#the one he had had to give up on in his previous life? the one wheres Mikeys birthday gift is? he can finally see the joy on Mikeys face and

[joelsgreys]

a safe haven l ten

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist l previous chapter l next chapter

summary: After a long night, Joel and Ellie take you home.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF AN INJURY SUSTAINED FROM AN ACT OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, PREGNANCY, CONVERSATIONS SURROUNDING PREGNANCY LOSS . PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. Ellie and reader are very close to each other, Joel deals with feelings of guilt, Joel and Maria make nice, Joel gives reader a bath and washes her hair, food consumption (i am just gonna apologize to my lactose intolerant folks right now, trust me i must pretend with you), both reader and Joel have some big feelings, reader mentions her deceased father, angst, soft and domestic Joel, fluff.

word count: 5k

a/n: i have not updated this series since october. :l i feel a a mixed bag of emotions updating after all this time, but most of all, i am grateful to know there are a couple of people out there who are still invested in this story. to anyone who has been waiting: truly, it means the world that you have shown me patience, support, and kindness. believe me, i am going to be seeing this story to the end, and it is all thanks to those who continue to show this lil story of mine a whole lotta love. special shoutout to the loveliest human @mrsmando who made me this beautiful mooodboard every single time i got stuck during this chapter, i looked at it and it gave me the boost of inspiration i needed. thank you mimi <33 this chapter is fairly tame, the next chapter is already in the works, and there are a couple of time jumps coming. overall, we are down to the last handful of chapters. let’s finish this story and give these two the ending they deserve, shall we?

“What the hell is taking Tommy so fucking long?” Ellie whines. She’s sprawled out on the couch with her head in your lap, and her arm draped over her eyes. Her feet are hanging, dangling over the edge of the couch at an odd angle after you’d warned her not to get muck from her sneakers on the linen fabric. Despite Joel insisting over and over that she head on back to the house, she had stubbornly refused, not wanting to leave your side. “It’s been over two hours! He’s taking fucking forever, man. What’s the fucking hold up?”

Joel bites back a sigh, masking his own impatience. Or at least, he tries. He’s grown just as restless as the kid, if not more. Much like Ellie, he’s desperate. He’s itching to take you home already, almost too anxious to watch you take that first step over his threshold, and into your new life with him and with Ellie. He aches, aches, to get you settled into the place where you would be spending the remainder of your days with one another, where you would be safe, and loved in the way you deserved to be loved—the place where he would cherish and adore you until his final breath.

“Don’t know,” he answers, his voice sounding rougher, more gruff than usual. Reaching up, he scrubs his hand down the side of his face, adding tiredly, “He might be a while longer, kiddo. It could be another hour, could be more. Like I already told you, s’probably best if you just go on and head back to the house without us, alright?”

“No. I’m not walking out that fucking door unless she’s with me.” She pauses and pulls her arm away from her face for a moment, just long enough to throw a teeny glare his way. “Unless you’re both with me. The three of us go home together, or it’s no fucking deal. Got it?”

He shakes his head in utter exasperation.

“Ellie, we’ll be right here down the fuckin’ road—”

Her hand shoots out and she flips him off.

Just when he’s about to chastise her, he stops himself, clamping his mouth shut. It’s pointless.

Kid’s too goddamn hard headed for her own good, and Joel knows he’s just wasting his breath with her.

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” you reassure them both, weaving your fingers through her hair to scratch at her scalp in an effort to soothe her. “Right, Joel?”

He meets your exhausted, worn down gaze from where he’s standing across the room, and his heart lurches in his chest. As the guilt begins creeping in, he’s forced to look away. He can’t imagine the living hell you had been through over the last twenty four hours alone. And the worst part about it was the realization that last night, while he was fast asleep in bed just a couple of houses up the road, that fucking bastard had his belt wrapped around your throat.

Joel feels sick to his fucking stomach all over again.

Horrifying, vividly real images of you helplessly trapped underneath Luke scratching and clawing at the leather around your neck with trembling fingers, struggling to breathe oxygen into your burning lungs as he tugged it tighter and tighter through the buckle flash in his mind, a gruesome nightmare turned into reality.

Exactly how far had Luke taken it?

Until you had grown too weak to keep fighting?

Until you almost lost complete consciousness?

Until he noticed the life threatening to leave your eyes?

Is that when he had finally stopped pulling on the belt?

Joel shudders, a bitter taste climbing up his throat as it sinks in. He could have lost you—and his unborn child.

This shouldn’t have happened.

He shouldn’t have let you walk away that night.

This wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t let you walk away from him that night.

“Joel,” you say his name, quiet and weary.

His head snaps back in your direction and he glances at you, almost missing the subtle shake of your head. It is a silent warning telling him not to go there, though you know by the tight clench of his jaw it’s too late for that.

Joel makes the futile attempt to hide it, but he sees it written all over your face—you know what he’s thinking because you know him like the back of your own hand, and you just know he’s placing all of the blame for what happened to you on his own shoulders.

But can you honestly fault him for that?

How can you expect him not to feel like he is somehow responsible for this? Just how the hell is he supposed to make himself believe he hadn’t failed you?

Joel promised—he had fucking promised you—that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. He had sworn to keep you safe, made a vow to protect you from Luke, but here you are, your soft, delicate flesh marred with the painful evidence of yet another one of his failures.

And it was all because he had let you walk away on that fucking night.

He should have done something.

Even if it meant running the risk of you never speaking to him again—even if you never forgave him, spent the rest of your life angry and hating him for going against your wishes. He should have something.

“Joel—”

“Be right back,” he mutters, lightly shaking his head.

Shoving away from the doorframe he’s leaning against, Joel pivots on the heel of his boot and starts down the hallway. He walks into the kitchen where he finds Maria standing at the counter, tapping her fingers against the smooth, laminated oakwood as she waits for the coffee she’d offered him a few minutes ago to finish brewing. She’d offered to whip up a quick supper, but food was the last thing on everyone’s mind.

“Tommy’s been gone for a couple hours now. Girls are startin’ to get real tired of just sittin’ around waitin’ for him to come back,” he tells her, exhaling the sigh he’d held back in the living room. “What do you think could be keepin’ him so long?”

With her back still to him, Maria reminds him, “Well, he did mention he was going to round up the council and get them together for an emergency meeting.” She lets out a sigh that matches his own—it’s been a long night for her, too. When the last drop of dark roast drips into the glass pot, she carefully takes the pot by the plastic handle and pours the steaming coffee into a speckled, white and blue ceramic mug. “Do you take it with milk and sugar?”

“No thanks, that’s alright,” he declines as politely as he can.

“I also have cinnamon if you’d like?”

“Plain black’s just fine.” He gives her a nod of gratitude when she hands it to him. “Thank you. And I don’t just mean the coffee, but for, uh—for bandagin’ up my hand for me, too.” He clocks the brief look of surprise on her face and almost laughs. He doesn’t blame her for being taken aback, because truth be told, so is he. Since he’d met Maria, he had known she didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. There was something of a mutual understanding between them, a silent agreement they had made to keep each other at arm’s length, to only interact when it was absolutely necessary.

Never did he think he would be standing in her kitchen, thanking her for patching up his hand, and for making him a cup of coffee out of the kindness of her heart.

His brother wouldn’t believe it.

“Don’t mention it.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she leans back against the counter. “How’s it feel, by the way?”

“S’fine,” he replies, shrugging. “Nothin’ I can’t handle.”

There’s a momentary silence. A taste of tension lingers over their heads, and he knows at one point or another, he’s going to have to address the affair, the very reason everything had unfolded in such a terrible manner.

Guess now’s as good a time as fuckin’ any, he thinks to himself with an inward sigh.

Joel lightly clears his throat. “Listen, since we’ve got a minute alone, just the two of us, I was wonderin’ if, uh—if we could talk ‘bout somethin’? If that’s alright?”

“Of course.” Maria gives him the floor.

“I know that she—” Pausing, he shuffles from the heel of one boot to the other, his ears burning hot. He had known it wouldn’t be an easy conversation to have, but he underestimated just how uncomfortable it would be, regardless of what she already knew. “I know she told you and Tommy all ‘bout us, and ‘bout our relationship. See, the thing is, the first time I saw her—”

Again, Joel stops, the burning sensation now radiating, spreading from his ears to his face and down his neck, flushing his skin a deep, deep shade of pink. Unable to meet his sister in law’s gaze, he glances down into his mug, as if he will somehow find the right words to say somewhere in the depths of his coffee.

“It was never my intention, y’know,” he finally says after a minute. “Goin’ after a married woman. I swear, I never meant to fall for her. I just fuckin’ did. I think I might’ve fallen for her long before I even met her,” he confesses. He feels himself darken to a shade of maroon under her curious stare. “And somehow, for reasons I ain’t all too sure I’ll ever understand, she fell for me too.”

Maria raises an eyebrow at him. “Look, I’m not judging you, Joel,” she assures him, shaking her head. “If that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not judging her, either.”

He looks up at her, blurting out, “You’re not?”

She moves her hands to cradle her swollen middle. “Do I wish you two had handled everything differently?” she answers her own query with a nod of her head. “Oh, I’m sure we all do. But I’ve known her for a long time now. I know the kind of woman she is. And I’m starting to see the kind of man you are.”

“And what kinda man is that, Maria?”

He waits without the slightest clue as to what she could possibly say.

“Since you came back to Jackson, I’ve chosen to keep my distance from you—but make no mistake, I’ve been watching you like a hawk since day one. Waiting for any signs of trouble. Waiting for you to fuck up. Waiting for you to give me a good reason to throw your ass out of this community because I didn’t trust you. Not after all the things I was told about you.”

He snorts. “You goin’ somewhere with this?”

“You are not who I thought you were,” Maria admits, smiling wryly. “I’ve gotten to see a different side of you. You pull your weight around here by doing your job and doing it well. You stay out of trouble—for the most part. And more importantly, I have seen the way that you’ve stepped up to be a father figure to Ellie. It takes a good man to do that, Joel.”

“Think that’s the nicest fuckin’ thing you’ve ever said to me,” he muses, setting his mug down on the counter. “I stepped up because I love her. I love them both. Those two, they’re the best parts of me. They’re the reasons I keep goin’ and now I’ve got another reason on the way.”

Maria smiles, but it vanishes as quickly as it appears.

Catching her hesitance, Joel asks, “What? What is it?”

“What comes next is not going to be easy,” she warns him, lowering her voice. Even with the living room a fair distance from the kitchen, she doesn’t want to run the risk of you overhearing her. “For as hard as we’re going to try to contain the fire, it will spread, and everyone in this town will find out about everything—including the affair. People are going to talk, and believe me, they’re going to have a whole lot to say about it, Joel.”

He can’t help but roll his eyes at her.

“Think I can handle some fuckin’ gossip, Maria.”

“I know you can. But I’m not sure if she can,” Maria tells him, quietly. “It worries me. She’s been through a lot in just one night alone. I don’t want her stressing anymore than she already has. She is in a very delicate stage of her pregnancy right now, Joel. If she’s not careful, she could have a miscarriage. She had one about two years ago when her father became sick—” Observing his lack of a reaction, she realizes, “You knew that already.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. He knows where she’s going with this. “I did. She told me ‘bout it.”

“It makes her chances of having another one higher—”

Joel doesn’t even allow himself to think of it happening to you again. “I get it,” he interjects, trying not to sound too curt. “I’ll make sure she takes it real easy, alright?”

Lifting a hand off her belly, she reaches out and takes a hold of his forearm, gripping it tightly.

“Promise me something, Joel. Promise me that you’ll look after her,” Maria pleads him, gently. “Please. After everything she’s been through—I need you to promise me that she’s going to be in good hands with you.”

He nods. Without thinking, he places his hand over hers in an unexpected token of affection and reassurance. “You have my word, Maria. I’ll take good care of her.”

She gives his arm a grateful squeeze, then glances over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. “It’s getting pretty late. We don’t know how much longer Tommy’s going to be with the council. Why don’t we just go ahead and call it a night?” she suggests. “We can all get together first thing in the morning at your place to talk about it.”

“Yeah, good idea,” he agrees. “She really needs to rest.”

Maria gives his arm another squeeze. 

“Go on then, Joel. Take your girls home.”

“Finally!” Ellie exclaims with a dramatic flail of her arms as she shoves through the front door.

“Alright, kiddo. Get your behind upstairs and into the shower,” Joel instructs her, flipping on the lights in the foyer. “Y’smell like fuckin’ horse shit.”

She lifts the collar of her shirt to her nose, takes a whiff, and makes a face. “Yeah, I won’t argue with you there,” she mutters. She toes off her dirty sneakers and leaves them beside the door before dashing up the staircase, taking two steps at a time.

He shouts after her, “And don’t use up all the hot—”

“Yeah, yeah, I fucking know the rules, dude!”

Moments later, you both hear the shower going.

“Little shit,” he grumbles.

You exhale an amused huff through your nose.

Joel withdraws his arm from around your shoulders and reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together. “C’mon, darlin’.” He guides you up the stairs and down the hallway into his bedroom where he switches on the light before proceeding to lead you over to his dresser. “I’ve got a bunch of shirts in this top drawer here,” he says. Dropping your hand, he pulls it open for you and gestures to it with a jut of his chin as he takes a step backwards, moving out of the way. “Go ahead and pick one to sleep in tonight. Want you to be comfortable, so help yourself to whichever one you want, sweet girl.”

Nodding, you begin to rummage through the drawer, unaware of the moment he slips away. You reach for a t-shirt, but then a plaid green flannel catches your eye. You pluck it from the drawer, running your fingers over the soft, warm fabric. “Is it alright if I wear—?” You turn around, stopping mid sentence when you realize he’s no longer standing behind you. Puzzled, you follow the sound of running water into the bathroom where you find him kneeling beside the tub. “Joel? What are you doing?”

“Runnin’ you a bath.”

You notice the bloodied bandage beside him on the tile floor. “Joel, are you serious?” you scold him. “Maria just patched your hand up for you.”

“S’okay, peach. I can rewrap it when we’re done.” Joel sticks his injured hand under the faucet to check the temperature, the cold water soothing his cuts. Once it turns warm, then hot, he pulls out his hand, waiting for the tub to fill halfway before shutting the faucet off and rising to his feet. “C’mere, sweetheart.” He rolls the sleeves of his shirt up to his forearms, then beckons for you with both of his hands. “Let’s get you washed up.”

You remain standing by the door. “Joel, you don’t have to do this for me.”

“I know.”

“I’m capable of washing myself—”

“Yeah, I know that too,” he says, chuckling. “S’only fair, darlin’. Don’t you think?”

That’s when it hits you—how this moment is mirroring that night you had cleaned Joel up after you and Ellie had brought him home from the clinic with an injured shoulder. He allowed you to take care of him, and now, he was looking to do the same for you. And all you had to do was let him.

“But your hand—”

“Will be just fine,” Joel persists, stubbornly. “It’s nothin’ but a few cuts and scrapes. C’mon—or else I’m gonna march right over there and get you myself, peach.”

Knowing Joel, you certainly wouldn’t put it past him to throw you over his should and carry you to the bathtub.

“Fine,” you relent with a small sigh of defeat.

Setting his shirt down on the sink, you slowly walk over towards him and whirl around, letting him help you out of your knitted cardigan. You finish undressing yourself, inhaling a deep breath as you muster up the courage to turn back around and face him—when you finally do, it feels like a punch to the gut to see the heartbreak in his dark brown eyes, the subtle tremble of his bottom lip. You don’t have to look at yourself in the mirror to know it looks about a hundred times worse when you’re not wearing clothes.

Keeping your arms down at your sides, you fight every urge to cover yourself up. You’ve never felt so fucking vulnerable.

Clearing his throat, Joel holds out his hand. “C’mere.”

You accept it, and he helps you into the tub.

“How’s the water? S’not too hot, is it?”

You shake your head and he leans forward, kissing your temple so sweetly, your eyes flutter closed.

He washes your hair first, then takes a clean washcloth, lathering it up with a bar of milk and honey soap—the same soap he would smell on your skin all those nights. Admittedly, Joel preferred castile soap, but switched it when he found himself missing you during those weeks you were apart from him, when he needed the comfort of your scent. He is gentle with you, so gentle, as if he’s afraid you’ll shatter into pieces in his hands.

As he lightly drags the washcloth up your back and around your neck, you stiffen, prompting him to freeze too. “Fuck. Baby, did I hurt you?” he asks, and you hear the slight panic in his tone.

“No,” you say quickly, desperately trying to swallow the lump rising in your throat. “No, you didn’t hurt me. It’s just—” Every overwhelming emotion slams into you all at once, and you can’t seem to figure out which one to feel first. Humiliation? Fear? Relief?

The water sloshes around you as you pull your legs up to your chest and wrap your arms around your knees, giving yourself permission to feel them all. Bowing your head, you begin to sob quietly, hoping that Ellie, who is just down the hallway, won’t hear you crying again.

Joel says nothing. Washcloth still clutched in his hand, he leans forward over the edge of the tub and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, or at least, as close as the barrier between the two of you will allow him.

“Joel,” you choke, trying to push him off. “Stop it. Your clothes, they’re getting all wet.”

“Hush. Don’t fuckin’ care ‘bout my clothes,” he croaks, and for a second, you swear he’s about to cry too. But he doesn’t. He holds himself strong. Tugging you closer against his chest, he buries his nose into your soaking wet hair, whispering his reassurance. “You’re okay, baby. You’re safe, my sweet girl. I’ve got you, alright?”

He pulls back slightly, dipping his hand into the water, placing it on your lower belly.

You look down, your eyes glazing over his bruised and battered knuckles. Proof that Joel Miller really would do anything for you.

“I know you do,” you say, softly. “I know you’ve got me, Joel.”

A while later, you’re dried, dressed, and composed. You follow Joel out of the bathroom and back into his room, where he has you take a seat on the bed. Noticing you had missed a button on his flannel shirt, he does it for you. He plants a kiss on the top of your head and says, “Give me a minute while I change.”

He peels off his wet clothes, being careful so as not to further agitate his sore, injured hand. After changing into a pair of gray sweatpants and an old, faded black t-shirt, he turns around only to find you’re sitting in bed underneath the covers.

“Sorry,” you apologize with a nervous chuckle as you rest your back against the headboard. “It just looked so warm and cozy—and it smells like you. I couldn’t resist making myself comfortable.”

Joel pads over to the side of the bed. He leans over, planting one hand on either side of you as he dips his head and brushes his lips against yours. “Ain’t got no reason to apologize, baby,” he assures you in a gentle murmur. “This is your bed now too, peach. This is your room. This is your home. Alright?”

Home.

You’re home.

He touches the tip of his nose to yours, and then draws himself back up to full height. “There’s somethin’ that I’ve gotta take care of downstairs, peach. I won’t be too long,” he promises.

It’s almost midnight. Joel goes about the kitchen and he prepares you the quickest meal that he can think of. He plates the sandwich he’d thrown together and pours a glass of cow’s milk—he’s always sure to keep a pint of it in the refrigerator to make the kid her oatmeal in the mornings.

He heads back upstairs, only to find that while he had been gone, Ellie had joined you, making herself a little too comfortable on his side of the bed. He stands there at the door, watching the two of you.

“Hey, so is it true babies can hear stuff while they’re in there?” Ellie questions you, curiously.

“Mhm,” you reply with a nod. “They can hear music, for example. Voices—”

“Voices?” She smushes her face into your stomach and he hears a muffled, “Hey, dude!”

You giggle. “Ellie, I think it’s still a little too early.”

“When do you think it’ll be able to hear me?”

“I’m not too sure. In a few months, maybe?”

Ellie lifts her head, humming. “You know, I bet there’s baby books in the library,” she tells you as she sits up. “I’ll have Dina help me look for one tommor—oh shit.” She stares at you with wide eyes. “Dina! How are you going to tell her and Talia about Luke?”

Joel grimaces. He hadn’t thought of that, either.

“I—I’m not too sure.”

“You have to fucking tell them. Dina has to know about him. She has to know what a piece of shit he is, and so does Talia.”

Sensing your discomfort, Joel steps into the bedroom and intervenes before she can say another word. “Ellie, get to bed. S’late.”

“But—”

“Don’t make me tell you again,” he warns her, sternly.

She huffs, rolling her eyes. “Fine.” She climbs off the bed and on her way out, she eyes the plate in his hand. “That chicken?”

“Turkey. And it ain’t for you, it’s for her. So scram, kid.”

“Couldn’t have made me one while you were at it, old man?”

“Ellie, if you don’t get outta here right now—”

“Alright!” Ellie holds her hands up. “I’m leaving. Jesus.”

She disappears, closing the door behind her.

“Pain in my ass,” Joel mumbles, shaking his head as he walks over and carefully perches himself beside you. He hands you the plate. “Here, darlin’.”

“Joel, I appreciate this, but I’m really not very hungry.”

“Maybe not, but y’gotta eat,” he insists. “Baby needs it.”

Thankfully, you accept it without further protest.

“I’ll have Ellie get your things tomorrow,” Joel states as you’re eating. “Maria can go along with her since she knows the house. They’ll get your clothes and whatever else you might need outta there.”

“My father’s belongings.” You accidentally talk through a mouthful of turkey and bread. Swallowing, you tell him, “I have some boxes of his stuff in the basement. But they’re way too heavy for either of them to carry.”

“I’ll take care of that for you.” He reaches up, wiping a breadcrumb from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “I can ask Tommy to give me a hand. Don’t you worry, peach. We won’t leave your dad’s things behind, I swear it.”

Relieved, you shoot him a grateful look, then polish off the last few bites of your sandwich.

“Here,” he says, offering you the glass of milk. “Figured it’s good for you, and good for the baby. Y’know, since it’s got calcium and…stuff.” He shrugs sheepishly, no clue as to what he’s talking about. “Vitamins, right?”

Nodding, you grab the glass and take a reluctant sip.

“You hate milk,” Joel realizes, raising an eyebrow.

“I do,” you admit with a laugh. “But you’re right. It’s good for both me and the baby, so cheers.” And with that, you somehow force the entire glass down.

He sets the dishes aside on the nightstand, figuring he can take them downstairs first thing in the morning.

Without bothering to rebandage his hand like he’d told you he would, Joel turns off the lights and climbs into bed with you. “All those nights wishin’ I could bring you home,” he muses as you curl into his side. “Wantin’ nothin’ more than to hold you in my arms in this bed. In our bed.” His arm slips around your shoulders, a laugh rumbling through his chest. “Almost doesn’t feel real, darlin’.”

Tilting your head, you nuzzle your nose into the scruff of his beard, prompting him to laugh again. Then, he remembers his conversation with Maria, and his smile fades from his face, his lips pursing together.

You catch the sudden shift in his demeanor.

“Joel? What’s the matter?”

“M’fine, baby. It’s just—” He hesitates. “From this point forward, I need you to let me handle things.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want you gettin’ all stressed out, alright? I don’t want to run the risk of you—” He’s unsure of how to say it.

“Of me losing the baby,” you finish for him, quietly.

Joel winces, knowing he was wandering into sensitive territory. “Yeah. I—I really don’t want that to happen.” He pauses. “Maria mentioned to me you’re in a delicate stage. When do you reckon you’ll stop—how long until you don’t gotta worry ‘bout it?”

“After twelve weeks, my risk isn’t as high. If I make it to the second trimester in six weeks, then my chances of having another miscarriage are lower.”

Though you speak calmly, he clocks your anxiousness.

You’re worried, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t fucking worried out of his mind too.

Being a father at his age wasn’t ideal, but he wanted this child. It was part of him, and more importantly, it was a part of you.

Joel squeezes your shoulders. “I only ask ‘cause I was thinkin’ that, y’know, once we get to that point, maybe I can go ahead and start buildin’ the baby’s crib.”

“You’re going to build the crib?”

He nods. “And the highchair too. I can even make you a diaper changin’ table if y’want one.”

“Joel.” You can’t help but chuckle. “Our worlds were just turned completely upside down. You just found out that I’m pregnant, and you’re already thinking about building furniture? Aren’t we getting a little ahead of ourselves?”

“Hey, those things take a whole ‘lotta time,” he says in defense of himself. “Besides, winter’s right around the corner and I don’t wanna be out in the garage freezin’ my fuckin’ ass off. If I can get a head start now, I can have them all done in the spring by the time the baby comes.”

You fall silent.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I’m really scared of losing it,” you confess. “When I first took that pregnancy test, I wanted nothing more for it to be negative. Now, I’m terrified I won’t make it past my first trimester again. I really don’t want to lose it. I want this baby, Joel.”

He turns his head, meeting your eyes in the silver light shining through the lace curtains over his window. “S’why you’ve gotta let me handle things, darlin’. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“C’mere, my sweet girl.” Joel presses his lips to yours, murmuring against them, “I love you.”

His declaration comes with natural ease.

And so does yours.

“I love you too, Joel.”

#fic: a safe haven #fic: ash #tw dv #tw domestic violence #tw pregnancy #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller series #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #the last of us fanfiction

[januaryembrs]

WAS I FOOLIN MYSELF | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [5]

Description: The THREE times you can't have him no matter how much you want to

Length. 15.2k

warnings: angst, spencer's addiction mentioned, gory cm cases (medical trauma, removing limbs, human marionettes etc) explosion, broken arm and surgery, slight lemon at end but not actually written just described aftermath, Maeve arc (I'm so sorry), guns, almost dying, blood, general cm warnings, anything else let me know!

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Authors note; I will edit in the morning I just really wanted you all to have the next chapter as promised!!

'I'ma strike these matches, never had control,

I'm ready to let go, no, was I fooling myself?'

The one with the wedding

JJ’s ears were ringing, a high pitched whine like a radio skipping between stations searching for a signal, and she felt the hard concrete against her milky skin before the throbbing in her forehead hit. 

“JJ, are you alright?” There were hands at her shoulders, patting her down for fractures, not wanting to move her if her spine had been hit, and it wasn’t until she rolled herself over, eyes frantic and in shock that she saw Morgan.

“Where’s Will? Where’s Bugsy?” She asked, the words blurring into one word. Her legs were struggling to a stand before she could think too much about the concussion she almost definitely had, giving Morgan a quick once over, “Did they get out of there?” 

But she hadn’t seen any movement before the blast had shot them back ten feet to the floor. Had only seen the back of the youngest Prentiss woman’s head as she rushed into the building to get emergency medical care to her partner. 

“Where’s Emily?” Morgan added, and the two of them realised they were missing perhaps three of the most important people to them with no sign of life from any of them. 

It didn’t take much for JJ to take off bolting into where the bank’s entrance had crumbled to the floor, where the dust hadn’t even settled and they didn’t know whether there was a second set of bombs waiting for them. They didn’t know anything. 

And it was for that reason JJ dipped straight into the wall of smoke, hand tight on her gun as she went to look for survivors.

Morgan and Hotch were hot on her heels, a dozen firefighters and medical in tow, a similar face of dread in their expressions. 

Aaron’s heart was in his throat when they entered the building, the west facing wall almost entirely in smithereens on the floor. The dust choked him the second they ran in, and he coughed before he could even get a word out, hand flying over his mouth to try give himself some kind of filter to the air. 

“Bugsy!” He yelled as loud as his dry vocal chords would allow, “Bugsy, give us a signal,” 

Nothing. Nothing but the sound of JJ and Morgan screaming for Will and Emily just as loud. And even to that they received no answer. 

It wasn’t until they got close enough to the rubble and began seeing the bodies did Aaron start to fear the worst. He called her name again, her real name, splitting up from the rest of his team because it was no longer a mission for the UnSubs, it was now a search and rescue. 

He crouched to press his fingers against a woman’s throat, stomach flipping when he felt no pulse beneath them, before he moved onto another one, his eyes darting between the chunks of brick and ceiling to see if he could spot anything that looked like an FBI jacket. 

It wasn’t until he found one of the men donned in a SWAT uniform, his gun long since dropped to the tiles that he knew he must be close. It was one of the guys who had gone into the buildings seconds before her.

He felt for a familiar thrum of a heartbeat, his breath thick in his throat when he managed to get a slow and steady thump, and he immediately began signalling for medical attention.

Paramedics came running over with a stretcher between them, but Aaron wasn’t finished, Not until he saw her. 

He dodged around the large chunk of stone that piled in the centre of the room, cringing when he saw a splatter of blood on the tiles in front of him, and it was only when he saw a hand splayed out on the floor did his heart truly stop. 

His cold eyes were wet with fear as he traced the hand up its arm, the familiar blue he wore himself ripped to shreds, the skin beneath it broken and the bone snapped clean in two. He could barely make out the three letters, F. B. I. that were so covered in blood and dirt it almost matched the navy, before he got the pillow of familiar hair matted against a head that faced away from him. 

But it was her. There was no doubt about it. 

He thinks he said her name, but it might just have been a sob, because he fell to his knees quickly, scrambling to get to her face to see if she would respond to him at all. 

“Bugsy, I need you to wake up,” He ordered, though it sounded like a hiss of pain, his rough hands finding her young face, desperate for any movement behind her eyelids, “Come on, sweetheart, just tell me what day it is,”

Years of training on what to do in a crisis and the correct first aid to give to someone unresponsive flew out of his brain, leaving behind bits and pieces like getting her to talk to see whether she had severed anything in that big, amazing brain of hers that had so much promise. 

He leaned his ear down next to her nose, looking down the front of her chest to check for any signs of breath.

This was too similar to what Foyet had done with Haley, like a horrid deja-vu he wouldn’t wish even on their worst UnSub. He had been too slow, too stubborn, too stupid to stop her from getting hurt. He didn’t know what her blood on his hands would feel like, didn’t know if he would ever sleep again knowing he had gotten her killed. 

Aaron’s stomach flipped when he saw her ribs rising slowly beneath her vest, her breaths cold against his earlobe. 

“Guess it’s my turn to come back from the dead, huh?” A croaking whisper came softly, and he flicked his head around so fast he thought he might have whiplash. 

But her eyes were open, squinting and tired, and he cursed the fact he had only then noticed the cut on her forehead, red ichor pumping fast and restlessly down the side of her face. 

He gave a breathless laugh, though it pained his own ringing ear to do so, stroking gently down her face with the same care he would put Jack to bed with. 

“Gotcha,” She smiled up at him sheepishly, her brows furrowing when she seemed then to notice the tears rolling down the tip of his nose, “Aaron Hotchner crying over me, are pigs flying today?” 

He chuckled wetly, and his eyes were the warmest brown she’d ever seen them when he looked down at her. He turned his attention away for a second to call over medical, his eyes landing on Emily who was also frantically scanning the wreckage for her sister and giving her a sign too. 

“You gave us quite a scare there,” Aaron said softly, because judging by the bump on her head, and the way blood was pooling in her ears, he guessed her eardrums had been damaged in the blast. Emily was over to them in seconds, looking dishevelled herself, and she gasped into her hands when she saw her sister’s fragile form. 

“Bugsy- oh my god your arm,” 

The girl’s face dropped, eyes widening as she tried turning to see the damage but Aaron was faster, quickly blocking her view of the mangled mess of skin with hand over the side of her head. 

“What’s wrong with my arm?” She asked, and he saw nothing but his son with a scraped knee in her eyes when she looked up at him vulnerably. Emily fell to her knees next to her, taking over from Aaron by stroking her sister’s cheek, because if her adrenaline rose too much, then the numbness of the shock would wear off and she would feel it all. 

“I think it’s broken, but the paramedics are going to fix you right up, I promise,” Emily cooed, though she felt herself go a little white at the sight of her sister’s bones so mangled and in pieces. 

