"You don't," he replied. "I don't know that either, but what if it doesn't happen again? What if...what if things were really good?"

You glanced away, eyes staring at the distant Manhattan skyline for a moment. It glittered and glimmered, mostly rebuilt after the 2012 incident. You could see Stark Tower as well. Steve had told you he loved you for the first time on that roof top. Now, here he was, begging for you back on another.

"Friends," you muttered. "We can be friends. I don't know after that. I've waited six fucking months for you to decide that you love me again-"

" - I never stopped -"

" - not the point, Steve!" you cut him off. "We'll start with friends, then go from there."

"I'll wait ten years if I have to," he said. His smile suggested he was joking, but you knew he wasn't.

With that, Steve pulled you into a hug. In your soul, you knew you couldn't be friends. Enemies was worst but strangers was horrible too. The answer was inevitable, but you just had to make him wait a little while.

maybe a part 2?

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #steve rogers reader insert #steve rogers #avengers x reader #avengers imagines #avengers fluff #avengers #marvel

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ellebakers · 1 year

Text

☆ Desire | Part one (+18)

Ethan landry x reader.

part II. | part III

Summary : just ethan fucking you against a wall.

Warnings : smut + language + blood. ! SPOILERS FOR SCREAM VI !

it's been a year. a year since richie and amber destroyed your life. a year of waking up every night screaming after having a nightmare. it had to stop.

when your friends asked you to come and live with them in new york a few months ago, you refused. but the more the months passed and the more you felt alone.

that's why a few weeks ago, you called each of them to ask them to put you up until you found a small apartment not far from the university.

"i would like y/n. really, but with tara and quinn, all the rooms are taken." sam told you.

"it doesn't bother me but... you might hear us a lot anika and me, well you know, you might hear us doing certain things." mindy said

there was only one person left. chad.

"no problem gorgeous , I'll arrange the third bedroom for you and you can move in with us whenever you want. ethan is nice, a little shy but nice." your best friend told you.

you were so excited. can't wait to see your friends, but above all can't wait to start a new life far away from woodsboro and especially far away from ghostface.

———☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ♡ ☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ———

it was eight o'clock in the morning, your taxi had just dropped you off in front of chad and ethan's building and you couldn't help but smile. this city is so big that no one is likely to find you. especially not the man in the white mask who haunted your nights.

after taking the elevator to the fourth floor, you took the corridor on your right as your friend had told you and stopped in front of apartment 45.

you raised your arm to knock but before you could move the door slammed open.

" y/n !"

" chad !"

you jumped at the brunette and hugged him, so happy to see your best friend. the boy did not take long to reciprocate the gesture.

"you still smell so good." he exclaimed.

you laughed "you’re still so weird."

he pulled back and lightly pinched your nose "i missed you, little head."

you smiled at him "I missed you too, big head."

he pushed aside to let you into the apartment.

once inside, he took your coat and your bag "is that all you took?" he asked you.

"yeah, i just took some change and some stuff. my parents will send me the rest."

he nodded and put your things on a small bench in the hallway.

"come, let me introduce you to ethan."

you followed him to the kitchen where a boy with curly hair was sitting at the counter. "ethan" hearing his name, the boy looked up. you can't help but notice how cute he was. "this is my best friend y/n." the boy's gaze fell on you for a moment then he quickly looked away. "y/n, this is ethan."

you waved your hand "hi"

"hi" he muttered, then he got up, got his things and walked towards what you assumed was his room.

chad turned to you pursing his lips "he's shy."

you nodded slightly, still confused by what had just happened. as a first meeting you had known better. did you scare him ? maybe he didn't like you. but you had only just met him, it was stupid.

your best friend cleared his throat, bringing you back to reality. " i forgot to tell you, but we're going to sam’s place in twenty minutes."

you widened your eyes "wait what? but i've only just arrived. and i won't be ready in twenty minutes."

he shook his head, raising his shoulders "but yes ! I installed your room, you just have to change, plus the girls don't know you're in town."

you crossed your arms "oh, so for once in your life you managed to keep your mouth shut."

a mischievous smile appeared on chad's face "oh, girls i had dated prefer when my mouth is open, especially between their-"

you cover your ears "shut up, I'm going to change."

he laughed and tickled you as you walked past him. "chad stop"

"ok"

———☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ♡ ☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ———

after putting on jeans, a tank top and a leather jacket, you tore your hair down and put on some make-up, in ten minutes you were ready.

it was not the case of chad…

you growled when you saw that your friend wasn't ready and was running around looking for a t-shirt.

"seriously chad, put something else on your back it's okay."

"nah nah and nah, it's the t-shirt tara gave me. and besides, don't pretend that you don't like seeing me shirtless."

you rolled your eyes, then what he just said hit you.

"wait. you have a crush on tara!"

chad froze and turned to you "what? nah, it's just that...she gave it to me and...it would be rude not to put it on."'

"of course, I believe you." you smirked and chad gives you the middle finger.

ethan came towards you but moved very far away from you.

okay nice… you thought.

chad yelled which startled you. seeing your reaction he apologized "sorry kitten, I just found my top. come on, let's go, I have to stop and buy some beer, Tara only likes corona."

you smiled shaking your head.

———☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ♡ ☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ———

while chad was in the store, you were in the car with ethan, who still hadn't spoken to you.

a ding caught your attention. a new notification appeared on your phone. it was that damn dating app that mindy told you to install. a certain brian came to send you a picture. you opened it. and the photo of a dick appeared. you growled and blocked him. that was the downside with this kind of app, the guys you met on it only wanted one thing. sex. after turning off your phone, you leaned your head against the glass and sighed.

"you shouldn't be on this kind of app." for the first time that evening, ethan had just spoken to you.

you didn't know what to say, but it could be a good way to strike up a conversation with him. after all, you were going to live with him for a while so you might as well be on good terms.

"yes, I know. i thought i would meet good people, but i only come across perverts."

"you're really pretty. that's what they come for. maybe you should try talking to guys who are less handsome or popular, but who really care about you."

he finds you pretty. the cutest guy you've ever seen thinks you're pretty. you must have dreamed. and his voice. lord, you could kneel before him and do anything he asked just by hearing his voice.

"yeah well. every guy, popular or not, are interested in me until they see my scars and learn who i am. thanks to richie and amber."

you expected ethan to answer you but he kills himself. at the same time, chad got into the car and drove to sam's place.

———☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ♡ ☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ———

"chad! you're late. again." grumbled mindy.

the three girls were busy in the kitchen so they didn't see you come in behind chad.

"i have a body of god, it takes time to take care of it before going out."

"of course." his twin replied.

" i feel like a wave of mockery coming from you mindy. isn't it y/n?"

you approached and saw the three girls turn sharply, shock evident on their faces.

"holy shit." exclaimed sam

tara threw herself into your arms and mindy put down the bottle she was holding so as not to drop it, still in shock. they haven't seen you in months except for facetime.

"it's good to see you." murmured the little brunette who hugged you against her without wanting to let you go.

"it's good to see you too tara."

"okay okay, let go. it's my turn now." mindy exclaimed as she pulled tara away from you.

she cupped your face in her hands "fuck. is it good to be able to touch you." chad opened his mouth to comment but mindy cut him off rolling her eyes "not sexually dumbass."

you laughed and hugged your friend.

after a while she withdrew to make way for sam.

"i missed you." the eldest carpenter told you.

"i missed you too sam."

after a while, two other girls arrived introducing themselves as anika and quinn, after greeting them, you started to eat. it's been a year since you felt so good, surrounded by those you love and safe. your friends had all changed a lot over the past year, you were so proud of them. but something bothered you, like a bad feeling. you shook your head slightly to erase the feeling. after all, you were safe, nothing could happen.

you felt eyes on you. you turned and met ethan's eyes. you smiled at him but he turned his head towards quinn, they exchanged a strange look.

maybe they are a couple.

but they don't act like one. you looked away and focused on what mindy and anika were saying. after a few hours, your eyes began to close. chad was the first to notice.

"do you want us to go home?"

"i'll go home. but you, stay here. i'll walk."

"nah, we're going home too."

you knew he wanted to stay to spend time with tara. but you also knew that he wouldn't let you go home alone. "chad. stay here, i'll be fine, i promise."

as he was going to answer you, ethan cut him off. "i will accompany her."

chad was surprised but accepted. you got up, said goodbye to everyone and left with the brunette.

———☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ♡ ☆ ★ ❀ ✿ ———

the walk to the apartment was quiet and long. why did ethan want to come with you if it was to be cold with you. after a while, you found the courage to ask him the question you were dying to ask.

"did I do something to you ?"

you keep walking, and ethan didn't bother to turn to you when answering. "no, why ?"

"since I arrived you have spoken to me very little. and I have the impression that you don't like me too much."

"i don't know you, that's all. i'm always suspicious of people i don't know."

you didn't realize it, but for a few minutes, you had been following ethan down a dark, deserted alley.

"ok if you say so."

ethan froze, which made you stop. he turned his head in all directions.

"ethan what’s going on ?" you asked him.

he didn't answer you, you were going to ask him the question again, but he threw himself on you and pinned you against the wall behind you, kissing you.

it didn't take you long to respond by sliding your arms around his neck and kissing him. usually, you'll have pushed the boy away and probably slapped him. but ethan, you were really attracted to him. and we're not going to lie to each other, it's been a few months since you've had sex, so you weren't going to say no to a bang. after a while you pull away to catch your breath, he turned his lips to your neck, biting, licking and sucking on it in order to leave some marks. you moan when he finds your sensitive spot.

"ethan, someone might see us."

"i don't give a fuck."

you were ashamed to admit it, but hearing him talk like that made you wet.

"then fuck me."

he smiled against your neck "it was planned."

he pushed himself away from you, sliding his hands down your body until he was waiting for your jeans. he unbuttoned it and slid it off you, leaving your legs exposed in an alley. he knelt in front of you, knowing what he was going to do, you held your breath. he took the strip of your panties between his fingers and tore it. you were about to complain but ethan buried his head between your legs and took your pussy in his mouth. you moaned loudly and ran your hand through his hair.

"fuck, ethan."

you had a lot of guys who had went down on you. but ethan, fuck, it's like he's been doing this his whole life. between his tongue and his lips, you thought you were dying of pleasure. the more he penetrated you with his tongue, the louder you moaned. after a few minutes, the pleasure was too intense and you cum against his lips. he stood up as you caught your breath. he licked his lips "you taste so good."

"fuck me."

he smiled at you and lowered his pants to his knees, his boxers were the second to be lowered.

his dick was big and hard you didn't think it was going to fit but ethan grabbed your jaw between his fingers and made you look at him "it'll be fine." you nodded and he kissed you again. ethan took your left leg and put it against his hip. he spat into his hand and pumped himself a little before putting his cock towards your entrance. and in one movement he penetrated you, which made you moan and close your eyes. he didn't move, he took your other leg and lifted it, which allowed him to sink even more inside you. "fuck you’re so tight." he started his movements, slowly, pressing you more against the wall. you were still sensitive, which made you cry with pleasure at each thrust. "ethan, i'm close." he put his hand around your neck and squeezed lightly. his dominating side excited you even more and made you moan pornographic. the more he squeezed and the more you moaned, after a while you felt your second orgasm coming. "ethan, I'll-" you didn't have time to finish your sentence. an orgasm washed over you, making you moan and roll your eyes. ethan kept moving, and you knew he was going to cum, you nibbled on his earlobe "go ahead, cum inside me." that's all he needed to end up in you. he leaned his forehead against yours and caught his breath.

with one hand he pulled up his boxers and his pants. he lowered you to the ground, but his other hand still remained around your neck. "ethan you can take your hand off."

suddenly he looked up and smiled at you, and his hand squeezed more and more around your neck, making you gasp for air. "ethan" you were trying to beg him to stop but he kept going. he passed his other hand behind his back, you hadn't seen what he had taken, but you felt it. it was a knife.

a knife he stuck in your stomach, you tried to scream, but ethan stopped you. he raised the knife higher and higher. you felt yourself dying little by little. he dropped you to the ground and watched you bleed out. after your last breath. he took his phone and called chad.