Aaron looked up when he heard Morgan calling his name, spotting the paramedic team navigating their way back to where the three of them sat, and he waved his hand up to let them know where they were. 

He bit his tongue, looking down at where Bugsy was clearly starting to wake up more to just how bad of a state she was in, and she watched him woefully be torn between helping the rest of his team or staying with her. 

“You guys can go, I’m no use on the case anymore,” She said, despite the fact she was terrified of what might happen if they left her alone. 

“Are you crazy, absolutely not-,” Emily was cut off when two EMT’s rounded the block of concrete and brick that had missed her by a few inches when it had fallen, a stretcher and med packs at their side. 

“Good to see you’re responsive, Agent Prentiss,” One of the EMT’s commented, opening his case up to retrieve a neck brace and a splint for her arm before they could move her to the stretcher. Bugsy smiled up at them, though she knew it looked like a wince, taking one more look at her sister and then at Hotch, both of whom looked stuck between a rock and a hard place. 

“Go, I’m serious. Will needs you,” She said, feeling Emily squeeze her hand gently, pressing a kiss to her hairline, looking down at her in worry, “Go, Emily. Just bring me pudding when you get to the hospital- no Jello-”

She hissed when the paramedics slipped the brace over her shoulders, strapping her head into place to stop her doing any more damage to her spine. 

Emily nodded, and her and Hotch took off round the corner to where Morgan was calling them, and Bugsy let the paramedics fuss over her some more, taking the pain killers without a second glance once she realised just how broken Emily had meant when she saw her arm. 

It got hazy from there, until she felt the sun on her face and she felt a hand grab her good side. Her eyes were rolling with the fact she was fighting off sleep, or maybe she really had lost more blood than she thought. Either way she managed to flick her eyes open enough to meet hazel hues, distraught and worried, heard a familiar voice calling her name sadly, but she was too far gone by then. Her eyes shut despite her fighting them, and she was wheeled into the back of an ambulance by the friendly EMT’s, and the doors shut before her medicated brain could even recognise the voice as Spencer. 

She was asleep before she could protest to it. 

–

The air smelled like bleach- no, like floor cleaner had been drenched all around her, like she had been dropped into a janitor's closet and spilled every bottle over on her way in. 

Her body felt stiff, and she frowned when she felt cramp in her fingertips, pain shooting up her wrist the second she tried to move them. Her eyes opened blearily, and she groaned in protest at the overhead white lights, burying her face into the scratchy sheet that covered her body. Only then did it click that she was in a hospital.

She moaned again when she tried moving her legs and her whole body protested, her bare legs rubbing against the paper like material in a way that made her cringe, and she felt only the hospital gown and underwear on her body.

“You’re awake,” The voice startled her, and she realised she hadn’t even heard the door open in her haze. Spencer stood in the doorway, three big bunches of flowers and two teddies in his arms, one of them holding a sign saying ‘You’re bear-y brave!’

What got her was the look of worry in his eyes when he took her in head to toe, his eyes lingering on the bright pink cast on her lower arm up past her elbow. 

She grimaced, following his eyes to the horror, “Sexy,”

He rushed over to her bedside, all but throwing the flowers and cuddly toys on the space where her legs weren’t curled up under the sheets, pausing for a second to assess the situation. 

“Spencer, you didn’t need to get me all of this,” Bugsy said, her cheeks warming when she saw her favourite flowers right at the end of the bed, blooming right in her direction, “Is everyone okay? Is Will okay?” 

He nodded, but had yet to say anything, and he fiddled with his fingertips the way he did when he was struggling to get his point across properly. She reached out with her functioning hand to take them in hers, because she hated when he wouldn’t talk to her. 

“Spencer, I’m fine, it’s just a broken arm, right?” The woman asked, trying to shuffle herself into a sitting position only to yelp when her side burst into pain. He rushed to put his arm behind her back, to get her to lay back down without putting too much pressure on her sternum, “What the fuck is that? I feel like I got hit by a baseball bat,” 

“That’s what happens when you run blindly into a building without waiting for backup,” Spencer said, an undertone to his words she had never heard from him before, “Two cracked ribs; you’re lucky your lungs are still intact,”

Shit. 

“Anything else?” She asked, a grim look on her face as his expression soured. 

“Almost tore one of your eardrums, moderate concussion. They had to put pins in your arm to fix the fracture, it was transverse before you ask, lacerations to your legs from the glass, and some shrapnel they pulled out while you were in surgery.” Spencer listed, propping a pillow behind her head for her to rest against more comfortably though he still seemed annoyed, “No biggy,”

She paused for a second, watching him like a scolded child, her lips pulling down slightly, “Are you upset with me?” 

He sighed, running a gentle hand over her leg that was covered by the thin sheet, and she felt the sting of cuts on her skin just like he’d said. 

“I’m not annoyed, I could never be annoyed with you; you just-” He huffed, looking up at her sad eyes and feeling his resolve crumbling immediately, “You can’t just throw yourself in the way of danger, you have people who care about you, people who love you,” 

She bristled for a second, looking into her lap and chewing the inside of her lip worriedly, “I just wanted to help Will, I just didn’t want JJ and Henry to lose him the way I thought I lost Emily,”

Spencer’s heart sank, and any telling off he was going to give her for worrying him left him in seconds, and he forgave her embarrassingly fast.

Taking her hand back in his gently and scooching a chair closer to the bed so he could sit with her, he looked up at her with the sweet, puppy eyes she had always loved on him. 

“I know, I know you just wanted to help,” He hushed her, using his other hand to stroke her hair behind her ear, “Next time just… wait for your lucky charm, remember?” 

She smiled brilliantly, and he almost could ignore the butterfly stitching on her forehead or the bright pink cast on her arm, or the fact her clothes had looked like a crime scene when they’d shoved them in a biohazard bag with how soaked in blood they were.

Her pretty tweed pants and white shirt she’d bought especially for his Dr Who convention to make him happy, wasted. 

“Where’s all my clothes?” She asked, like she’d read his mind, but then again she had been known to do that. 

He pouted, because he knew she’d hate the answer, “Emily said they had to cut it off to get you into the brace properly; they ran some scans first to make sure your spine was intact.”

“All of my clothes?” She baulked, and he knew she was upset before she could even say so he stroked his thumb over her hand for good measure, “But my lovely shirt- and the pants they were so cute, weren’t they?”

“They were so cute,” He agreed, even though he thought she looked good in everything.

“And- oh my god they got my bra too?” She asked, wide eyed and horrified like she hadn’t had a building dropped on her, like this was the worst part of her day. Spencer opened his mouth to say something, but he thought better than to tell her it wasn’t a big deal and he was sure Pen could take her shopping for new ones even if the thought of it made his cheeks flush red, “They got the best one, Spencer, that was my best one with the little bows and the lace at the back- fuck,” 

She huffed, rubbing her temple in annoyance seemingly completely unaware of the situation she’d put him in, when JJ slowly entered the room, looking more tired and stressed than she had in months, but there was a little glow in her face that washed it all away. 

“JJ, they cut off my favourite bra,” Bugsy huffed, holding an arm out for the woman who came to stand at the opposite side of the bed to Spencer, and JJ quickly leaned in to hug her close, Bugsy’s head pressing against her stomach, “It was the only one that fit perfectly, now look at me. Wasted.”

“I can get you another one on Monday after Will and I have stopped by the courthouse,” JJ said, her eyes alight with mischief like she had a secret, and Bugsy frowned, looking up at the woman. 

“Why on Earth would Will be buying me- Wait,” The girl stopped, her breath catching in her throat as she took in JJ’s sheepish blush and girlish grin, “Courthouse? You’re getting married!” 

JJ’s smile was beaming, and Bugsy yanked her with her one good arm into a side hug, just about as much as her ribcage would allow, and Spencer’s face lit up equally, though he was quick to usher Bugsy back into a resting position so as not to jostle her stitches. 

Spencer drove her home that night after she got discharged, and he helped her get settled back into her own bed, her face still a little bitter at the fact her favourite underwear set was “totally mismatched now”; her words, not his. He put a documentary on for the two of them until it was time for some more of the painkillers the doctors had sent her packing with, and she fell asleep pretty quickly after that. 

He watched her breaths rising and falling slowly, the sight of her on that stretcher being wheeled into the back of the ambulance flashing in his head like a horror motion picture. Her face had been soaked in blood, her neck in a brace that looked tight enough to crush her, her eyes were weary and dim from what he knew now was the sedative effects of the painkillers. 

He’d almost brought up the fact he’d found a geneticist willing to take a look at his MRI scans to help his migraines; almost brought up that she had finally got back to him with results and a plan of vitamins and dietary changes he could make to help ease his flare ups. 

Spencer almost mentioned it, but he fell asleep listening to Bugsy’s breaths, checking for irregularities, before he had the chance to. 

–

Hot pink did not match ditsy blue whatsoever, she had quickly decided, but the bluebell, floral dress was the only thing she owned long enough to cover the scratches on her legs and arms, and hid the majority of the hideous cast that weighed down her arm. 

Spencer had encouraged her not to come to JJ’s ‘engagement party’, had encouraged her to stay at home and sleep; promised her he would rustle up the best chicken soup she’d ever tasted if it meant she would stay on the couch and rest her marred body. 

But then Rossi had said he just simply couldn’t let a nice occasion go to waste. A few phone calls later, a drop in the ocean of his wealth and within two days the yard to his stately manor had been turned into a ceremony, the whole arch, pews and altar style. 

“You should worry so much, you look lovely,” Spencer softly chided her when he saw her yanking her sleeve further down her arm, trying to cover the hard shell that protected her radius while it healed. She did, despite the fact he had to help her do her eyeliner because she could only do it with her right hand, or that there was still a nasty cut on her forehead that was scabbing up. 

She was still beautiful as ever to him. And it made Spencer’s chest sore. 

It felt like something had cracked between them since that night she had been dropped to his, her pupils wide as dinner plates, her inhibitions lowered to zero, and had pecked his lips like it wouldn’t tear him up inside to have her so close to him knowing it was everything he had ever wanted. 

He knew if she ever kissed him again he couldn’t keep it in anymore, couldn’t stay in this limbo they had found themselves in where all he could think about was how she smelled when she wore his clothes, a mix of his laundry and her skin together, something he’d found himself purely saturated in since she first lived with him after Emily’s funeral. He loved the way her eyes seemed soft and mellow when she looked at him, loved the way his stomach seemed warm and fuzzy when she held his hand, and he knew it wasn’t in the same way it normally was with other people, when he was worried about how many germs they were spreading to him or if they’d had all their shots or if he’d remembered to pack hand sanitizer. His stomach felt funny, and his skin felt sweaty, and his head got scrambled, and it was somehow good. 

He would do anything for her, anything she ever wanted from him and it was hers. 

He knew it way surpassed friendship. It felt like she was his girlfriend, which was absurd because he had never asked her to be. Or maybe it was just him trying to wish it into existence, because he knew he would never ask her. She was too good for him, too good for this world let alone a scrawny, know-it-all like him. 

She simpered under his words, looking at him with tired eyes, though he could tell she still yearned to fluff up her hair or fix her dress because she felt like a polished turd right now. 

“Thankyou,” She said quietly, immediately spotting a waiter carrying a tray of champagne passing by and reaching for a little flute, “Want one? Thank you,”

Spencer shook his head politely, quickly spotting Emily and Morgan moving into the garden with Hotch and Beth not far behind them.

“I’ll be right back, just wait here a second,” He said, gently stroking over her spine with his warm hands, before he darted towards the group. Jack took off running towards Bugsy the second he saw her, and Spencer heard the small ‘ooft’ leave the woman as he collided with her stomach and nearly winded her. He was getting bigger by the minute, Spencer swore. 

“Don’t you look dashing, boy wonder,” Morgan teased, flicking his finger under the lapel of Spencer’s two piece suit that Bugsy had told him more than once fit him like a glove, “Someone to impress?” 

Spencer blanched, his eyes shooting to Emily who seemed to hide a smile, because his feelings for her sister were about as plain to see as the moon that coated their evening in a blue glow. Hotch looked over the younger agent’s shoulder, to where his son was throwing cents into Rossi’s fountain with Bugsy and making wishes, his eyes quickly falling to the pink cast around her wrist, and his face hardened. 

“How is she?” He asked, lips pursed. 

They had seen her in turns at the hospital, but most of the time she had been extremely out of it, Hotch had managed to catch her right before they took her into surgery for her arm, and even then he’d been ushered right back out of the room because they were getting her prepped to be scrubbed down. 

Spencer bit his lip for a second, glancing over his shoulder at Bugsy fishing through her purse with her one good hand for more nickels, before he looked back at them, “She doesn’t want anyone to make a big deal about it, and don’t bring up her arm or her forehead, she’s a little delicate-”

He was cut off by Penelope squealing behind them, and they turned in unison to see the blonde woman cupping Bugsy’s face, checking herself for more abrasions, stroking over the younger girl’s shoulders as she simply allowed herself to be ragged like a doll. 

Because it was Penny. And Penny always meant well. 

Spencer flustered worriedly, and Morgan chuckled behind him, wrapping an arm over the kid’s shoulder. 

“Can’t protect her forever, lover boy,” Derek said, patting him before he let go, taking Emily’s elbow and walking over to where they were serving hors d'oeuvres. 

Spencer knew that, knew she could handle herself just fine without him. That was what worried him the most. 

–

JJ looked beautiful in her mother’s wedding dress. Bugsy welled up with happiness, true happiness when she saw her friend walking down the aisle with her son, a spitting image of her, in one hand, her father’s arm in the other. 

Will looked besotted, but then again he always did when he looked at JJ. 

Bugsy felt the love in the entire yard as they said their vows, kissing each other without restraint under the floral arch as Henry covered his eyes with a little giggle and an ‘eww!’ which made everyone chuckle. 

The violinists began playing soft hymns as the couple had their first dance, and Henry migrated towards the woman with the pink hand and the sapphire dress. 

“Buggy,” He tugged on the bottom of her skirts, huge, sky-blue eyes blinking up at her behind a mop of blonde furls. “Buggy, your hand!” 

She knelt down to hear the three year old a little better, and immediately tiny fingers trailed over her wrist worriedly. 

“Your hand, it’s hurt,” He said, and Spencer crouched to comfort the boy who he still remembered holding hours after he was born.

“I know, I hurt myself at work,” She said, letting him run his fingers over the pink shelling, his eyes wide and confused about the new material, “But Mommy saved me, and she saved your Daddy, and she saved you, didn’t she? Isn’t she so brave,” 

Henry smiled, like all his thoughts of his mommy being Wonder Woman were true, and he nodded, stepped towards Bugsy while making grabby hands for her neck, “Up,”  

Spencer was about to protest, because he didn’t want her to push herself, but he knew she could never say no to kids, especially ones as cute as the boys. 

“Alright, big man, up we go,” She put her good arm under his bottom, Spencer holding under her shoulder to help her into a stand with a repressed grunt, “Jesus, what did you eat for breakfast today. You really are a big boy, Henry,” 

She put him on her hip, shoving off the way it stung her superficial cuts because Henry seemed happy, grabbing a section of her hair in his tiny hands, and stroking her head gently in what Bugsy guessed was the way JJ stroked his when he was unwell. 

“Mommy says you have to have a magic kiss when you get hurt,” Henry babbled, and she smiled, her cheeks hurting because the kid was just sweet enough to eat. 

“Oh, yeah? Is mommy magic then?” She entertained, feeling Spencer still a ghost over her shoulder in case she started struggling to hold the pre-schooler. His godson laughed like she told a joke, shaking his golden locks as he answered. 

“No, Buggy,” He giggled, patting her cheek as she scrunched eyes shut with a smile, “You get a magic kiss when you get fixed. Like this,” He leaned in, leaving a big wet smooch on her cheek that made her giggle, tightening her hold on him with a shiny jaw. Henry turned to where Spencer watched them with a dazzling smile, pointing up at him, little fingernails waving in his face, “Spencer’s turn,”

His godfather faltered, his cheeks turning red and Bugsy looked between the two of them, amused. 

“I can’t, I’m afraid Henry. I’m not magic like you and mommy,” Spencer replied, trying to brush the boy off as kindly as possible. Henry’s face frowned, because he had watched Uncle Spencer pull a coin out of his ear not even half an hour ago and so that statement seemed ridiculous. 

“You have to! You have to give her magic kisses or she won't get better!” Henry ordered, trying to grab Spencer’s bow tie with vigour, “You have to!” 

“Alright, alright,” Spencer agreed, his hands shooting up in surrender, “I’ll give her magic kisses,”

Bugsy looked at him with a heart stopping smile. She looked soft like butter, syrupy and warm as pudding. The moonlight washed her pupils with something like a cartoonish twinkle, and he hoped his forest eyes didn’t turn to two love hearts the way he felt like it did. 

He raised one of his hands to her cheek, the same one Henry just kissed, holding her still. She was cool in the night air, or maybe his hand was just too warm because he was so nervous. He hoped he wasn’t shaking, but her jaw fit into the palm of his hand like it was always meant to be there. 

He dipped his head in to give her a long, delicate kiss to her cheek, running a thumb down the apple of her cheek. 

He pulled away from her, and they exchanged a look, something in her eyes he had rarely seen before. Figuring it was discomfort, or maybe just the light playing tricks on him, he stepped away, and Henry was quickly distracted by a frog hopping through the mildewed grass, and he set Bugsy on the task to help him catch it. 

Spencer busied himself talking to Will and Derek in the hopes his heart would calm down any minute soon, but he had quickly felt himself becoming somewhat addicted to the feel of her skin beneath his lips. He wondered lewdly if the rest of her would feel so soft as her cheek had, and immediately scolded himself for it. 

The thought haunted him for the rest of the night.

-

Penny twirled her around by her good arm, and the two of them giggled like school girls under the fairy-light woven pergola, the string quartet finishing off the fast paced song they had switched up the mood with. The blonde was careful about not jostling the woman too much, she could already feel Spencer and Emily’s worried looks from where they sat together at a table, nursing their drinks mid chat. 

But whether it was the fact she had been cooped up for days on bed rest orders (Spencer’s, not the Doctor’s, though he’d argued that was the same thing,) or that last morphine patch had really given her a kick up the behind, but she seemed to be hiding the pain well. 

JJ would only have one wedding, she’d argued with Spencer, she could have a hundred days in bed, but there would only be one night like this one; when they were all together, safe and happy, when there was enough palpable love in the air that fell over everyone's shoulders like a warm hug. He’d grumbled that he was usually the optimistic one and zipped up her dress for her with shaky fingers anyway. 

Before Penny could spin her round even one more time, a figure appeared two tower over the blonde, and a voice cut in between them politely.

“I don’t suppose you’d let me lead the next dance, I think Reid and Prentiss might just tackle you if you shake her up anymore,” Aaron’s voice was soft, inviting with the one and a half beers he’d had edging at his tone, almost teasing in a way so rare for a man so stern. 

Penelope looked over Bugsy’s shoulder to indeed see the woman’s two guard dogs watching her like a hawk, Bug’s already opened purse on Spencer lap where her emergency painkillers were. 

“Oh god, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Spencer frown like that, it’s like watching a puppy resource guarding,” Penelope faltered, looking the woman head to toe as if she was being held against her will to dance by the blonde, “You’re not hurt or anything- you’d tell me if you were hurt, wouldn’t you?”

Bugsy chuckled, throwing her good arm over the woman’s shoulder, “Relax, they’re both worry warts. I’m having fun, Pen. I think Hotch just wanted a turn with the ugly barbie,”

Against Penelope’s better judgement, she gave the woman a kiss on the cheek with a sigh of defeat, though she had been so careful not to push her in fear of her cracking another rib, but she had loved seeing Bugsy smile like that again. 

Derek was quick to swoop in to save her, swooping in to steal her for a dance as Aaron gently took Bugsy’s waist and good hand, entirely respectable and gentle in his touch. 

“I’m glad you’re okay, your bell got a little rung in that bank,” Aaron murmured, trying not to fret over the gash on her forehead that had a few butterfly stitches pulling it together. He remembered how frail she’d felt in his arms the last time he’d properly seen her, like a baby bird with its wings snapped in his hands. He was worried he was going to be burying her too, just like he had Emily, just like he had Haley, except he knew for her there wasn’t a catch, an escape route to Paris. There wouldn’t have been a do over.

But she was okay. Broken bones and all. 

She smiled at him, as if to remind him just how alive she was, and he saw how her eyes were bloodshot and tired, as if it was taking all of her energy to keep her head upright. 

“If you knew how many morphine patches are on my butt right now, you’d freak,” She said, and he laughed, because she was always good at getting those from him. Bugsy relaxed in his arms, and he rocked her side to side sweetly, not quite dancing but moving passively to the soft melody the band was playing. 

Maybe it was the fact he wasn’t in work mode, or maybe it was because the night air was cosy and light, or maybe she just weaselled out the guilt that had been stored in his chest for nearly a year, but he let himself look at her with a sad, sepia gaze, and it was like she knew what he was going to say before he said it. 

“I’m-”

“Don’t apologise,” She cut in quickly, her own expression falling into something forlorn, “You have nothing to apologise for, Aaron,”

He took a deep breath through his nose, “I do. That wasn’t right how I treated you. You’re not spoiled.” 

“I can be, sometimes,” She argued defeatedly, but he shook his head before she could add to it, “You were doing what was best to keep Emily safe, it was her I was more mad at than anything. She’s my sister, she should have trusted me, you and JJ didn’t owe me anything.”

“We owed you a better explanation than we gave,” He said, watching her sigh and rest her cheek on his shoulder. He cursed Spencer for allowing her to wear heels in her condition, though he didn’t doubt that the pretty boy had put up just as much fight as he would have seeing her grab the shoes on her way out, “I never meant to hurt you so much. And we do owe you better, we’re a family. Families fight, and they say mean things and they tell white lies sometimes but we love each other, and I only ever wanted to keep everyone safe. Okay?”

She nodded against his blazer material, dropping his hand in the interest of wrapping both her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug, ignoring the dulled ache of her ribcage.

“I love you too,” She murmured, and he gave her a feather-light squeeze back, all too aware of her bones creaking under her skin, “I’m sorry I hit you,”

She let go of him, and he held her hand, the tips of her fingers poking out from beneath her cast that already had Jack’s name scrawled over in black sharpie. 

“I deserved it, I was being cruel,” He said honestly. He hadn’t meant to be so harsh, but the emptiness in her laugh, in the way she’d stormed out, had scared him. He thought even if she lashed out, if she screamed at him or cried that would be better than the silent treatment because at least then he would know where she stood with him. But instead he had driven the knife in deeper, and for that he couldn’t say he blamed her for it, “I’ve had worse, much worse. Maybe you’re not as tough as you think,”

She baulked, and realised he was teasing her, “Maybe we could go round two Monday morning, I bet it would hurt a lot having a hard plaster cast swung at your face,” 

“For me or for you?” She smacked his arm with her good hand, and it made him chuckle again, and soon she was laughing too, resting her head back onto his shoulder comfortably, “I’m glad you’re okay, Bug,”

“Did you not hear where I put those morphine patches? I could paper mache with those bastards,” 

And they danced between chuckles for another half an hour. 

–

“Wait, wait, you’re going to compress her spine,” Derek stopped, Bugsy dipped at his waist where he was supporting her full weight because she’d complained she missed dancing with Penelope. She hated people walking on eggshells around her, and if anyone was going to have fun with her who could still make sure she was safe, it was Derek. 

The woman grinned up at him, Derek’s hands safely around her waist and not pressing on her ribs whatsoever, though she had to admit she was ready for another dose of painkillers after a few hours of dancing between Hotch, then to JJ who had swiftly been taken over by Henry who wanted to be lifted high enough he could hold Bugsy’s hands like he had seen the others doing. David had even entertained her with a very slow three step waltz, until Derek had been her next target because he seemed to be having the most fun whirling Emily around the dance floor. 

“Spencer!” She said and Morgan returned her to full height once he saw Reid’s fretful expression. She pouted, “Spencer, I was having fun,”

“You know what’s fun? Eating cake is fun, drinking water is fun, resting on the couch is fun,” He said, and Morgan was quick to hand the baby Prentiss over to Reid who rifled around his pocket to produce the tablet version of her buprenorphine, “You need more medicine or it’s going to hurt worse in the morning, remember? Getting ahead of the pain?”

She sighed, nodding, and before he could pop two out of the shiny, metal coated tray, she stopped him, “Wait, dance with me first,”

He looked at her incredulously, eyes softening when she stepped closer to him, her hand coming over the top of his to push the pain killers away, “It’s going to hurt more if you don’t get ahead of it now,”

“I know, I know,” She muttered, nodding docilely, “Look, I promise if you just dance with me a little now, I’ll have my meds and take it easy for the rest of the night, no questions asked,”

He looked unconvinced, because she was known to put up a fight when it came to doing something she didn’t want to. 

She sighed, “If I sit down now, I know I won’t be getting back up again for the rest of the night, and I wanted to enjoy myself until I couldn’t anymore,”

Spencer looked at her pleading puppy dog eyes, and broke almost embarrassingly fast, letting her follow his hand into his pocket, putting the drugs away and letting her take his now free hand in his own. 

“I’ll have it known I tried to stop this when this catches up to you and you have to go lay down on Rossi’s spare bed,” He argued back, but felt his stomach flip when she laced her fingers with his, pushing herself closer to him as a means of drawing him out of his grumpy mood. 

“He has more than enough, just dance with me,” She brushed his attitude off, wrapping her plaster-cast over his shoulder. 

He took her waist gently, feeling the plush, softness of her hips and wishing the heat away from his cheeks. She looked divine under the fairy lights, ready to be whisked away by sleep yes, but the sleepy blinks added to her charm, and she was soft and pliant under his touch like a tame cat ready to curl up on his chest.

“I had so much fun,” She said, meeting his adoring gaze, probably because he couldn’t drag his eyes away from her. He nodded, worrying then if his hair was sitting right or if hid bowtie needed straightening. She was a goddess in his arms, the colour of her dress matching her skin beautifully, a few wisps of hair falling over her eyes from where Penny had damn near done the quick step with her. 

She looked like a dream.

“I never thanked you for everything you did for me when Emily was-” She gulped, her eyes suddenly down turned, like she couldn’t admit anything to the hazel of his eyes, not when they looked at her like that. “You were the only thing I had for a very long time, and I never really said how much it all meant to me,”

“You’re my best friend, I’m always going to be there for you,” He said, lovingly stroking a thumb over her skin, his voice tender as this touch, “That’s what friends are for,”

Even though he was sure he’d never felt this way about any of his friends before, even the tiny crush he’d had on JJ for all of two weeks when he’d first started at the BAU didn’t even make a mark on how she got his chest hammering like a jackrabbit. 

Her face flickered with something he couldn’t read, and she nodded, “Right. Friends.” She swallowed heavily. 

She slumped against him, like the wind had been taken out of her, her head on his shoulder, but it felt nothing like when she had danced with Hotch. 

It felt like everything she’d ever wanted was right in her grasp, like the one person who made her feel whole again was pressed against her, stroking down her spine with an affection she could swear blind was nothing like she’d ever felt before. Like the only air she knew how to breathe was filling her lungs, every note of fresh linen, the hair gel he sometimes used to tame his curls, down to the faint smell of his apartment, so filled with books the smell of worn leather and thin paper seeped into his clothes. 

She couldn’t remember who she was before she knew Spencer. She felt like she’d always known him. 

He wasn’t just her friend, he was every bit of her that she wasn’t. Every ugly part of her that had always felt so alone, like loneliness was just ingrained into her since birth that seemed to jump up in a strange feeling of longing and home whenever he was near. 

She let herself revel in his arms as long as she could, because she knew it was so illicit to be feeling so hungry for something she couldn’t have. She knew he was too good for her; she had never deserved any scrap of kindness he gave her. She could be mean, and rude, and loud, and ugly, and spiteful and he was everything she wasn’t. He was kind, and sweet, and gentle, and loving, and he didn’t deserve someone like her; he deserved so much better. 

Bugsy let herself stay against his chest for a while longer, slowly swaying with him under the moonlight as JJ and Will took each other in their arms; a couple that fit together, Bugsy thought, two people who were so right for one another. Who deserved their happiness. 

And so she selfishly let herself pretend she could have him as long as she could, silently dancing together under the pergola, until she agreed to go sit down because she would never admit that the ache in her side had started to seep back in, and he fussed over her some more and she told him he was being silly, but she preened under his affections anyway. 

They’d reached a stalemate, Spencer would have probably called it.

Bugsy knew she shouldn’t want him, but she did. She shouldn’t want him because he was the pretty boy, the sweetheart that sat untainted by everything he’d seen and endured, the one who had jumped and cleared every hurdle life had thrown at him where she had fallen flat. He had gotten better on his own after Hankel; she had crashed and burned and taken nearly everyone with her. He was strong, and she was weak. She shouldn’t want him, it was selfish, but she did. 

Spencer knew he couldn’t have her, because she was beyond anything he had ever dreamed of, beyond his best friend, beyond the girl who kissed him and didn’t ever want to talk about it again. He couldn’t have her because she was still healing, still wounded and vulnerable and rattled from barely recovering her relationship with her sister before she’d had a bank dropped on top of her. It would be wrong, it would be selfish, she would never want some scrawny kid from a shitty home where he was beaten up by girls even smaller than him and wedgied so hard he had to follow the librarian to class. He was a nobody. He couldn’t have her because she deserved so much better, but he wanted her. 

They sat at a stalemate for a few weeks longer, until Emily got a job offer in London, and she asked Bugsy to take an internship at Interpol one of her old associates had sent to her. Twelve weeks learning how international databases worked, even some forensic work for Scotland Yard if she played her cards right. 

And she took it; without much warning she took it, even if not to give herself some breathing space from how much her chest pined to be back in Spencer’s arms she had that night. 

Bugsy headed to London, and didn’t look back. 

2. The one with Maeve

Four Months. Bugsy had been in England for four months. 

At first, they had called regularly, almost every other day, except the days she was just too tired to stay up until two am to call him when he got home. They had spent an hour on the phone at least; she had asked about the team, the cases, if he missed her yet which he always told her to knock it off because of course he missed her, and he had asked about London, and what England was like, and how Emily was doing. 

Until around two months in when her schedule had changed to night shifts, and they could only ever communicate by texts, at which point he had been the one struggling to talk because he had no clue how to work his phone. She had called the odd time on her half an hour lunch break, but it was always rushed, never consistent, usually ending up with her excusing herself and hanging up on him fast because she was needed urgently somewhere else. 

Cynically enough, the only time she could ever call was Sundays. Sundays when he was already busy, Sundays when he was admittedly on the phone, only he wasn’t talking to her. 

He was talking to Maeve. 

The geneticist he had been ready to tell her all about before JJ’s wedding, who had all but cleared up his migraines within a few sessions, who had asked him three days after Bugsy had flown out what had made his head flare up again and so he’d told her. Told her his best friend moved to another country temporarily, that he missed her and had been looking after her cats for her while she was gone because her new landlord wouldn’t let them have pets. And it had spiralled from there, she had asked more about the rest of his life, and he had asked about hers, and suddenly they weren’t just talking about his migraines anymore, they were flirting. 

He hadn’t told Maeve that he was in love with said friend who had taken a great opportunity with both hands and fled the second she could. He couldn’t hold it against her, not when he was choosing his calls with Maeve over the only chance he had to speak to Bugsy, and four months really wasn’t that long in the scheme of things. 

That was what he’d tried telling himself at least. He missed her more than anything, and the only thing that he’d found combatted the sting of her being gone was Maeve. 

Maeve; who he had never seen, whose voice was sweet and alluring, who got his humour the way girls rarely ever did (besides Bug ofcourse). Who liked what he liked, and could talk his ear off about what she’d been reading, and about her day in the lab. 

She was Bugsy in every other font, every other manner, and best of all she liked him. She told him weeks ago she liked him, that she wanted to date him, that he was her dream guy. 

Call him a cynic for enjoying having a chance with someone, then that’s what he was. 

Life since he had tried pushing away his unrequited feelings for one Prentiss girl had been going swimmingly. He liked their new team mate, Alex Blake, the brilliant linguist who warmed to him quite quickly; he had a girl at his heels who returned his feelings, who was everything he always said he looked for in a partner, even without having ever seen her face, and he was rather enjoying having Nico and Sergio around to keep him company. 

But as it always did, the contented limbo he’d found himself in where he might actually be able to get a girlfriend came to a screeching halt on Sunday afternoon when he was stepping outside at three forty-five, readying himself for the ten minute walk to the nearest phone booth for their call at four pm on the dot. He had just about locked his front door, turning on his heel with his scarf draped over his shoulders when he had collided with someone’s chest. 

“Oh I’m so- Bugsy?” 

“Spencer!” She smiled at him wider than she ever had before, and she threw her arms over his shoulders because he had never protested to her affection before, “It’s so good to see you- I missed you so much, there’s so much I have to tell you-”

“What are you doing here?” It sounded like a confrontation, though he hadn’t meant it that way, just that he hadn’t been expecting her back for another two weeks at least and he certainly hadn’t expected to see her today, right before he was about to go call the girl he was sort of seeing, sort of not. 

She bristled at his tone, because he didn’t sound nearly as happy to see her as she had expected. Pulling away, she realised he hadn’t even bothered to hug her back, and she tried to shove away the embarrassment that she’d never ever felt in front of him before. 

“I- just- I wanted to surprise you. Interpol said I could finish early since I’d finished all my paperwork and could take the exams online in a few weeks,” She stammered, feeling uncharacteristically stuck for what to say. He flicked a look down to his wrist, his brows furrowed like she was taking up too much time, “Is something wrong, did I do something wrong?”

“No, you just-” He breathed heavily out of his nose, running a hand through his hair, “I’m late for something,”

“I’ll drive you!” She jumped at the chance, fishing for her keys in her pocket, “Car’s right out front, I sort of just threw it there because I wanted to see you,”

“I’m walking,” He said, in that frustrated tone again and she stopped looking at her jacket, her eyes snapping to his as he looked past her like she was in his way. 

“O-okay, well then do you want company?” She said, her bag heavy with the souvenir she got him, though now it seemed to be weighing her down. 

“It’s sort of personal,” He replied shortly, like she was a stranger selling him something on his doorstep, when really he was just cursing his luck that the girl he’d spent months trying to get over was here in front of him like someone was waving a bone in his face and he was a pup being told to sit. He was cursing the fact that he had spent hours and hours dreaming of the minute he’d see her again and she had showed up out of the blue after weeks of little to no communication like a damn hallucination of the senses. 

She stopped then, her face contorting into a frown, “Is everything okay, are you sure I didn’t do anything-”

“You could have called, I’m kind of busy, Bugsy,” Spencer replied, even though he knew he was being unreasonable. It wasn’t her fault she was unravelling all of his progress just by being there. He thought he was finally getting over her, and with one whiff of her perfume, of her shampoo mixed with her natural scent, he was remembering just how in love with her he had been just a few months ago, like Pavlov’s fucking dog. 

Her face fell then, into something kicked and hurt, “Sorry- my phone died on the plane, I didn’t even think, I just- I just wanted to see you,” 

He faltered, the frustration leaking out of him, but before he could really say much else, she’d taken a step away, swung around to head for the stairs, “Sorry, I’ll call next time, sorry I got in your way, Spence,” 

And she sounded genuine, not annoyed like he would expect for someone who’d been spoken to like trash. The guilt seeped in almost immediately, but then his mind ticked over the minutes he had left until Maeve would be expecting a call. Nine minutes now, he would need to speed walk. 

He could make it up to Bugsy as soon as he was done with the girl who was almost her but not. 

–

Spencer felt like an idiot. He hadn’t stopped thinking about the look on her face when she had left his apartment, nor had he not stopped chiding himself for not heading straight out after her. 

His phone call with Maeve hadn’t gone how he’d expected, which would have been the only thing soothing the burn of his scathing tone, except she had hung up rather abruptly after he had suggested they meet up, something that had played on his mind for weeks now. 

“Are you being safe?” He asked, the payphone hard and cold in his hand as he pressed it to his ear. 

She chuckled softly down the phone, a sound that would have made his heart flutter if he hadn’t been feeling so wound up about seeing Bugsy, “Yes, I’m being safe,” 

“Do you think he knows about us?” Spencer dared to ask after a moment of silence, because he could tell it was worrying her too. He wondered if the two of them would be dating by now if it wasn’t for the fact she had a stalker who may or may not turn his attention to Spencer if he realised they were seeing one another. 

“No, as far as I can tell he doesn’t,” She said, her voice slightly more rigid than what he was used to. Her voice was always honey smooth when they spoke, and Spencer had more than enough time to wonder if it ever matched what she looked like. “And we need to keep it that way,” 

The line went dead, and with it the only thing that he’d been telling himself was worth hurting his best friend even the tiniest bit went with it. 

Spencer felt like an asshole. He’d tried calling Bugsy’s phone, then when she hadn’t answered he’d tried asking Penelope, who said she’d gone to visit JJ, Will and Henry since he was too busy. 

At least that would have lightened her mood, he hoped, as he walked into the office Monday morning, and saw her at her desk, already chatting to Penelope with Derek’s arm around her shoulder. 

She was all smiles today, pretty much how she had looked yesterday before he had all but kicked her out, and the sinking feeling in his chest tripled when she looked past Penelope’s shoulder and saw him. Her eyes wavered for a second, head turning downwards as if she hadn’t properly spotted him, 

“Pretty boy! Look who it is,” Derek called him over, even though he was already speed walking and he stopped in front of her, looking her head to toe for the first time fully. 

He realised then her hair was slightly different, that she’d had it cut shorter since the last time he’d seen her, that she’d gotten a new ear piercing. It made her look older, more mature than when he’d last seen her, or maybe he had just not seen her in so long. Maybe he just hadn’t bothered, he thought painfully.

“I saw him yesterday,” Bugsy said, and he felt caught immediately, Penelope’s head whipping to him, “He was kinda busy though, weren’t you, Spence? More of a passing visit.” 

She sounded indifferent to yesterday’s rudeness, like it hadn’t really phased her despite the fact he’d seen for his own eyes the way her expression dropped. 

“I was- I had an appointment,” He said, because he felt the need to explain himself even if he couldn’t.

She smiled at him, something dampened and fake, “I leave for a few months and suddenly boy wonder is too busy to talk to me, what is the world coming to,” She joked, and Spencer felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment, though Penny and Derek laughed. 

“No, really, I had an appointment-” He tried to reason, but Penelope stopped him before he could fret too much, his hands wringing and he tried to lie on the spot without getting caught. 

“She’s just kidding, Spence, don’t worry,” Pen shook him off warmly, quickly grabbing Bugsy’s arm tightly, the faint scar where she’d had her surgery trailing up her skin, “Now, to my bat cave, where we can talk all about just how good British guys are in bed without the boy germs getting all over our gossip,” 

Bugsy laughed, allowing herself to be pulled along, right past Spencer without a second glance, despite the fact he looked like he was about to throw up. 

Why hadn’t he thought about that? Why hadn’t he considered for a second that she would meet anyone, if not seriously, then for a one night stand? What if all those nights she was too busy to talk she had been with someone, someone much cooler and hotter and overall more experienced than he was. He was thirty years old and he had only ever slept with two women, one being Austin the bartender she’d told him to go after despite him lingering around her the whole night, the other being a girl he’d met in O’Keeffes after a hard case when he had been a few months sober, wanting anything, anyone, to take his mind away from going back to the little vial of trouble. 

How could he be so stupid? Of course she’d be hooking up with other people. She was young and gorgeous and smart as a whip and single. She’d be any guy's dream. 

He knew he was being so, so disgustingly hypocritical. He hadn’t stopped thinking about Maeve for months, and yet here he was seething with jealousy at the very thought of Bugsy being with someone who could love her without feeling guilty for loving her. 

Spencer swallowed his pride and set his stuff down on his desk, watching Penelope grab Alex and drag her to her bat cave on her way, the older woman lighting up at the fact she was meeting the Bugsy Prentiss. 

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, and felt a migraine start to ache behind his eyes. 

–

“Alex- Blake, where are you going?” Spencer called, shoving his cell in his back pocket as he jogged toward the woman about to climb into the SUV.

Sure enough, Bugsy had been back in the office for one hour before they were getting pulled into another case, and she was more than happy to jump in to help with her new found skills in Interpol. 

It was a gruesome case, which was saying something for all the shit they’d seen. The UnSub was amputating legs off one victim to then put onto his next one. There had been one guy waking up in his hotel room with both legs missing below the knee, then another gentleman had walked into an ER room with legs that weren’t his own attached to his sockets. 

It made Bugsy’s skin crawl, but that was simply a day's work for them. They were at the most recent victim’s body; a woman who seemed to have been too weak to survive the surgery had been dumped on the street with her limbs switched to someone else’s. They had at least one other victim they hadn’t found yet, the girl thought darkly. 

“Hotch called, he wants us back at the station ASAP,” The woman replied, Bugsy at her side.

“Can you give me a ride to 5th and Main, it’s on the way?” Spencer asked, trying his hardest to ignore the frown the youngest Prentiss gave him, confusion written across her face. 

“Uh, yeah sure. What’s at 5th and Main?” Alex asked, also confused as to what was so pressing he needed to side track their case. 

“I need to talk to somebody,” He replied shortly, the same cut off tone he’d used with Bugsy just the day before, and Alex faltered. 

“Yeah, uh, okay. Sure.” She agreed, not wanting to rock the boat considering she was still so new to the BAU. She looked over at Bugsy, who seemed disgruntled as she headed for the passenger side, Spencer climbing into the back of the SUV with a troubled look on his face when their eyes met in the rear-view mirror. 

“You’re coming with us?” He asked, looking on edge when he saw she’d gotten into their car and not into JJ’s like she had on their way over there.

“Yeah, is that a problem?” Bugsy asked, and he shrugged, playing with his fingertips in his lap. 

“No, that’s fine, I just didn’t know you were coming with us,” He replied shortly, his face starting to warm when he realised how rude he’d sounded. He heard her sigh, and look out the window with no more protest in her. 

Alex didn’t ask questions as she put the handbrake down, perhaps sensing the tension in the car between the two agents, and she didn’t need to be a profiler to tell there was either a lot unsaid between them or maybe even words that no one could take back. 

Either way she did as he’d asked, because Bugsy hadn’t actually protested, just bit at her fingernails that said she was thinking too hard, and stepped on the gas.

–

The car pulled around to where a dimly lit payphone sat, empty and looking like it hadn’t been used in years. Which it probably hadn’t, besides as a dog urinal. 

Alex stopped the car, and Spencer was already opening the door before she could even put it into neutral, “Do you want us to wait?” 

“Uh, you know what, it might take a while, so I’ll just get a cab back,” He said, his tone clipped and leaving little room for questions. He felt Bugsy staring at him in confusion from the front seat, and he avoided her gaze like the plague, even if there was something sad in them that he was being so distant. “Thanks anyway,” He hopped out the car slamming the door shut, and digging through his pocket for change as he headed for the payphone. 

Alex drove off, and he felt his chest get lighter for it, because he didn’t know how much longer he could keep up the act. 

He hated lying, especially to her. Every morsel of his being writhed in discontent whenever he would lie, like the truth was just begging to slip out one way or another, and he knew he would only feel all the more guilty for it as soon as the case was over and he couldn’t avoid her eyes that haunted him like a wraith or her touch that seemed to have been kept to herself since he had snubbed her hug at his doorway. 

He knew he was pulling away, knew she was doing the same thing, and he hated it. 

Bugsy sat in the car, her face moody as anything as she glared out the window and Alex took the corner around the block. 

“So is it usually like this between you two?” Alex dared to ask, her food steady on the pedal, “The lingering looks, the awkward silences? From what Penelope told me, the two of you are as close as can be,”

“Yeah, usually we are,” Bugsy replied coldly, and within a second she was unplugging her seatbelt, “In fact, pull back around the block. I’m done with him being an asshole without an explanation.”

Alex felt like she had just pulled a pin from her grenade with her delicate question, though she had meant entirely well, and did as the girl told her to, worried just what might blow up in her face if she didn’t.

Spencer had already dialled the number he knew off by heart, with or without his eidetic memory, by the time they pulled around. 

His face dropped, knowing the returning call would be coming any minute now and he just hoped Maeve wasn’t too worried about him. But he had no time to think about her, because the second he saw Bugsy getting out of the car he could tell she was pissed. 

Pissed in a way she had never been with him, but then he supposed, he had never treated her like that either. 

“I’m going to give you one chance to tell me the truth, Spencer, because I’m tired of the clipped responses and the pushing me away,” She said, walking over to him like he owed her money. Which he didn’t. But he did owe her a good explanation as to what the hell was going on with them, “Did I do something? You can tell me if I’m an asshole, I know I can be an asshole, but you have to tell me so I can fix it-”

“You haven’t done anything, Bug, just please get back in the car,” Spencer cut her off, which was clearly the wrong move as he saw her brow raise at him. 

“Something’s not right, Spencer,” Alex agreed, though she held back because hurricane Bugsy seemed to be more than enough intimidation for the guy, “What’s the deal?”

“What do you mean? Why did you guys come back?” He rushed, because he could feel his face warming, and he played with his fingertips like he did when he was struggling. 

“Don’t answer a question with a question,” Bugsy chided, and he rubbed his palm with his thumb self-soothingly, and that was what tripped him up. Her eyes zeroed on his hands, looking back up at him and he almost went white at the predicament he’d found himself in, “You’re lying about something,”

“No, I’m not, I would never lie to you-” She pulled his hands apart, looking at him with hurt written across her soft features. 

“Bullshit, I know when you’re lying, Spencer, or did you just forget that we’re best friends. That seems to mean nothing to you nowadays,” She snapped, and he could only look back at the phone booth, knowing that she would be calling any second now, “Are you even listening to me?” 

Her tone was hurt, wounded, because he had to admit he was being inconsiderate. 

“A while back, I found a geneticist that helped clear up my migraines, and we stayed in touch while you were in London,” He said, because that was all true, and she couldn’t call him a liar again if he was telling the truth.

“So? What does that have to do with the case,” Alex prompted, her own face scrunched in ire as he hopped around the subject. 

“I think maybe my friend may be able to see something we’ve missed.” Spencer rushed out, his eyes puppy like as he willed Bugsy to stop looking so damn betrayed. 

“You have four of the best minds I know back at the station, you have a woman with a biochemistry master's standing in front of you who dabbled in medicine for fun, but you need your friend for help?” Alex responded, because there was no way he was getting out of the hole he’d dug himself if she had anything to say about it. She too, as new to the team as she was, had no time for secrets on a job where trust meant everything. 

“I know, but sometimes a different perspective helps me think better, okay?” He replied, his hand itching to take his palm back because he knew it still wasn’t the full truth. 

Bugsy scoffed, crossing her arms over one another, and shifting her weight to one foot. 

“You’re being ambiguous, you always do that when you’re lying,” She muttered, loud enough for him to hear and he gulped, turning his head to the ground. 

“All of this begs a bigger question, why did you ask me to bring you?” Alex asked, because she was thinking the same thing. 

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” Spencer said, but his spine straightened impossibly when the payphone began ringing, and he seemed skittish like a naughty school child.

“You could have asked JJ or Morgan to drive you, but you asked me. You had a problem with Bugsy coming, because you didn’t think she’d be with us, so what’s the deal? Why me?” Alex pushed, and Spencer flustered, his head whipping around to where the high pitched chime continued, and he knew she didn’t have much time before the line went dead. 

“Alex, please,” Spencer begged, feeling Bugsy’s eyes boring into the side of his head as he avoided her gaze like the plague. 

“Just answer the question,” Bugsy bit out, because she was sick of being ignored all day, of being treated like she was contaminated or like he had never known her a day in his life. Not when she had flown on the first plane back to see him because she missed him more than she could ever tell him. 

Not when she had been racing up the stairs to his apartment, her souvenir in her bag, the words on the foreword written in her own hand ready to tell him how she felt. 

Because she knew it, after weeks of not seeing him, hours of just missing him and the few texts back and forth, she knew it. She knew she had to tell him, even if they had to brush it under the rug to be friends again, even if it was a shot in the dark she had to tell him. 

She couldn’t choke it down anymore.  

Only when she’d gotten there, thrown her arms around him, he almost felt like a stranger beneath her hand, almost felt like he never even knew her.

Spencer sighed heavily, looking at Alex because he thought he might just crack if he looked at Bugsy when he said it. 

“Because I didn’t want them to know about her, alright?” 

And she knew it then, knew it by the way he’d softened entirely when he said her, the way he seemed to melt just by thinking of her, the way he cowered into taking a step back towards the phone booth. It wasn’t just his geneticist, it was someone else entirely. Someone so much more to him.  

Bugsy felt a lump in her throat, and she forced with all her might to not let her eyes well with tears. Because friends didn’t feel like they’d been sucker punched in the gut at hearing they were seeing someone else. Friends didn’t feel an all consuming jealousy writhe under their skin at the idea of them being with someone who wasn’t them, feeling something for someone who wasn’t them. 

That wasn’t what just friends did. 

And Bugsy thought with horror, as he picked up the phone and spoke in hushed, gentle tones that he once did with her, that they might never be friends again. 

3. The one with their first date

Things were weird. Really weird. And painful. Really, really fucking painful.

Bugsy and Spencer had never been like this, never been so cold besides the first time they’d ever met, and even then she had warmed him from the inside out. She was sharing her sharlotka within hours of even knowing him, never even knowing he was knee deep in an addiction he was struggling to face alone, and that she had made him feel better than he had in weeks with her smile and her kindness and her quick witted brain. 

Things were strange between them, and it was becoming noticeable too. 

She boarded the jet behind Alex, the woman taking a seat next to Hotch at the table, the only other seat left being next to Reid, who stopped midway through what he was saying.

“It’s difficult to lure most people from the security of their own homes, eighty four percent of stalking victims have some sort of original connection with their stalkers, meaning-” He paused, and so did she for a fraction of a second, debating whether to sit beside him. She straightened quickly, dipping her head down and looking to the floor, and bristling past the empty seat to sit herself next to JJ on the couch. 

He cleared his throat, trying to look like his face hadn’t dropped in hurt, and continued.

Hotch and JJ exchanged a look, the same silent message reading clear in their eyes. 

The blonde looked up from her file as the others chatted, Penelope piping up from their computer, and glanced at the younger woman who was unpacking her things on her lap, despite there being a perfectly good table next to them. 

“You alright, Bug?” JJ asked, trying not to seem too worried, yet she knew she was coming off troubled by the tense behaviour from the pair of them.  

It had been three weeks of this, the silences, the uncomfortable pauses, the avoiding each other at all costs. The only time they ever really spoke was on a case, when they were closing in on an UnSub and their feelings had to be put to one side for the moment. Well, her feelings. Because all of his feelings were occupied as of the moment. With Maeve. 

She couldn’t stomach talking about the woman anymore, couldn’t stand Derek’s teasing remarks about how lover boy was getting lucky, or Penelope’s thousands and one questions about the geneticist that she knew had come from a place of care, or Alex’s motherly guidance on his love life. The entire thing made her feel queasy, and she stayed quiet most days in the way he’d always hated, the way he’d always tried to pry her out of. 

But nowadays he didn’t bother. Didn’t bother much with her at all, really. 

“Yep,” Bugsy said, her lips tight, “Peachy,” 

JJ knew not to ask any more than that. 

–

Human marionettes were a first for her, she had to admit. They had already found two victims stuffed into boxes with craft paper surrounding them, their limbs almost entirely broken out of their sockets ante-mortem. It was a time sensitive case, with two deaths in three days and no sign of slowing down, and so that meant that of course the two brains of the team were assigned together, even if Hotch saw the way her face dropped when he’d said it. 

She was drawing the geographical profile on the board, the squeaking of the marker against the screen the only sound in the room aside from Spencer’s flicking of pages. 

“Did you get the first dump site?” He asked, even though he knew she more than likely would have done. 

“Mhm,” She said, not bothering to actually say anything, because it was a stupid question she knew he was only asking to fill the awkward silence between them. 

“What about the store that sold the outfits, did you get-” He started, only for her to cut him off with a clipped tone. 

“Got it, and I got the radius around the store, and I got the second dumpsite.” Bugsy replied, capping the lid to the marker pen and setting it down on the desk beside him, “I’m going to get coffee. Want one?” 

Though she didn’t stick around long enough to really hear his response. She simply waltzed out of the room to the tiny kitchenette the police station had to offer, in search of anything that would keep her occupied and away from snapping at him. 

What had she really got to be mad at him for? For getting a girlfriend? For rubbing it in everyone's face how happy she made him, how perfectly suited she was for him? Except she didn’t think that last one was necessarily true, it just felt that way because it cut her so deep to hear about the girl who was everything she wanted to be. She had no right to be mad at him for anything except being distant with her since she got back from London. 

She still made him a coffee half heartedly, swirling in a tonne of sugar the way she knew he would like, because he never changed being so perfectly him in the time she was away. 

She used to tell him he didn’t need all that sugar because he was sweet enough as he was, because it was true. He used to be entirely honeyed and saccharine when he spoke to her, now she was lucky if she got a full good morning. 

Bugsy bit her lip to stop it from quivering, and took the mugs back to the tiny office they were stationed in, seeing Alex at the door and hearing half their conversation.

“Is this about, uh, phone booth girl?” Blake asked, and Bugsy wanted to snap because what else would they be talking about. Her name was Maeve, she wanted to snarl, Maeve, Maeve, Maeve, Queen of the Fairies and of Spencer’s heart, Maeve, Maeve, Maeve. 

She never hated a name so viscerally, though she knew in deep down it wasn’t her fault. Maeve didn’t do anything wrong, she just fell in love with Dr Spencer Reid and his charms. She couldn’t blame her, really. It wasn’t difficult to do so. 

“She wants to meet,” Spencer’s voice was soft and nervous, and it was the most she’d heard him talk all day. 

Bugsy froze, and Alex’s jaw dropped, “Wait, you guys have never met?” She saw Spencer shake his head just before she rounded the corner back into the office, feeling like she was intruding immediately, “Aren’t you curious what she looks like?”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter what she looks like, she’s already the most beautiful girl in the world to me,” She stopped at the doorway, feeling like she’d had the entire cup of hot coffee dumped over her chest in a scalding pain the minute she’d heard it. 

Spencer called her beautiful many, many times before, both when she’d been done up to the nines and even when she was running away from a damn wedding in the middle of a storm and she looked like a sewer rat. 

But that didn’t matter, because everything about Maeve was beautiful to him, and that was where she seemed to draw the short straw. Because who would find her selfishness beautiful? Or her spoiled nature, or how she could be so crass and rude she had been in more fights before she started the BAU than she’d care to admit. But Maeve was nothing like that. She was sweet and gentle and beautiful on the inside. 

Bugsy plonked his coffee down harder than she’d wanted to, and he thanked her, pausing for a second as he looked between Alex and Bugsy, the second woman now sipping her steaming coffee freely and pinning maps to an adjacent board as if she couldn’t hear a word they were saying.

“What if she doesn’t like me?” He said, fiddling with his sleeves, “I mean; I slouch, my hair’s too long, my tie is perpetually crooked,” 

“Your hair’s fine,” Alex combats back, watching the girl down her drink in a few sips, “Jesus, do you have asbestos in your throat?” 

Bugsy turned to her and shrugged silently, “I’m tired, I needed the caffeine,” 

Alex watched her with a hesitant eye, as if she was keeping just as close an eye on her as Jennifer but didn’t want to say, before she stepped away from the doorway, “Alright, I gotta run. You kids update us if you find something out.” 

And with that Blake took her leave, leaving the room in silence for a moment, and Bugsy heard Spencer thinking too loud with that big brain of his. 

She sighed, tacking a map of the city up next to the other one with points of interest noted on, “You’ll be fine,” She said after a minute, and he froze. 

“I’m sorry?” He asked, formally like she asked to sit next to him on the bus or to squeeze past him in a store. 

“I said you’ll be just fine on your date with Maeve,” She reiterated, using a purple sharpie to start drawing the routes the victims took to work. 

Spencer sighed, shuffling papers around his desk, “How can you be so sure?” 

She looked at him then, properly looked at him and he felt his breath almost catch. He’d been telling another one of his half truth’s earlier, because he couldn’t very well say just how many night’s he’d thought about Bugsy being all over him, about kissing her and sweeping her off her feet, about squeezing her close to him in a passionate embrace and never letting her slip away again. He thought about all the times she professed how much she loved him and how good a friend he was to her, and how happy she made him, and how he had spent the first year of knowing her getting to know her for that big brain of hers that rivalled his own. 

He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything, but he couldn’t have her. He could have Maeve though. He could meet her and fall in love with her and marry her. He could do it. But she still wouldn’t be her. 

She smiled at him like she had a secret, one she was willing to share with him, one that came at a cost but she would give it to him anyway because it was him and she was so good to him and deserved so much better. 

“What’s not to like about you, Spencer?” She said softly, her expression that of a street dog looking for scraps.

He swore he shuddered when she said his name like that, but he tried a smile back at her anyway. But it was too late, she’d already turned away to continue plotting the points on the map. 

Spencer felt his chest swell in a way Maeve had never gotten it to do.

–

He felt stupid. Half an hour of primping himself in the BAU bathroom, worrying and fussing over what he was wearing and if his hair sat right and if his face looked too skinny, he had made it to the restaurant only to baulk at the last minute when he’d seen a guy in a booth flicking his head to look back at where he was sat in a window seat, a red rose potted in the middle of the table and an empty chair across from him. 

He had panicked and called Maeve, told her to go home because her stalker was there at the restaurant, and she had done just that with little to no question. Only for him to see, minutes later, the guy he thought was her stalker being approached by another guy and he realised he had likely been looking out the window to check for taxi’s parking outside the restaurant. 

Spencer had blown it, the one chance he had at meeting her in person, and he felt more like an idiot than ever. 

He didn’t care about the weird rift between them at that moment, he just wanted to see Bugsy, because she always seemed to know what to say to make him feel better. Like she had a talent for it, even when he had not been the best friend himself. 

He knew he had to fix it, knew it didn’t matter if it was a little unethical to be on the cusp of having a girlfriend whilst also pining after his best friend, he didn’t care. He wanted to set things right with her just to have his best friend back. 

He walked up to her apartment complex, the excuse already brewing in his head that he missed Nico and Sergio, that he maybe missed her a whole lot too but he knew the cats were a sweetened deal way of getting him through the door. Because she would never say no to him seeing the boys. 

And then he would tell her, that he’d been an asshole the past few weeks, that he’d been struggling to understand how to balance time between her and his almost girlfriend, because that was a much better half truth than the fact he was trying to bury his feelings for her so deep they couldn’t see the light of day or else his life would be entirely ruined. 

That’s exactly what he would say.

Spencer felt a little better than he had leaving the restaurant knowing he’d messed up his chance. In all honesty, he was excited to have Bugsy back, even if his night wasn’t exactly going to plan. 

He waltzed up the stairs he’d been on a million times. She loved his apartment, she always said so, but he insisted her TV was bigger and so they usually stayed at hers to watch Dr Who when the newest episodes came out. 

Spencer hesitated for a second, hoping his plan worked before he rapped on the door with boney knuckles, his hand fingering the strap of his bag nervously as he heard her moving behind the door. 

“One second!” She called, and he chuckled, she had probably fallen asleep on the sofa without pants on, or maybe even just gotten out the shower, either way he heard her scrambling to get clothes on and then-

She swung the door open, and his eyes quickly dropped to her neck that had a long row of hickeys trailing down to her collar bone. His small smile at seeing her vanished like one of those magic tricks he liked to do, and he realised her lip gloss was smudged over her chin, her shirt definitely wasn’t her own and he didn’t actually think she had even bothered to put on underwear beneath the large band tee she’d clearly thrown on in the middle of passion. 

Bugsy looked like she’d seen a ghost. 

“Spencer!” She said, her voice choked up like she was exhausted, and he felt his stomach turn. He looked away from her, like he couldn’t stand to even look at her, “I thought you were with Maeve- yo-your date,”

“I had to cancel, it wasn’t safe,” He murmured, tugging the strap of the bag tighter around his shoulder. 

He felt like a complete loser. More than he ever had being shoved into lockers, being dipped into toilet water, being led around by the librarian and her damn butterscotch. 

Spencer felt like his chest was caving in, which he knew was fair on no one to admit, but it was true. 

“Are you okay?” She asked immediately, scanning him over for wounds, “Are you hurt- Is Maeve okay?”

He opened his mouth to reply when he heard foot steps and a hand appeared around her waist, tugging her into a muscled body as the door opened wider. 

“Who is it, babe?” A deep voice spoke, and Spencer felt his face go green when he saw the adonis of a man who stood behind her, his chest littered with smudged lip gloss and bruises resembling her own neck trailing down to his crotch. 

Her face was on fire when Spencer looked back at her, something betrayed in the hazel of his eyes which he knew was entirely illicit to feel in the circumstances, but it was true. 

“Fuck off, Renly,” She shoved him back behind the door, looking at Spencer like the friendship between them they were scrambling to salvage hung in the balance with whatever she said next. “You remember Renly, my lab partner at Johns,” 

Spencer nodded, the image of her lips on his pubic bone wouldn’t leave his mind, and he wondered what came after that, “I remember him,” 

She nodded back, and they went silent. 

They’d found themselves back at that stalemate. 

--

TAGLIST:

@release-your-sweets @smileykiddie08 @caramelised-onions. @the-tpd-bau @stephthepeach @sunflowersndpeaches @sammy-4103 @starmansirius @yeonalie @delusionallooney @hades-disappointment-child @sadbae-33 @mdanon027 @swag13r @frickin-bats @bilesxbilinskixlahey @mindfullycriminal @mrsbellastyles @nilopillo @imagines--galore @bluejaysaysstuff @imaginexred @flow33didontsmoke @spicyspirit @mywellspringoflife @lovelyygirl8 @pleasantwitchgarden @star-girl-interlud3 @rosylnsworld @jamieolivia27 @halcyonwithletters @waywardhunter95 @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist t @theoraekenslover @niktwazny303 @bliindmattmurdock @alyeskathewave @littlemadamred @yondiii @cultish-corner @lllucere @escapismurmom @stillhere197 @hiireadstuff @amortencjja @queermaxwooo @telengraph @ivyflowers13 @estrela-rogers @greenvita @busy-buzzing

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #matthew grey gubler x reader

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Head Canons:

Your Only Option

Yandere Otome Game Character x GN Reader

TW: psychological horror, trapped forever in a time loop, yandere behavior, mind break, and manipulation

It was always spring when your world would reset once more. When the flowers were in full bloom and the scent of spring was heavy enough to make your head spin. You were in this digital world you had somehow ended trapped in, forever forced to repeat the story premise until you inevitably had to start over once more… yet you always ended up with only one of the capture targets. The villainous crown prince, Edwin Fritz.