"chad, oh my god that's horrible. we got attacked by ghostface. y/n, she's dead."

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry x y/n #jack champion x reader #jack champion #jack champion x y/n #scream vi

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justagalwhowrites · 4 months

Text

Yearling - Ch. 26: Carved

You and Joel search for Savvy outside of Jackson. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-25 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst because... duh when do I not serve everything with a side of angst. I wish I could tell you why. Canon typical violence. Past suicide attempt. Suicidal ideation. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only

Length: 10.7k (I'M SORRY I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED HERE EITHER OK)

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

It had gone unsaid for at least a day now.

Joel had been outside of Jackson with you for nine days and there was no sign of Savvy and it was time to turn back. He’d let you lead the way, picking directions, deciding when to stop for the day (within reason, he’d had to suggest breaks and point out the conditions of the horses at least once a day.) But there was nothing that pointed to her.

Your fourth day out, the two of you tracked a small group but it was about 10 people - three families with four kids between them - traveling to Seattle. When you found them, they were low on food so the two of you handed over the bulk of your rations. Joel told them about Jackson while you showed the younger kids the horses, keeping the occupied with a soft smile on your face as you patiently taught them how to pet Renaissance, how they had to hold their palms flat when offering her food. Joel wondered, not for the first time, how he’d never realized that you were a mother. It was so clearly built into you now that he knew to look for it. The families said they were heading for the coast and Joel hoped they found their way.

Day seven led you both to an abandoned camp that had been occupied by some kind of small party but nothing to indicate if it was raiders or someone else, though there was at least one horse. The two of you tracked that group for the last two days but they went into a stream they didn’t immediately ford and you lost the trail entirely.

“Fuck!” You dismounted into the water after you’d followed along the stream for several miles and seen no sign of the group on the shore. You kicked the water and screamed - the sound shrill and almost feral, more animal than human - before you fell to your knees. You collapsed back onto your heels as the stream flowed around your legs. You didn’t seem to notice.

Joel got down from his horse, too, gathering the reins of both animals and tying them to a nearby tree before meeting you in the water. He slowly lowered himself down on one knee, careful to leave some space between the two of you. Your hands were limp atop your thighs, palms facing to the sky, head bowed, prostrate to whatever higher power would bring your daughter back.

“Bambi,” he said softly. You didn’t even lift your head. This loss hit hard, he knew. The sign of a horse had perked you up. You had sat up straighter in your saddle, your eyes had more life in them. Your body had carried the signs of hope and those signs were gone now. “It doesn’t mean anything. It could have been anyone, just because…”

“What if she’s gone, Joel?” You asked, your voice cracked and broken. “What if it wasn’t a lie, what if…”

“Don’t know that,” he cut you off.

You’d told him what Mitchum had said to you, what he’d shown you as proof that your child was gone. The thought of it had nearly made him vomit, all but choking down bile as you spoke.

It had broken you for a while. More than a year, from the sounds of it. But, one day, you decided you couldn’t know what had happened to her, not really. Mitchum hadn’t given you any actual proof. He’d told you something he knew would torture any parent, gave you the piece of a beloved animal as a trophy. But the horse had been the older one, the smaller one. The one that could have been caught while Savvy slipped away on the younger, larger animal. So you made yourself move again, made yourself start preparing for a life beyond the place they kept you chained. You made sure you were ready to search when the time came.

Joel wasn’t sure if it was delusional or if it was discerning, if your mind was just desperate to find a reason to keep living or if you were seeing the holes in the logic of the cruelty forced on you.

“You can’t know,” he said. “Not for sure. Not unless we find her.”

“What if she died afraid and alone?” You asked, like you didn’t even hear him. But you lifted your head at least, your eyes finding his. “What if she was cold or hurting? She gets cold so easy, she always wears socks, even in summer… I could have held her, at least, I could have made it easier…”

Joel tried not to think about Sarah. About holding her, telling her that everything was going to be OK. About how his last words to her had been a lie. About how he wasn’t sure the last time he’d told her that he loved her. About how he wasn’t sure if telling her that as she bled out in his arms would have made it better or worse.

“You don’t know,” he said instead. “You taught her everything you knew, right? Means she’s smart, she’s resourceful. She’s out there, Baby, she is.”

You just looked at him, your eyes flat and dead and he wondered, for a moment, if that’s what Tommy saw looking back at him in the years before they made it to Boston.

“C’mon,” he said, putting a hand on your shoulder. You didn’t shrink away from him. “Let’s get out of the water, it’ll be dark real soon, anyway. We can find a place to camp here, get you dried off.”

You didn’t say anything, you just hung your head, looking down at your hands again.

“Bambi,” he said after a minute. “Can’t help her by stayin’ here. We gotta keep you going and that means getting out of this cold water, now let’s go. Not going to do her any good if you get sick out here, let’s go.”

You nodded a little at that and Joel got up himself before helping you to your feet. He guided you to the horses and gave you Renaissance’s reins before leading you to a place far enough away from the stream that anyone following it wouldn’t see you but close enough that it would be easy enough to refill canteens.

He set up camp and got out dry clothes from your pack.

“Bambi,” he said gently. You at least looked at him, even though your eyes still looked dead. “Should get changed out of those wet clothes. I’m going to go get us somethin’ to eat real quick, you get dry. OK?”

You took the pants and socks from Joel but just stared at them for a moment.

“Have to change, OK?” He said, watching you. “Can’t help her if you’re sick or hurt. Not good to sit in wet clothes for too long, gotta change.”

You nodded then and he slung his rifle over his arm.

“Gonna be alright for a bit?” He asked. You nodded. “Gonna come back to you in one piece, right?”

You nodded again, though Joel still felt uneasy.

“Back soon,” he said.

He picked his way carefully through the forest, back toward the stream where there’d been plenty of signs of animal life. Since the two of you had given most of your rations to the travelers, he’d hunted almost daily. It reminded him of crossing the country with Ellie and, under other circumstances, he’d probably enjoy being out here like this with you.

In another reality, he’d bring his guitar. After the two of you hunted together, he’d play and you’d sing and then he’d hand the instrument to you and he’d sing while you played and you’d sit so that your body was against his, where he could feel the heat of you beside him. When the fire died, you’d climb in the same sleeping bag and he’d hold you close and tight and kiss you all soft and needy. You’d moan against his mouth and he’d slip inside you as though he belonged there, at home between your thighs and burrowed against your chest.

Instead he was alone and worried about leaving you unattended.

He remembered what he’d been like after Sarah died.

It wasn’t a pleasant memory. It was hard to recall the exact feeling in those early days of loss. When he focused on it, tried to actually get an idea of that hell, he was often reminded of the idea that mothers forget the pain of labor when it’s done. How the agony fades so they can face the idea of giving birth again. He wondered if that’s what his mind had done, too. If his head made that time hazy and lost so he could keep on living because surviving that again would be impossible. He’d never risk it.

He hadn’t wanted to survive it then. He’d tried not to, lasting not even a day without his daughter’s kind smile or keen gaze or smart mouth before he pressed a gun to his head and pulled the trigger.

For a very long time, he didn’t know why he flinched. For a very long time, he wished it had worked. And something told him that he had the same look in his eyes then that you had now.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do when he got you back to Jackson. The two of you needed to turn back, you couldn’t just stay out here forever. Maria said he could have two weeks and he figured it would be OK if he pushed that by a bit but he couldn’t disappear with you for the time it took to comb every square mile of the wilderness.

What if you gave up like him? You were so much stronger than him. You wouldn’t flinch away from it, he knew that. What if you surrendered to it and he wasn’t there to save you? What if you just didn’t show up at the stables one morning and he went to find you and instead found your body, cold and empty and alone? Just what was left of you, surrounded by your music collection and the guitar he made you and the books you scrawled notes in, all these signs pointing to your life that would be gone. His might be gone, then, too.

He settled in what he thought was a good spot, signs of rabbits plentiful. Joel set up behind a fallen log, setting up the gun, and waited. It didn’t take long. A bush rustled nearby and he turned, quickly, before going still, gun set and ready. A minute passed, then two. Finally, a rabbit emerged, taking a cautious hop into the open. He fired and it fell. He slung the gun on his back and picked the animal up - carefully, deliberately - its hind legs still warm, sinews pliable.

He turned to start back to camp when he froze. Ahead of him was a deer, graceful and fragile, eyes wide and soft and watching him like he was watching her. Something in a nearby tree rustled and she startled for a second, wild and cautious, but stilled before looking back at Joel. At her feet was a tiny fawn, its coat speckled and its legs spindly and splayed. The mother watched him closely, like she was trying to figure out if this two-legged creature in her forest was a threat. He wondered if she’d ever seen a person before.

“It’s OK mama,” he said softly after a moment. “Not gonna hurt you or your baby. You’re OK.”

She watched him for another moment, not jumping when he moved - slowly - to stand up straight. It was like part of her could feel that he was safe, that she didn’t need to be so on guard with him. Eventually, she hung her head low, nudging her baby forward. Joel watched them until they were swallowed by the forest, mother leading her child through the wilderness.

***

Life in the forest around you felt loud.

You couldn’t make much out, all of it melding together into a drone that you could feel in your ears. There were crickets and birds and frogs and the rustle of leaves and it meant you couldn’t hear the blood in your ears anymore. Or maybe you could and the wilderness had swallowed you up, too.

That seemed like the best option. To disappear into the earth with the untamed things. Maybe it would stop hurting then.

You weren’t entirely sure how far you’d gone. Joel had woken you early that morning. You’d been in the middle of a dream, one that you couldn’t remember now. You just knew that your heart was racing and you kept feeling like there was something just out of your reach, something you desperately needed to get to.

“Bambi,” he said gently, a hand on your shoulder. There was something in you that wanted to pull away but you didn’t. You stayed where you were, fumbling through your mind as you tried to remember why your heart was threatening to race out of your chest. You looked up at him, a sad look in his eyes. He always had that look now, it seemed. He took his hand back. “Sorry… You were dreaming… Didn’t seem like it was anythin’ good.”

You just nodded and pinched your eyes shut for a moment. It didn’t seem to make a difference.

Joel gave you something to eat - you couldn’t really taste it - and you stared into space between bites, back propped against a tree.

“Bambi,” he said, in a tone that made it seem like it wasn’t the first time he’d said it. You turned your head to look at him, fidgeting with some of the meat Joel had given you. “We… we really need to consider heading back to Jackson.”

You frowned.

“But…”

“I know,” he said gently. “And I’m so sorry we didn’t find her yet. But we need to turn back, this is day 10 and it’s gonna take a few days to make it…”

“I can’t just give up on her, Joel,” you said quietly. “I can’t, I…”

“I’m not saying give up on her,” he replied. “I’m saying that we go back to town, let the horses rest, plan where else to go next time. If… if we’re smart about it, we can search a good portion of the region without backtracking and covering the same ground twice, give us a better shot. But we can’t do that out here, Baby, we just can’t. We don’t have the rations, we’ll run out of ammo if we run into trouble, the horses will be pushed too hard. We need to go back.”

You knew he was right. But it still felt so wrong, going back to Jackson without her.

“We can take a different route back?” You asked, ready to fight him if he said no.

“Course,” he said. “We’ll see what we can find, OK? But we need to head back.”

You sighed, looking out to the forest you hadn’t searched, something tight and sickening settling in your stomach, like if you just pushed a little harder, went a little further, you’d find her.

“OK.”

The sun was high and you thought you’d been riding for a while but it was hard to know for sure. You were trying to focus on everything but you had been for more than a week, and you were worried you were missing things in the haze of fog that had over taken you. Joel kept looking back over his shoulder to you, like he was making sure you were still following him even though you knew there must be the sound of you behind him.

He looked back over his shoulder at you 13 more times - some part of you was keeping count, always aware of him - when you saw something off the trail and frowned.

You pulled Renaissance to a stop and dismounted, Joel doing a double take back at you when he realized you were no longer following him.

“Jesus, Bambi,” he brought Ares to a halt and got down, too, coming up alongside you. “Gotta tell me when you see something…”

“Sorry,” you said, not looking at him. Instead, you picked your way through the brush toward what had made you stop to begin with. It was a trap, a slender branch from a young tree pulled down toward the ground, rope pulled tight.

“Is that…” Joel frowned, so close you could feel him next to you. It didn’t bother you the way it had back in Jackson. It still sent a thrill of fear through you, making your muscles coil and tense, body preparing to defend yourself even though you knew you didn’t need to. But part of you found it oddly comforting, too. In some ways, it felt good to have him close.

“It’s a snare,” you said, kneeling beside it. You looked closer at the rope, the fibers turning green and fraying at the edges. You reached out, delicately tracing the curve of the branch with one finger. “I think it’s been here for a bit.”

Joel was silent for a moment.

“Do you think…”

“She makes these,” you said softly. “I showed her how to make a few snares, this is the one she uses the most.”

Joel knelt beside you and you looked at him. His face was soft and eyes warm, looking less pained than you’d seen him in weeks. He got closer to the pins that kept the snare ready to snap up whatever might trigger it.

“Think you’re right on the timing,” he said. “There’s some moss startin’ in down here, been here at least a month. Probably closer to two.”

“She wouldn’t have just left it here,” you said as Joel sat back from the trap. “She was good about that, she always got her traps, she remembered where she put them and she got them back. She wouldn’t have just left it here…”

“Is it OK if I take it down?” Joel’s voice was so gentle and soft, like he was holding a delicate thing with his words. “You can take a closer look at it, see if it really looks like hers…”

You just nodded, not sure if you’d be able to speak around the knot in your throat. Joel delicately released the snare and freed the pins, one from the rope and the other from the ground. He set them, almost reverently, in your open palm and set about untying the rope from the slender branch.

You held the pins tightly in your fist for a moment, as though you could absorb some part of Savvy through them if she’d held them like that once. When the wood felt as warm as your fingers and Joel was still beside you, holding the coil of rope, you opened your hand, picking up one of the pins and looking at it closely.

You’d been the one who showed Savvy how to carve these pins. You’d never been particularly good at woodworking, nothing like Joel with his even, guided knife strokes that shaped the material into something that seemed to have been held within the grain of it from the beginning, he just helped reveal it. Your daughter was better at it than you. Where your pins were always jagged and harsh, hers had an elegance and smoothness to them, precision in her cuts that you’d never been able to find on your own. You’d always wondered if she’d gotten that trait from her mother or her father, if Mark had been able to shape things and you just hadn’t known. Maybe he hadn’t even known.

The pins in your fingers were fine and almost smooth and your hand shook as you traced the arc of one.

“Bambi?” Joel said softly.

“These are hers,” you said, voice thick. “She… she is so good at making these, hers are always so precise and smooth and almost artistic and…”

He gently took one from you and you let him. He examined it, too, looking closely.

“I don’t know where she got it from,” you said, looking at him. “I never… I couldn’t teach her to do it that well, I taught her the basics but she is just good. Even when she makes them quick they’re just good and these are hers, Joel, I know they are.”

“What would make her abandon a trap?” He asked after a moment, looking back at you.

You thought for a second.

“Bad weather, maybe,” you said. “If… if she got hurt. If something drove her out of the area and she didn’t have time to collect everything or if she was too hurt to go back for it, that’s the only thing.”

He nodded slowly, looking back at the pin.

“Joel,” your voice trembled. “Joel, what if something happened to her? What if she’s hurt? What if someone took her, what…”

“We don’t know anything yet,” he said gently. “It could have been bad weather and she packed up quick. Or she saw a threat and left before it saw her, too.”

“We have to look around here,” you said. “Please, Joel, I know we’re heading back but we have to look, I can’t…”

“We’ll look,” he said. “We’ll look, it’s OK.”

You just nodded and pressed your forehead into his shoulder. You did it without thinking, it was just instinct. Joel was stable and warm and smelled like home and you needed that. You needed him. He was still for a moment before he put an arm around you, holding you gently.

“We will find her, baby,” he said gently. “It’s OK.”

The two of you looked for signs of her immediately around the snare but you weren’t that discouraged when you didn’t find any. It had been weeks, footprints in mud and the scars of missing bark from trees would be long gone.

“Which way would she go?” Joel asked, watching you.

You sighed, looking around. Your heart was beating like you were running from something and at a fork in the road, forced to make a life or death choice.

“There’s water, northeast of here I think, right?” You said, trying to orient yourself. “She knew to stick near where she could find water, I think she’d head that way.”

Joel nodded slowly.

“Then that’s where we’ll go.”

He watched you closely for a moment. Your jaw was tight, whole being taut and tense. He slowly, cautiously, reached for you, giving you every opportunity to pull away from him. You didn’t. Instead, you let him pull your worn body against his, his arms wrapping around you, his lips brushing your hair. You put your arms around him, looping them up and over his back, fingers splaying wide and clutching him close for a moment.

“It’s OK Bambi,” he said. You could feel his voice in his chest. “It’s going to be OK.”

You took the lead again, every direction change and choice feeling bigger than any other you’d ever made. Every path not followed hurt, a chance that you were losing. You tried not to think about it but your mind kept getting stuck, as though if you concentrated hard enough you could pull yourself apart and the pieces could keep searching. It didn’t matter much if you couldn’t put it all back together again. If you found her, it was worth it. If you didn’t, what would be the point.

Dusk was on the horizon when you started looking for a place to stop for the night.

“What’s that?” Joel said after you’d started looking for a good place to rest as well as for signs of Savvy. “To the east a bit?”

You looked back at him to see where he meant and followed his eye line. There was a bright spot through the trees about a football field away. You frowned a little.

“Worth looking at,” you looked back toward Joel. He just nodded before nudging Ares toward the bright spot and you followed with Renaissance. When you went to overtake him, he held his hand out.

“Should stay behind me,” he said. “Just… in case.”

You frowned a little but nodded and fell in behind him, watching as he brought his rifle forward. Your grip on Renaissance tightened and she huffed, her ears twitching.

It was almost a let down when it was just a small clearing. For a moment, you thought it was just a quirk of the forest but you saw another spot just beyond that was brighter, too. You dismounted.

“Got the map?” You asked, tying Renaissance off on a nearby tree before working your way through the brush to the other bright spot. It was a clearing, too. “Looks like campsites.”

“Here,” Joel said as you came back over, Ares tied off near Renaissance, the map in his hand. “We’re toward the north end of the Shoshone National Forest. Or should be, anyway.” You nodded, looking at the map. It didn’t have things like camp grounds marked that you could see. “Thinkin’ we’re about here.”

He pointed to a spot on the map and you nodded again.

“Near water,” you said, looking back up at him.

“Yeah,” he said. “It’d be a good spot.”

“Let me just…” you looked out toward the other clearing. “I’ll be back.”

You didn’t wait for him to respond. Instead, you just went back toward the other site, crossing it this time and working your way through the brush to another site. There were five all told and you found the remains of a fire at the fourth one. You knelt beside the small fire pit, the ash pile tall enough that you could tell it was from more than just a day or two. Joel appeared beside you.

“Someone was here,” you said, nodding at it. “For a little while.”

Joel’s hand went to the middle of your back and you jumped a little at his touch before you relaxed into it.

“Could be,” he said, replying to the words you couldn’t say. You just nodded.

The two of you settled in for the night, finishing off the rabbit from the night before. You tried not to think about patrolling with Joel. How you’d sit near him and find comfort in his presence, how you wanted to do everything beside him. Part of you still lived in that feeling. The rest of you was still chained to a wall, begging for help but getting none.

Joel hummed quietly as he carved - some small figure that you were curious about but couldn’t bring yourself to ask after - as you stared at the fire, watching the crackle as the wood popped and sparks flew.

“Do you think I’m crazy?” You asked, arms looped around your knees, looking across the flames to him when you couldn’t take the silence and distance anymore.

Joel frowned, raising his eyes to yours.

“No. Why would I think you’re crazy?”

“For doing this,” you said. “Searching with no real idea of where to go, endless space to look, all for someone I don’t…”

Your voice broke and you looked back at the fire.

“No,” he said gently. “Not crazy. I’d do the same thing.”

“Is that why you’re helping me?” You asked, looking back at him.

He considered you for a moment, a brief flash of hurt in his eyes.

“Part of it,” he said eventually. “But, Sweetheart… I’d do anything for you. Lookin’ for your girl… that’s… there’s no question. I’m always going to want to help you, always going to want to take care of you. Doesn’t matter what it is but especially with this.”

You nodded and buried your face in your arms for a moment before you sighed.

“I’m scared I’m losing my mind,” you said before looking back at him again. “I don’t know if… If what I’m thinking and hoping and basing all this around is real or if it’s just… For a while, when I was with them, when I thought she was gone, I wanted to die. There just wasn’t a reason for any of it and everything just hurt all the time but I couldn’t do it. I just kept living and I resented it. But, after a while, it’s like I talked myself out of it. I convinced myself that she could be out there. Just enough that I could forget how much it hurt. And then I got out. But every time I saw something that made me think that it could be a sign of her… I think I’ve been moving toward this for a long time. Where I can’t be in limbo anymore and can’t just avoid it, where I need to know and… I don’t know how much of it is real and smart and how much of it is something just made out of the hurt and the fact that it seemed like it should have killed me but it didn’t. I don’t know how sane any of it is, Joel. I don’t. But I don’t know if I can survive without it and…”

You buried your face in your arms again, tears stinging your eyes.

“I understand, Bambi,” he said gently. You looked up at him, frowning a little. “I did a lot of that when… after Sarah died. I knew she was gone, there wasn’t a question of that. I felt it happen. But… I couldn’t live with it, either.”

You frowned a little, watching him closely.

“Tried to end it,” he said, sniffing once, his voice tight. “Next day. Put a gun to my head, figured it’d be quick. Didn’t work, obviously. Flinched.”

“Joel…”

“Spent a lot of years after that hidin’ from it,” he continued, turning his carving over in his hands. “Tried not to think about her. Regret that now. Who knows what I forgot because I was so busy trying to not hurt. Tommy never even said her name. We never talked about her. But it seemed like the best part of my day was the half a second after I woke up when I didn’t remember she was gone. Always felt like she was in the next room, that I’d need to make sure she was moving to get out the door on time for school… It took a long time before I found something else to live for. And it sure seems like she found me, not the other way around. Then we came to Jackson and I… I found you. With her and with you, seemed like there was a reason I flinched back then. Like part of me knew there was a reason to go on and I’d find it eventually.

“You’ve got that, too. Even if… even if it’s not me and even if it doesn’t seem like it. You have things to live for, baby. Promise you do. You may not even know what they are yet but you have ‘em. You just have to keep living, that’s all. Just keep survivin’. Please.”

You watched him through the flames for a moment before you got up and came around the flames to sit beside him, close but not so close that you were touching. He froze as you leaned over, slowly, to rest your head on his shoulder.