Edwin was your favorite character in this game prior to you ending trapped in it. He was the hardest character to romance but the creator had stated in a forum that he was a yandere. The kind of character you were a sucker for each time! With his silver hair and crimson red eyes, you always melted into a puddle when he’d appear on your screen… yet it was much different in real life… Edwin was terrifying.

You spent over a hundred hours playing the game to romance him because you adored his twisted love routes, but it was so different now that you were in the game… especially since he’d always greet you at each starting point.

Both of you retained your memories of the countless previous games and he’d always greet you with an extravagant gift of some sort… must be the perk of being the villainous crown prince.

You gulped when Edwin made his way over to you, his crimson gaze didn’t leave your shivering form once. His large form easily towered over you as he held a giant bouquet of ruby roses in his arms. A ghost of a smile on his gorgeous face.

“Hello, darling.” Edwin handed you the roses before his hand brushed a loose strand of hair from your face. “You tried to talk to Count Jesse in the last game play through… do you enjoy making me jealous?“

You trembled like a leaf but gave Edwin a bright, reassuring smile. You needed to reassure him before he went ballistic in a fit of rage… and you didn’t want to see other characters die again. “Of course not, Edwin. I only love you after all.”

Edwin pulled you into a hug, the roses in your arms shedded a few petals from the embrace. You gulped when you felt his breath shudder. “You do, don’t you? That’s why you’re the only one who didn’t give up one me…”

Edwin sighed dreamily when you relaxed in his hold. “I don’t know why you keep associating with such lowly characters when you have me. I can offer you such a wonderful life of luxury. You’ll never die or age. We can truly be together just like you’ve always wanted before I brought you here! You said you hated your life prior to me.”

Edwin pressed his lips against yours in a hungry kiss. He didn’t care about the gazes from the other nobles at this small party. You were his in this life and his again in the next loop. Forever and ever and ever and ever. No one would be able to take you from him. He would keep repeating this loop until you swore you’d be his spouse!

“So what do you say? Will you be my spouse for all of eternity or do you want to keep playing this game?” Edwin gave you a smile that made a chill run down your spine. “I don’t mind repeating time another four hundred times until you finally relent.”

Edwin moved to cup your cheeks between his hands so his eyes could look into yours. You felt as if you could drown in the sea of obsession that lies behind those ruby red eyes. “I’m your only option, after all.”

#gn reader #yandere #yandere imagine #yandere fic #yandere headcanons #yandere otome #yandere character #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x you #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere concept #yandere content #yandere insert #otome game au #tw.manipulation #tw.yandere #time loop #obsessive yandere #yandere obsession #yandere boy #yandere male #gender neutral insert #yandere video game #yandere idea #yandere oc x y/n #yandere original character #yandere villain

[soamericn]

𝜗𝜚 𝐈 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐓𝐋𝐄

🐰ྀི₊˚⊹ ‘ truth, dare, spin bottles you know how to ball, i know aristotle. ‘

𝜗𝜚… previous chapter - next chapter

𝜗𝜚… summary , ( f!verstappen!y/n x lando norris ) y/n is the younger sister of world champion max verstappen and an author known for her young adult romance novels despite never being in a relationship herself. lando norris is a formula one driver and is secretly an old friend and a fan of her books since 2020.

𝜗𝜚… faceclaim , brooke flecca

𝜗𝜚… triggers , none I don't think (maybe some cursing)

𝜗𝜚… authors note , thank you so much for 100 followers!! new driver series coming out soon based on an album ( I'll be making a fic for a diff driver based on each song )

🐰ྀི₊˚⊹ masterlist

the drive there had been relatively calm. it wasn’t awkward though, y/n and lando had known each other for years, despite not talking for the past two . the conversation was laced with nostalgia as they reminisced on his rookie year, when she went to every race and he’d been convinced she was his “lucky charm”

the air outside was warm with a flowy cool breeze, australian autumns were always nice and provided a small comfort to the girl who’d appreciated the weather. 

the club they’d gone to, however, was packed and it felt suffocating. y/n was never the one for clubs, she liked people, she liked dancing and music. but putting them together with a mix of alcohol and drugs never was something she enjoyed. (her brother on the other hand was the opposite)

she’d hung back near the bar slowly sipping on a sprite. she never drank alcohol; it was a personal preference, she hated the feeling of being out of control. lando had picked up drinking since the last time they’d saw each other, he was partying his little heart out with their friends now. 

y/n hung back watching him with a sorta fondness in her eyes, the scene was beautiful to her, romanticizing the true happiness he was experiencing to ignore how claustrophobic she was feeling. and how she’d been picking at the skin around her nails and the pit in her stomach. 

lando seemed to almost hear her cry for help, as he left the dance floor and walked over to her. she assumed to order another drink since he’d only had one. “you alright?”

y/n nodded but her mouth spoke differently, forever honest. “I feel like i‘m suffocating a bit, if i’m honest.” she admitted cringing as soon as she said it.

lando understood, but she knew he would. he helped out his hand, “then shall we?”

she furrowed an eyebrow and with pursed lips her eyes flicked up and down to his hand and then back to him. “shall we what?”

“bail.” 

“you were having fun, I'm a grown woman. if I wanna leave, I will.” y/n reassured guilt filling up her throat.

lando shook his head with a small grin that he always seemed to adorn. “oh c’mon I invited you, I'm here to spend time with you anyway.”

hesitantly the dutch girl took his hand and they hurried out of the bar, met with fresh air at last and a chill of the night. it felt a bit silly but y/n thought about writing a book in this moment, she thought about how she’d described the scene, how the two old friends reconnecting would turn into something more. 

she knew it was only a fantasy, all her books were. picturesque moments painted carefully by her hands, nothing that’d happen in real life. especially to her. she’d been confident in herself but she’d come to terms on how unsuccessful her love life had been. she was twenty-three and hadn’t dated a single person, not one out of the eight billion people on this earth.

so she’d lost hope. lando shouldn’t give her hope, she knew no one would ever follow through with it. she had enough self respect to stop trying to chase false dreams. 

they’d been walking down the street of melbourne for a few minutes now in a comfortable silence though she’d been surprised lando managed to keep his mouth shut this long. the sky was clear, the stars brighter than she’d seen in a while, the streets were practically empty and the air smelt of saltwater. 

“where are you taking me?” y/n asked realizing they’d passed lando’s car a couple minutes back. 

lando looked at her, “do you not trust me?” 

she pretended to think about it for a moment before meeting his gaze which remained on her. “haven't seen you in two years, maybe you've changed.”

he really had. he’d changed so much but somehow not at all, “you definitely have.” lando seemed to backtrack in his mind as his words came out as an insult. “in a good way I mean, I’ve just missed you.”

he missed her. maybe it’d been her chronic loneliness talking but she hadn’t heard those words from anyone in years. she looked down at her feet, a small smile growing on her face. “I missed you too, a lot.” 

“why didn’t you call or text, I swear I would’ve thought you died if not for your instagram.” lando wasn’t mad or at least he didn’t sound it, still y/n was embarrassed there was no reason for her to fall off the face of earth like she did, maybe she was just destined to be lonely and needed to prove she could do it. maybe that didn’t need two years to prove, she’d been proving it for twenty-two years.

“I’m not mad, I’m just happy to see my idol again.” he bumped into her shoulder with a smirk.

y/n giggled looking at him unconvinced. “your idol?” 

lando nodded, “I'm your biggest fan, don't you know?”  

“mhm of course I knew, reading august in two days must’ve been a new record.” the day lando commented on her instagram post saying he’d pre-ordered her book, she’d gone to her records of past books. he’d bought every book she’d ever read. every single one. even the special edition covers she’d published. 

never had anyone done a gesture like that for her. sure it might’ve been just because he’d like to read, but y/n wanted to live in a bliss where he did it for her.

watching the view change in front of her as they continued down the street she recognized where they’d been walking to. the beach. once they’d reached the place where the concrete ended and sand started. they both took off their shoes, lando grabbed hers holding them for her. 

the sand was soft to the touch, the beach was empty now and spanned for miles. waves crashed down onto the sand in a nice pattern of noise. it was pitch black except the moon which provided a nice soft light into the water far out. the breeze felt stronger here, y/n crossed her arms struggling to provide warmth to her bare arms.

the pair had taken a seat on the slightly wet part of the sand closer to the water. “it’s beautiful out here.” she commented. “like some shit you’d see in a rom-com.” a genre she knew too much about. 

“is this the part where I tell you you’re the only girl I’ve taken here?” lando said looking at her she could hear the smirk in his voice. 

y/n let out a laugh. “is this the part where I act surprised because you’re known for being such a ‘player’?” 

“I’ll do the whole yawn and arm over shoulder thing if you want, make this really realistic.” lando took off his black hoodie revealing a matching black t-shirt underneath. “here by the way.” 

he handed her the hoodie, “oh I’m fine.” she very clearly was not. she wanted to tell him to stop her some kind of hope, to not make her fall for him as she was now. 

“you so are not, you’re shivering and it’s freaking me out.” y/n wasn’t sure if she should’ve said thank you or been offended by ‘freaking him out’. she took the hoodie, it was soft fabric and smelt of his cologne, which smelt expensive. 

she put the hoodie on, relieved by the warmth she suddenly felt. after a while of chatting and laughing about stupid things like they used to, y/n comfortably rested her head on his shoulder, eyes feeling the need to shut but they wouldn’t like she wanted to be conscious for every moment of this, knowing she’d miss his comfort as soon as it was gone. 

“do you have to wake up for your flight early tomorrow.” he asked, his voice soft and he cautiously started to run his fingers through her hair, until she’d relaxed more and he was more confident with his innocent touches.

“mhm.” she mumbled. 

he carefully brushed the few knots in her hair, “should I take you home then it's getting late.” 

everything in her body was telling her to stay no, to stay there, she never wanted to leave. but her mind spoke differently, she had a book signing tomorrow she couldn’t miss her flight nor could she be too tired. she replied again, more disappointed than before, “yeah probably.”

𝜗𝜚˖ ࣪���˚ yourusername posted

liked by yourbestfriend, mclaren, oscarpiastri and 856,756 others

yourusername last night in aus was well spent 🫶

tagged | @landonorris

view comments

user34 OH the lando & y/n girlies are screaming rn

yourbestfriend oh my god you finally went outside 🤯

landonorris gotta make sure she gets some vitamin c every once in awhile

user54 i just know twt is going crazy

landonorris hope to see you in japan 🙏🫣

yourusername we’ll see 🤭

maxverstappen as a redbull fan I hope

user89 we are all living for your active era rn

user21 all her f1 posts having lando in them is making me cry they’re everything to me

user54 I’m getting 2019 lando y/n flashbacks

your bsf 🫶 sent you a text!

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landonorris another race done onto japan we go 😉 ( featuring special guest my celebrity crush )

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yourusername omg I love when I see my fan pages in the wild 🤭

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user32 getting his first podium of the season while she’s there she really is his lucky charm

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[lillsisamarshmallow]

Hickeys, Houses, and Heated gazes (16)

Summary: Y/n confronts Jungkook and this new 'discovery', whilst dealing with confronting opinions an awkward 'family' dinner ensures. Y/n learns a little more about her hybrids and they begin the search for their new house, but Jungkook doesnt seem to be the only jealous Hybrids that she has to deal with.

Word count: 6.5k

Warnings: Marking, Let me know if I missed any!

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“Jungkook!”

I scrambled my way out of the bathroom as after I yelled out his name, my feet almost slipped on the tiles as I rushed out, but I was just able to catch myself by gripping onto the door frame. My feet swung out whilst the top half of my body stayed glued to the wall as I hung on for dear life before trying to regain my balance and pull myself up. As I looked at the man in question, he was still fast asleep on the bed with his arms now wrapped around a pillow that had taken my place.

“Jungkook! Jungkook! Wake up you idiot!” I stomped my way over to the bed and started trying to shake him awake, but he kept sleeping calmly, simply rolling onto his back, and lifting his arm up to cover his face. Frustrated at him, I wacked him in his stomach a few times, not enough to hurt, but hopefully enough for him to wake up. Finally, he groaned and reached one hand up to his eye and rubbed it before opening them and perching himself up on his elbows as he looked at me tiredly.

“Hmm? What’s wrong Y/n?”

“Did you seriously give me a hickey, Jungkook?” I fumed as I pulled back the hoodie so it was clearly insight, his faced warped into confusion until he caught a glimpse of my neck and his face dropped slightly as he realised what was wrong, he sat up higher and I leaned in closer so he could get a better look at the damage he caused.

I caught the slight change in his expression from the corner of my eyes, so I pulled back to look at him fully. He still looked tired, but I could see that his once concerned slightly upturned mouth had now warped into a proud smirk as he kept his eyes locked onto my neck like he was admiring his work. He smirked.

“Kook!'' I softly yelled and wacked his shoulder with my hand. I took a step backwards and stood up straight, turning to the side, placing my hands on my lower back before pulling them up to grasp my head on the sides. “Are you kidding me?”

I turned to look back at him as I asked him again, he was sitting up on the side of the bed now as he faced me. He just smiled innocently at me, closing his eyes as he reached back to scratch that back of his head, his hair was a mess, pieces stuck out in all directions and it was just as fluffy as his dark brown rabbit ears that sat up straight on his head, ones slightly bent forwards. I sighed out in annoyance as I walked back to the bathroom and leaned over the sink to get a better look at the darker patch of skin on my neck.

I poked and prodded at it for a while, it was definitely a hickey with Jungkook’s teeth marks denting into my skin. I can't believe he did that. My face heated up from embarrassment as I leaned down to rest my elbows onto the basin and my head into my hands, I let out a loud sigh at the situation. How am I supposed to cover that up?

As I looked back up into the mirror, I could see the culprit in question standing behind me and staring right back at me, his boyish grin showing his bunny teeth made it hard to be mad at him. I turned around to face him as he took a step towards me so we were standing in front of each other. I sighed out loud as I leaned my head onto his chest, I moved my arms from my sides and rested them in front of me, wrapping them loosely around my stomach and crossing them over each other. Jungkook’s breathing caused me to move along with his chest, the silence was loud as I debated on what to do. I couldn't explain the emotions swirling inside of me, i felt uneasy and embarrassed about it, but i couldn't just ignore the butterflies in my stomach or how oddly captivating it was to look at, how i could feel my heartbeat in my throat and my chest felt impossibly tight, like a boa constrictor had found its next meal. Most of all, I couldn't ignore the twang of guilt that pulled at my heart. I let out a jagged breath that I held in for far too long as I stared down at our feet whilst not saying a word.

I tightened my arms over my chest and around to my sides as I looked up at him, he towered over me, but I didn't feel nervous.

“I can't believe you.” I muttered to him in disbelief as he just seemed to chuckle at me, he wasn't taking this seriously. Was I taking it too seriously? I mean, it's just a hickey, it’ll go away, but… I grunted as I kept thinking about it. 

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” He said with a shy smirk still on his face. He was not sorry. I rolled my eyes and faced away from him. I felt him lean in closer to my neck, his fingers grazing ever so lightly over the spot, he seemed unexplainably happy as he admired his handy work until I swatted his hand away.

“How am I supposed to hide this, Jungkook?” I whined whilst pointing at the spot.

“Hide it? Why would you hide it?” He asked genuinely.

“Because-”

A knock on the door tore us both away from the conversation as I turned and balanced on one foot as I poked my head out of the bathroom to see the door. Jisoo’s voice came through the door as she started talking.

“Y/n? Jungkook? Are you guys awake? I just wanted to let you know that we’ll be having dinner soon. If you're still asleep, I'll set some aside for you both.”

I yelled out to let her know that we would be down soon, she said okay, then I heard her footsteps disappear down the hallway. 

Abandoning mine and Jungkook's conversation, I moved away from him and began to grab out something more decent to wear rather than just this hoodie from my bag. I grabbed all my clothes and made my way over to the bed, but just as I was about to pull the hoodie over my head, I remembered the other person in the room.

“Out.” I said to him as I began ushering him towards the door so I could get changed in peace, he acted confused and wanted to argue with me as I tried pushing him to the door.

“What? Why? I was here last time.” He suggested, like it was no problem at all. My face went red as I remembered him showing up out of nowhere after I got changed before my nap.

“Yeah-well, this is ‘this time’ and I say, no.” I declared as I finally got him on the other side of the door. I closed the door as he stood on the other side with a cheeky grin, I huffed out before telling him that I would meet him downstairs in a bit.

I quickly changed and decided to tidy up my hair so it would sit over the mark, to cover it since it was way too dark to cover up with simple makeup and wearing a scarf inside would only cause more curiosity from the other people in the house. I spent way too long trying to make sure my hair was in the right place before I finally headed down into the kitchen. Everyone turned to me as I made my way over to the only spare seat left, I smiled as I sat down in my seat, Jungkook was to my left and Jimin sat to my right. 

Me and Jisoo fell into conversation as we ate the food, the boys and Jennie and Lisa stayed quiet for the most part, occasionally chipping in to whatever we were chatting about something they found interesting, or that they knew about. Something was definitely off, all the hybrids, even Jennie and Lisa, seemed to be on edge about something, the boys looked almost nervous, and the girls appeared to be irritated at something. 

I’ll have to ask the boys if they're okay later. I thought to myself.

The whole night Jungkook had kept messing with my hair, trying to pull it to the opposite side, which would have made his mark visible, I did my best to act calm and like nothing was wrong as I quickly moved one hand to cover my neck and the other to put my hair back in place, unfortunately, Jimin, who was sitting right next to me, had noticed the back and forth between me and Jungkook. 

I could feel eyes on me, but whenever I tried to find who they belonged to everyone seemed to be doing their own things. I quickly whacked Jungkook on the hand as he tried it again, moving my hair to the other shoulder. I fully turned to face him as I looked up into his brown eyes.

“Seriously, Jungkook. Stop it!” I hissed quietly, only for his ears to hear, as I was becoming increasingly more annoyed at this game of his. As I was locked in a stare down with the bunny, who just looked back at me cheekily, I was shocked when I felt someone's fingers lightly brush over the other side of my neck. I jumped and pulled back before turning to face the other way, Jimin still had his hand held out from where he was touching my neck, his face said it all, he had seen it.

He wore a shocked expression with a slight hint of hurt and jealousy, his mouth was open, and I quickly signal to him ‘zip it’. I moved my hair back to the right side and tried to get back to having a normal dinner. As I turned to focus my attention back on the table, everyone's eyes seemed to be looking at the 3 of us.

My face heated up from embarrassment and I tried to play it cool. I coughed a bit to break the silence before starting up a random conversation with everyone to hopefully drag the attention away from me and the two men next to me.

“So…How was everyone’s day?”

Everyone was looking down at their plates of food, the only sound in the air after my question was the sound of knives scratching against the china plates and some people chewing. The silence was awkward, and the tension was thick for what was supposed to be a regular household dinner.

“Well, someone got run over at work today.” I heard Jisoo speak up from her seat, I stared at her for a second, trying to see if she was joking, she was not. She didn't say anything else, and the room quickly plunged back into the awkward feeling.

Desperate to escape this atmosphere I made another attempt to have a normal conversation. “Jisoo, this tastes great! Is it a family recipe?”

Jisoo smiled back at me before attempting to answer. “Thanks! Yeah, my parents taught me how to cook-”

“So, how did you guys meet Y/n?”

We all turned to the voice that had interrupted Jisoo before she could finish, Lisa sat in her seat next to Jennie with a polite and curious smile on her face, but her eyes seemed to hold an ulterior motive. 

I swallowed the food I was halfway through chewing, and it felt like it made the loudest noise, before awkwardly looking around slightly at the others. That question was very out of nowhere and it wasn't mine to answer. I looked over to Namjoon, who sat next to Jin. He seemed taken aback by the question and did not appear to be interested in answering it as he looked down at his food and kept pushing it around on the plate.

“It’s a long story.” Jimin spoke up, sarcasm in his voice, he seemed overly annoyed and i was sure it wasn't just from the question.

“We have time, don't we?” Lisa asked innocently while looking between Jennie and Jisoo, while nodding her head letting Jimin know that she was more than willing to sit and listen to their story.

“It’s not all that interesting.” Jimin shot back, attempting to shoot her down sharply. “Why so interested?”

The room held an odd tension, I looked between the two, by eyes following whoever was talking. Lisa seemed to be digging for something, but I'm not sure what, and Jimin seemed to know as well, he was very quick to shut her down and her attempts to ask again. I was slow as I cut through my food again, but I couldn't bring myself to eat as I felt nervous.

“Well, what can I say? I’m just a curious person.” Lisa leaned forward and placed her elbow onto the table next to her cup and rested her face onto her palm, she tapped her fingers on her cheek as she stared with an overly curious gaze directed towards Jimin.

“Don't you know curiosity killed the cat?”

My knife slipped out from between my fingers and clattered onto my plate making a loud noise, I winced slightly at the sound before I, and everyone else, turned to look at the fox hybrid who had spoken, my mouth was opened in shock as I looked at the end of the table where he sat. He gave her a sharp glare which sent shivers down my spine, his face showed no signs of joking and the way he had spoken was warningly and laced with venom. I hope he never looks at me like that…

 My jaw was slack as I watched the exchange between the two. Hobi played it calmly, but gave her one of the most dominating stares I had ever seen. Lisa’s eyes widened as she picked herself up from her relaxed position to sit up straighter, her ears twitched and her tail flicked up around her as her face hardened, no longer filled with her playful curiosity and mischief. I quickly glanced over to Jisoo, who was sitting across from me, and we shared a quick look of surprise and confusion.

Dinner continued to be just as awkward as we sat in mostly silence for the rest of the meal, utensils scraping against plates, chewing and occasionally someone asking to pass something that they couldn't reach. Thankfully it was over soon, even though it felt like hours, the dinner only lasted around half an hour, we all helped put our dishes away and clean up afterwards, no one speaking, Lisa had stomped her way back up to her room leaving Jennie with her dishes.

Jimin had ushered me and Jungkook back into our room where he quickly turned the lights on before pulling me closer to him by my arm. He moved his hand off my arm and lifted it up to grip my hair and hold it up away from my neck, almost like a makeshift ponytail. He hastily lifted his other hand up to my neck where I could feel his finger linger over the area.

His fingers just barely touch my skin as they brush over the sensitive spot, I could feel his hot breath fanning down onto my neck and chest causing a chill to run through my body. Suddenly, a surge of pain ripped through me from my neck. Jimin had pushed his fingers hard onto the purple spot on my neck causing me to hiss in pain as I roughly pulled myself away from him. 

My hand snapped up to cover the spot to stop him from doing it again. I gave Jimin a ‘what the heck?’ look, but he had already turned to face the younger man who was standing just a bit behind me. Jungkook seemed to have a mix of emotions on his face, proud, but also scared, Jimin walked a few steps over to him until they were standing right in front of each other with Jungkook towering over the older one.

“What the heck, Kook?” Jimin seethed as they looked at each other, now completely ignoring my presence. Jimin had this aura around him, like he was trying to intimidate the younger male, it actually made me feel a bit nervous.

“I had to!” The bunny hybrid whined, and he sulked and dropped his shoulders down. He didn't seem remorseful at all, he seemed 100% serious and almost proud of himself.

“You had to?”

“Yes!”

Jimin deadpanned as he looked at Jungkook.

“Hyung.” Jungkook dramatically threw his head back as he whined and laughed at the same time before taking small steps towards the older man.

Jimin tsked and muttered something through his gritted teeth as he looked away from Jungkook, the latter pulled himself up to stand properly in front of the short man.

“It’s fine, Jimin.” I said, hoping to calm them down and not have this escalate further. “Even though it hurts, I’ll be fine, it's just a hickey.”

I glared daggers at Jungkook as I emphasised on the word ‘hurt’ before looking back at Jimin. He spun around as he looked at me questioningly.

“A what?”

Before I had time to restate what I had said the door burst open as the other hybrids made their way inside the room with us, Hobi and Jin walked over to stand by me and Namjoon and Yoongi stood next to Jimin, I saw Taehyung make his was to the back standing next to Jungkook.

“What is going on?” Yoongi asked the younger blond male who stood in front of him, he seemed concerned, but still remained calm.

“He marked her.” Jimin grunted as he stood to the side and pointed at Jungkook who gave a cheeky grin showing off his bunny teeth. I saw the older hybrids face warp into one of shock at what they had heard. Before I could process what Jimin had said I was suddenly bombarded by the other hybrids.

I was beginning to feel like an art piece in a museum as I let them move my head to the side so they could see the unfortunate spot on my neck. I looked off to the side of the room with a bored expression as I let them ‘inspect’ the ‘oh so magical hickey’ that had somehow caught all of their attention. I sighed out loud hoping to convey the fact that I wanted this to be over with, I don't know why it’s such a big deal to them.

 I yelped out in pain. I felt someone push their thumb a bit too hard into the dark, sensitive flesh on my neck, I pulled away and took a few steps towards the wall before I turned to face them.

“Okay, that’s enough.” I spoke as I crossed my arms over my chest and looked at the boys who all seemed to get the hint and moved back a few steps. I watched as Taehyung walked over to Jungkook and lifted his hand up for a high five, to which the younger man gladly returned. The older of the two smirked as they looked at each other and the younger gave him a cheeky grin and they seemed to have a very quiet conversation, one that I couldn't hear.

I rolled my eyes at the 2 youngest before I turned to look at the others who seemed to be talking about something before Yoongi broke from the group and walked over to Jungkook. He stood next to the bunny hybrid before raising his hand and whacking him on the back of the head. “Idiot.”

I tried to hold in my laughter at what happened, but soon after Jin walked over to them as well. He lightly hit Yoongi on the shoulder before saying something to him that I didn't catch. They fell into a discussion over the matter as they all came and stood in the middle of the room. I tried to talk with them and pitch in my thoughts, but they seemed to completely forget that I was even there.

“It’ll go away soon, it's just a hickey.” I spoke trying to diffuse the tension, finally they had heard me. They all turned to look at me with confused glances before they continued on with their conversations. Everyone seemed annoyed at Jungkook, and I watched as whenever he would suggest something he was immediately shut down, making him pout. 

“Well, did you ask her?” Yoongi said to Jungkook, he looked away at the question and Yoongi sighed as he rubbed his face into his hands. “Kook-”

“If i didn't do it they would have, and you know it. Besides, she didn't mind. Right?” Jungkook looked over to me as he asked the question, I was confused and tried to answer, but I was cut off as Namjoon started speaking to him about me.

“She doesn't understand it! How could she be okay with it? She doesn't seem okay with it.” He called out. “You…You should have at least told us and asked her.”

“I think I know what a hickey is, Namjoon.” I expressed, slightly offended, that they didn't think I knew what a simple hickey was. I was beginning to feel a bit annoyed at how they kept cutting me off and talking about me like I wasn't there.

“Stop calling it a hickey! It is not just a hickey Y/n. He marked you!” Jimin yelled as he moved his hands around in front of him before lifting them up to sit on his forehead, his fingers shading over his face as he turned around and paced for a bit before stopping.

Marked me?

“He marked me?” I wondered out loud, I didn't really know much about marking, I knew it was something that hybrids did, but that was about it. “What does that mean?” I asked quickly, growing tired of not understanding things.

“It’s uhh, it’s like…” Hobi began to explain, but he kept fumbling over his words like he wasn't sure how to phrase it.

“He marked you as his.” Yoongi said bluntly. I scoffed because I had already gathered that much from what Jimin had said, but then Yoongi said more. “It’s telling other hybrids to back off because you're theirs, you already have a hybrid.”

I didn't say anything as I thought about what Yoongi had said. He marked me as his? Why? He wants other hybrids to ‘back off’, what does that even mean? My thoughts continued to run rampant in my mind as I was processing this new information, I moved my hand up to rest under my chin as I rubbed my lips with my index finger.

I moved my hand from my chin to my neck as I subconsciously covered up the mark while still in thought, I caught movement in the corner of my eye causing me to break from my thoughts and look over. Jungkook looked a bit agitated, and he flinched when I moved my hand to cover up his mark.

“Don’t.” I turned to face Namjoon as he grabbed hold of my hand and pulled it down away from my neck. “He doesn't want you covering it up, it's almost like you're rejecting him if you do. Marks are important to hybrids.” Namjoon spoke softly and clearly, he knew that I didn't understand, and he was giving me time to process it by talking slower.

I looked down at my hands, I watched as Namjoon let his grip on my hand lift away as he took his hand back, I dropped my hands down to my sides before pulling them behind my back, I looked up at everyone and smiled.

“Okay, I won't cover it up.” I declared as I grinned at Jungkook who seemed to be bursting with excitement. I told him that if he did it again, or something similar, he needed to at least tell me what he was doing, I didn't want to end up getting dragged into something that I didn't understand again. The boys gave Jungkook a form of silent treatment for the most part, they were petty and wanted him to feel guilty. I joined in too for the most part because I thought it was funny to watch him try get attention.

I was sitting down on the bed and Jin was sitting on the floor between my legs as I played with his hair, putting it up in a lopsided ponytail and attempting to braid it. I stopped when I started thinking about the dinner we had earlier.

“I’m sorry. I didn't realise that bringing you guys here would be such a problem.” I said aloud. Everyone turned to look at me, including Jin who had pulled away from my hands just as I was about to finish typing the hair tie. I pouted at him as he ruined the hair style.

“What? What do you mean?” Hobi asked me from his spot on the desk chair that he was sprawled out on as he used one leg to spin it side to side, I smiled slightly at his silly pose.

“Well, you guys don't seem to get along very well with Jennie and Lisa, which is fine of course!” I started while pushing Jin's head to face the other way so I could continue on with my masterpiece. “You don't have to like them obviously. If I had known I would've tried harder to find somewhere else. Is it just some hybrid thing that I'm too human to understand?”

I chuckled as there seemed to be more and more things about hybrids that I just didn't understand.

“No, it’s nothing like that, it's just-” Jimin started to explain when a random thought popped into my head and I couldn't help myself.

“Wait, are you guys… jealous? Of Lisa and Jennie? Is that what it is?” I asked almost jokingly, but the silence in the room told me that I'd just solved the riddle.

“What? No, Y/n! It’s not that-”

“Oh my goodness, it totally is! Everytime they get close to me, one of you comes and scares them away.” I exclaimed as I thought of all the times that they had done just that, I let go of Jin’s hair as I raised my hands up to cover my mouth while I smiled ear to ear and giggled at how red their faces were from me figuring it out.

“Uhm… we’re sorry.”

“It’s fine. I don't mind, really.” I said as I couldn't contain my wide smile as I felt butterflies fluttering in my stomach. Part of me wanted to push them back down to wherever they came from, but the other part of me relished in the feeling. I picked up another hair band before tying it and giving Jin 2 cute pigtails on either side of his head. “Besides, it's kinda cute that you guys get jealous over me.” 

The house was quiet, Jisoo had gone out with Lisa and Jennie, so it was just the boys and me. I was sitting in the lounge room, a thick warm blanket wrapped around my shoulders as I sat on the floor, my back against the couch and my knees crossed as I leaned forwards over the coffee table. My laptop was open, and the many tabs were on clear display as I kept swapping between them all, the table and floor was covered with various pieces of paper with the details of different places that checked the boxes that absolutely need to be checked, I reached for my thermos filled with hot chocolate and took a sip from it.