“I’m glad it didn’t work,” you said quietly.

“Me, too,” he replied after a moment.

“I don’t know what I want right now,” you said, watching the fire. “But I know that I’m glad you exist. That I want you to be happy.”

You felt him turn ever so slightly, his lips and his nose brushing the top of your head.

“I’m here for you,” he said softly. “However you want me, I’ll do whatever you want. As long as you’re safe and happy, I’ll do whatever you want.”

He held his large hand out to you, a small carving of a deer in his fingers. You took it, turning its delicate body in the light.

“It’s yours, if you want it,” he said quietly. “All yours either way.”

***

You wanted to follow the river the next day. Joel was fine with that, especially since you picked the route that curved back toward Jackson. Or, at least, in that general direction. It was still a few days ride and he’d already made notes of where you’d found signs of Savvy to come back and check again if the two of you didn’t find her on this trip out.

You were more yourself than you had been in a long time. The two of you stopped for lunch and to give the horses a longer break and Joel started carving again, just to give himself something to do besides look at you. That hurt too much.

“Can you teach me?” You asked after a few minutes. He looked at you for a moment, surprised you were talking to him at all. It had been a quiet almost two weeks with you.

“Sure,” he said before you had a chance to take it back. “Want to come sit by me? Grab…” he looked around for a moment before finding a hunk of wood on the ground that looked like it would work. “That there?”

You nodded and moved to be next to him. Careful, he noticed, to not touch him but close enough that you could easily see his hands. He cleared his throat.

“Want to find the grain of the wood,” he said, watching as you turned the chunk of wood in your hands. “Want to work with it, go against it and it’ll split.”

“Makes sense,” you said. Fuck, you were so close to him.

“Start with a rough cuts, get the outline of what you want to make,” he said. “Knife in your dominant hand, wood in the other. Hold it real firm and cut away from your body in thin slices, don’t go too deep or it’ll fracture.”

You nodded and looked at the wood again, frowning down at it.

“What do you want to make?” He asked after you didn’t move to cut it.

“A moose, I think,” you said. “Just not sure where to start.”

He nodded slowly.

“Can I?” He asked, hand out. You shrugged and handed the wood over. He turned it in his hands for a moment, getting a feel for the shape of it, finding the grain. “Here,” he said, holding it close to you. “Back’ll probably be this part here…” He notched the blade against the wood and cut into it. “That’ll make this the neck.” He adjusted the knife and cut again. “Legs down here. You try that one.”

He handed the wood back and your fingers brushed his as you took it. He clenched his hand into a fist in his lap, squeezing some of the tension swelling in him out before releasing it.

“Here?” You asked, lining up your knife.

“Yeah,” Joel said. “But turn it a bit so you’re cuttin’ more away from yourself…” He helped you adjust and felt your skin on his again. You made the cut. “There ya go. Go back over the whole thing like that, shave off a bit more…”

You nodded and set to work and Joel tried to not watch you too obsessively. He didn’t want to push you away or make you uncomfortable but fuck you were so close and you weren’t mad at him. So much of what he remembered of how you felt in his arms had gotten mixed up in the night you’d left Jackson, how he clutched onto you while you screamed. He wasn’t sure you’d ever let him close again and now you were beside him because you chose it. He couldn’t ruin it. He went back to his own carving.

“Alright,” you said eventually, holding up the wood. “Think I’ve got it. Now what?”

He looked at it and nodded.

“Good job,” he said. “There are two other kinds of cuts you’ll use for the rest of it. One where you pull the knife toward yourself - most common one - and one where you push it. Pull is a lot like paring, you’re gonna brace the wood with your thumb and then pull your knife towards it.”He showed you on his carving and you leaned in close, nodding. “Keep your thumb back so you don’t get hurt, though.”

You nodded and positioned your hands like his before pressing into the wood. The first cut was jagged but the beginning of the technique was there. And you didn’t cut your thumb, so it was enough for him to call it a success.

“Good,” he said and you looked up at him, smiling a little.

He showed you how to do the push stroke, too, and the two of you sat in near silence for a bit, working at your carvings. Joel kept glancing your way, trying to not look too long so he didn’t distract you but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t grateful for it. He was close to you, close enough that your elbow brushed against him now and then and he could hear you breathing, with a reason to look at you. He’d have been happy to stay like that for hours, with birds singing and you breathing, like nothing bad had ever happened to either of you at all.

You’d made good progress when you cursed and hissed, dropping the wood and bringing your hand to your mouth.

“Cut your thumb?” He asked, setting his carving and knife down. You nodded, thumb between your lips. He held out his hand. “Lemme see.”

“Uh uh,” you muttered as you sucked on your injured finger.

“C’mon, Bambi,” he smiled a little. “Happens to everyone, especially when you’re learnin’. Lemme see it.”

You looked at him with those wide eyes of yours like you were half expecting him to judge you for your slip. But you sighed and pulled your thumb from your mouth and thrust your hand at him. He took it gently, yours so much smaller than his own that it seemed delicate even with the callus from guitar and riding on your fingertips and palms. The cut on your thumb started beading with blood before he had a chance to look at it and he frowned for a second before raising your hand to his mouth, putting your small hurt between his lips and pulling the salt and copper of you into him. Your breath hitched and Joel felt you stiffen beside him and it was only then that he realized what he’d done without thinking, the casual intimacy of caring for your body with his own. There was still a part of him that couldn’t accept the separation from you. It felt like an unnatural thing, you existing so separate from him that you could be hurting next to him and he was supposed to ignore it hadn’t even crossed his mind. He pulled your hand carefully from his mouth.

“Sorry,” he said, voice gruff, as he delicately examined the cut. It was deeper than he’d hoped but not to the bone. “S’not too bad, lemme just…” He released your hand and went into his bag, pulling out a scrap of fabric he had just for this kind of injury. He took your hand back and poured a little water over the cut before he wrapped it tightly, knotting the cotton around your thumb. “Keep that elevated for a minute, should stop bleeding before too long. When it does, we’ll get going.”

You nodded and Joel picked up your carving from where you’d dropped it. The moose was starting to take shape, though its form was jagged and rough. But the ruggedness suited it, something powerful not easily contained by the wood. Your blood stained the side of its chest, near where its heart would be. Joel tried to wipe it away but some had already seeped in, a red splotch on its chest.

“I ruined him,” you said, sounding a little sad. Joel glanced over at you, your eyes focused on the small creature in his palm, lips turned into a small frown.

“Think he’ll be alright, Bambi,” Joel smiled a little. “Besides, he only exists because of you. Don’t think you can ruin him.”

After a moment, Joel took your bleeding hand back and checked the bandage. It looked to be holding.

“We should go,” you said, a little breathless, watching him.

“Yes,” a voice from behind the two of you said. “You really should.”

Joel jumped to his feet and drew his gun, aiming it at a group of five men who - while he was distracted by you and your proximity and your blood - had managed to sneak up on him. He cursed himself silently as he glanced quickly to where you’d been. You were on your feet, too, gun drawn and held in front of you. He adjusted so he was between you and them.

“Not lookin’ for any trouble,” Joel said. “Just passing through. Appreciate it if you’d let us.”

“Not too fond of folks passing through,” one of the men stepped forward, lowering his gun just a bit. The other four kept their weapons trained on Joel. He wasn’t in a good position to take out a group like this. He wished he had his rifle instead of his handgun but the rifle was strapped to Ares and he was tied to a tree a good 20 feet away. He ground his teeth. “Because it never seems like they’re just passing through.”

Joel stepped back until he felt you at his back and he breathed a little easier. He just needed to keep you in one piece, that’s all.

“Well, we are,” Joel said. “Looking for someone, think she might have come through here. Once we look for her, we’ll be on our way.”

“No one out here but us,” the man said. “Took this territory few months back and believe me, we’re not about to let anyone just take what’s ours.”

“She wouldn’t steal from you,” you snapped, stepping out from behind Joel.

“Bambi,” he hissed but you ignored him.

“She’s a teenager,” you said. “Brown skin, brown eyes, curly hair. She set up a snare about a day’s ride from here so she was probably around for a while…”

“Told you,” the man said. “Don’t let people take what’s ours. This is our territory, don’t let just anybody hunt on it. We got folks to look after, can’t have just anyone taking animals on our land. Including you. So you can come with us or we can handle this here.”

Joel glanced at you, trying to do the calculus of what was the best move. Did he risk taking a hand off his weapon to throw you behind him? Did he start shooting and move himself in front of you? Did he try to talk these idiots down?

“We haven’t hunted in days,” you bit out before Joel had a chance to decide. “Haven’t taken anything of yours, just want to keep looking…”

“See, now, don’t think I can believe that,” the man said. Joel clenched his jaw. “Sure as shit can’t trust you to just stay in our territory…”

“We’ll leave,” Joel said, catching a glimpse of your head whipping around to stare him down. “Already heading back toward ours…”

One of the the four men toward the back took a step closer to you and Joel reacted before he really thought about it. It was instinctual. There was a threat to you and he took that threat down, the gunshot cracking through the air as the man dropped to the earth.

Everything happened quickly then. There was a split second of near silence, the echo of the bullet hanging heavy over the shocked silence of the surrounding forest, and the shooting began.

Joel moved for you as one of your bullets hit one of the men. Joel threw you behind a tree and kept shooting as the other men scrambled for cover.

“Three left,” you said, scrambling to reload before looking up at Joel, panting for breath. “Should leave at least one alive, question him.”

Joel nodded, gun low. A chunk of tree trunk exploded near his head and he flinched.

“I’m gonna draw their fire…”

“No,” you shook your head, cutting him off. “No, you can’t…”

“You cover me,” he said, ignoring you. “They’re gonna expose themselves to take a shot, take ‘em down then. Stay back. Something happens to me, get out of here, OK?”

“Joel,” you said, voice sharp and eyes wide, but he pressed on. There was the sharp crack of another bullet hitting the tree.

“You need to stay alive for her, OK?” He said. “Understand? You’re the only one who knows she’s missing and how to find her so you stay alive for her.”

He didn’t wait for you to respond. Instead he looked back over his shoulder and around the tree, as much as he dared to catch a glimpse of their positions before looking back at you.

“I’m going on three, OK baby?” He looked in your eyes for what he hoped wouldn’t be the last time and took a deep breath. He wanted to touch you, promise you it was all going to be OK, but kept his hands on his gun. “I love you. No matter what.”

He counted down before you had a chance to say anything back and ran for a tree that would give him cover while also giving him a chance to get closer to the last of the men. A bullet passed so close to him he felt it on the air and you started shooting almost immediately, your second shot hitting one of the men in the chest. Joel kept shooting and so did you, but he was pretty sure it was his shot that felled the next man, just as he reached the other tree. That left one who was alive. He reloaded and looked over to you from his new position, your chest heaving but face set firm. He jerked his head back, hoping you’d understand what he wanted you to do. You nodded once. He held up three fingers and you nodded again. He counted down and you both moved. He tracked you with his eyes for a moment, thankful you got what he’d been trying to communicate with you. You moved quickly but delicately around the edge of the trees, going to loop around the back side of where the men were hiding. Joel went the other way. With any luck, he’d meet you in the middle by the final man.

“You two sure cause a lot of trouble for folks just passin’ through,” the first man called. Joel was quiet. That meant he probably hadn’t seen the two of you start to move. “Should understand why we kill everyone who comes through. Probably killed that girl you’re after. If she was around here few months back we did.” Joel clenched his jaw. He was getting close to the man’s position, having to move slowly to not make a sound. “Cleared the land when we took over, folks could join up or they got handled. If she’s anything like you two, she got handled.”

Joel barely had a chance to hope you didn’t take the bait when you roared, the sound sharp and harsh. He moved quickly then, just in time to see you knock the man’s gun out of his hand as he got a shot off. It grazed your arm but you didn’t seem to notice. You tackled him but couldn’t leverage yourself to stay on top fast enough and he slammed you into the ground with a sickening thud. You were still as he scrambled to his feet and brought his foot down, hard, on your arm. Joel heard it snap half a second before you screamed and he finally - finally - reached the man, looping an arm around his throat and pulling him back, pressing the gun to his temple.

“That was a fuckin’ mistake,” he growled. The man clawed uselessly at Joel’s arm. “If you’re smart, you’ll cooperate. If you ain’t, that’s OK too. Don’t mind forcing you.”

Joel looked down toward you, tears in your eyes as you lay flat on your back, pupils blown.

“You still with me, baby?” He asked, resisting the urge to snap the man’s neck. You nodded and blinked tears from your eyes. “Good. Stay put, just a minute, OK?”

Joel wrenched the man around and shoved him to the ground before pressing him back against a tree. He flinched back for a moment and Joel almost smiled at him. He was afraid. Afraid was good.

“Gonna ask you just a few questions,” Joel said, gun still pressed to the man’s chest. “And you can tell me what I want to know or I can hurt you. Either way, I get what I want. Don’t matter much to me which way it goes.”

“Sure we can work something out,” the man said, his eyes darting and wide. “We’ve got a good crew, we’re setting up something permanent, could use someone with your skills…”

“Don’t need a place,” Joel cut him off. “Especially not with someone who would kill a kid. That what you did? You kill a kid?”

“Look…” he said but Joel turned the gun down and pressed it to the man’s thigh, pulling the trigger. The shot was nearly deafening and the spray of blood was hot as the man screamed, his hands flying to his mangled leg, his torso arching over his injured limb. Joel calmly wiped the man’s blood off his gun using some denim that had missed the splatter before he holstered it. He pulled out his knife and opened it before pressing his knee into the shin of the man’s injured leg. He screamed again and Joel held up the knife.

“Got plenty of places I can put this, too,” he said, voice calm. “So answer the question. Did you kill a kid?”

“I’m sorry,” he slumped back against the tree, his hands clutching around his injured thigh, as though that would hold him together. “We… we killed a lot of people when we moved in here, there were people all through this area but they… they weren’t organized, just nomads. They were a threat, we’ve been running from another group, made it far enough from where they mark their territory, needed to stake a claim before we lost that, too. We offered… anyone we found we offered a place but if they didn’t hold up their end or if they turned it down we killed ‘em, couldn’t let ‘em live, they knew too much, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“Still haven’t answered the question,” Joel said. “Did you kill a kid?”

“My kid,” you said, voice closer than Joel had expected it. He glanced back to you and you were standing just behind him, cradling your arm to your chest. “She’s 14, brown skin, brown eyes, curly hair. She was out here about two months ago. Seen anyone like that?”

Joel tried to not picture Sarah trying to navigate the wilderness alone.

“No,” the man shook his head quickly. “No, I haven’t I swear I haven’t, not back at the settlement, not out here, I haven’t, I promise! I promise.”

“Any of your buddies mention someone like that?” Joel asked, knife still in hand. “Any of your buddies take a liking to teenaged girls?”

“What?” He frowned. Joel sighed and thrust the knife into the man’s good leg at the knee. He screamed, shooting forward in pain. Joel waited for the choking sobs to turn to whimpers.

“Asked if your buddies might have mentioned her,” he said. “Or if any of ‘em like teenaged girls. Think you know what I’m askin’.”

The man panted and looked up at you, as though you’d help him. Joel grabbed the man’s chin, yanking his gaze back to him.

“Not at her,” he said. “You’re with me. Answer the question or I’m gonna make things a whole lot worse for you. Any of your buddies mention a girl like her? Any of them have a habit of taking up with girls?”

“No,” he said, tears streaming down his face. “No, none of them mentioned her but…”

Joel was quiet for a moment, waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t, he gripped the knife, adding just enough pressure that the man yelped and started panting for breath.

“But?” Joel asked.

“But they wouldn’t have mentioned her!” He cried out, opening his eyes to look up at you again. “We didn’t talk about who we took out, there were a few dozen and… I’m sorry, if she was here… if she was here when we came through…”

Joel pulled the knife out before he could finish the statement. You didn’t need to hear that.

“Where’s your settlement?” Joel asked, wiping the blood on a clean spot on the man’s shirt before pressing the point to the man’s throat, just enough that he’d feel the sharp of it.

“Northeast!” He said. “Northeast, just south of the road going into Cody, about 20 miles west of the town. We… we’ve claimed through here all the way about five miles south as ours, we’ve got about 250 folks up that way…”

Joel nodded and closed the knife before standing. He looked over at you, at the cold and detached look in your eyes.

“Bambi,” he said gently, but you ignored him.

Instead, you pulled out your gun and aimed it at the man’s head. He barely had a chance to raise his hands, didn’t have a chance to beg for his life, before you shot him point blank, his blood splattering your good hand as your broken arm hung, limp and misshapen, at your side. The man’s body slumped over and you screamed at it, the sound seeming like it was ripping up from the center of you. You screamed until you were out of breath and you stood there, standing over the man’s broken form, the gun dangling from your fist, tears in your eyes.

Joel wordlessly went to one of the other men, one he’d shot in the head. The blood splatter on his shirt was minimal. He pulled it off the corpse and brought it over to you.

“Give me your arm,” he said gently. You didn’t seem to hear him. He gingerly took the elbow of your broken arm and you jumped, looking at him like you were surprised he was there. “Here, it’s OK sweetheart.”

He tucked your arm into the soft flannel before he tied the sleeves of the shirt together and draped it around your neck. He went to your other arm, the one that had been grazed by the gunshot and looked at you for a moment, a silent request for permission. You gave him a single nod before he poured water over the wound, cleaning it as best he could. It didn’t look too bad, at least. It would leave a scar but the damage shouldn’t be anything more than that. He got a bandage from his pack and wrapped it around your bicep before tying it off.

“Bambi,” he said again, though he wasn’t sure what he was going to say.

“We should move,” you said, your voice flat. “Sure that drew plenty of attention.”

You stalked back over to where the horses had been tethered - thankfully safe from the gunfire - and stopped to pick up the carving and your knife from the ground. Joel followed behind you and watched as you carefully packed the half-formed moose away before tucking the folded knife into your pocket. He went to help you up onto Renaissance but you brushed him off.

“Broken bones before,” you snapped. You tried to glare at him but your eyes were so empty. “Know how to get on a horse with one, I’m not useless.”

“OK,” he said softly. “I’m here if you need.”

You mounted up fine - not that he should have been surprised - and Joel got on Ares, both horses surprisingly serene given the gunfight that had happened not far from them only 20 minutes earlier. But Joel knew you’d worked to desensitize them to the sound of guns. You’d made them all but warhorses, sturdy enough to withstand anything the apocalypse would throw at them. It had served the two of you well.

“They said northeast, right?” You asked, looking back over your shoulder at him.

“Bambi…”

“If they killed her, I’m killing them,” you said. “I don’t care.”

“You don’t know that they did,” he said, bringing his horse alongside yours.

You stared him down.

“Sounds like they killed enough to deserve it either way.”

“Maybe so,” Joel said carefully. He tried to imagine how someone would need to talk him down from killing everyone who’d planned to kill Ellie. If someone would have even been able to stop him from killing every person in that goddamn hospital. “But you’re hurt…”

“Joel.”

“We’re low on ammo. Goin’ now will just get you killed and…”

“So?” You yelled. “Do you think I care? You think it matters if…”

“It matters!” He yelled back, his chest tight. He fought to stay in the present, stay with you here in the wild and not in a field outside Austin as he felt his daughter die and not on the floor of a broken house with your cold, barely breathing body pressed against him. “It matters to me and it matters to Ellie and, goddammit, it matters to your daughter! You don’t know, Bambi, you can’t know if she’s gone. But you’re the only one who knows how to look for her and I’m not going to let you throw that away, I’m not. I am not takin’ you there and we both know that, without one arm, you ain’t gettin’ far without me. We’re going back to Jackson. Now.”

You stared him down for a moment, a shadow of rage in your eyes before that died, too. He made you take the lead so he could keep a proper eye on you and the two of you made decent progress before stopping for the night, Joel hunting on the way so he wasn’t going to leave you unattended. He took your weapons when you did. You glared at him but handed over your side arm.

“Knife, too,” he said, his hand out.

“Fuck you.”

He didn’t take the bait. He just kept his hand out. After a moment, you wrenched it out of your pocket and smacked it into his waiting palm.

“Thank you.”

You kept your distance from him that evening, just staring blankly into the fire and cradling your broken arm.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, Bambi,” he said as you set up to sleep and he got set to keep watch. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“I know,” you said quietly.

It took days to reach Jackson, your arm discolored and pain the only thing visible in your eyes when you got there. Joel brought you straight to the clinic and walked you inside, still not willing to let you out of his sight. He couldn’t hold your body. Not yours, too.

He took the horses to the stables, giving a confused Renaissance an extra apple as she chuffed, looking for you.

“Gettin’ her taken care of, too,” he said gently stroking her neck. She bobbed her large head. “She’ll… she’ll get there. It’s OK.”

He went back to the clinic after and sat on the steps outside, waiting for you to come out, hoping he wouldn’t see Ellie until he went home for the night. He wanted to see her, hug her, but he wasn’t sure if you could handle it. And he didn’t want to try to explain everything to her, at least not everything about you.

Joel wasn’t sure how long he sat there waiting when the door behind him opened with a creak and he turned to see you standing at the top of the steps, your arm in a proper cast with more than a makeshift sling this time.

“You’re still here,” you said, your voice flat.

“Figured I’d walk you home,” he replied.

“What, haven’t had enough of me over the last few weeks?” You asked. It seemed like you’d meant to put your usual bite behind the words but they were just hollow.

“No,” he replied. “No such thing as enough of you.”

He carried your pack for you, walking alongside you on your slow path home.

“How are you feeling?” He asked after a few minutes of silence.

You shrugged.

“Took some doing to get my arm set. Had worse.”

Joel nodded.

“And how are you feeling… outside that.”

You were quiet for a moment.

“I don’t know.”

He nodded again, making his way to the front gate of your home. You opened it and didn’t stop him from coming up the walk so he followed you to your door. You stopped there, holding out your good arm for your bag.

“Thanks for your help,” you said, looking at his chest instead of really at him.

“Course,” he said. You went to open your door but he stopped you, a large hand cupped gently around the elbow of your intact arm. “Bambi…”

You looked at him with those wide eyes. He sighed.

“I don’t know if it’s right, leaving you here alone.”

“I’ll be OK,” you shrugged. “Not your job to worry about me.”

“I want to worry about you.”

You sighed.

“Joel…”

“I do,” he said. “Doesn’t matter what you do or say, I do. And I’m going to.”

You looked at him.

“I don’t think it’s good for us to spend time together right now,” you said.

He tried to not let the hurt show, the feeling of a knife twisting in his gut.

“You want something different than me,” you continued. “And I just… I can’t. Not right now. And I don’t think us spending time together is smart.”

Joel nodded slowly.

“I can wait.”

“You shouldn’t,” you said, chin jutting out defiantly. The knife twisted again. “You should move on. It’s for the best.”

“And what are you gonna do?” He asked.

You sighed and looked back out at the street. There were birds in the distance and the wind blew in the smell of apple blossoms from the orchard just outside the walls. It would be idyllic if his heart wasn’t cracking open and bleeding on your porch.

“Survive, I guess.”