A noise from the kitchen dragged me away from the house hunting as I turned and tried to make myself taller to see who it was, I couldn't see their face, but I did catch a glimpse of around black ears, I quickly swallow the hot liquid and put down the thermos as I yelled out trying not to choke.

“Wait!” I scrambled to stand up as I tried not to disrupt the papers on the table. I turned to face the panther hybrids as I spoke. “Perfect timing! Could you get everyone else to come down here?”

He gave me a small salute before turning the corner and walking away. I fell back down onto the floor and wrapped the blanket around myself again as I heard his footsteps echo through the house as he jumped up the stairs. Soon enough everyone had made it down to the lounge room where they did their best to find somewhere to sit without disrupting any of the somewhat organised papers.

“Okay, so…” I started as I grabbed a handful of papers that had what seemed to be the best choice of houses on them with all their information. I passed them to Namjoon who sat to my left and told him to pass them around. “I've been looking for houses, a new place for us to live, because as grateful as I am for Jisoo allowing us to stay here, if I get walked in while I'm changing one more time, I'm going to get ptsd.” I heard a few of the boys chuckle at what I had said, but I was only half joking. 

“Since this is the first time that we’ve really spoken about this, I wasn't sure what you all wanted in a house, I did make a list of things that I think we need, but feel free to add to it or take something off of it.” I said again as I passed out a notepad and pen that had all the things I was looking for in a house.

I saw Jimin reach for my thermos in front of me, but I quickly reached for it too, snatching it out of his hands. He looked at me sadly and with confusion and I looked back at him. “It's hot chocolate. You can't have it.” He seemed surprised before he smiled back at me and whispered a thanks as he looked down at the piece of paper that had been handed to him.

“5 bedrooms?” Yoongi asked from beside Namjoon as he looked at me.

“Yes, I thought 5 bedrooms would be ideal. You guys get one big room to share to sleep in, and I thought you could have 3 other rooms to kind of do your own things, you know?” I explained to them as I pointed it out in my notes that I struggled to find amongst the other papers. “And then a room for me.”

“Sounds good to me, you've really thought this out, Y/n.” Hoseok beamed in gratitude as he passed the small notepad to the person on his left. I thanked him before talking about how it had been on my mind for a while and how 5 bedrooms made the most sense for what we needed. 

I reached for the notepad as it made its way back to me, my eyes skimmed over my note and the small words on the sides until I read the new suggestions that the boys had written down. “Large backyard? That’s good, I should've thought of that.” I mumbled, thankfully most of the houses, except for one or two, had decent backyards already. “Trampoline? What? We don't need a trampoline.”

I heard someone sigh out loud at my last comment causing me to giggle.

“Won’t a house this big be expensive?” Jin mumbled from behind me.

“Yeah, but I got it covered, don't worry.”

“We want to help, Y/n.” Namjoon said. “We don't want you to have to keep paying for everything.”

I hummed at what he said, understanding the feeling of not always wanting people to do things for you, I understood that feeling all too well. I thought about what he said, and he was right, I had been paying for everything, I didn't mind but I didn't think about how that might have affected them.  “Well, how about I pay for the house initially, but after that we can split the cost for everything between the 8 of us?”

Everyone seemed to agree with that. As we continued looking at the different houses that I had chosen, throwing some out and choosing our favourite, I made some calls and sent some emails so I could set up viewings. We had a few lined up for the rest of the week now, as we all decided who would be going with me to each viewing. After some time, everyone went back to what they were doing before, I was still in the lounge room along with Jimin.

I sighed as I flopped down onto the couch and instantly, I felt my muscles relax. I leaned my head on some cushions as my fingers played with the bottom of my shirt making it ride up and expose part of my stomach. A gush of cold air came through the room causing me to pull my shirt down further, I went to reach for my blanket from before, but Jimin stood in front of me, a smile on his face as his head tilted to the side, his golden ears folded over, one with a kink making it fold inside out.

I laughed at the cuteness of the man in front of me as he stepped closer. “What's up?” I asked him as I reached a hand out towards him, which he held onto.

He hummed, stepping closer to the couch before kneeling down on it, between my legs and flopping down onto my stomach. I coughed as the air left my lungs and I let out a breathless laugh as he wiggled himself to get more comfortable. 

“Nothing.” He mumbled, he turned his head up to face me with a silly smirk on his face, which left my stomach feeling uneasy. I tried to play it off by letting a small chuckle leave my chest as I looked into his brown eyes, I could feel my face heating up as I gazed back at him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked him as I covered my face with my hands to hide from his alluring gaze. I heard him laugh out loud, I braved peeking through my fingers to hopefully catch a glimpse, as my fingers separated and the light reached my vision, I saw him staring right back at me, I couldn’t help the small yelp that left my chest at seeing him staring right back at me.

He chuckled and I felt him shuffle around again before I felt his hands wrap themselves around mine, he pulled them down and away from my face causing me to look right at him. His loving smile on full display as his eyes curved into crescent moons, my breath hitching in my throat at the view. 

I kept staring at him as he opened his eyes to look back at me, my stomach felt funny as I watched him shake his head whilst smiling, his blond hair flopping around on top of his head as he leaned down to fully rest on top of me. I felt his arms wrap around my side and his fingers wiggled their way underneath my back as he pushed himself closer to me, I could feel his chest moving against my stomach from his breathing, he faced towards the back of the couch, and I could just barely see his face as he closed his eyes and nudged the side of his face further into my chest.

The uneasy feeling in my stomach didn't go away, it got bigger and harder to contain as it felt like it was bursting and filling with butterflies, I could help the deep blush that appear on my face or the wide smile that spread on it, the smile was so wide it started to hurt, but I couldn't bring myself to stop. I gazed down at the Dog hybrid as he rested, I move my hand up and snaked my fingers into his soft hair and lightly played with it as I looked up to the ceiling, my chest hurt from the strong feelings of happiness as I continued to play with Jimin’s hair while he rested in silence.

I stayed on the couch with Jimin laying between my legs for what felt like hours. His head rested on my chest as I softly played with his hair and his ears. The days were getting colder recently so I was happy to be around hybrids all the time. Jimin’s body heat covered me, and in turn, warmed me up. Slowly he moved his head so he was looking at me. I stopped with my movements as I stared into his eyes.

He shuffled himself around, so he was laying on his stomach and he moved himself further up and closer to my face without breaking eye contact. My breath hitched in my throat as he looked into my eyes, I studied his face as he was so close to me.

“You’re staring again.”

“I-”

“It’s okay. I don't mind.” He cut me off before I could defend myself, I smiled back at him before attempting to cover my face up again with my hand, but he intertwined his finger with mine, stopping me from covering my face. I whined and tried to pull my hand away from him, but he wasn't going to let go.

“You're so cute, Y/n.” He teased, moving his arms so he could sit up. His hair hung over his head along with his ears and he smiled down at me. I tried to break away from him as I saw his free hand move towards my sides, but his hold on me was strong. He kept spitting out compliments while poking and prodding my ribs with his other hand.

“Jimin!” I whined out the end of his name. I was embarrassed by his teasing, but I couldn't help the smile that spread on my face and the laugh that left my mouth as he kept tickling me. Finally, the torture stopped and I took a second to catch my breath. I looked up at the culprit, his teeth on full display as he had a wide smile on his face.

I stared up into his eyes as he stared down at me, I watched as his eyes moved down slightly before flicking back up to my eyes. My eyes caught onto his lips, plump, full, and dusted with a light pink, I looked back up to his eyes, but I could stop myself from glancing down at his lips every few seconds and I could see he kept looking down at mine as we shared deep breaths while looking at each other, we didn't say anything, just watching each other and taking in the others actions.

“Hey, do you guys know where the remote is?”

A/n: The long awaited, off schedule chapter is finally here! This chapter came out great and i loved writing it, sorry for the wait again, i wasn't sure how to finish it off, but i think it ended pretty well. 🤭🥰Also! I made a mood board for Y/n because i thought it would be fun, it'll be on my profile, probably the post before this one. I feel like Jisoo house is driving Y/n mad with all the jealous hybrids lmao. I hope you all have a lovely day or night and thankyou all for the reading! 💜

#bts x reader #bts imagines #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #lillsisamarshmallow #hybrid!bts x reader #lills bts #lills kpop #lillswrites #lills 7 hybrids moved in with me #hoseok imagine #7hmiwm #hoseok x reader #jimin x reader #namjoon x reader #seokjin x reader #taehyung x reader #bts ff #yoongi x reader #bts fic #bts hybrid au #namjoon imagine #seokjin imagine #yoongi imagine #jimin imagine #taehyung imagine

[hd-junglebook]

My Sunshine

Prologue (short and sweet just how I like em)

Warnings - brief mentions of sex, mention of plan b pills, toxic relationship, pregnancy

a:n I feel like the chapter I posted for jack was too rushed, so I rewrote the entire thing. I hope you enjoy this one even more because I enjoyed writing the parts for it.

Masterlist Link

Summary: After Jason suddenly declares he no longer wants to have a baby with her, despite their previous plans, Y/N finally leaves the hell that is her home and seeks the one thing that could give her answers. After agonizing over the decision, Y/N takes the tests spiraling over the results.

Word Count ~ 2054

...

Y/N collapsed onto the bed, her chest heaving and her skin glistening with a sheen of sweat. Adrenaline still coursed through her veins as she reached out for Jason, desperately seeking the comfort of his warm embrace.

But to her dismay, he merely rolled over, his back facing her. The deafening silence that followed was oppressive, broken only by their labored breathing.

"Hey," she broached softly, a tremor in her voice. "What's wrong?" Y/N asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She propped herself up on her elbow, studying Jason's tense profile in the dim light of the bedroom as she gently rubbed his back, trying to offer whatever comfort she could.

He grumbled something unintelligible, his jaw clenched tight, his body rigid and unyielding.

"What did you say?" Y/N pressed, a sense of unease and dread creeping into her chest, tightening around her heart.

"I said," Jason repeated, his voice cold and detached, "I don't want to have a baby with you anymore."

Y/N's heart stopped, her breath catching in her throat as a wave of disbelief and heartbreak washed over her. In the muted glow of the bedroom, Y/N's world shattered like fragile glass. Her body, still throbbing and tingling from their intimate encounter, now grew cold and numb.

Jason sat up, his expression hard and unyielding as he turned to face Y/N. "You heard me. I don't want a baby. We try and try to conceive this...this thing ," he said, his voice dripping with disdain, "but it hasn't worked. I'm tired of trying. I've had my fill of you for the last five months."

Y/N felt as if she had been slapped, the words striking her like a physical blow. She sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest, her mind reeling from the devastating revelation.

"But we talked about this," she argued, her voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and hurt. "We agreed that we were ready, that we wanted to start a family. You said you were gonna marry me! How can you say you've had your fill of the woman you want to spend the rest of your life with?"

Jason scoffed, rolling his eyes dismissively. "Well, I changed my mind. And it's not like you have much of a say in the matter, anyway," he sneered.

Y/N's eyes narrowed, anger flaring hot and fierce in her veins. "Excuse me?" she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. How dare he treat her as if she had no say in the matter - this was their future, their dream, their child they were discussing.

"You heard me," Jason repeated, his tone mocking and callous. "It's my decision, too. And I've decided that I don't want a kid tying me down." He turned away, his broad shoulders rigid with finality, leaving Y/N feeling utterly betrayed and alone.

Without another word, Y/N rose from the bed, her movements stiff and mechanical as she gathered her discarded clothes. She stalked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her with a resounding bang that reverberated through the tense silence.

Leaning heavily against the sink, she braced her trembling hands on the cool porcelain as hot, angry tears streamed down her flushed cheeks.

With a shaking hand, she turned on the shower, the scalding spray pounding against her skin as she stepped under it, scrubbing furiously.

She tried in vain to wash away the lingering feeling of Jason's touch, the essence of their intimate encounter seeping onto her thighs. The water cascaded down her body, but it offered no solace, no relief from the anguish consuming her.

Desperate, Y/N rummaged through the cabinets, her movements frantic as she pushed aside bottles of shampoo and tubes of toothpaste, searching for the small foil packet that held her last hope. But as she tore through the cluttered shelves, her heart sank, a fresh wave of panic crashing over her.

The pill was gone.

"No, no, no," she choked out, her voice breaking with anguish. "Fuck!" she cried, slamming her fist against the unyielding tile wall.

The impact sent a jolt of pain through her hand, but she barely registered it, consumed by the overwhelming fear of being trapped - tethered to a man who no longer loved her, who didn't want the life they had so carefully planned together.

The bathroom descended into chaos as Y/N's desperation reached a fever pitch. She swept her arm across the counter, sending bottles and jars crashing to the floor, the sound of shattering glass mingling with her anguished sobs.

Tearing open drawers, she flung their contents aside, heedless of the mess she was creating. In her frantic search, she upended the trash can, the contents spilling out across the tile.

Y/N's world was crashing down around her, and she felt powerless to stop it. She sank to the floor, curling in on herself as the full weight of her devastation overwhelmed her. Clutching her knees to her chest, she wept bitterly, her heart shattering into a million irreparable pieces.

…

The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting an eerie glow on the nearly empty shelves of the CVS. Y/N stood in the middle of the aisle, her eyes darting back and forth between the rows of cardboard boxes, her heart pounding in her chest.

The silence was deafening, broken only by the distant hum of the refrigerators and the static of the TV mounted on the wall.

Beside her, Heather shifted from foot to foot, her impatience growing with each passing second. The tapping of her foot against the linoleum floor echoed through the store, grating on Y/N's already frayed nerves.

"Could you stop tapping and put that pea brain of yours to use?" Y/N snapped, her voice cutting through the stillness like a knife. The harsh words escaped her lips before she could even register them, her nerves completely frayed.

Heather shot her a sideways glance, her lips pressed into a thin line. She reached out and grabbed a box from the shelf, shoving it into Y/N's hands.

"This looks fine, Y/N," she said, her tone clipped and laced with a hint of irritation. "You've read every box back to front. I think you should just choose one."

Y/N stared down at the box in her hands, her mind racing with a whirlwind of emotions. She knew Heather was right, but choosing a box made the situation feel too real – this box held the answer to the rest of her life. The weight of the decision felt crushing, and she couldn't help but feel utterly alone in this moment, despite Heather's presence.

Swallowing thickly, Y/N ran her fingers over the cardboard, tracing the words printed on the packaging. Every fiber of her being wanted to tear the box open, to find the answers that would dictate her future. But the fear of what those answers might be paralyzed her, leaving her frozen in place, the box trembling in her shaking hands.

"Screw it," Y/N muttered under her breath, her resolve hardening. She grabbed four more boxes from the shelf, the cardboard containers feeling heavy in her hands.

Without another moment's hesitation, she turned to walk away, but something made her pause. With a sigh of frustration, she spun back around and snatched one more box, just for good measure.

Heather let out a surprised laugh, shaking her head in disbelief at Y/N's sudden burst of decisiveness. "Alright, that's more like it," she murmured, offering her friend an encouraging smile, despite the gravity of the situation.

She wandered over to the fridges and grabbed a 2-liter bottle of soda before meeting Y/N at the checkout counter.

They plopped their items down in front of the cashier, a middle-aged man with a receding hairline and a bored expression on his face. He glanced up at them, his eyes widening as he took in the array of pregnancy tests and the massive bottle of soda.

The cashier's voice cut through the tense silence as he spoke up, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Having trouble deciding, ladies?"

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up, suddenly self-conscious under the man's curious gaze. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat, leaving her uncharacteristically flustered.

Thankfully, Heather jumped in, offering the cashier a polite smile. "Oh, you know how it is," she said, her tone light and diplomatic. "Gotta make sure we get the right ones, you know?"

The cashier nodded, his expression understanding as he scanned their items and bagged them up. "That'll be $32.50," he said, adding the final box to the pile.

Y/N silently handed over the cash, her heart pounding in her chest. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. The cashier gave her a sympathetic nod, his eyes twinkling with a hint of empathy that made Y/N's stomach twist.

With the transaction complete, they turned and walked out of the CVS, the automatic doors sliding shut behind them with a soft whoosh. The night air was cool and crisp, a welcome relief from the stuffy interior of the store.

Y/N took a deep breath, savoring the sensation of the fresh air filling her lungs as she gripped the bag containing the pregnancy tests, the weight of it heavy in her hand.

She looked over at Heather, who gave her a reassuring smile. "Ready?" her friend asked, her voice soft and laced with concern.

Y/N steeled herself, squaring her shoulders as she met Heather's gaze. "not at all," she replied. With a deep breath, she began walking towards her car, Heather by her side.

…

Y/N sat on the cold tile floor of her bathroom, her knees drawn up to her chest and her heart racing. She had lined up all eleven pregnancy tests on the edge of the bathtub, each one turned face down, waiting for the results that would change her life forever.

The minutes ticked by agonizingly slowly, each second feeling like an eternity. Y/N's mind raced with a million different scenarios, each one more terrifying than the last. What would she do if the tests were positive? How would she tell Jason? Would he even care?

Suddenly, Heather's voice rang out from the other side of the door, startling Y/N from her thoughts.

"Time!" she shouted, her voice muffled by the thick wood.

Y/N inhaled deeply, trying to calm her frayed nerves. She slowly lifted her head from her lap, her muscles aching from sitting in the same position for so long. Using the sink for support, she pulled herself to her feet, her knees suddenly weak and shaky.

With trembling hands, Y/N reached out and flipped over the first test, her heart pounding in her chest. A bold, unmistakable pink plus sign stared back at her, and she felt her heart skip a beat, her breath catching in her throat.

Hands shaking, she moved down the line, flipping over each test one by one. Plus sign after plus sign greeted her, until all eleven tests lay face up on the bathtub, their results crystal clear.

Y/N hiccupped, her hand flying to her mouth as a tear slipped down her cheek. She was pregnant. There was no denying it now - the evidence was right there in front of her, etched in pink and white plastic.

The reality of the situation crashed over her like a tidal wave, and she felt her legs give out from under her as she sank back down to the floor.

Sobs wracked her body, her anguish palpable as she grappled with the devastating truth. She was going to be a mother, and the father of her child was a man who no longer wanted her.

Heather's voice called out again, this time softer and more concerned. "Y/N? Are you okay in there?"

Y/N tried to respond, but the words stuck in her throat, choked by the lump of emotion that had settled there. She heard the doorknob rattle, and then Heather was there, kneeling beside her on the floor and wrapping her in a tight, comforting embrace.

"Oh, honey," Heather murmured, stroking Y/N's hair as she cried. "It's going to be okay. We'll figure this out together, I promise." Heather's voice was soothing, a balm to Y/N's shattered nerves, and she clung to her friend arms.

...

Tag List <3

@fearfam69691, @alwaysclassyeagle, @rebelatbay, @dancerbailey3, @dasiysthings, @shawnshoney

#jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes #jack hughes fic #timo meier #njd #new jersey devils #luke hughes #dawson mercer #jack hughes x reader #new fic #jack hughes smut #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x oc #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes masterlist #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x sister!reader #new writers on tumblr #nhl x reader #hockey imagine #nj devils #jh86 #hughes brothers #nhl smut #nhl hockey #nhl fic #nhl playoffs #nhl imagine

[muwapsturniolo]

✯𝐖𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐉𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐞✯

chris x black earthy/boho!reader

IN WHICH…we take a dive into the relationship between Chris and y/n, and how their love for each other is beyond compare.

WARNINGS: just fluff.

PT.1

Y/n wasn’t looking for a relationship and she sure as hell wasn’t looking for love either. So she was shocked when Chris Sturniolo came out of nowhere and fell into her life.

She remembers how they met.

She was at a flea market, looking for new decor in her home. She had her mind set on a few plants and maybe even some artwork from a local artist. She was looking at a jewelry stand when Chris noticed her.

He recognized her instantly, having watched almost all of her YouTube videos. He stood in place, watching her carefully examine the handmade jewelry. He walked over to her, calling out her name, however, she couldn’t hear him over Erykah Badu singing in her ear. He ended up tapping her on her shoulder which caught her attention.

She took off the green headphones and stared at him, “could I help you with something?”

The two talked and talked, and talked. Chris ended up ditching his friend and brothers to walk around with her. He bought her food, talked about music, and even traded numbers with her.

From there the two became close, close enough to develop mutual crushes on each other. The only problem was that Y/n was scared.

She was scared with how fast she was falling for Chris. This was something new, something fresh, something innocent.

She wasn’t innocent.

She was damaged.

She knew that her mind was fucked up due to her previous relationship. She hated it, she wished Chris was her first love. She wished she wasn’t fucked up so she wouldn’t hurt him in the long run.

But she wanted it, she wanted whatever it was her and Chris were blossoming into. She wanted it for better or worse.

Chris saw her hesitancy when it came to him, he saw the battle going on in her mind when it came to her emotions towards him. So he did his best to prove he’s all in.

He did his best to give words of reassurance, he sent her flowers on her upload days to show her support, he searched for limited edition vinyls for her, He even made her a care basket when he realized she was on her period.

Y/n appreciated it all, she never took it for granted. She felt herself changing since Chris came into her life and for that,

He had her love. He had it and he could have it forever, because he earned it.

She vibed with Chris, she vibed with him on a higher frequency than she ever has with anyone else. They were so in sync in certain areas of life it scared her at first, but she grew to love it.

She loved what she had found with Chris and she vowed to herself to never do anything to mess it up. Little did she know Chris made the same vow.

They just had this motion between them that everyone could see, it was powerful, admirable, emotional.

They had the juice.

And they knew it.

There were times when Y/n would stare at Chris, thinking about how he magically appeared in her life and flipped it upside down for the better. She would run it back, replaying the moment he tapped her on her shoulder and smiled.

She replayed all the memories they’d created, the laughter, the new experiences, even their first time having sex.

She came to the conclusion that he was the one.

And she was back to being scared.

She couldn’t believe how fast she fell and connected with him, it drove her crazy but she still wanted him.

Chris felt the same way.

It was no secret Chris had a problem with relationships, never being able to commit due to his own fear of being hurt. He was prone to self-sabotaging.

But she made it easy for him the same way he made it easy for her. She wasn’t like the rest of the girls in LA who only cared about fame money, and clothes.

She didn’t care about his sneakers or how he dressed or how much money he made. She loved him for him, she loved his family, she loved... And all he could do was be grateful and return the favor.

They understood eachother, the were on the same wavelength, they were twin flames.

They had the juice.

AHHHH IM SORRY THIS IS SO SHORT BUT I WAS JUST TRYING TO CREATE THE VIBE OF THE SONG.

TAGLIST 🍑

@bernardsgf @bernardsleftbootycheek @blahbel668 @mattfrfr @gdsvhtwa @sturniolo-aali @lily-loves-struniolos @kynda-avery @causeidontlikeagoldrush

@st7rnioioss @carolinalikesthings @mattslolita @suyqa @xxloveralways14 @pepsiimaxx @judespoision

@ivonchetooo1239 @imaslut4kehlani @that-general-simp @m4stermindd @itzdarling @gigisworldsstuff @adoreindie @braindead4l @pettydollie @chrissgirlsstuff @alexis007 @ratatioulle @yamamasjumpercables @luv4kozume @sturnioloslurps @kqyslyho3 @j3tblackt3ars @ilovestarz @lustfulslxt @soimightlikeoldmen69 @tastesousweet @slut4sebastiansallow @whicked-hazlatwhore @stasiesturn @loljackwasfat @nicksmainbitch @ninacutebee16 @mayhem-72 @sturniolosmind @breeloveschris @mattslolita @mattsivy @guccifrog @hysteria-things @mrssturnioloo @koris_009 @patscorner @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @nickuniversity @luverboychris @thenickgirl @riasturns @imwetforyourmom @junnniiieee07 @realuvrrr @milasturniolo @fwskullz @hearts4tatemcrae @mattandchrismakemewett @chrissystur @canthelpit0 @strnilo @demistyles @junovrsmp4 @heartsforchrisandmatt @maryx2xx @vecnasnose0 @freshsturns @xxsturnxx @pettydollie @crimsoncorpse @sturnssmuts @sturniolovoid @m0r94n @freshsturns @adoreindie @sturnstvr

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris girl #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matt girl #fluff #chris sturniolo fluff #x reader #sturniolo fluff #sturniolo triplets fluff

[lowkeyerror]

The Family Business Ch.11

WandaNat x Reader

Word count: 2.7k

Ch. Notes: Violence, Physical assualt

Summary: Fisk is not happy with the way things turned out regarding the docks. He makes his own power play in retaliation that puts everyone on notice.

An: Sorry for not updating yesterday guys but Im planning on posting again before Monday to make it up to you

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Wilson Fisk was never one to shy away from the reality of a situation. To him, living life in such a make-believe state would not propel him to the success that he craved. He had built an empire, a kingdom, but had no one to share it with. He lost his family, and with them gone the only thing to fill the void was power.

Fisk was addicted to it. He needed it. It was only thing that made him feel good. So, though his empire was large he was acutely aware that it wasn’t the largest. The Maximoff’s presence cast a large looming shadow over his own. So, he looked to take care of the problem.

Fisk knew he would shoot Dragos Maximoff as soon as they agreed to meet in private. He assumed the Sokovian was a man of his word and would come alone. He was mistaken, and he hated making mistakes.

Knowing that the Dragos was hospitalized was good at first. Fisk didn’t care if the man lived or died because he thought without Dragos in the way the Maximoff’s would crumble. He was again, mistaken.

The reality of the situation was the Wilson Fisk underestimated the remaining Maximoff’s. He was foolish to believe that New York city would become his so quickly.

An oil spill was clever. It was big, messy, and destructive, but it would always go over as an accident. Fisk realizes that simply blowing up the pier wouldn’t have halted things as much. The play was high IQ.

His large fist slammed against his desk nearly snapping in half. While the Maximoff’s were getting calls placing orders, Fisk was taking order cancelations. He was having the people he got on his side retract their support. He was losing the power, and he would not take kindly to giving up anymore.

Watching them retreat would never be enough.  He wanted the Maximoff’s to crumble beneath him, to beg him for mercy. They had embarrassed him in one foul swoop age he wild stop at nothing to have them burn with the same feeling.

You weren’t naïve enough to believe retaliation wouldn't be coming. It arguably was giving you anxiety. All the waiting and looking over your shoulder would've taken a larger toll on you if you were dealing with them alone.

However, you weren’t alone. In fact, contrary to your previous belief Wanda did not forget the terms you agreed to. You spent your nights between the spy and temporary crime boss.

It became somewhat of a routine. Even if you went to your apartment after work, you’d always end up at their place soon after. It’s nice, and that's why you refuse to question it.

It helps you sleep restfully but occupies to much of your mind when you're awake. It makes you feel like a teenager. The only person you can confide in is Kate. You tell her, but she’s not much help. Kate encourages this and pushes you to take more emotional comfort from the women.

Your feet hit the ground a little harder than normal as you run this morning. You think about the familiar, almost instinctual attraction you have for Wanda. Then your mind turns to the new undiscovered feelings you have for her wife. You found yourself craving to be in proximity with the Russian more and more.

Natasha had a warmth around her. She had no problem taking the backseat and blending in, but the moment she sensed anything was amiss she sprang into action quickly. Recently she had started making sure you had a lunch at work after Kate told her you’d usually skip it. There was no point in trying to turn down anything from the woman. Though you hadn’t known each other long it seemed like she just understood you.

You’re too occupied with your thoughts, and not paying enough attention to your surroundings. When you stop running, you go to turn around but a firm hand on your shoulder stops you. A gun is pressed firmly against your spine.

“We’re going to have a little chat. Now keep walking,” the man says guiding you with his hand.

You don’t say anything, you simply follow his instructions. Your nerves don’t fret, even as he directs you to an alley. Once you’re out of public view, he turns you to face him.

“Y/n L/n, high ranking employee of the Maximoff Family,” he spoke the gun now aimed at your sternum.

“Fisk,” you’re glare is unwavering.

He sizes you up, “Aren’t you a sweet little thing? Unfortunately, I’m going to have to put a dent in that pretty face you got.”

“Killing me would only hurt you in the long run,” you say to him.

He smiles, “It would, you’re absolutely right, but hurting you sends a message.”

“I’d like to see you try,” you keep your eyes on his.

He laughs, “Me? No, I don’t get my hands dirty for people like you. I’m only here to make sure you relay this to whoever’s in charge. Tell them that I won’t stop, tell them that surrender is no longer an option, and tell them they should keep an eye on the hospital.”

The last line sends you over the edge and before you know it, you’re attempting to disarm the mob boss. Your movements are fast but as soon as the gun is in your hand, you take a blow to the knees. You fall to the floor and the gun slides out of your hand.

Fisk bends down and picks up the gun, he tucks it into his coat. He looks down at you with a smile on his face, “Make sure she's recognizable boys. Until we meet again sweet thing."

That’s when you notice your predicament. The alley that had once been empty was now filled with Fisk’s men. The large man himself, gets into a car at the end of the alley which drives away promptly. The circle around you, but you refuse to be fragile in this moment. You slowly stand and look at the men, there’s around 8 of them. It seems like time works in slow motion.

You move first to the closest man to you and immediately twist his neck with a satisfying snap. He drops onto the floor and before you can get to another your on the floor with him. The men stomp you out harshly.

Once they’re certain they have the upper hand they begin to get more creative. The start using their fists and elbows connecting anywhere they can. The screams don't displace the pain you feel.

Your attempts to fight back only anger them further. You don’t know hoe long the beating continues for. You feel yourself slip in and out of consciousness a few times.

Blood coats your body in multiple places. You can’t tell when it starts or stops. You can barely breathe when they finally stop their assault.

“Send the Maximoff’s our regards,” one of the lackeys spit on you before laying a final nasty kick to your gut. He walks out of the alley with his men behind him.

Your back lay flat against the concrete as you stare up at the sky. Turning your head hurts, but you do it anyway. Carefully, you scoot yourself over to the wall and try to prop yourself up.

It was only a matter of time before someone came looking for you. You should’ve been by now and you weren’t. Knowing Wanda and Natasha the search party would be deployed soon.

However, keeping your consciousness was becoming a task. Your breaths are shallow and labored. The pain finally starts to set in, and tears fall from your eyes. Everything hurts, so much so that you're afraid to try to stand up.

It couldn’t have been longer than half an hour when a car pulls up in the alleyway. Your head hangs heavy, and you hope to God that these people are on your side.

Pietro is the first to reach you. He can’t find any words to say as he sees you in this state. He begins to shake his head as he bends down to get a better look at you. His hand cups your face gently and it trembles.

It hurts, but you reach your hand out to hold his wrist, “Jesus Christ, Y/n.”

You hear more steps approaching, but you stay focused on the man in front of you.  You’re scared for them to see you like this.

“Y/n,” There’s disbelief on her tongue as she whispers your name. She doesn’t want this to be you, but as your bloody tear-stained face raises to meet her eyes, her resolve crumbles.

Wanda can’t help the tears that immediately begin to fall out of her eyes. Your face had begun to swell, blood dripped from your nose, your lip was bleeding too. They could see the bruises beginning to form over your exposed arms and torso.

You gaze over at the other redhead who refuses to look at you. Her body posture is rigid, and her eyes are cast firmly on the ground, you can see how cloudy they are.

“We have to get her to the hospital,” Pietro says.

You nearly scream out, “NO!”