“Bambi,” you looked back at him. “Meant what I said out there. You can’t give up, OK? You have to find something to fight for. You can. I know you can. And we don’t know if what they said was true, we can’t know. We can keep looking. Once you’re healed, we’ll find another window, we’ll search. She got out of there in a hurry, she probably just…”

“Right,” you said. It didn’t sound like you believed it.

“Promise me,” he said.

You frowned.

“Promise you what?”

“That if I leave you here you won’t do what I did,” he said. “That you’ll be stronger than me and live with it. That if you need someone you’ll come to me and you won’t try to do it alone. Because I meant it, all of it. May not be the same for you anymore but that’s OK. Think I can love you enough for the both of us, just come to me when you need it, please. Need you to promise me, sweetheart. Please.”

“Joel…”

“Promise me.”

Your eyes met his and, for a moment, he could have sworn he saw a shadow of the spark of you there. That you were there, buried deep in grief and pain and betrayal.

You took a deep breath.

“I promise.”

Joel slowly, cautiously, raised a hand to cup your cheek. You didn’t stop him. Instead, you closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, your lips parting like you were going to kiss him. But you didn’t and he didn’t try to take it. Instead, he tilted your head and nuzzled against your forehead for a moment before kissing you there, pressing his lips against your skin, breathing in the smell of your hair. He lingered against you as long as he could before he stepped back, taking a moment to memorize you.

You took a deep breath.

“Goodbye, Joel.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Goodbye, Bambi.”

Next Chapter

A/N: I am so so sorry for the wait on this and for the fact that it's a bit of a monster chapter. It got away from me, I admit. I'm trying to get back into the swing of my regular writing cadence now that the holidays are through and I so appreciate you being here and your patience ❤️

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust@ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost@beccerjune@mumma-moonchild@netonetoneto@mellymbee@purplelye@n7cje@flugazi@evyiione@randomhoex@aliengirl99@orcasoul@reds-ramblings@pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel@jenispunk@panda-pascal@sarap-77@flugazi@your-slutty-gf@daniegraceg@partyofone3413@cumberpegg@noisynightmarepoetry.@fifia-writes@grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #yearling #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x oc

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cobaltperun · 3 months

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Lost (18) - State of my head

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Word count: 3.1k

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

-The only way I'm leavin' is dead That's the state of my, state of my, state of my head-

You read about it a few times, just out of curiosity, just to explain the feeling you'd occasionally get when you completely relaxed and everything came easy and naturally when you just entered the flow and you didn't think about anything. Maybe it was the survival instinct kicking you into it, but you just began moving as the knife approached you from the left. It all seemed so slow to you in that moment.

You stepped back, letting Quinn's hand go past your head before you grabbed and twisted her wrist. The knife fell into your hand and you just slashed through her throat. The blood gushed from her throat and you saw life fading from her eyes before she even had the time to properly process what happened.

You lifted her body up just as Bailey raised his gun and began firing. Four shots later he stopped shooting and stepped back, looking horrified as you just tossed Quinn's body to the side.

You turned your attention to Thomas and saw him shaking his head with a smirk on his face. "Come on then, let's leave the families to their own conflict," he backed away toward the doors leading to the room you and Tara were in before all the while motioning for you to follow him.

"Y/N," Tara's worried voice reached you.

You didn't look at her. You didn't take your eyes off Thomas for a single moment. "Don't interfere or come after me. This is my battle," and then you took off, running after the former MMA fighter.

You ran into the room and couldn't see him anywhere. You still ducked, avoiding a high kick from behind just in time and spinning around to try and slam an uppercut into his jaw.

Thomas just barely regained his footing and leaned his head back, avoiding the punch. The abrupt move cost him his balance and you elbowed him on the cheek with your other arm. Taking the opportunity, you pulled him into a clinch and slammed your fist into his face repeatedly. After the fourth punch connected, he managed to put his forearms up to try and guard his face, but you switched to kneeing him in the guts, twice. His knees buckled and you smashed a haymaker into the side of his head.

Thomas stumbled to the side, eventually dropping to his knees as you went after him dropping a kick right on his back. He grunted, scrambling to his feet and avoiding a kick to the side of the head by less than an inch. Gasping for air he ran up the stairs.

You didn't run, feeling no need to rush this when he was already feeling the strikes you landed. You made your way up the stairs when he threw a chair at you. You just caught it and dropped it on top of him when he tried to attack you, probably thinking you'd dodge and leave yourself more open for an attack that could send you down the stairs. The old chair shattered, and the splinters made tiny cuts on his head and shoulders.

When your eyes met his you could see fear within them. Good. You raised your knee up, connecting it with his jaw, he stumbled back, spitting a tooth out and running away once again. He reached some ladder and began climbing up. You followed him and realized he brought you to the roof. For a moment you took your surroundings in. The inside of the theatre wasn't in the greatest condition, but the roof was way worse. There were rusty rebars sticking all over the roof and there was no fence or anything that would keep someone from falling.

You tilted your head to the side when he pulled out the knife.

"Do you want to know why I'm doing this?" he asked as he tried to catch his breath.

"Don't care," you replied evenly, not showing any signs of emotion to him at the moment. You looked at ease as you walked up to him, only to abruptly close the distance between you and land two quick hits to his face. Thomas dropped down, trying to grab your leg and bring you down, but you jumped back, using the same tactic he used in the bodega to gain advantage. You sidestepped him and kicked him guts, even lifting him off the ground for a moment.

He coughed as he came back down and his eyes widened as you grabbed his collar and slammed him into the room, thus knocking the wind out of his lungs. He managed to bring his arms up, shielding his face as you kept punching his forearms to break his guard. Punch after punch landed and finally you made him drop his guard. He took a hit to the face, just barely staying conscious as the back of his head collided with the concrete under him. Desperately, he moved his head to the side, evading the second punch. And in that same desperation he tried to stab you in the throat, but you easily caught his wrist.

He kept pushing though, and while you had the upper hand you still chose to step back from him.

He stumbled to his feet, gasping for air and spitting out blood. Out of the blue, he smirked and rushed at you, you didn't have any time to react in any other way but to try and go for his neck, but the moment he lifted you off the ground and pushed you a couple of feet back you screamed. He let you go and took several steps back, breathing heavily as you gasped for air.

You looked down, seeing a rusty rebar dripping with blood coming out of you, just beneath your chest. It went right through you, and you were barely able to reach the ground with your feet to keep it from messing you up even more.

"You are about to die anyway, and you did give me quite a thrill of battle just now, so let me tell you a secret," Thomas approached and stabbed the knife into the right side of your chest. He left it there as you just stood there, unable to even muster the energy to move due to the rebar piercing through you. "You were supposed to die right after your fight with Anya, but Bailey offered me lots of money to help him, so you got to live for almost another year."

He pressed against the rebar, forcing a blood-curdling scream out of you as you choked on the blood filling your lung.

"I became a bit of a hitman about five years ago, you know. And someone hired me to kill you. Someone who knew all about you and Zack, as well as Susan. Trust me, the fact that you are his half-sister makes this even better, Y/N. You can die knowing you'll be my favorite kill for a long, long time, maybe even for as long as I live," he twisted the rebar and slowly began pulling. "I have to admit though, I've been hired to kill someone's parent before, but I've never been hired by parents to kill their only child. They couldn’t let their reputation be tarnished by their own daughter being caught up in barbaric conflicts," he yanked the broken rebar out of your body and you dropped down on your side, a pool of blood already forming beneath you.

You were on the verge of losing consciousness as you stared at the rebar that was tossed to the side. He knelt down next to you and pulled the knife out of your chest. "Sorry, I have to make this look as Ghostface-like as possible," you weren't even sure where he was stabbing you, but you felt the cold steel entering your body several times before your fingers clenched around the blood-soaked rebar and you stabbed Thomas through the neck. He stumbled back, but he was still holding onto you, so he somehow pulled you to your feet and the two of you stumbled to the right, plummeting from the roof to the pavement below.

With what little consciousness you had left you saw the knife Thomas dropped next to you two. You fell on top of him, just barely cushioning your fall and letting you stay conscious. You grabbed the knife by the blade and just dropped your arm, hoping it would pierce his throat. You were vaguely aware of some resistance, so you pushed your left palm against the butt of the knife and felt a couple of drops of warm liquid hit your face. You dropped to the side, still holding the knife, and thus twisting it in his throat. If he somehow survived rebar to the neck and the fall you were sure this killed him.

You tried to get up, but your body wouldn't move, and the darkness consumed your consciousness.

~X~

Tara sat with Sam on the stairs in front of the mannequins. She killed Ethan, though he managed to stab her in the stomach. And she got shot in the left arm. Sam killed Bailey and was actually pretty much unharmed. Tara was so relieved Sam was okay, even if her own wound was hurting her like hell, but more importantly, something didn't feel right.

"Y/N is taking too long," she stood up, unable to shake off a bad feeling she had. She should have ignored you; she should have gone after you the moment she knew Sam was fine. You'd be fine though. You were much stronger than her or Sam. You'd come back through that door, and you'd be fine and you'd pick her up and hold her because you'd all make it out of this against all odds.

She and Sam raised their heads when Danny ran in with half a dozen police officers and paramedics.

"Tara! Get outside right now, it's Y/N!" her heart nearly stopped when she realized he had blood on his shirt and hands.

Tara ran past him, not caring if her wounds would start bleeding again, she rushed outside and saw an ambulance surrounded by pure chaos. Between all the paramedics she saw blood dripping to the floor of the van.

"The bleeding won't stop! We're losing her!" she had no idea how she didn't collapse right then and there as she stumbled forward and reached the van.

"Stay back, miss!" one of the paramedics warned her.

Tara didn't understand what they were telling her. She couldn’t comprehend what was happening in front of her eyes. This wasn’t true, this was… She watched you, your clothes soaked with blood, she watched the blood dripping down. "Y/N? Baby?" this couldn't be happening. This was a nightmare. She must have fallen asleep and was having the worst nightmare of her life. "Baby, please," she cried out, reaching in to grab your hand.

You were cold and still. You didn't react to her touch.

"Her pulse is getting weaker!" someone yelled and all of a sudden all Tara could hear was intense buzzing, all she could feel was the blood, your blood, sticking to her hands, all she could see was dark red liquid and your unmoving body.

“Y/N!” she cried out, gasping for air, but not caring for a moment as her lungs struggled for oxygen. “Y/N!” you had to wake up, you had to open your eyes, to move, to give her any sign that you were going to be fine. “Don’t! Please wake up!” she began coughing, her body convulsing as she went into shock, just barely clutching onto the ambulance doors, the closest she could get to you. “Please don’t leave me, please, Y/N, please don’t,” she cried and screamed, and tried to shake off whoever was pulling her away from the ambulance, away from you. "Let go of me!" she screamed, breaking free just as the ambulance closed and drove off and Tara just dropped to her knees as some paramedic began checking on her.

It didn’t matter what was happening to her. It didn't matter how she was. They were taking you away from her! She looked to her side when Sam dropped to her knees next to her, Sam was crying. "They found a rusty rebar near her, it went through her."

Too much. It was too much.

Tara just lost consciousness.

~X~

When Tara woke up she was in the hospital, surrounded by Sam, Chad, Mindy, and Danny. She immediately sat up and tried to get up, but Sam stopped her. "Y/N?" she needed to know, her eyes frantically searching their faces for any sign or reaction to your name.

"She's alive!" Sam quickly reassured her, and Tara felt like she could breathe again, even if she began crying from relief.

"I need to go and see her," she tried to get up, but Sam was still holding her down.

"She's in a coma, Tara, she lost too much blood and they don't know if she'll wake up," Sam's voice shook as she said that.