They see the alarm and panic in your face, but Natasha tries to reason with you, “Y/n, you’re hurt badly. They need to check you out or-"

“Bucky,” you cut her off, looking between Pietro and Wanda.

“Y/n, he doesn’t do that anymore and you know that” Pietro says softly.

“Try,” you counter back.

Pietro looks to his sister who nods. He reluctantly leaves his position next to you and pulls out his phone to make the call.

“Why not the hospital?”

You shake your head, but then wince, “It’s not safe.”

“Who said it wasn’t safe baby?” Wanda takes Pietro’s place hand in yours.

“Fisk, he said- he won’t stop, there’s no surrender, and that we should watch the hospital,” you attempt to struggle to your feet.

“Y/n-"

“We have to get Papa out Wanda. He’s not safe there, we have to move him, we have to,” you begin to work yourself up feeling the anxiety finally starts to hit you.

It's Natasha’s firm hand on your shoulder that keeps you in place, “Y/n, breath with me.”

You go to protest, but the look of worry in her eyes causes you to pause. She takes a deep breath in, and you try to copy her, but you end up wincing.

Wanda sees this and lifts up your shirt to see your midsection badly bruised. Her touch is tender as her fingers glide over the faded cut on your side.

“You think anything they did will leave a scar like that?” You say with shallow breaths.

“If they weren't already going to die for doing this to you, I’d kill them for leaving a cut like that on you,” she says pulling your shirt back down.

Pietro walks back over to the three of you, “He said he'll do it, we just have to get her there.”

Wanda scoops you into her arms and walks you to the car. She carefully lays you down in the backseat before getting in herself. Pietro drives and Natasha takes the passenger seat. Wanda’s hand finds its way into your hair, trying to bring you any type of comfort.

“He told them to leave me recognizable, so they didn't focus to hard on my face after awhile,” you say to them.

“How many were there?” Natasha asks.

“8, 7 really I snapped that guys neck first,”  you recount.

“How did he get you?” Pietro asks next.

You frown, “I wasn’t paying enough attention when I was running. He came up behind me and put a gun to my back.”

“He pulled a gun on you?” You can feel the woman getting upset.

You take your hand and place it in hers, “I will be fine. Bucky’s going to patch me up real nice.”

Once you arrive at the former doctors house, you’re greeted by a less than enthusiastic James Buchanan Barnes or Bucky for short.

“I retired for a reason you know?” He says as he let’s you all into his home.

The sight of you in Wanda’s arms startles him a bit. Wanda asks, “Where are we putting her?”

“Upstairs second door on your right,” he finds himself quickly leading them to the room.

Wanda is careful as she lays you down. They all stand as Bucky begins to prepare for this job.

“What happened to you kid, were you hit by a bus?”

“8 on 1 attack,” Pietro explains.

“The bus might’ve been better then,” Bucky says as he begins to check the extent of your injuries.

You try not to move too much as he pokes and prods your body. Sometimes you hiss, groan, but you don’t flinch.

“So, what’s the diagnosis Buck?” Wanda has her eyes on you as she speaks.

“Luckily, I don't think anything is broken, but her ribs are severely bruised, and I think her right ankle is sprained. Besides that, I think it's just bruising and some small cuts. Her nose is fine, her lips are fine, and her head is fine. She’s going to have to keep her weight off of her leg and wrap her torso until she’s healed.”

Wanda nods, committing the words to memory, “What do I owe you?”

He shakes his head, “Nothing, anything for your family.”

Pietro smiles, “What would take for you to come back and be our family doctor. We’re going to need one soon.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, “What you need a check up?”

Natasha speaks for the first time, “We’re going to war with Fisk.”

He winces, “Definitely sounds like you'll need a doctor, but I’m retired Ms.…”

“Natasha, Wanda’s wife,” she introduces herself.

“Congratulations, I hope you enjoy your marriage like I enjoy my retirement” he speaks genuinely.

“Buck, we could really use you on our side. Without Papa leading us, we need all the help we can get,” Wanda tries to sway him.

“What do you mean Dragos isn’t leading you?”

The room turns somber as Wanda begins to explain the situation to Bucky. The man keeps a neutral face through it all. He lets out a large sigh at the end of everything.

“When this is over, I'm going back into retirement understood?”

Wanda nods, “Thank you.”

After you leave Bucky’s, Pietro drops you all off at home. Wanda and Natasha help you into their apartment. They sit you on the couch with them on either side of you.

“I’ve sent some extra forces to the hospital to keep watch over Dragos. I’ve also told some of my people on the inside to take care of any of those men that did this to you,” Natasha’s jaw twitches as she speaks.

“Good,” you say flatly.

There’s a tension in the room. It’s weird considering how comfortable you’ve all been around each other. However now as you sit silently on the couch the air feels thick.

“You could’ve died in that alley,” Wanda speaks first.

You nod your head slightly, “I could’ve.”

“He could’ve shot you down right there,” she continues.

“But he didn’t,” you counter.

Wanda looks at her wife, silently asking for help. Natasha knows what Wanda wants to do and she supports it.

“Y/n, we have to talk about something, and we don’t know how it’s going to make you feel,” Natasha says taking ahold of your hand.

You nod at her words.

“And please, just listen before you say anything else,” Wanda’s nerves are present in her voice.

“Ok.”

The tension hasn’t left the room. You sit there, between the couple still slightly in pain. You hardly feel it though, all you could feel was the anxious air around you, waiting for the women to speak. It was nerve-wracking, it was stomach churning, and it was scary.

The thought of losing you terrified Wanda. The thought of losing you, without ever telling you how she felt was even more terrifying. She couldn’t wait any longer after the events of the day. It was her sign, and she was ready.

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick @sgm616 @bstvst @dorabledewdroop @sapphic-simp4015 @natty-taffy @justarandomreaderxoxo @mmmmokdok @tarathia @bgwlsmahf25 @lezzylover @og-kxsh-420 @vanessashands @untoldreader @sxlfishbrokenheart @marvelgirlx @elle161989

#lowkeyerror #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #wandanat x reader #pietro maximoff #bucky barnes

[onceuponapuffin]

Fanatic Intervention Part 9!!

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*****************

You pound your way to the nearest bar, where everyone had agreed to meet. The three of them are standing around, talking over glasses of wine. Your hands are in fists, your nails digging into your palms as you approach. They acknowledge you as you enter their field of vision, but you say nothing. Instead, you beeline for Aziraphale, put your arms around him, and hang on for dear life. Sometimes you just need to hug an angel.

There’s a pause where Anathema says something about your aura, and then Aziraphale hugs you back.

Dear Reader, I’m not sure if it ever happened in your life, but for this Puffin there came a time when it was made very clear that wanting to be held or wanting to lean on another person in public was unacceptable (and, in fact, embarrassing) once you reached a certain age. And yet, we as humans are social creatures. The need to be held is a very normal response, especially after something particularly upsetting happens (like having the sanctity of washroom privacy violated, for example). Perhaps you’re not the kind of person who, out of nowhere, feels the desire to be held, but perhaps you know someone who is. And so, I would like to impress upon you the incredible difference it makes, the immeasurable relief it brings, to know that you have someone with you who will hold you back without question or comment. Just hold you, and wait.

Aziraphale makes it clear he intends to do just that.

“Take your time, dear,” he says gently. And so you do.

After a moment, the clink of a glass next to you makes you look up. Someone has given you a glass of the same wine everyone else has. You pull away and take a sip, feeling much calmer and very grateful.

“Thanks,” You say.

“Anytime,” Aziraphale replies.

“What happened?” Anathema asks.

Thus, you recount how Metatron trapped you in the washroom until he had said his peace. By the time you finish, there are three very angry faces around you. You feel validated enough to take another, much larger, sip of the wine. Aziraphale is the first to speak.

“Well for starters, I invite you to stay in my bookshop however long you like. Pet indeed! You are a help, yes, but you are a guest, and certainly not disposable, whatever he says.”

“And,” Crowley adds, “From what you said, Aziraphale and I can get you home whenever you want anyway. Probably, I mean. No dUbIOus motives involved, at least.”

Anathema seems to be thinking. After another few seconds, she asks:

“Why did you take the coffee?”

You all look at her, surprised.

“Well I mean,” she continues, “If the Metatron wants to know, he probably has a reason. If you tell us, maybe we can figure it out for ourselves and find a way around it.”

“Or they could just not tell him,” Crowley suggests with snark. “Then it doesn’t matter.”

“I mean, it might,” Anathema counters, “We don’t know that it doesn’t.”

“I took it because of the Coffee Theory,” You say with a shrug. It’s not like it’s a big deal. “But I mean, I don’t know why that would matter to him.”

“Well,” Anathema says, “That might depend on what the Coffee Theory is.”

“Well, it’s the idea that the Metatron did something to that coffee he was going to give Aziraphale. To, like, make Aziraphale trust him, or listen to him or whatever, so that he would go back to Heaven.” You pause. “There’s also an interpretation of it where it was a metaphor like ‘take my offer or face death.’ But most people think about the first one, and that’s the one that was in my brain when I did it. There aren’t a lot of people who actually believe it. I mean, not anymore, anyway.”

“So you think the Metatron drugged Aziraphale’s coffee?” Anathema raises an eyebrow. “And you drank it, yes? So...did he?”

“No,” You reply, “It was exactly what it was supposed to be. An oat milk latte with almond syrup. And I didn’t think he actually messed with it. I just wasn’t willing to take the chance, that’s all.”

Crowley’s face scrunches. “And you think he might need to know that for some reason?” He looks pointedly at Anathema.

“He might,” She gives a thoughtful hum. “I’ll think about it. I might ask the Cards later.”

-----------

The wait for boarding didn’t feel so long after that. As you board, you notice how spacious First Class is. Aziraphale and Crowley sit in the seats ahead of you and Anathema, with Aziraphale in the window seat. You notice Crowley casually trying to stick his legs out into the aisle and wonder vaguely whether it’s because he needs the space, or to try and trip the flight attendants. Both? Probably both. Okay, definitely both, you note, as a stewardess almost falls face-first into the aisle. Aziraphale gently swats at Crowley in reprimand, but you can tell it’s half-hearted and wholly-fond.

Your only trouble comes when you need to use the washroom, but Anathema, ever clever and aura-observant, suggests to go with you so that you can knock if anything goes wrong. Thankfully, nothing does, and you both return to your seats.

“You know,” Anathema says, leaning forward, “I just overheard the strangest thing. It seems that all of the normal airline food on this plane has gone missing. All that they have to serve is the first-class food.”

“Wait,” You say, holding back a laugh, “So everyone on this flight gets to eat the fancy, chef-prepared, gourmet meals?”

Crowley doesn’t hold back his laugh. “Oh, the big bosses won’t like that!”

“You two wouldn’t have had anything to do with that, would you?” Anathema asks suspiciously. You notice she’s smiling while she says it.

“Psh!” Crowley waves away the thought. “Why would I? Doesn’t matter to me either way.”

“Honestly, Miss Device,” Aziraphale adds, “I have no idea why you immediately accuse us of something that seems so clearly to be a mere...clerical error.”

Ah-ha! Culprit found. Clerical error your arse.

“You know,” You sigh, “It really is no wonder why Crowley loves you so much.”

“Ngk,” says Crowley. Aziraphale responds with a pleased-sounding hum. You relax, and notice between the seats that Aziraphale places his hand on top of Crowley’s and leaves it there.

They like holding hands – your insides scream.

--------

When you disembark from the plane, you hear all the other passengers around you complimenting the flight attendants on the excellent food and promising to leave excellent reviews online. You keep your laughter as quiet as you can. Aziraphale’s little prank is going to cause the airline issues for YEARS. Crowley must be so proud.

The speed and ease with which you clear customs and baggage claim is probably because you’re traveling with two supernatural entities. In no time at all, you’re outside of the airport flagging down a cab. Crowley opens the door with enthusiasm and outright glee.

“After you, Angel,” he says, “You think 90 miles an hour in London is bad, I can’t wait for you to see this!”

Dear Reader, I don’t know if you have ever been to New York City, but I assure you that Crowley’s driving has nothing on the NYC cabbies. Aziraphale spends the entire drive trying to hold on to something and taking deep breaths as the cab violently jerks to a stop millimeters from the car in front. You suggest he close his eyes. He does. It doesn’t seem to help.

-------

The taxi lets you out in front of The Ritz. Because of course you’re staying at The Ritz. Aziraphale goes to check in while Crowley tells Anathema he needs the washroom, and mutters to you that he wants to empty all the soap dispensers. You try so hard to hold in your laughter that it comes out your nose anyway. The demon flashes you a cheeky grin before disappearing around the corner. Anathema looks at you.

“Probably been a while since he had a fresh audience,” You say to her. She chuckles.

“And you’re so obliging too. No doubt he’s having a great time with all this.”

“Hey, Anathema,” You begin uncertainly, “How...I mean...I’m just worried about...things. How are we going to find Jesus anyway? I just...I don’t really have anymore information to give. I don’t even know if he’s going to be a baby or an adult this time.”

“Hm...” Anathema thinks for a minute, “Well, I’m going to try and get some readings, see if I can get some kind of direction for us to go in. It’s a big country, but what I’m hoping is that it will sort of work like dowsing.”

“Dowsing? Like looking for water with sticks?”

“Sort of. In a nutshell, you pay attention to the vibrations in the Earth, and the closer you get, the stronger the vibrations become. It makes sense to think that Jesus would make pretty noticeable vibrations. That’s my working hypothesis anyway.”

You nod. That will do for now. Aziraphale and Crowley both return, with the demon wiping his hands on his trousers, and the four of you take the elevator to your room.

The Royal Suite.

“Are...you….serious??” Anathema asks. Honestly, you’re too stunned looking around the enormous suite with four bedrooms to say anything. It’s bigger than most houses. You take out your phone and start taking pictures.

“Well, if we’re going to stay at The Ritz,” Aziraphale says cheerfully, pronouncing the capital letters, “Best to do it Properly.”

“But this is ridiculous!”

Aziraphale isn’t paying attention anymore. He’s gone to tell Crowley not to draw mustaches on the expensive artwork.

“Unlimited resources,” You say to her, “Make for expensive taste.”

“No, kidding,” she sighs, “I’m glad you’re here. I’m gonna need some help with these two.”

Ha, You think to yourself, I knew it.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

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^ If you want to see JUST how ridiculous the royal suite is.

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens 2 #good omens fanart #someone said this counts as art #so i'm using the fanart tag #so nyeah #good omens fandom #aziracrow lasts forever #aziraphale x crowley #crowley likes showing off #especially if he knows there's someone there to appreciate his skillz #that's skillz #with a z #fanatic intervention #part 9 #poll fic #let's write #we're all in this together #fix it #go2 #i rode in a cab in nyc once it was terrifying #anathema #crowley and aziraphale #good omens 3 #writeblr #writers on tumblr

[harkonnin]

* The heart is not meant to rule *

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader Tag list: @wo-ming-bai

Slow burn, knife kink, blood kink, strangers to lovers, softer!Feyd-Rautha, CONSENT, 18+, arranged marriage, assassination, poison, murder, etc

Previous Chapter - Never lose me Current Chapter - Seduction

*** After a somewhat restless night, your eyes pop open at a silent whisper. Your room is dark but you have difficulty opening your eyes.

“Lady Atreides, we have to start getting ready.”

It’s Tula, she’s here to help you with the preparations of the wedding. Her and 5 other servant girls. Your eyes pop open as one of them opens the curtains and reveals that it’s still dark outside. This was going to be the longest day of your life, it felt like.

There was so much to prepare, starting with a special meal. It included a liquid that helped sooth your nerves, nothing like alcohol, however. It tasted strange and somewhat coppery. It did however put you in a trance of relaxation. All you had to do was stay awake for now.

Tula helped you up after breakfast and ushered you towards the bathing area. After a good old scrub and soak in the hot water they dried you off and started to work on the rest of you. 3 servants on you and 2 servants were working on the dress and accessories you were going to wear.

“It’s beautiful” one of them says.

You haven’t seen it yet, but once you turn to view it you understand. When Feyd had asked you for the information of your dress, you had replied you wanted a dress that represented both Feyd and you. And the dress was exactly that. The stark contrast of black and white, the softness of the flowing fabric on the bottom and the intense artwork on the bodice were an accurate portrayal of the both of you. It was breath-taking.

“He’s going to have a hard time controlling himself”, one of the servants giggled.

You had to chuckle at that, they all knew what he was like. Your laughter however made all the girls freeze for a second. They didn’t know if they had offended you or not, but Tula smiled at them and motioned for them to continue.

You sat back down, and they started to work on your make up. They used Harkonnen war paint to block out your eyes in a fierce black, which made your eye colour pop. Your lip the only colour they used, a soft pink. Your hair long and softly waved, since it was already very uncommon for brides to have hair in Giedi Prime, they wanted to make it stand out even more.

They helped you into the dress and finished with a see-through veil on top of your head, accessories all over it to weigh it down so it wouldn’t fly away. You looked at yourself in the mirror and found yourself to be absolutely stunning. There was no way Feyd wouldn’t love to see you like this. Your confidence came back seeing yourself like this.

“We have to prepare for the ceremony my Lady,” one of the servants was checking the time. “Yes, well… thanks ladies. Wish me luck?” you smiled at them. “You’ll do great na-Baroness,” Tula said with a wink.

Your breath left your lungs for a split second at the use of your soon to be title. You swallowed hard and scraped your throat before giving her a hug. This all seemed too real for now, but at least you had these girls looking out for you.

*

Feyd had underwent the same ceremonial morning. His anticipation grew by the minute however, not only to see you, but everything after. He might not have admitted it, but being the centre of attention, having all of Giedi Prime’s eyes on him and you, the ceremony; he lived for it all.

His wedding attire left nothing to the imagination. A leather vest with long sleeves and a series of chains got put over his bare torso, painted with several black paint markings, much like the ones he received before the arena battle. A low waisted leather pant which showed his thick, muscled thighs hugged him almost sinfully. A large, heavy cape got draped over his shoulders embellished with silver and white jewels made him look extravagantly regal.

One of the servant girls had to let out a chuckle at seeing him all done up like that.

“What”, Feyd inquired, almost gleeful as well. “Lady Atreides is going to like this, my lord Na-Baron,” she seemed a bit embarrassed at her confession, but Feyd knew she was right.

He smiled for the first time in months at a servant, and no one knew how to properly react. They all just agreed to ignore the fact that their Na-Baron was acting out of character and attributed it to the nerves that came with marriage. He did, however, look handsome, the dark fabric accentuating his muscles and hard lines, as if carved by an ancient Greek sculptor. He was certain he would draw a few gasps and breaths with his look.

*

As the servants brought you towards the great hall, your nerves got the best of you, and you needed a short breather. They all reassured you, and you managed to get a hold of yourself in front of the big hall doors. You heard noise and talking coming from the other side of the door, assuming they were all awaiting your arrival. You took a deep breath, looked at Tula and the servants, who all gave you nods of agreement, and told the guards to open the tall doors.

As they opened a rush of light came your way and you did your best not to squint, part of the hall had a big window and the black sun was beaming down, inside of it. You did your best to scan the hall around of you, even though all you had to do was walk forwards. Upon seeing you, you heard gasps in awe of how you looked. As you slowly and elegantly made your way inside, the servants followed holding your dress and veil from dragging across the floor.

*

Feyd had been stood inside the hall together with the priest that was set to marry you. Upon scanning the hall and all the people inside, Feyd only deemed a few people there to be actual threats. His brother included. His daggers were fastened to his pants, just in case someone tried to assassinate you again, or object your marriage.

As he heard the doors start to open, he straightened himself and anticipated your arrival with a happiness he had not felt in years. You were his pathway to power, but most of all, he enjoyed the moment of seeing you again. He wondered what you were going to look like, after the ceremony and relished in the fact that you would be his, forever.

As he saw your figure enter the hallway, his jaw almost dropped to the floor. The white and black dress, the veil, the servants all around you… You looked like a goddess. He was willing to drop to his knees right there and then, but had to watch, in agony, how you were taking your sweet time to get to him. As he heard the people around the hall also react to you, he couldn’t have felt more proud. It almost felt like a dream to him, a beautiful nightmare that he never wanted to wake up from.

*

As you made your way to the front, you locked eyes with Feyd. He looked absolutely ravishing. You had to control every single muscle in your body so you wouldn’t run into his arms, instead your eyes darted to what he was wearing. His chest bare, painted, the chains dangling in front of it. His tight pants, sinfully low, left nothing to the imagination. And the cape, which made him look like he was some dark prince waiting to steal you from your castle. He looked to fit the role of na-Baron for the first time properly.

The closer you got to the altar, the darker his stare got. It was obvious he relished in the fact that you were giving yourself to him, you were surrendering your entity to become part of his. He noticed you were carrying the dagger he gifted to you, and he had to swallow hard. Reality of your bond hit him in the face, and he got a few happy chills rushing throughout his body. He tilted his head, as to stretch his neck, while he got more comfortable.

You went up the stairs and moved to stand next to him, the servants letting your dress drape over the tall steps. You had to admit, once the ceremony started, you weren’t really listening to what the priest was saying. Most of it was all generic jibber jabber about the houses, the political positions and other unromantic subjects that you were pulled into.

Instead, the both of you just kept looking at each other, your cheeks probably alight with a burning red, excited but embarrassed to have him practically undressing you with his eyes in front of thousands of people, including your family. You even noticed at one point he recoiled from coming closer, as if his thoughts temporarily took over and he physically lost all control. For you as well, it was all a bit much.

But nothing could have prepared you for the end of the ceremony. You were given a cup made of glass, a dark red liquid inside of it. Blood, obviously. You saw Feyd smirk at you when he saw your perplexed face. You didn’t know if you would be able to stomach blood this early in the morning. Also, “WHO DRINKS BLOOD ON A WEDDING?”, you thought to yourself. You wondered if the weird drink you had to take in the morning was to prepare you for his.

As the priest said a few more words about making your bond last for eternity, Feyd took the cup and dipped his hand into it. His fingers, blood red and dripping, he moved closer to you, removed your veil and placed his bloodied hand on your cheek, right over your already faded scar. He took his index thumb and rubbed your mouth softly.

“Open,” he demanded in a whisper.

As you did, he softly hooked his bloodied thumb into your mouth. It tasted like metal or copper, but also sweet for some reason. It probably looked incredibly sinful; this was more intimate than giving each other rings. As you closed your mouth again and sucked his finger dry, his look turned darker. If not for the amount of fabric covering him, everyone would be able to see his growing erection. If you had been alone, Feyd would already be on top of you, pushing you into some corner of the hall and having his way with you.

After a few seconds that seemed way too long to be of normal duration, Feyd removed his thumb from your mouth and held the cup over his head. He let the blood drip on top of his head, covering his face with it. It made its way down his torso, making him look incredibly bloodied. He looked insane but it made you smile a little bit. It felt like he had returned to the person who enticed you back on Caladan, the Feyd you had missed greatly.

You mimicked the steps he did before, bloodying your hand and touching his cheek. Before you were able to move your finger towards his mouth however, he turned his head into your touch and started to suck off all your fingers, holding your hand steady in his. He looked like a rabid dog almost, acting like there weren’t a thousand people watching you and him, right then and there. It stirred something inside your stomach, the need and want you had been craving for so long.

When he finally let go of your hand, when he was sated, you moved to dump the cup over your face and chest. You did it almost to slow for Feyd, who was straining against his erection at the sight of you, bloodied and delicious. Almost teasing him with how slow you acted. When you finished you opened your eyes at him and smirked. You saw his jaw clench and almost smiled at his reaction. You loved teasing Feyd like this, certainly after the coldness that radiated from his messages lately. He deserved a little bit of punishment for not being nice to you.

As the priest was pleased enough with the ceremonial bonding, he wanted to move onto the last part. With most weddings, they usually wrapped everything up with a kiss, but this was Giedi Prime, love was not their preferred emotion. So, the ending ceremony looked a bit different.

Feyd took out on of his blades and started to cut his hand open. You looked somewhat bewildered at him, and he nodded to you to do the same. As you took the dagger he gifted you, it all made sense now. The dagger was an early marriage gift, but you hadn’t noticed. You just thought he gave you a weapon because he loves them. But it was for this purpose that he already showed you were his heart lied.

As you cut open the palm of your hand, he used his bloodied hand to take yours into his. Making the bond by blood as well. It stung and even his blood felt different from yours. He was standing very close to you now, just mere inches away from your face. Both of you covered with blood, your hands clasped tightly, and you could feel his heartbeat in your hands. You smiled up at him, just a small one for him to see.

The priest announced you were not officially husband and wife, and Feyd went against all traditions on Giedi Prime when he leaned in to kiss you right there and then. It had taken you by surprise at well, still holding hands. But you leaned into it and closed your eyes for the few moments you had. Gasps were heard around the hall, as this was very a-typical for a Harkonnen.

When he released you, you both took a few seconds to stare at each other only for Feyd to break eye contact and turn towards the people in the hall. He started walking with your hand in his and you followed him suit. Both of you had servants following you from then on, helping with your dress but also cleaning you off. They took both of you aside into separate rooms to finish up cleaning you. Your dress however, got stained by all the blood, it left a cool bloodied design on top of the corset and white parts.

Tula spoke for the first time since you had entered the separate rooms.

“That was something, Na-Baroness!”, she almost squealed.

The other servant girls started to giggle nervously. They almost made it seem like you did something wrong or out of the ordinary. You figured it was just the kiss they were talking about.

“I’m assuming the lord Na-Baron wasn’t supposed to kiss me, going by the gasps I heard all around us,” you inquired.

They all stopped working on you for a second and almost laughed at each other.

“No, my lady Na-Baroness, not only that. The only thing you both should have done was poor the blood. Everything else was… uncommon of our tradition. The lord Na-Baron obviously had planned to trick you into doing these. He must like you very much,” Tula spoke.

He had tricked you into doing all these things that he did not require you to do, just to see how far you would go along with them. You almost smiled to yourself at this, he tricked you but it had felt good, like he trusted you to follow him even in all the weirdness he offered you. It was almost like he was testing you and your loyalty to him. To see if you really meant what you said and to see how easy he could control you.

“Feyd seemed… especially pleased,” one of the other servants said.

They all burst out laughing, not mockingly however, but more so open towards you.

“You probably won’t be able to walk tomorrow, Na-Baroness,” one of them spoke.

Now it was your time to laugh, more so nervously, but they all joined in on it. Slightly embarrassed but also very pleased with what had transpired in the wedding hall. They finished cleaning you up and sent for you to go to the banquet hall, where you and Feyd would be seated next to each other for the first time as equals.

As the doors opened, people looked at you enter, and Feyd was already seated. He got up as he saw you enter and went over to you. You stopped dead in your tracks as he bent down and got on one knee in front of everyone. He took your scarred hand in his and kissed it softly.

“My Na-Baroness,” he purred as he got up again and held your hand tight.

It was quite overwhelming, as the banquet hall went silent. He moved you to follow him to what were essentially your thrones at the table. As you sat down you felt everyone looking at you, you saw your parents and Paul, the Baron and Rabban, and a whole bunch of officials that were invited to the wedding. Some displeased and some happy, some in fear and some angry. You figured there would come a time and a place to deal with all of them, but tonight was not the night.

The ceremony had taken quite a while, and it was already in the later afternoon as the servants brought out all the food. You noticed there were a lot of Caladian dishes and specialities prepared. You skimmed the table and saw even your favourites were included. You looked at Feyd in awe. You mouthed a silent ‘thank you’, at him and his mouth twitched into a soft smile. He leaned in and you did as well, your thrones too far apart for physical touching sadly.

“Anything for my wife,” he whispered gravelly.

It stirred something in you, and you went to grab his hand. You softly touched his and your thumb circled over the top of it a few times before you broke contact again, as not to make it obvious to the others present. He looked at his hand and back at you.

*

He had never felt so many conflicting feelings as he had on his wedding day. He managed to gain control over you and your actions during the ceremony and he relished in that feeling, but he also felt protective over you, feared you and your life. You were now a part of him, and he was a part of you. It had felt incredibly too real for him at some point. He would have never admitted it, but it scared him how strong he felt about you.

Having seen you with all the blood on you, your devotion to him and his ways, your hands didn’t linger the moment you had to cut yourself, you did it in one swift moment. He admired you, he felt devoted to you at that point, he promised himself that your needs were as important as his from then on. He would walk through fire for you. And he knew you would too.

Upon seeing you enter the banquet hall again he lost all self-control. A man was never supposed to bow in front of a woman, and certainly not a Harkonnen. He knew this would draw a few gasps in the room, but all that mattered was that you knew he was sincere about this. He had felt apprehensive about marriage but realised that your bond would make the both of you stronger. In more ways than one.

He had requested the best dishes and specialities from Caladan, made by the personal chef of the Atreides family. He didn’t leave anything to chance, no poisoning, no assassinations, he checked everything himself and even reached out to your brother, as he knew that Paul had foresight in some way, to help with defences and security. He had felt no shame in asking your family for help, as there was no reason for them to put you in any danger.

As you sat down next to him, he felt like he could finally relax as he sank into the throne for a hot second. You were staring at the banquet table in awe, he wondered what you were thinking. As you turned to him and thanked him, his stomach fluttered, an unusual feeling for him. He twitched a little bit at the feeling but decided to lean into it.

“Anything for my wife,” he managed to whisper.

His own feelings overwhelming him, his vision becoming more tunnel-like the longer you looked at him. As your hand covered his and your thumb rubbed his flesh, he felt like he was going to burst out in flames. His heartbeat unnecessarily fast and loud in his ears. His restraint on himself was almost impressive, if he had to say so himself. It took him every ounce of self-control to not bend you over right there and then and take you on the banquet hall for everyone to see. His growing erection obvious for you to see, from where you were seated.

His eyes darted to your lips, in a plea-like matter, but none of you could do anything right now. Everything had to be proper and pristine, utter perfection until you were both finally released to finalise the bonding. He saw you were having a hard time restraining yourself as well, and it only spurred him on, seeking any sense of feeling when he tried to shift in his seat. The leather of his pants rubbing his hard cock, making him sweat for now.

*

You had noticed the bulge that was forming in his pants. This man wanted nothing more but to resign to bed without dinner, and you had to admit the tension was also killing you on the inside. You had already felt hot and bothered when you saw him at the altar earlier, chest and nipples on display, dressed like a sex slave with a cape, you had thought. Absolutely sinful that they would entice you with such a specimen, only for you to wait another 10+ hours to be able to have your cake and eat it too.

You tried to push away your horny thoughts and doubled down on the food instead. He Caladian dishes tasted exactly like home, and you honestly wondered how they had done that. You figured it was all Feyd since the Harkonnen themselves had no love for your family nor your house in particular.

After a long evening of congratulations, eating and drinking, there was no such thing as a first dance, a party or any of the sort. They simply just told you to resign to your shared quarters at a way too early time and that was that. You had however drank a fair amount of Giedi Prime wine, which you found out was a tad stronger than the one you had on Caladan, probably because most of it was just chemically enhanced. Feyd wasn’t much of a drinker, and he only had one or two wines. He preferred to stay sober as he indulged in… other matters.

As the servants were escorting both of you towards your quarters you somehow giggled at the thought of being in the same room without guests, family, or servants for the first time. The alcohol making you sound like a drunk teenager, but Feyd stayed stoic as he looked at you. You figured this was just the Harkonnen in him taking matters seriously and you were ok with that.

As the doors to your quarters started to close, Tula gave you a wink before shutting the door completely. You sniffed a laugh at that, and a smile spread on your face. You felt Feyd’s strong hands pull your arm to twirl you around and into his arms. His erection already evidently growing and poking into your hip. You had to swallow at the look he had, dark and sinister, much like the moment you started to fight him back on Caladan. His eyes never soft and just lost in the moment. You got chills thinking about how he kissed you however, how he wanted to make you his, as he had claimed he would.

You decided to take the lead for a second, and moved one of your hands slowly downwards, over his bare torso, softly tugging the chains that were covering it, scratching him with some of your nails. His body responded in a shiver and his eyes slightly closed.

“Will you show me the proper way to please my husband?” you spoke softly on his lips.

You swear he lost all control in that moment as he crashed his lips on top of yours, as he pushed you against the wall.

#feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd smut #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune part two #dune movie #dune part 2 #dune 2 #dune #the heart is not meant to rule

[asimplearchivist]

𝓕𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓚𝓲𝓼𝓼

𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐕𝐈 𝐨𝐟 𝐗𝐗𝐕

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 ] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary ☾ ⤏ there was no possible way that you could have romantic feelings for steven. right? pairing(s) ☽ steven grant/reader-centric | constellations!verse word count ☾ 4.1k a/n ☽ ⤏ my sixth entry for the moon knight bingo hosted by @juneknight and @spacecowboyhotch over at @moonknight-events. I will eventually crosspost this to the main fic for constellations on ao3 when it will best fit the chronological progression of the chapters. this takes place post-chapter ii. ⤏ trying to resist the urge to tell myself this is repetitive. had to cut it off there or else it would’ve been way too long. ☽ MASTERPOST ☾ ☾ PREVIOUS ENTRY ⤎ ☥ ⤏ NEXT ENTRY [TBA] ☽

You’re going to give us an ulcer if you keep this up—and I, for one, do not want to have to chug that wretched pink shit for the next few weeks.

“Hush,” Steven muttered, glancing towards the window next to him to level his host with a dark glare, but he was distracted by the skewed angle of the lapel lying haphazardly across his clavicle. He frowned in concentration as he readjusted it and smoothed it back down to rights with a clammy, trembling palm. “You’re not helpin’.”

Marc’s brow was furrowed, arms folded tightly over his chest, appearing rather dour to be mirroring the pressed, brightly patterned shirt and light slacks he’d talked Steven into wearing—Marc’s canvas jacket suited the look as well as the stormy weather, although Steven’s insistence on wearing his favorite dress shoes was the one concession that the alter was unwilling to sacrifice.

Marc had argued with him for nearly ten minutes not to wear the suit coat for just a quick bite before returning to the flat, and Steven had only relented once he’d realized that you’d still be wearing your casual clothes since he was picking you up from work. He knew that you liked to dress up, too, if he made the effort to do so, and that you grew a little self-conscious if you looked ‘frumpy’ (although, in his opinion, you never looked anything short of stunning—even with dust smudged on your cheek from the shop’s prolific collection of old books, espresso splattered all across your sleeves, or ink smeared on your hands after your long days spent working and studying), so he’d sooner invest in your comfort than to preen at your expense.

…Not that he was trying to preen or anything. You just made him feel like the biggest catch this side of the Thames, for once in his life—and while he would never willingly admit it, Steven liked the idea of showing off a bit for you. His nerves and insecurities still got the best of him every now and again, but most of the time your adoring gaze and easy smiles served an invaluable salve for his fretful tendencies.

He liked to look nice for you—liked the way you’d give him that lingering once-over out of the corner of your eye like you didn’t think he’d notice it. Depending on the colors he wore, he could elicit varying intensities of a reaction; the studious side of him was fascinated with how soft shades of blue kept your gaze trained on the contrast of the collar and his neck, whereas deeper jewel tones of crimson and juniper drew your stare further up to his unkempt curls and eyes. Trim slacks and khakis caused lingering glances towards his legs and posterior, if he happened to have his back turned to you. If he took off his coat, you’d peek at the silhouettes of his arms and shoulders under the pressed cotton. If his sleeves ever happened to be rolled up, you blatantly and openly gawked at the muscles flexing in his forearms and the articulation of tendons in his hands—that flustered him more than anything else.

You weren’t shy about telling him that you found him attractive, either. Although he was still growing accustomed to your consistent sprinkling of compliments—each as sincere, as meaningful, and as thoughtful as the last—he appreciated your earnesty beyond any thanks he could express with simple words. He stood taller in your presence, didn’t stoop or hunch to make himself appear smaller; he didn’t stutter as much, and he spoke with confidence and ease even when launching into his infamous tangents and drawing skeptical glances from strangers; he even found it getting easier, over time, to flirt with you in return, learning that you grew flustered when he gave you half-lidded looks or shivered when he lowered his voice into a murmur near your ear (although he wouldn’t have noticed the subtle, subconscious changes in his behavior had Marc not remarked upon them).

He felt comfortable with you—attractive and valuable and wanted without deceit nor facetiousness—something he had never before experienced beyond his connection to Marc. To others, he was an overenthusiastic nuisance, or a negligible commodity at best, but to you he was important. You cared for him, wanted him to be happy, and never expected anything in return, save his honest companionship.

…But the boundaries for that had started to blur, hadn’t they? Ever since he and Marc had returned from Cairo, you and Steven had grown closer than ever before. With you given just short of full disclosure about his situation (although this was not for lack of faith in your reasonability, since Steven himself hadn’t been aware of all the details until relatively recently—and they would cross the bridge about telling you about their suited vigilante days when it became relevant, although he hoped it never would be), he no longer felt the urge to keep up appearances. He no longer had to fret about hiding the more cornering traits of his supposed sleeping disorder from you, since the true nature of his midnight meanderings had been discovered. He had no more secrets save those that no longer occupied his life at present, no more worries, because you saw and knew and understood most everything that encapsulated him.

That, inevitably, led to a rather blatant and ardent infatuation on his part, seeded by his initial attraction and long-standing friendship with you and germinated by your steadfastness and dedication even after their…episode—one extremely difficult to restrict, and one for which Marc had been teasing him relentlessly now that he had met you, too.

You really ought to tell her, you know, said the devil about whom he thought.

“Yeah, right,” Steven scoffed, tilting his head forward to scrutinize and pick at the layers of unruly curls parted along the side of his scalp with his fingers—they never did sit quite right, even when he made the effort to comb them while they were wet. Marc had wanted to plaster them back with gel to avoid the hassle altogether, but Steven had resolutely set his foot down—you adored their curls and Steven despised the sensation of the pomade on his scalp, so he would not stand to see Marc glue them down like he always did when he had the steering wheel. “Sure, I’d love to put myself out there to be rejected again. You know how bloody well that went the last time I had a date.”

That was my fault. Marc owned up to it, at least. But it won’t happen again.

“You don’t know that,” Steven told him, hushed and tense. “I could just…she’s said we’re mates, yeah? But she could think we’re just mates.”

The way she looks at you? Yeah, totally platonic, Marc remarked, rolling his eyes. You’re her ‘bestest friend in the whole wide world’ and she just so happens to want to climb you like a tree when you ramble about regicide in Ancient Egypt of all things.

Steven’s face prickled with heat as he glared at his host. “How would you know, huh?”

Marc tipped his head forward and raised a knowing brow. The bastard had the gall to smirk at him.

Steven scowled. He could point out how utterly insufferable his host had acted around Layla, awkward and ignorant like a teenager as far as reading her as he had been, but he wouldn’t stoop so low…for now. (As long as he didn’t continue to take the piss out of him, that is.) “Oh, Mister ‘I’ve-Been-Married-A-Grand-Total-of-Once’ is suddenly an expert on the art of interpretin’ female attraction! I’m sure you’ve just got the entire situation nailed down like a psychoanalysis, yeah?”

Give me ten minutes to let me direct the conversation and I can tell you all of her—

“No! No, thank you,” Steven blurted, dragging a hand over his eyes and nose to clasp over his mouth. If his face had grown any hotter in the handful of awkwardly silent seconds that followed that particular statement, Steven was certain that it would have been capable of spontaneous combustion. He floundered for a moment, mouth opening and shutting in search of a response, while Marc started chuckling, but he was saved by the bell, so to speak.

“Hey, darlin’!” you chirped through the doorway as it cracked open and you slipped out of the coffee shop. “I didn’t realize you were here at first, but Amy saw you in the window. You could’ve texted me, you know—I hate that you stood out here in the cold.”

“Oh, I haven’t been here long,” Steven assured you, turning to offer to take your purse. You allowed him to hold it while you shrugged on your coat and wrapped the scarf he’d recently gifted you around your neck. “Where would you like to eat tonight, love?”

“Actually, I was hoping you’d let me try my hand at something new tonight,” you started, then hesitated. “If that’s, uh, okay. I’d have to run into the store to grab some groceries, so if you’d rather wait for another night we can. I completely understand if it’s too late for that.”

And refuse your feats of culinary masterpieces? He thought bloody not. “That would be wonderful, as long as you’re not too terribly knackered to stand over the stove,” Steven said brightly. “I can help.”

Your smile was dazzling even under the unflattering whine of the fluorescent street lamp. ���Thank you. I think you’ll like this one.”

“As if I’ve ever disliked anythin’ you’ve cooked for me,” he scoffed in disbelief.

“Okay, sure, but I think you’ll really like this one,” you amended, slinging your purse over your shoulder and grabbing his arm to tug him towards the bus stop. “Come on.”

The ride was filled with idle chatter about each other’s days. Steven was still adjusting to working during the day shifts after his reemployment as a tour guide at the museum, and he somewhat missed sitting with you while you closed up the coffee shop already—but it had given him the opportunity to tidy up the flat and to clean up before returning to the block to fetch you. You’d been tasked with reorganizing the used classical and poetry section, so you’d spent the better part of your day elbow-deep in dusty old books. (Steven was having a very difficult time resisting the urge to snuff the biblichor lingering on your scalp—there was nothing better than the combination of your signature perfume and books to him.) An older man had walked up on you to ask you a question and it had startled you—you’d barely stopped a whole row from toppling down on you since you’d been standing on a stepstool at the time. He’d apologized profusely, but you said that the image of you teetering on that rickety old hunk of metal was probably the funniest thing you’d pictured yourself doing in a long time.

“But you’re not hurt, right?” Steven pressed, brow furrowed.

“No, I’m good,” you answered, nudging him in the side with your elbow. “I’ve got a thick skull—you ought to know that by now, darlin’.”

The stop in the general store was, true to your word, a quick one. He recognized some of the ingredients, but he had no idea how you were going to combine them all into something undeniably delicious. By the time you both got to his flat, you were cutting up and he was laughing a bit louder than what was appropriate close to midnight.

“Here, I’ll get started,” you told him as you unloaded the sacks on the kitchen counter, “why don’t you go pick something to put on for background noise?”

“Sure thing, love,” he responded, turning to do just that. When he came back, you were in the middle of warming oil in a saucepan while dicing some vegetables. “What can I do?”

“I’d kill for some of that lemonade we made the other day if you have any left over,” you commented. “But you could help me get this chopped up. I’ll need the emulsifier. It’s just a simple soup I thought was interesting—I haven’t used sundried tomatoes before. It reminds me of a pasta sauce I’ve seen before, but this is more like a tomato soup than anything.”

“Sounds divine,” Steven told you, stooping over into the fridge to pull out the pitcher in question. He’d left enough for two more servings. “Will you want a grilled cheese?”

“No, I’m okay.” You bumped your hip into his as thanks when he set a glass within your reach, the ice clinking against the glass. “I’m kind of beat, honestly, so if I can get this down before I pass out, I’ll be lucky.”

“I washed your spare clothes if you’d like to go shower while I watch the pot,” he offered. “They’re on top of the dresser.”

“I may take you up on that offer,” you admitted. “Can you dice these tomatoes?”

It, perhaps, should have been a little worrisome how easily he fell into such a domestic routine with you. Even if Marc suspected you had feelings for him that weren’t strictly platonic, Steven wondered whether your natural exuberance was causing him to misread your behavior. But it was in the moments that you intentionally brushed against him when such contact could’ve been avoided, displaying your comfort so loudly without saying a word, that he dared to let that little flicker of hope breathe itself to life. You seemed committed to keeping some form of contact with him at all times, your hands touching his arms or sides as you orbited him like his own personal little moon. You only spoke in that low, inexplicably soothing tone.

Steven watched the pan while you retreated to the bathroom. You reemerged with damp, shiny hair and dewy, softly-scented skin, and it was even harder for him not to catch a whiff as you floated around him grabbing cutlery and bowls and napkins like you had the layout of his flat memorized. You even put the kettle on without him even having to ask, setting out a mug and a teabag for him to fix how he preferred it.

After blitzing the vegetables together and adding a bit of coconut cream to smooth it out, your dish was completed and smelled utterly divine topped with fresh basil. You both ended up settled shoulder-to-shoulder on the couch in front of the television, slurping spoonfuls and idly commenting on the film he’d chosen. It was cozy and calm and exactly what he needed after having a class of rowdy six-graders that had seemed interested in anything but what he’d had to say during their field trip for which he’d been tasked to provide a tour that morning (he should have suspected something was remiss when the teacher’s name had popped up on the itinerary and all the other guides had—quite brightly and appraisingly—suggested he take it; it was a marvel to him, really, that the school could miss the fact that she had utilized the opportunity to be paid to scroll on her phone while he was forced to wrangle the feral children supposedly under her care).

That was exactly the tale he regaled when you asked him, midway through the movie during a lull in the plot, if anything interesting had happened to him that day. You looked rightly disgruntled on his behalf, huffing that he was far too nice to tolerate that sort of negligence and that you would have set her in her place had you been there. He’d gently, if amusedly, informed you that it had somewhat worked out in the end—with no small (nor well-hidden) amount of satisfaction, he told you that his obligation to supervise them all had ended upon delivering the troop to the gift shop at the end of the tour…where Donna had been stuck on shift yet again (since so few people applied for the position due to its low wages combined with the high turnover rate as a result of her nasty behavior and poor management style…but Steven wasn’t normally one to gloat over such things; you, however, had been utterly delighted to hear it).

“At least that bitch got some of what she deserves,” you said, tipping your chin up and glaring down the end of your nose at the screen. “I hope she regrets every last negative word she said to you now that she has to pick up all the shit she dumped on you.”

“It doesn’t matter in the long run, love,” he reminded you, although his chuckle was difficult to smother. It did give him some satisfaction to see it, else he’d have been made a liar to suggest otherwise…but just a little bit. “I don’t answer to her anymore.”

“Good, or else I might’ve felt the need to cut a bitch,” you grumbled.

Steven jumped slightly as Marc’s low, huffing laugh caught him off guard. He glanced over at one of the mirrors he’d mounted on the available space of a nearby bookshelf, and his host’s moody, brooding eyes were twinkling with equal parts mirth and mischief. He didn’t say a word, as he tended to give the front a wide berth when Steven was having personal time with you, but the weight of his presence was a reassuring one. His host lifted his brows and glanced pointedly in your direction, tipping his head towards you for emphasis.

Steven cast him a dark glare. Marc had been teasing him for a week now about finally making a move in the most cliché and inane manner possible, but Steven was resolute that it was not ideal. He respected you highly and didn’t want to give you a poor experience that might smother any chances he had of winning over your good graces. Your ex had been the pushy sort, and he wanted to be anything but. It was simply unfortunate that his and Marc’s individual approaches to romance were vastly contrary.

“Let’s not add ‘murder’ to your long, impressive list of accomplishments, yeah?” Steven proposed mildly, watching you glance up at him with a smirk and glittering eyes of your own.

“Fine,” you sighed, resting your temple briefly on his shoulder. “If you insist.”

“I do,” he nodded. “Wouldn’t be very good if you wind up in prison defending somebody like me.”

“You ought to know by now that there’s not a whole lot I wouldn’t do for you, Steven,” you responded, rolling your eyes, but there was something couched in your tone that piqued his attention.

He blinked, then glanced towards the mirror again, but Marc was gone. So much for his bloody help regarding women.

“You do know that, right?” you prompted a little quieter, and when he looked over, you were gazing up at him through your lashes out of your periphery.

Steven relaxed as that familiar warm, fuzzy feeling unfurling within his chest like the blooming of a flower in the morning. “I do,” he returned softly. “And I hope you know that sentiment is mutual.”

You stared at him, then, head turning little by little until your full, beseeching gaze was fixed on him. His heart pounded raucously against his ribs as he became acutely aware of your hand slipping over to squeeze his knee gently—he was shocked you couldn’t hear it, because it was loud enough he very nearly didn’t hear your next words. “…Can I kiss you?”

He swallowed roughly, a reflexive action that caused him to jump. His hand, shaky and clammy, settled over yours, his fingers slotting alongside your own. He licked his lips, sucked in a breath that rattled in his lungs, and managed a jerky nod. “Yeah,” he croaked. “Please?”

Your free hand cupped his chin, fingertips tracing along his jawline with undeserved reverence before settling his cheek into the cradle of your palm, and he stooped slightly to save your neck as you lifted your chin to meet him halfway. He blinked, startled, as your lips—soft and smooth—chastely met the corner of his mouth. The split-second confused thought of you missing was promptly erased when you tilted your head and repeated the motion to the opposite side, lingering just a tad bit longer there.

Oh. Oh.

He clamped his eyelids shut.

The featherdown flutter of your doe-like lashes tickling the arch of his cheek as you kissed him proper, gentle and slow and tender, skyrocketed his pulse. He wondered idly, somewhere in the back of his muddled mind, if he was in any danger of having cardiac arrest at this rate. Heat flooded his face like wildfire, sweat springing up along his hairline as he reached out to touch you, too.

His trembling fingers made contact with the side of your neck, first, and to his inexplicable delight and relief he could feel your heartbeat racing alongside your throat, too. He curled his hand around your nape, thumb stroking the tender skin beneath the shell of your ear as an indescribable, high-pitched whine escaped you. He cracked an eye open to watch your expression cringe with embarrassment, but you made up for it by sliding your fingers into his curls to tug his head into a deeper angle. A gutted, broken groan bubbled out of the pit of his chest before he could stop it.

You began to litter his lips with quick, light pecks, and never before had Steven quite felt cherished. You pulled back just a hair’s breadth to catch your breath. “You have…no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

“I can hazard a guess,” he mumbled, pulling you back in, “‘cause you’re in the same boat as I am.”

You let out a needy, desperate little noise that lanced down his spine. Steven Grant had never considered himself a selfish person by any stretch of the imagination, but he was quite certain at that moment that if he didn’t hear it again immediately he would die.

Oxygen became a hazy concept, but even the most ardent and devoted of adorators required it. When you broke away to suck in a lungful, Steven dared to look at you. You were dazed, eyes hazy and lips puffy, but the way you glowed in the dim lighting was like nothing he’d ever envisioned in all his studies of art. And you were staring at him as though he had hung each and every last individual star in the sky.

“I was so scared you wouldn’t feel the same,” you murmured, “but I couldn’t hold it anymore.”

“I never wanted to assume,” he added quietly. “I was fine with being mates, but I always wondered…I didn’t want to pressure you, after…I just wanted you to feel comfortable if…”

“I know,” you interrupted him mercifully, leaning back in. “I know. Thank you for being patient.”

“There were so many times I wanted to tell you,” he mumbled into your mouth, too enchanted to shut off his stream of consciousness, “but it never felt right, and I didn’t want to lose my only friend—my best friend—yet it was absolute torture not knowing—”

“I didn’t know if I could bear to make myself vulnerable to be hurt again,” you returned, shifting to kiss along his cheek, “and I had to work myself up to take the risk. You’re all I’ve got left anymore. Maybe I’m selfish to want more than what we have, but God, Steven, I want you so bad, I can hardly stand it.”

The lump in the pit of his throat nearly choked him. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and shoulder, arms coiling around you and holding you tightly against his chest. “I do, too,” he breathed. “Like I need air.”

You returned the hug with a ferocity he hadn’t felt from you before. You were shaking, too, and it soothed him to know that the nerves were mutual, as well. For being very transparent people by nature, the both of you had managed a miracle of hiding your feelings from each other for so long.

“I need you to know that I can only do it if you’re all in,” you said, muffled by the material of his shirt. “My heart can’t take it otherwise.”

“You have all of me and more, poppet,” he told you, smothering his face into your scalp. “I swear to you I’ll do better than anyone else has or could. I’ll earn it, I promise. I can be worthy of you. I’ll sooner hurt myself than ever dream of hurting you.”

#fisara's codices #fanfiction #moon knight #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight fluff #reader insert #steven grant #steven grant/reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant/you #steven grant x you #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant fluff #moonknightevents

[queen-haq]

Fic: Never You, Part 8 (Polin fic)

Fandom: Bridgerton (TV show)

Spoilers: S3 released scenes.

Summary: They may have been friends once but his callous words decimated their relationship. Determined not to have anything to do with him, Penelope is ready to move on. But Colin isn’t giving up, not at all. Friends or not, they are connected for life - and he intends to remind her of that.

Excerpt:

“You would hate me for not wanting to court you. You would be that selfish?”

“Of course you would think that.”

“What else is this if not punishment?”

Masterlist (contains links to previous parts and my other stories)

A03 link if that's more your jam

With her heart and mind in complete shambles the next day, the last place Penelope wanted to be at was the Bridgerton Manor. But there she was, cushioned between Lady Violet and her own mother for afternoon tea. As if things weren’t difficult enough, the Cowpers were also in attendance, which meant she was forced to watch Eloise and Cressida act like the best of friends. Occasionally Eloise would glance at her from the other side of the room, as if to gauge her reaction. The optimistic part of Penelope hoped it was because her former friend still cared, but the cynic in her knew otherwise. Eloise wanted to make it crystal clear that Penelope was alone now. Without Eloise, without the Bridgertons, she was an outsider. And who better to emphasize that point with than Cressida Cowper herself. The tall blonde had bullied Penelope since they were little girls, and now Eloise had joined forces with Satan herself. As if on cue, Cressida cast her a disparaging glance, whispering something in Eloise’s ears before both women exchanged a spiteful smile.

It was one thing to have Eloise be angry at her, that Penelope understood and could live with, but to see Eloise and Cressida’s blossoming friendship felt like an arrow through the heart. And it hurt, it hurt so much.

The night of the ball Penelope would’ve done anything to reconcile with Eloise, but since then she came to realize a lot of hard truths. The ton, Eloise, Colin – they only accepted her as long as she followed their rules. A woman like her, shy and large, not borne into wealth or beauty wasn’t allowed to want things. She had to remain voiceless, live in the shadow of others, not expect to be loved or cherished. The moment she refused to play the part of an insipid wallflower she was punished. And that was fine, she would live with the consequences of the choices she made. But what she wouldn’t do was reveal her pain for anyone’s enjoyment. So Eloise could be as snide as she wanted, she and Cressida could humiliate her to their heart’s content but they would never conquer her publicly.

“Penelope, you looked lovely at the VanGuard soiree.”

Breaking out of her reverie, Penelope smiled at Lady Violet. “Thank you.”

“The various shades of green have been a surprise,” Portia chimed in, sipping her tea. “I wasn’t with Penelope the day she went to the modiste and Miss Delacroix certainly took advantage of that. Probably talked my foolish child into buying all the unused fabrics she couldn’t sell to others.”

“I doubt Miss Delacroix has to resort to trickery to sell her clothes,” Penelope replied.

“She is very much in demand as a dressmaker,” Lady Violet added.

“Hmph…” was her mama’s response. “I suppose it could have been much worse. At least the green doesn’t wash out her complexion too much.”

Violet responded with a stiff smile. “I thought it suited her quite well.” She turned to Penelope. “We’ve missed having you here for tea.”

Penelope merely smiled.

“I suppose my Cressida has kept Eloise so busy these past few weeks she hasn’t had time for… others.” Penelope had to stop herself from rolling her eyes at Lady Cowper. The apple certainly didn’t fall far from the condescending tree.

“I’m sure that will be rectified soon,” Lady Violet replied, a hopeful tilt to her voice.

Penelope didn’t have the heart to tell her things had irrevocably changed. Eloise refused to understand her motivations, and Penelope wasn’t willing to fall on her sword to make things right between them.

“Mother, Cressida and I are going to take a stroll in the gardens,” Eloise announced, linking her arms through Cressida's as they both headed out of the room.

Lady Violet’s warm eyes gleamed with compassion as she directed her attention back to Penelope. “Would you like to join them?”

That was the last thing she wanted. “Is it alright if I visit the library?”

“Yes, of course.”

The stern look on Portia’s face indicated she wasn’t happy about Penelope spending time in the stuffy Bridgerton library but Penelope didn’t care. It was a room she loved, filled with many warm, comforting memories of happier times.

Excusing herself, she walked away from the prying eyes of the mothers, desperate for a moment alone. Her stomach was still tied in knots, her head pounding. She had stayed awake most of the night in Colin’s arms, inhaling him in and etching everything about him to her memory. At the same time her guilty conscience had warred with her heart, reminding her of the horrible mistake she was making. It was only when fatigue took over that she managed to get some sleep. By the time she woke up Colin had already left, and she had spent the morning agonizing over what to tell Arthur.

Penelope quietly walked to the library, grateful it was in the opposite wing from where the bedchambers were. The last thing she needed was to run into Colin; after last night, she was too embarrassed to face him.

Stepping inside the library, she shut the door behind. She closed her eyes. Breathed in the air, the smell of books infusing her senses. Sunlight peeked in through the windows, casting shadows across the room. As children she and Eloise had spent countless hours playing hide and seek between the shelves. This room had also been a haven when Mama and Papa fought, or those days Mama had been especially harsh about her eating habits. Penelope would sneak away and make her way into the Bridgerton library through the gardens and the back door, desperate for a quiet place to simply be.

She crossed the room, walking to the window which overlooked the south section of the garden. Staring out, she caught a glimpse of Cressida and Eloise walking together, engaged in deep conversation. It was Cressida’s facial expression that caught her attention. The blonde, usually so smarmy and full of herself, seemed almost shy next to Eloise, even vulnerable. Apparently they were friends.

Taking a deep breath, she walked further into the room, behind the shelves, to the hidden alcove.

Her heart was heavy, her mind still fraught with guilt. She had spent the morning writing and rewriting to Arthur, debating on how much to tell him. In the end, she decided to keep it short.

I made a mistake. One I’m not sure you can forgive me for. It’s best if we speak in person.

Tears welled in her eyes, her throat tightened with emotion.

As hurtful as Colin’s words had been about not courting her, at least they finally revealed what his true thoughts were. He didn’t love her, nor would he ever, and no amount of wishing would make it so. And ultimately, his honesty had been a gift because it allowed her to get through the pain and open her mind to pursue someone new. She hadn’t gone looking for Arthur, but when he’d come into her life she hadn’t closed herself off either. She may not have loved him madly like Colin but she held deep affection for him. There was also mutual respect between them and friendship. He understood what writing meant to her and pledged his full support, and that was a rare quality amongst men in their society. She had so much to look forward to and it was all gone now, completely eviscerated because of her own foolishness.

Tears fell down her cheeks while she pondered the bleak future ahead of her. Without any marriage prospects, she was doomed to be a spinster. Unlike Eloise, she wanted a husband and children, a contented marriage, a home where she would finally belong. As a spinster, however, she would most likely spend the rest of her life with Portia and be the sole recipient of her mother’s criticisms. Oh God. No, no, no, just the thought of that made her panic. Heart pounding, she clutched her chest, utterly dejected about her broken dreams.

“Pen? What’s wrong?”

She turned around to find Colin standing a few feet away. She swiped the tears from her face, quickly composing herself. “Nothing, I just have some dirt in my eyes.” While he crossed the room in only a few strides, she gave him a cursory smile. Seeing the concern on his face, she quickly averted her eyes away from him. “I need to return to the sitting room. Mama must be waiting for me.”

“You’ve been crying.” There was fear in his voice when he spoke. “What’s wrong?

She shook her head. “I’m fine-”

“I know I haven’t been a good friend to you recently. I wasn’t there when your father passed, I’ve been callous with your feelings – but please, Pen, give me a chance to help you. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Despite using all her resolve to hold it together, she started to shake. The lump in her throat made it impossible to speak. She closed her eyes, trying to keep her tears in check. She couldn’t bear for him to see her when she was feeling so low and pathetic.

All of a sudden his arms wrapped around her, enveloping her in a warm, comforting hug. “It’s alright. You don’t need to tell me, you don’t fully trust me yet. But please let me hold you for a while?”

It may have been posed as a question, yet his tight embrace indicated he wouldn’t let go even if she refused. And she tried, she tried to hold onto her pride and fight him off, but he was stronger and more resolute and eventually she gave in. The solace he offered made her crumble and she buried her face in his chest, crying silently in his arms.

For the longest while he simply hugged her, murmuring tender words, dropping light kisses on the crown of her head. He felt so strong yet gentle, offering his support, and her heart yearned for him. If only he could love her, want her for who she truly was. She let herself indulge in that fantasy for a few minutes, pondering life with him as his wife, being family with the Bridgertons, even having Eloise back as her best friend. She could continue to write, and they would be supportive without judging her. Her life would be perfect, she would never need for anything again.

Time held no meaning. All she felt was the warmth of his touch, his scent blanketing her senses, making her feel safe and secure in his grasp. Nestled in his arms, she listened to his heartbeat. Strong, slow, steady. Whereas her heart was pounding rapidly, like it always did when she was around him. A stark reminder of how much she was affected by him, whilst he wasn’t at all by her.

And that was enough for her mind to stop dwelling in the fantasy of Colin. There was never any possibility of a future with him. And she was absurd for letting herself daydream about it.

The tears stopped. A calm logic fell over her.

She took a deep breath.

Her foolish heart may have cost her a future with Arthur but that didn’t mean she was out of options.

She had amassed a small fortune already. And with any luck, the investments she made would continue to grow in value. While nothing would change her status as a spinster, that didn’t mean she had to live with Mama for the rest of her life. She could leave and build a life elsewhere, without her mother’s approval. In secret if she had to.

It wouldn’t be easy, but not impossible. After all, she had built Lady Whistledown from nothing. And now her nom de plume was one of the most influential names in the ton.  She was Penelope Featherington and she could do anything she set her mind to.

“Who made you cry, Penelope?”

His words instantly brought her back to reality, and she was reminded of how desperately she was clinging to him. Immediately she dropped her arms, intending to step back but he didn’t release his grip on her. Instead, he tucked his finger under her chin and nudged her head up to meet his gaze.

It was then she noticed the dark storm brewing in his gaze. There was anger in his eyes, on his face, his jaw clenched. The Colin she grew up with was cheery and affable, equally popular amongst ladies and gentlemen of the ton because of his friendly nature. But he wasn’t the same man staring back at her now, seething with rage, a strange viciousness vibrating off of him.

“No one gets to hurt you, Penelope.”

He wasn’t loud or boisterous with his threat, instead his tone was quiet which made his words even more dangerous. Because he wasn’t putting on an act. He meant every word.

His thumb swiped the tear stains from her cheeks, first left, then right, before trailing down to her lips. His breathing grew more shallow with every second, and his eyes held her transfixed, making it impossible for her to look away from him. She was his prisoner, body and soul.

“Tell me who it was.”

She swallowed audibly. “Why do you care?”

“Because you're everything to me.” His arms encircled her back, pulling her against him. “And I will destroy the fucking world before I let someone hurt you again."