Tara just felt like her whole world fell apart.

Later that day she found out that you were stabbed five times, one of which pierced your right lung, but luckily it didn’t collapse. Worse than that was the rusty rebar going through you, it went in through the small of your back and came out just below your chest. Then the fall from almost thirty feet caused internal bleeding and while you survived the surgery and they didn't find any brain damage, you were in a coma.

~X~

Two days later you were still in a coma, with no signs of waking up any time soon. Tara didn't even have any energy left to cry, she just sat by your side, afraid to leave you even for a second. What if you woke up and she wasn't there? What if something went wrong and she wasn't there.

"Please, wake up," she whispered, she needed you to wake up, to say anything, or even to just look at her. Anything would be fine. She felt cold and alone, and she did the only thing she was used to doing when she felt like that. She reached out for you, she lay down on the bed, curling into your side while taking extra care not to touch any of the wounds you had. She was barely touching you, but just for a moment she felt warm and safe again. It was a fleeting moment of happiness, though.

You didn't touch her. You didn't hold her. You didn't move. You couldn't do any of that and Tara began shaking, the cold seeping into her bones as tears she didn't even know she had left soaked the sleeve of your gown.

Sobs and loud cries wrecked her throat and her whole body, and even when Sam came in to comfort her, frantically trying to make up for the lack of your warmth, Tara still kept crying. Yet, even with her screams you didn't react.

~X~

On the sixth day, only Sam came by, since Chad and Mindy could no longer delay going back home and had to get ready to leave. Tara was still at the hospital 24/7. She would read to you, talk to you, tell you repeatedly how much she missed and how much she loved you, she would just as often apologize to you, for plenty of things. You still didn't wake up.

On the tenth day, not even Sam could come, she had to cover two shifts at work. Tara stayed, she stayed, this time telling you about the future she imagined, the future in which you were awake. She imagined a different life, one without Ghostface in it, a life she was spending with you and Sam and all the people she loved without trauma and fear of letting someone new in. She cried that day, overwhelmed by what could have been and what could be. Overwhelmed because you couldn’t respond, you couldn’t tell her if you wanted that exact future as well, or if you’d rather create that future somewhere else. Even with someone else, as long as you woke up that would be enough for Tara. You still didn’t wake up.

On the twelfth day, Sam tried to get her to leave your side. At least for a little bit. To take a walk, get some fresh air. Tara did walk, she walked around your room. She'd open the windows to keep the air fresh for you when you woke up. Tara knew what Sam wanted to tell her; Tara knew Sam was losing hope that you'd wake up. But Tara wasn’t losing hope. You’d wake up. You’d come back to her, like you always did, and you’d recover and stay by her side for the rest of Tara’s life. You didn't wake up that day either.

On the sixteenth day, Tara once again crawled into the bed next to you. For the first time since the second day. Once again, she felt the same freezing cold, she could barely breathe, she was wheezing and coughing next to you, crying her heart out after holding back the tears for the past six days. She needed her inhaler, but she didn't want to move from you, she needed to feel you next to her more than she needed air. And then her eyes widened, her breathing stopped, and her body stilled completely as the tears fell down her face freely. She felt it. The softest touch on her back. She looked at your face and saw you blinking slowly.

Tara just watched you, going as far as to forget how to breathe. You smiled softly, taking what little oxygen she had left away. You raised your hand, gently tapping her back. She realized you were telling her to breathe. So, she took a breath and continued breathing as she began crying once again, this time too happy to stop her tears.

"I love you, Y/N," she said as softly as she possibly could and pressed a kiss on your cheek.

She felt safe and warm once again, and you, as difficult as it must have been, wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer.

A/N: One chapter to go! Big thanks to Anon who indirectly gave me a bit of an epiphany for my nickname problem. Thanks to everyone reading and I'll see you next time! Updated: 30.03.2024.

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter #scream #jenna ortega x reader

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mentality-project · 3 months

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Carry Me Home

Morpheus x Fem!reader

Pushing your way through the crowded bar, you welcome the brisk night air as you stumble onto the streets of London. Blowing off steam with your favourite coworkers at the end of the week had been much-needed fun, but now you were ready for home. A smile tugs at the corner of your lips as your favourite scenes from the night replay in your head, your hands burying into your coat pockets to keep warm. You hum to the tune of the song stuck in your head, the crowds thinning out the closer you get to home. You notice the change in atmosphere five minutes later than you should have, the sound of a raven's caw overhead bringing you back to the present moment.

You hear them before you see them, the rowdy laughter and loud explosions of curse words giving away their position. A glance at the reflective shop front across the street tells you there's three men behind you. Fuck. It could be nothing, but even so...you'd rather not find out. Your feet pick up the pace, but despite your best efforts they sound louder. Closer.

The raven's caw pierces the night air once again, causing you to flinch but you don't stop walking until you barrel into a wall of black. Two hands grab the back of your elbows to steady you, your wide-eyed gaze snapping up to your captor. Relief floods your nervous system at the sight of the familiar stern face.

“Morphy-baby~ I need a ride! Would you be a dear and take me home?”

“You are intoxicated.”

“Maybe~”

“How much have you had to drink?”

“More than enough.” You are oblivious to the withering glare Morpheus sends towards the drunken trio of men before whisking you off to your apartment. --- "Whoa, headrush!" you giggle as you stumble in the hallway as the sand dissipates, "Don't think I'll ever get used to that." Morpheus' gentle grip on your forearms helps you still your clumsy feet, your tipsy giggles falling silent as you get lost in the galaxy of his eyes. Your lips curl up in amazement as you grip the lapels of his coat, "You have such pretty eyes, Morphy...", your smile falters as the next unfiltered thought crosses your mind, "it's not fair."

You don't notice the way he huffs through his nose, disgruntled with the unwanted nickname that has been bestowed upon him.

"You are drunk."

"Yes~ I am~!" your singsong voice is shameless.

"You should be in bed." "You're not the boss of me," you pout up at him.

The Dream Lord says your name in that hypnotic voice of his that sounds like a seduction and a warning rolled into one, and just like that, your defiance shrinks away. "But I'm not even...sleepy..." the yawns that interrupt your protest betray you. "Is that so?" Dream's eyes glint with amusement in the darkness. "Okay, okay, fine! I'll go to bed, but only if you carry me." Morpheus stares down at you while you blink up at him. You had never dared to be so petulant with him before. But then again, he had never encountered you drunk. You yelp when he scoops you up into his arms, kicking your heels off as Morpheus heads for the stairs with you in tow. He is carrying you like you're nothing.

"Oh Mylanta~ Morphy~ you're actually carrying me to bed."

"You insisted."

"Well, yeah...but I didn't think you'd actually do it." King of Dreams is silent and you wonder what's going on in there - long-suffering sigh or an internal scream. It's only when he heads for the doorway to your bedroom that you start to squirm in his arms, "Wait, wait!"

Morpheus raises his eyebrow at you, arms still wound tight around your body. You point to the bathroom. "I need the bathroom. Gotta wash my face. Sleeping in makeup is a sin."

The midnight-haired being obliges you as he carries you into the bathroom, setting you down in front of the sink before he perches on the edge of your bathtub to watch you work. You go in on your eyes and lips with a bottle of liquid remover and cotton balls, following up with some facial wipes. You frown at your reflection while you're on your fourth wipe, unable to ignore the nagging in your head that argues that since you've gotten this far, you really ought to wash your face properly. Your hands are slathered in cleansing balm before you realise that you forgot to tie up your hair.

"Hold my hair back, Morph?" Morpheus is silent as he stands behind you to oblige you, and you watch his reflection in the mirror as he smooths your hair back with both hands before gathering your locks in one hand.

"Cheers, dear." you murmur as you rub the melted balm over your face.

You rinse and repeat with cleanser before following up with moisturiser. A few moments of silence pass when you turn to face Morpheus, blinking up at him.

"I need to pee." you announce before shoving the unsuspecting Endless into the hallway and closing the door behind you.

Morpheus has no time to react and you crack the door open like an afterthought as you peer through the gap. "You're still tucking me in, right?"

"Yes."

"Cool."

The door shuts again, soon followed by the sound of the toilet flushing, then running water. The door flings open and Morpheus is greeted with the sight of you brushing your teeth. You mumble around your toothbrush, using your free hand to guide Morpheus' hand to your hair. He gets the gist, because by the time you're standing in front of the mirror, he's holding your hair in a ponytail again. He lets go as you turn to face him.

"I need a shower, but I'm too lazy."

Morpheus lifts his hand and you're captivated by the stardust that swirls around you. When it lifts, you're in your favourite sleepwear and feeling more squeaky-clean than you ever have in your life.

"Did you just -" you cut yourself off as you run your hands along your arms, through your hair and sniff the collar of your shirt, "did you just glamour magic me clean?"

"Yes."

"How amazing." your voice is hushed as you breath out.

"What was that?" you're oblivious to the amusement that tugs at Morpheus' lips.

"How amazing!" you repeat louder, looking up at Morpheus with wide eyes.

"Will you go to bed now?"

"Yes!" you grin as you put your hand on Morpheus' shoulders before you jump up to wrap your limbs around him like a koala, "I'm ready!" The huff of his breath almost sounds like laughter as his hands grip your thighs, turning on his heel to finally carry you to bed. You gasp as he sets you down and pulls the covers over you.

"Ooh, you're tucking me in~"

"Yes, Your Grace."

"I love it." you grin up at Morpheus before patting the spot next to you, "come here, Morph."

Morpheus sits next to you and you shake your head as you pull the blanket out from under him, "No, lie down. I don't want you sitting near my face. What if you fart?"

"(Y/N), I am Endless. Endless do not -"

"Lie down, please!" you smack the bed as you raise your voice, feeling quite pleased with yourself when the Dream Lord complies.

You shimmy over to his body, throwing your leg over his as you lie your head on his shoulder, curling an arm around his chest.

"This feels nice," you smile as you close your eyes.

Morpheus doesn't respond, but a few moments later you feel his hand rise from your shoulder to stroke your hair and it makes you melt into him even more.

"Ohhh...I love you." you mumble into his coat.

"What did you say?"

"I love you. Please don't stop doing that." your eyes refuse to open as you feel yourself drift further and further into sleep with each stroke.

"Sleep well, (Y/N). I will meet you in The Dreaming."

#the sandman #morpheus x fem!reader #morpheus x reader #not my gifs #dream x reader #dream of the endless #netflix the sandman #dream of the endless x reader #lord morpheus

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k2ntoss · 3 months

Text

BIG FEARS AND LITTLE SURPRISES

tw ⭒ jason todd x fem!reader, pregnancy, cheating mentions, cursing, really REALLY angry jason, angst finished with a lot of fluff because i need something sweet with my baby ):

a/n ⭒ i had all of this almost finished and my fucking phone decided to go crazy and post it unfinished :) i swear i'm screaming. comments and reblogs are all appreciated, also feel free to leave anything on my askbox or inbox <3

no words count again, lmao, too lazy for that

the way your hands tremble makes it hard to see properly the results but it's worse with the tears blurrying your vision. positive. it's what you can see if compared to what the box says.

the knot on your throat is catching your breath with the sobs that manage to leave your lips and lucky you, the apartment is empty as jason had to leave for patrol. how are you supposed to tell him that you're expecting his baby? it's probably the biggest responsability you could make him take and you know he's capable of leaving his life behind just to keep you and the baby safe but here again, who are you to rip appart his life? you didn't had the right to take something so important to him away.

guilt is eating you up as you make your way out of the bathroom to pick up your phone, choosing to call babs because you really needed some help and she agrees to take you on her house for the night so when jason comes back you're not there, instead there's a note were you wrote 'i'll be back in the morning, had a small family emergency' and he senses there's something off but there's no sing of a single shit around the house.

you're out, babs helps you see an emergency doctor and you find out you're pregnant and you're on your fourth month, there's no way you can deny this and ignore it. you know that you'll have to end things with jason, be out of his life before you can ruin it for good, before you are the reason he loses his happiness and his reason to be.

there's no need to say that jason isn't able to sleep what's left of the night, it's not until you open the door when he's able to breathe because you look just fine, there's not a single hair out of its place on you and he comes closer but stops on his track when he's met with the less warm greeting you could have made.

"morning, jason" you say in a calm tone, your lips pressed on a fine line as you walk pass him, gently nudding your shoulder against his side as if you just bumped him and he turns around, mouth parted as he tries to say something in the exact second you dissapear through the doorway of your room.

"good morning?" he greets back, where was his kiss? and his hug? he's following you like a lost puppy while you pace around the room "babe... is something going on?" he asks softly, his eyes look worried and it hurts so bad because a big part of you wants to jump into his arms and break the news to him.

you were going to be a family.

you could have been a family.

but life wasn't that nice to almost anyone, you couldn't just tell him and ruin his whole life, take away everything for him to take a responsability that maybe he wasm't ready to take.

"nope, nothing at all" you reply, turning around to avoid looking at him as your voice comes nonchalant naturally, almost putting too much of a good show of being just fine. and then your phone rings, dick's name pops up on your screen and you look at it, fisting the device as you walk fast out of the room "i have to take this, wait" you mumble as you dart oit of the apartment.

jason is so taken by surprise he doesn't follows at first giving you the chance to talk a little more safely.

"i can't tell him, dick, what am i supposed to do? if i ever tell him it's all gonna be over" you mutter into the speaker and dick knows that part of it is real, but he also knows jason and he knows he couldn't feel his life would be ruinned by his own child growing on your womb.

there are steps comming from into your place and you know it's time to finish the call "i can't talk right now, please don't keep calling me" you mutter between gritted teeth "not when he's around" you let out as a whisper hoping jason didn't heard.

but as i said, life isn't nice. he hears it, it's weird because he made part of your mumbling and whispering "was it about your family emergency?" he asks, it's clear that there are some thoughts starting to rumble on his head but he tries to push it away.

"yeah, uh... my sister is having a hard time with her husband" and your answer seems to be genuine at first, jason nods at it makes you believe he accepts it. but he's not stupid.

that's the first time jason feels like something isn't right, the first time a little hint of distrust raises on his mind and he feels sick.

the following days are almost the same, you keep your phone inside the pockets of your clothes and avoid looking at him. there are no kisses or hugs over the day, no cuddling while watching a movie on the evening and what is worst.

there no hugging on your sleep. it's like you're pushing him away, closing yourself up to him and that makes him feel like he's losing you.

most nights you would just turn around and shift under the blankets pretending to be asleep just to push away his arms, snuggling away from him until you were sleeping on the edge of the bed. some other nights, just like this one, you would put up any lame excuse.

"it's too hot, jason, can we not cuddle now?" you'd ask him with a frown, thruth is that it was chill and you are just wearing shorts and a old shirt, too thin to cover you from the wind. your tone is filled with disgust at the thought of being too close to him when you were both sweaty when you wanted nothing else but cuddle yourself into his arms, to kiss him and hear his heartbeat "it's not a big deal, just one night not cuddling"

and jason isn't even able to reply, he just nods because he knows that if he speaks his voice will break. he might look like a though guy, like he didn't needed anyone but himself but he needed you. it was killing him, not being able to see your eyes looking up at him with so much love and care, why was he losing you?

at this point is hard for him to even talk to you, it's been two weeks already and you aren't home during the day. when he has to go on patrol you are about to arrive and he starts to lose any hope on being able to talk this through with you even if he decided to stay at home and skip his patrol. when he's back it's either to find you sleeping already or to find you on the couch and he doesn't feel brave enough to pick you up to take you to bed.

he has some hopes up tho, he feels like maybe ome of this days you'll wake up being the same as always, showering him in soft pecks to wake him up or maybe whispering sweet nothings into his ear but you know how they say that even the strongest rock breaks when water hits it too much?

jason has his limits too and his mind hasn't stopped to think of the possibilities of you having someone else. he hates himself because that would mean he doesn't trust you anymore and that what it is, but he doesn't want to think it like that.

one evening when jason is supposed to be out with bruce to check a big case you come back home, you miss being there and having him to hold you thight and kiss your face.

"you came back early" you hear his voice and it makes you freeze, he wasn't supposed to be here. for your luck it's starting to get colder outside so a few layers of clothing helps to cover the way your belly has started to grown. it's ever so slightly swollen, being your first pregnancy and you just being on the fifth month it was easy to say it wasn't really a baby bump.

but you knew jason would notice if he looked close enough. you are there, arms crossed over your chest as you look at jason. there's no hint of the warmth of his happiness to see you back home and your heart breaks up all over again for the hundreth time in weeks.

"aren't you supposed to be with bruce?" you asks, pretending not to be surprised or scared because you tried so hard not to tremble under his gaze.

"am i? really? for what i can remember we are both supposed to be and do some things but you aren't like you're supposed to be lately" he says and his tone comes out harsh. maybe it's for the better but he hates fighting with you, he hates having any kind of argument with the girl he loves so much but he can't take this anymore.

"and can you tell me what do your words mean?" you ask him, you knew that this was about to come it just needed to be pushed a little more to explode like an old grenade. like an old mine on a war field because it was just like that, everything was so spiky between you both it was better to spend your time out.

"you know damn well what i mean, y/n" he scoffs, there's a sharpness to his eyes that makes you want to cry but you have to keep it together so you can finally push him away so you can safe what's the most important thing for him.

oh but how mistaken you were. dumb, dumb, dumb. as if you weren't the most important thing for him, as if losing you wouldn't break him completely and let alone finding out he was going to be a father. you were about to take his heart out of his chest and squeeze it, drain it completely to leave him destroyed. the shell of the man he became when you came into his life.

"i'm sorry to break it into your hard head, i have no idea what you mean" you talk back, sounding all so sure and defensive when everything you wanted was to bury yourself into his arms and say how sorry you were, how stupid you felt for hidding all of this from him.

"you're not even the shade of who you were weeks ago, y/n" he stands up from the chair he's sitting at, heavy steps as he comes closer. he's towering over you and there's a voice in the back of your head that tells you that it's better to stop all of this because you also hated this kind of confrontation "what the hell is going on? is it even something better that what we had?"

and that question makes you confused, what was he talking about? what was better?

"care to enlighten me? you're just talking and i cam't understand what do you mean" your words sound genuine and they are, there's not a single thought of what he could possibly mean.

"c'mon, don't play dumb with me" he starts, looking away with a scowl. he walks away when he feels you shifting a little closer, it's almost as if the heat of your body wasn't a welcome feeling anymore, it burned him "did you decided to go play someone's else pretty girlfriend? is he even as good as i am?"

and it all makes sense. did he really thought you had someone else and even if you've been lying to him, hidding things from him it hurts you so bad because you were so sure he knew how much you loved him, how he was everything you could have ever wished for.

"are you being–? do you think i have someone else?" you ask and the way you sound so offended makes him feel angrier "who the fuck do you think i am? how can you even dare to say that?"

"so now you're offended? what? cam't stand being called out like the cheater you are?" his voice turns louder, he sounds so angry and hurt, jason feels his eyes sting and he has to bite his tongue to hold back the tears "what do you think? that i'm fucking stupid?! you think i don't listen to you when you speak on the phone? how you tell him to stop calling you when i'm around?"

every single word feels like a dagger into your chest, he's unable to stop himself with the questioning and the pain on your heart makes you bring one hand to the top of your belly in a protective way, almost by instinct because you know that intense emotions can be harmful for a baby.

"do you think i don't know you're not home until i leave for patrol?! maybe you're too busy letting another asshole fuck you like some cheap whore" and it's what you needed to hear, the last thing you needed to listen from him because now you can't help it.

the tears that start falling from your eyes in silence are just fuel to his anger.

"and now you're crying! can't you stop playing thr victim" and his voice is louder, he's screaming now and you can't think before it slips out of your mouth.

"i'm expecting" it comes out as a whisper, he can't really make your words because his voice mutters yours completely.

"i can't fucking believe you're crying when you're the one cheatin–"

"i'm expecting!" this time when his voice lowers it's your turn to raise your tone and he stops on his tracks. his face turns pale when the words sink on his mind and even the vein on his neck vanishes.

"what?" it's the only thing he manages after swallowing hard, he looks at you in disbelief and your worst fear roars inside of you when you think that he just can imagine his life ruined.

"i'm pregnant" you're still crying and your hand is still holding your belly almost as if you were also scared of losing what you thought was the last thing you had left of jason "i didn't knew how to tell you- i didn't wanted to ruin your life like this, i'm so sorry i'm doing this to you"

your words are slurred and you can't help it, the tears fall down more and more when jason covers his mouth with his hand and sighs. he hides the biggest smile he has let out in years and you can't see it. it looks like he's regretting being with you to your eyes and it breaks you even more.

with your eyes closed and the noise of your struggled breath you can't hear it when he comes closer and his hands are over yours, he looks at you with a spark of pure joy as he cups your cheeks so lovingly it makes your heart ache.

"are you? sweetheart..." he speaks and his voice breaks but you're sure he has never sounded so happy before "why didn't you... you really thought this would ruin my life?"

through your tears and all the fear you still feel doesn't let you speak so you nod feeling your knees weak and jason notices. he holds you into his arms, picking you up to walk and sit on the couch, taking your body in his embrace to cuddle you against his chest.

"there's nothing that i could have wanted more than this" he mutters, his lips pressed against your temple as he caresses your back "never again think that something as important as this could ruin me, okay? you have no idea... how much i've wanted to start a family by your side" jason speaks and there's no trace of anger on his eyes anymore, there are still a few tears rolling down his cheeks but the smile on his lips is there too.

"i didn't knew how to tell you, i'm so sorry" you sob, your arms going around his neck as you hide your face from him in shame "i don't want you to quit your life for us, jason"

"let me clear a few thing up for you, hm?" jason starts, one of his hands sneaks until it finds the small curve of your belly "first of all, you can't call me jason, it's either jay or any of those cheesy nicknames you have for me but never in your life jason" the way he sound deadly serious brings a sense of warmth and safety that you lost in the past weeks and that made it easier for you to breathe as you nod at his words.

"now, i won't quit my life. my life right now is you and this little one, yeah? it's gonna be hard, we're still young but we are a family now and i'll do anything to keep you both safe" jason says, so solemnly it makes you nod without even thinking. he was so right.

and you've been so wrong all this time.

"i'm on the fifth month..." you say, your voice comes out a little hoarse but jason can't help the pretty chuckle he lets out at his excitement.

"do you know what it will be?" he asks softly, leaning in to kiss softly both of your eyes. those were one of your favorites because jason started to kiss your eyes once you told him one of the stories you were told when you were a little girl.

and when you nod at his question he looks at you, waiting for your answer and it bring a small smile to your face after weeks of feeling dead.

"it's a girl... i went to the doctor today, i wished you could have been there" you say as you look away and it only makes you miss the way jason's smile widens and he has to cover his eyes because he's crying all again.

"so were having a little princess, right?" he asks, jason sounds so happy that just thinking about how you were about to hide this from him makes you sick, but there's nothing that can bring down how you feel when he smiles like that "will i be able to read to her when she goes to bed?"

how easy had been for you to deny yourself from the pleasure and joy of letting him know before but it wasn't late to make up for all of this. having a family with the love of your life was really a dream come true.

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