There was no time to argue, to think. A palpable force compelled them together, as real as the air they breathed. His lips closed over hers, kissing her possessively, and she kissed him back with equal fervor, desperate to touch him. The pull between them was too much, yet not enough. His hands all over her body, pulling at her dress, hers frantically removing his waistcoat and shirt because she wanted – no, needed – to feel his bare skin on hers again. They were spiraling towards full madness. Nothing else mattered except his mouth dragging down her neck, trailing a path of heated kisses. On his knees now, she clutched his hair as his mouth sought out her breasts. The friction from his mouth laving her hardened nipple over the fabric of her dress was electric. She couldn’t take it, rolling her head back at the sheer intensity of it. 

"Colin! What are you doing?”

Penelope's eyes flew open. 

Standing on the other side of the room was Eloise, watching them with complete horror on her face.  

#polin #penelope x colin #colin x penelope #bridgerton #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #never you #my fics

[john-macnamara]

It took us a little while to find the file for this, but we wanted to successfully wrap up PEIP's infamous portal incident. As you know, the Paranormal, Extraterrestrial, and Interdimensional Phenomena division of the United States' Military interrogated one Johnathan S. MacNamara after the incident. He was twenty-four at the time. We thought it would be beneficial to share this portion of the story. Give all you loyal followers the full picture.

cws: implied torture, degradation, drugging, implied sexual assault

Interrogation Records: Major Johnathan S. MacNamara; Feburary 15, 2006.

Interviewer: Lt. Gen Joseph N. Brown (JB)

Interviewee: Maj. Johnathan S. MacNamara (JM)

Purpose: Prove connection to ex-Colonel Wilbur R. Cross, now under alias Uncle Wiley

At 2:38 AM, MacNamara was forcibly removed from his bed and taken to interrogation room C. He was confined with handcuffs in case of an escape attempt, and injected with 0.7 ml of flunitrazepam combined with 5 ml saline solution. As soon as the injection was completed, the interrogation began.

[Begin Transcript 00:00:05]

JB: What is your relation to Wilbur Cross?

JM: I don't see how this has any relevance to our current problem. Nor how you have any right to request that information. Sir.

JB: You've still got a mouth on you, huh? Don't know what I expected. You're that street whore we hired, are you not? Of course your mouth would be the most important part.

JM: I'm not sassing you, sir. I'm simply stating my misunderstanding of the situation. If I was woken up in the middle of the night for this, I'd appreciate knowing why I happen to be important enough to question.

JB: You don't need to know that. Simply answer me. What is your relation to Colonel Wilbur R. Cross?

JM: He is- was my friend. Is that all you wanted from me? Can I go now?

JB: Oh, a friend you say? Well you weren't his only friend, and yet you were the only one unharmed yesterday. Why is that?

JM: I don't know, sir.

JB: I'm sure you know something. You went to him first. You could have very well had something to do with the attack.

JM: I would never. I am loyal to this organization above all else. I have been nothing but loyal to you. I swear on my life.

JB: Swearing on a traitor's life doesn't mean much.

JM: I'm not a traitor, you fucking pig! ...I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry sir. I'm so sorry.

JB: Board him. He should know how to address his superiors with respect.

JM: Please. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry... I'm sorry...

[Indistinct]

[00:11:56]

JB: Do we have an understanding, Major?

JM: ...yes, sir.

JB: Will you refer to your superiors by anything other than "sir" or "ma'am"?

JM: No, sir.

JB: Good. Now, would you like to truthfully answer my previous question about your relationship to Wilbur Cross?

JM: My apologies, sir, but I thought I already did? We were friends, and then he swore fealty to whatever resides beyond that portal. Now we're not.

JB: I was looking for a concise answer, Major.

JM: Sorry, sir.

JB: Are you telling the truth about your relationship? There was nothing romantic there, no hidden feelings that may have lead to assisting him after he left?

JM: Of course not, sir.

JB: I don't believe you. Tell me the truth, or we'll put you under the water again.

JM: I'm not lying, we had nothing between us except for a friendship and a mentorship. I promise, sir. If we had anything else together, I'd have told you as soon as it occurred.

JB: Alright boys, you know what to do.

JM: No. Please-

[Indistinct]

[00:18:31]

JB: Would you like to tell us anything yet?

JM: I...

JB: Yes? Spit it out.

JM: I was in love with him...

JB: There we go! Look at you, finally admitting something. At least you have some sense.

JM: I swear to you, sir, that just because I was in love with him doesn't mean I would have betrayed PEIP for him.

JB: Well, I don't know if I can trust that. But I'm nice, so here's what I'm going to do. We're going to dose you with something that'll make you more... malleable. You'll be more likely to tell the truth and to cooperate. Don't try to resist, it'll be easier if you let it take effect.

JM: I- yes sir.

[JM dosed with 150 ml sodium thiopental]

JB: How ya feeling, soldier?

JM: 'ired...

JB: Good. Where are you?

JM: Uhhhh... I dunno? Sorry...

JB: Wow, you just fall right under this shit, huh? I bet I could do anything I wanted to you, and you wouldn't even know. Maybe you'd even like it, you slut.

JM: Mhm...

JB: But that's not what we're here for. Tell me the true nature of the relationship between yourself and Colonel Cross.

JM: Uh- righ', Wil. Yes. We'r frens. I love him, he doesn love me. Simmle.

JB: We already got that part. What was your relationship to him after he went through the portal?

JM: Oh, sorr'... I aven seen 'im ince the portal.

JB: So you weren't lying to me, then?

JM: No sir.

JB: Were you in cahoots with any entity from beyond that portal since he entered?

JM: Nosir.

JB: Well, considering I don't think you can lie in this state, I'm going to assume you're telling me the truth. Our apologies for the misunderstanding.

JM: Issok.

JB: There must be something we can do to make this up to you. What would you like?

JM: ...sleep?

JB: Well that sounds very nice. Unfortunately, we can't let you go to sleep until the drug wears off, you see. But I do have an idea of what we can do while we wait. Does that sound nice?

JM: Mhm, sure...

JB: Now, if I asked you to do anything right now, you'd do it. Isn't that right?

JM: Yessir...

JB: Wonderful. You all may leave, I have something to do here. Now, stay still, pretty boy, and open up your mouth.

JM: [Indiscernible slurring. Reminiscent of protests]

[End Transcript 00:32:17]

#hatchetfield rp #hatchetblr #peip leaks

[good-beanswrites]

Fe Aspec Week Day 1: Coming Out

WOO It's aspec week time!! 💜💚 To no one's surprise I'm starting off with Lukas :3 I know we have the wonderful support convo when he and Python sort of come out to each other, but I was always curious about the loose ends that it brings up -- how he comes out to/is treated by his family, the woman he's left behind, his fellow nobles, etc. This drabble doesn't really answer any of those questions sadfsadf but it's coming from that thought 😂

Father,

I am writing to you now, so soon after my previous letter, as there is something I have yet to confess. It may be difficult for you to hear, but

The sentence stops abruptly, a small dab of ink at the corner of the ‘t’ where the pen had rested a moment in contemplation.

A man sits back at his at a desk. His candle illuminates the page, displaying a few brief lines at the top. He dips his pen in ink time and time again, but the page remains mostly empty. 

At first, the man believes his problem to be a lack of words. No title exists for men like him. He’s well-educated and well-connected in the army; he has an extensive vocabulary for how the upper and lower class categorizes its people. Whether it’s a scholar’s dull terminology, vulgar common language insults, or the carefully chosen phrasing of a gossiper, none of the usual descriptors fit him. All he has are the distantly connected criticisms he’d heard his whole life: “heartless,” “cold,” “detached.” 

When the candle burns lower, however, he realizes the real issue. He has far too many words.

Where would he even start? Should he describe his contentment with his life here? How not one of his fellows ever brought up the lack of a woman at his arm, or how dinners with the King and Queen themselves were filled with pleasantries that never touched on his romantic endeavors? Whatever his father had been preparing for, it had never come.

Or should he begin earlier, when he was first accepted by this group of people? He wasn’t sure if he could properly convey all that he experienced on that fateful night, speaking softly with the unit’s archer – a man he’d come to call one of his truest friends. The man had heard for the first time in his life that there were others like him. He heard that they were content. They were whole.

He could go back further and describe the moment that the realization first hit him. How his father had been right in a sense. Just as he said, one day when the man was grown, he would be in the arms of another, and everything about himself would suddenly make sense. There was only one difference. He’d been forced to bury that clarity, since it wasn’t the same kind that everyone else came to.

Or should he start even further back? He could recount all little hints that haunted him across his youth. His dreams for the future never quite aligned with those of his peers. Nothing ever seemed to align. His choice of stories to read, of games to play, of jokes to make. He wouldn’t ever claim he was mistreated as a child, but everyone would agree that the signs had appeared even then.

The man sighs. Where is the beginning, when one has always been this way? 

The clock strikes on the hour. It is late, and he will need to be at his sharpest tomorrow for drills and meetings. He has no more time to fret over words about his past. 

The man tries a new method, and wonders what his friends may write about him. He can’t resist a dry smile. He knows that he can never, under any circumstance, allow them to exchange any correspondence with his family. 

But the exercise gives him an idea.

He writes out a single statement. Then he blows out the candle and heads to his bed. 

there is nothing broken about me.

Cordially,

Lukas

#fe aspec week #fe echoes #fe lukas #fire emblem echoes #fire emblem lukas #i always thought cordially meant like 'respectfully' so finding out it means 'with intense feeling/in a heartfelt way' had me ;----; #i like the idea of someone whos very eloquent and educated writing the simplest and oddest letter home and just Not Elaborating #i hope the pov worked -- i wasnt sure if it was weird doing the present-tense-no-name thing but it just started flowing? so i ran with it? #LMAO i couldnt get it to work but my original idea for this prompt was art featuring lukas right after the support convo and high off the #euphoria or self-discovery #he'd be absolutely wrecking it on the battlefield -- bloody and wild and giddy staring down the viewer with the caption 'love loses' 😂 #drabbles

[fics-and-quotes-andthelike]

The Makeover and The Makeup

Title: The Makeover and The Makeup

Pairing: Angel Dust x reader (Platonic), Alastor x reader (mentioned)

Word Count: ~1,369

In which Angel Dust and the reader get into a fight in the middle of a makeover session.

A/N: This is a continuation of my previous two Hazbin fics, which are here and here. It’s super short, but I still hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of Val, mentions of de*th, Angel being suggestive, ooc Angel maybe

When you had first struck a deal with the Vees, they had treated you with something that had almost resembled kindness. They had showered you in compliments and praise, feeding you false promises and empty words of endearment.

It lasted for two days.

After that, you were fair game. Fresh meat. A new toy for all three Vees to poke and prod at while you did their bidding.

But then came your knight in blood red armor, holding his cane in one hand and smiling broadly as he greeted you with a kiss to your knuckle for the first time.

You had stuck to Alastor’s side ever since.

But although you were more than grateful for his rescue, you couldn’t help but continue to feel a little alone. Alastor had saved you, yes, and he kept you by his side, of course, but he wasn’t exactly one to share feelings or stories. 

He did, however, listen to yours. 

After you had shared a particularly brutal story having to do with a certain moth demon, Alastor had come to a quick decision and swept you away to the Hazbin Hotel. 

When you arrived, you had found a group of souls that were just as broken as you were.

Especially Angel Dust. 

While your brief time with the Vees was nothing compared to Angel’s ongoing experience with Valentino, he seemed to appreciate that you had some semblance of understanding about what it meant to be Valentino’s target.

Meanwhile, you were just happy to find that you weren’t the only soul foolish enough to fall for the moth demon’s charms.

Ever since the two of you had found out about your shared past, Angel had practically taken you under his wing. He introduced you to Cherri Bomb, invited you when he was high strung and needed to go out, and confided in you when he had a rough day at work.

You had done the same, telling your stories about the Vees and your life Before and sharing your feelings.

The last point, though, you were beginning to regret.

“So he killed a guy for you, huh?” Angel asked as he circled you, admiring his handiwork.

“That’s not what I said,” you protested as you looked at your reflection in Angel’s full-length mirror. 

Angel stopped walking and raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he looked down at you. “You really think Smiles left the guy alive? C’mon, dollface, you ain’t that naive, are ya?”

You flushed and looked down.

“That’s what I thought,” Angel said, smugness coating his words as he began walking once again.

You looked back up and glared at him through the mirror. “You know, when I said you could give me a makeover, I didn’t mean I was going to be your personal dress-up doll. This is the fifth outfit.”

Angel stopped beside you, draping his arm over your shoulders and leaning into you as he admired his work in the mirror. “You knew what you were gettin’ into, sweet cheeks. Don’t pretend you don’t love it.”

You did love it. It was fun to let your guard down for a few hours and allow Angel Dust to release his creative energy. Not that you would ever say so to his face, of course.

“Besides,” Angel continued as he wandered away from you and towards his closet, rifling through the many options. “Your first official date with Mista Creepy was a hit, right? We’ve gotta change up your style a bit if you wanna get some,” he said with a wink in your direction.

Your eyes widened. “That is not what I’m trying to do,” you hissed. “Alastor is my friend.”

“Uh-huh. Yeah, sure.”

“He is,” you insisted. “He’s been nothing but sweet to me, and I’m not going to ruin the friendship that we’ve built.”

You tried not to notice Angel’s grimace in the mirror. It was a lot harder to pretend, though, when he turned around with an uncertain expression on his face, holding a dress to his chest and avoiding eye contact.

“Look,” he said hesitantly. “I know he seems…”

“Kind.”

“Right,” Angel said, scratching the back of his head. “But I’ve been talkin’ to Husk. About you and Smiles. He says you should be careful.”

You couldn’t fight back the burst of anger that rose in your chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Angel’s eyes widened as he held up his two free hands in surrender. “I ain’t sayin’ you gotta stop talkin’ to the guy. I’m just saying-”

“You don’t know him,” you interjected, jabbing a finger into his chest. “You don’t know anything about him. I know he’s an Overlord, but he’s sweet and he’s kind, and he’s never done anything to hurt me. He would never hurt anyone.”

You realized your mistake as soon as the words left your lips. It was foolish of you to forget. Alastor was your friend, of course, but he was also an Overlord. One of the most powerful Overlords that Hell had ever seen.

There was a fire in Angel’s eyes as he leaned towards you. “He already has. He’s done it to all those other souls he owns, and he’s done it to Husk. I know you love ‘im, but he ain’t a good guy.”

You spluttered and stepped back, trying to ignore the blush that coated your cheeks. “I didn’t say I loved him.”

Angel’s eyes narrowed, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You didn’t have to. I see how you look at him. It’s the same way I looked at Val before-” he stopped, looking down and away from you, shielding his gaze.

You felt your anger seep away as quickly as it had appeared. How could you have been so blind? Of course this situation felt familiar to Angel. You were a fool for not noticing any sooner. A fool, and a horrible friend.

Angel looked up, finally meeting your eyes. “I just don’t want you ta get hurt.”

You understood exactly what he was saying, of course. Alastor owned Husk’s soul, and despite never taking advantage of that fact when you were around, you had heard some of the stories from Angel. It only made sense that your friend was trying to warn you now. Someone he loved was already at the mercy of the Radio Demon. Of course he would do anything he could to protect you from the same fate.

You nodded, looking down. “I know,” you said quietly. 

You stepped forward then, wrapping your arms around the spider demon and squeezing tightly. “Thank you. For looking after me.”

For a moment, you received no response. Then, you heard the rustle of fabric as Angel dropped the dress that he was holding onto the floor, wrapping four of his arms around you and pulling you close. “That’s my job, toots,” he said quietly.

You held each other, a silent promise passing in between you as you gripped each other with all of the strength you could muster.

Finally, you stepped back, reaching out and grabbing two of Angel’s hands. You pressed them to your lips, one at a time, before looking up with a soft smile. 

“I hope I didn’t ruin the makeover,” you said with a gleam in your eye.

Angel grinned, reaching up with one of his free hands to ruffle your hair. “Not at all, sweet cheeks. Let’s get this show on the road.”

~~~

When Husk found the two of you later that day after searching for his usual drinking partner, he didn’t find two demons smiling together as they dressed up and pretended for a few hours that the rest of Hell didn’t exist.

Instead, he found two wayward souls on the ground, half dressed and half asleep, leaning against each other as they spoke in a way that only the closest of friends could.

They looked over at him, smiling and beckoning him closer, and drawing him onto the floor with them, where they spoke until sleep finally wrapped its kind arms around them.

They were still in the hotel, of course, but for the first time in a long time, these three souls finally felt like they were home.

A/N 2: Another part with more Alastor x reader is coming soon, it’ll be a continuation of A Dance in Death!! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Taglist: @severusminerva @anh4125 @midorichoco @rapturenyx @maybememoriesx @martinys-world @miyu-kii @axellovesalastor @mo-0-o

#fic #my fic #fanfiction #my fanfiction #hazbin hotel #hazbin #hazbin husk #hazbin angel dust #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #the radio demon #the radio demon x reader #angel dust x reader #angel dust x husk #angel dust x reader platonic #the vees #hazbin hotel valentino #fat nuggets #hazbin hotel vox #voxval #hazbin hotel velvette #angst #fluff #angst with a happy ending #light angst #hazbin hotel angst #hazbin hotel x you #taglist

[asherthehimbo]

Listen to my music, listen to your heart

previous | eleven : dinner | m. list | next

notes: warnings, physical abuse, unrealistic academic pressure, cheating acusations, depressive thoughts, disassociating, wounds, whipping(?), grief, the loss of a grandparent, more things probably

wordcount: 3.7 k + 4 screenshots

Staring up at your (not yours anymore, you have to remind yourself) ceiling, you can't help but think of the contrast the plain dark gray ceiling has when held in context to that of your siblings' rooms. Felix's room has a colorful solar system painted over the black base, little specks of white that glow in the dark acting like stars. You vaguely remember painting it with Channie when you were 17 and Felix was 13, days spent carefully stenciling every planet, splattering each other with paint, nights laughing at the days events- You who had recently discovered your soulbond with Channie at the time trying to stop yourself from falling deeper- but failing whenever Channie would look at you with those bright eyes, smile on his face and dimples on full display as if he knew it was your weakness.

Olivia’s ceiling a beautiful baby blue with light clouds painted on it and chains decorated with charms that look like rain and thunder dangling from the ceiling, you remember starting to paint it when you were 18, right before you left for college- you also remember the fact that that was the last time Olivia had actually spoken to you - it was 4 years ago and your heart breaks every day that timespan becomes longer.

Rachel's room, pastel pink as it's always been, ever since she was 15- you painted hers too, you think that was the last time she had acted civil with you, but that's okay. She’s happy now - and that's all you could wish for.

Yet it bothers you, your childhood reflecting the bleak ceiling while your siblings lived a vibrant life, grew up with parents that loved them- everything you had went to them. You even gave up the other half of your soul so that Rachel could live her life, so that Felix could find his other half, so that Olivia could continue to gaze at the clouds.

No matter the regrets you hold, you’d do it all over again, sacrifice yourself for their happiness- for what are you if not a protector? What is your worth to this family if you can not offer yourself up for their joy? For what is the value of a star if it's daytime? What is your value if you can not give them light in the darkness?

You turn your head to look at Soobin asleep next to you, you should probably wake the boy up, people will be arriving in an hour- but Soobin just looks so peaceful.

Your mind drifts to what it would be like waking next to Channie instead, Chan’s puffy lips formed in that cute pout he always has when he's asleep, his hair messy- one hand resting on his exposed stomach as the other cuddling whatever he could find, Chan always slept like that, curling in on himself yet still finding a way to fit you - his Bubbles- into his hold.

Soobin was completely different to Chan, maybe that's why he was the perfect candidate to distract you - but looking at the slightly shorter man asleep, on his side holding the blanket- you think there isn't a place for you here- with Soobin.

You think Soobin knows it too, and your heart breaks because you have this sinking feeling this is the last time. Soobin waking up, looking at you with a wobbly smile and eyes holding back tears solidifies your suspicions, but neither of you bring it up. An agreement started and ended the same way- silently, secretly, with love and tears.

A knock on the door startles you both, as your eyes flick away from one another “Hyung’s? Mom said I needed to come wake you! Rachel just went to pick up Olivia, dads gonna be home in half an hour and the guests are arriving in an hour” Felix’s voice follows the knock. “We’re up lix!” You shout back gently at your younger brother. “Oh! And Fifi is playing with Seungmin and mom in the backyard!” Felix shouts back before you hear him shuffling down the stairs. Leaving you and Soobin to sit on the bed in silence.

The silence in the room is deafening as you two get dressed, after showering and cleaning up it’s about time that Rachel and Olivia should be home and you do not know if you want to break the silence with Soobin, or go down and greet the sister who cowers away from you. Soobin makes that decision for you- he had always been able to read your thoughts.

“You need to do something that makes you happy” Soobin speaks while nodding his head slightly, he's in thought as if it's the answer to a question he’s been pondering for a while, although you can't even begin to comprehend what the question could be. “Excuse me?” you ask softly in an attempt to sound as confused as you feel.

“You should do something that makes you happy [Name], even something small- spend more time with your brother, more time with Chan, find a hobby that is yours and not one your father has chosen out for you. The rage you hold for your father’s actions that contrasts the guilt you feel of hating him is making you numb. You have to admit it yourself, you seem to not have the emotional strength to care for those you love at this point, you’re exhausted [Name], professor Teamin sees it, I see it, Keeho see’s it; and I’m pretty sure Felix is realizing it. You’re burning yourself out” Soobin says softly, he looks at you with those big eyes of his, and you can see the sincerity behind them.

“Even stars have the ability to burn out [Name], but they go out on their own conditions, on their own time- do not dim your own light for those who do not appreciate you. Do not go out before you’ve completed yourself. Find your happiness.” Soobin confirms his words with a sense of finality- as if this is something he’s been waiting to say for a while.

You look down as you place rings on your fingers, you caress the gold one -engraved with a little sun- thats placed on your ring finger- vaguely remembering the fact that it was a gift from Chan- a matching charm he gave you when you went off to college for your first year and he was in his last year of highschool. A promise to stay connected. “And if my happiness takes me away from you?” you ask as tears try to form in your eyes, you force them away. Your voice is trembling, vulnerable in a way Soobin has never heard from you.

“I’ve always known I wasn't your happiness [Name], that much is obvious- your happiness lies somewhere else, with another. I've made peace with that, I'm content with the sense of relief I was able to offer but we both know this, us, was not meant to last. Relief is short lived, and you need to come to terms with the fact that this is a risk you should take.”

It hurts Soobin to let you go, wounds his heart in a way only love can, but he knows that a star cannot be trapped- it is supposed to roam free until its last light. Soobin lets you go because he knows the sense of relief he provides you could never compare to the utter joy in your eye’s with simply just the mention of the other half of your soul.

Soobin knows that in your eyes he can't hold a candle to the admiration you have for Chan- but he’s not angry at that. You can't mix yellow and red then expect purple. You can’t mix Soobin and yourself, then expect forever.

“ I love you, you know that right?” You look at Soobin, he nods his head, a soft smile on his lips ``I know, but you're in love with him and that’s okay.” You open your mouth, about to respond, to tell him that it’s not okay, that you fucked up, that you hurt him and that you hate yourself for it, but the voices downstairs stop you from doing so. “Seem’s your dad and sisters got back at the same time, I guess we should go down.” Soobin supplies and he walks to the door before you, he knows you wouldn't walk first, knows that you need to be pushed.

Knows that if it were up to you, you wouldn't do anything, but Soobin will be damned if he doesn't see you happy and he has a feeling that tonight things are going to change, hopefully for the better. He knows you need to talk to someone who understands, someone you look up too- and luckily enough that person will be here tonight.

You follow Soobin down the stairs, although you’re much less enthusiastic than him, your shoulders are slumped, current posture making you seem much smaller and less secure of yourself. To be fair right now you're not that sure of yourself but still, your father won't accept bad posture.

Once you and Soobin reach the bottom of the stairs you’re met with Rachel “Dad wants you to greet him, he’s in his study” she tells you, her head nodding to the room that's always instilled fear in you. Soobin gives you a wary look but you nod your head down the hall to where the door to the backyard is situated. “Go sit with Felix and Min, I'll be there in a moment” You try to give him a reassuring smile, you know he doesn't fall for it, but he obeys nonetheless. Walking away to the backyard after one last nod.

You turn, about to enter your fathers study that is a little more down the hall, entrance under the stairs, parallel to the living room, before you can take a step Rachel grabs your arm, forcing you to look down at your younger sister. “Listen, I don't know what you have going on with that boytoy of yours, but you better not hurt Chan” she looks at you, her eyes filled with determination, your stomach twists in a odd way as you tilt your head in confusion, you try to defend yourself “Rachel what are you talking about? I would never dream of-”

“I don’t care what you would dream of, I care about Chan, the guy who's been a better older brother to us than you were.” she starts, and damn her words hurt. “I know I wasn't supposed to know he’s your soulmate, but I do and I’ll be damned if I let you hurt him. You bring that guy here for a reason I can't fathom, because you know Chan’s gonna be here tonight. You may have been a deadbeat older brother to us but dont you dare be a deadbeat soulmate to the one person who’s supposed to always be by your side, frankly he doesn’t deserve you-” she’s right, Chan deserves so much better, he deserves a soulmate who could actually be there for him, who could openly express their love, He deserves to love someone who wouldn't put him in danger. “ - I mean you parading your little boyfriend around is practically cheating.” She finishes her sentence as she looks at you in what seems to be disappointment? Resentment? You can't tell.

Something in you snaps, you can understand everything else she said, despite all that you've sacrificed she doesn't know, your siblings don't know why you were almost never there for them and that's fine, if they see you as a deadbeat older brother you don't care, as long as they're safe, but accusing you of cheating? That's low, even for Rachel. She knows it, she knows , she remembers and you hate her for using that against you. The one memory you both share that she knows impacts you to this day.

“Rachel I honestly stopped caring what you think of me-” you didn't, you yearn for her acceptance still, “- but accusing me of cheating is evil and you know it. Me and Channie aren't together, Soobin isnt my boyfriend, So don’t you dare accuse me of cheating when you barely remember what happened that night. You only dream broken shards of that fragile memory, I am the one that has to hold the fragile glass, carry it with me. So insult me all you want but do NOT hold that broken shard against my neck.” You look at Rachel with anger, and she hates it- you never look at her like that, sure she took it a bit far this time, but you always let it slide- why do you choose now of all times to talk back?

“I was simply telling you what I see [Name], no need to start a fight over it, not with Olivia in the house- I don't want her first memory of you being home after so long to be of a fight” Rachel says as if you’re the one in the wrong here. “Firstly, I’m your older brother, it's [Name]-oppa or Oppa-nim, put respect on the fact that I basically raised you when mom couldn't. Secondly, I’m not starting a fight Rachel, you are and don't you dare try and use Olivia against me to justify the situation you started.” You tell her before storming to your fathers study, you're angry, you almost swing the door open- but muscle memory warns you not to.

There's a difference in the way your muscles tense when you're angry, and when you're scared- you feel the shift the moment your hand reaches the handle of the door, you knock, three times in perfect order before you open the door and step inside. Your father is sitting at his study, his eyes are fixed on the papers at his desk, he motions you closer with his hand, not lifting his head to make eye contact.

You walk forward and take in the picture before you. It may have been years since you've been in this room, but you could not escape the memories it brought even if you tried, too many nightmares had been born here, too many dreams had been destroyed for you to not remember it. The room looks exactly the same, only one difference stares at you. On your fathers desk is a picture, in the picture a big man, with silver hair is standing at what seems to be a bar. He has a large, welcoming smile on his face. It's a picture of your paternal grandfather, the only man who gave you solace when you were younger, the man who took you in after the incident you and Rachel had just talked about. You don't notice that your father is now staring at you, you’re too busy staring at the man you've lost long ago- you almost forgot what he looked like.

Your father slams the picture closed, hard. You snap your eyes up to him, “Father” you greet and he nods his head, “You brought them? The students you tutor?” he asks, “Yes, they are currently outside with mother” you respond. “Good” he pauses, “you brought the dog?” he looks at you expectantly. Your father never liked Fifi, you suppose it's because Fifi had never liked him. “Yes, although Fifi is not as young as he was when you first met him father, he’s much more well behaved” You supply. The first time your father met your dog, Fifi was only a few months old but already big in size, he had snarled at your father and probably would have attacked him had you not stopped your dog. “I would expect so, the chemistry contest?”

******abuse warning*****

“I got first place with a 98/100 father” you answer him and you know he’s not going to be happy, “You got two questions wrong?” He raises a brow. “Is the door locked?” he asks as he bends down, opening a drawer in his desk. “Yes father” you look at him, hoping that maybe this time he’ll let it go. “And you know the rule” he states as he stands up, you sigh as you take of your shirt and answer him, “For every mark lost, a scar is the cost” you reply, your voice is devoid of emotion and you think you’re starting to disassociate, you try not to- he doesnt like it when you do that.

“That's correct” Your father walks from his place behind the desk and you see the stick in his hand. It's a weapon he’s had since you were 10, almost like a miniature whip of sorts, it hurts like hell but you're glad he’s chosen this instead of the other alternative, instead of the one that has steel teeth at the ends. You turn your back to him, standing upright- this is the only time your father would allow you to turn your back to him. Purely so that he can admire his work and punish you again.

With every hit to your skin you clench your teeth, if you make a sound, if you falter or fall down the punishment will only be worse, this will all be over soon, you just need to focus on something. Focus, don't go away, don't dissociate, don't falter. You need to focus, you feel yourself slipping away, it's too late.

*****scene over*****

You didn't focus.

By the time you come too you're already sitting at the dinner table, Soobin sitting on your left and Seungmin on your right, you can feel Fifi sitting in between your legs below the table which makes sense. He always did know when you weren't fully there, and refused to leave your side when it happened.

You look around you, realizing everyone had already arrived, your mother and Rachel are conversing with Ms. Bahng to the left, your mother sitting at the one heads of the table, next to Rachel sat Olivia who was animatedly conversing with Hannah who sat opposite her, Lucas would chime in every now and then but he was mostly quiet, you missed Lucas he was a sweet boy.

Beside him, and opposite to you sat Chan, he wasn't looking at you, rather his gaze flicking from Soobin down to his plate, he seemed mad? Sad? some mixture of emotions you couldn’t quite read. Beside Chan sat Yunho, Yunho who despite holding conversation with the fathers at the right end of the table, seemed to be eyeing you worriedly.

Felix sat in between Sengmin and Olivia, talking to both of them with the warmest smile on his face. You felt.. out of place so to speak, seemingly the only one at the table not speaking a word, and the rest of dinner, not that there had been much left seeing as when you focused back in everyone was finishing up, went the same. After all the dishes had been cleared, and a playful fight between you mother, Ms,. Mikealson and Ms. Bahng on who would do the dishes, you follow Yunho outside to the porch, Fifi not far behind you.

You suppose its tradition, after every family dinner you and Yunho would sit here, on the porch gazing out as your little siblings and friends would play, the both of you, the eldest, never joining them. While the picture now is eerily similar to that of your last dinner, you know a lot has changed, Seungmin and Soobin joining the younger ones in the backyard, Jongho not being here, Yunho who's staring at you, because he knows.

Somehow Yunho has always known, you suppose it’s because of the similarities you share. “So Soobin?” his voice is calm as he asks, he’s relaxed into his chair, eyes focused solely on you. You give him a hum of acknowledgement before responding “He told me to do what makes me happy”

“And will you?” he asks, “I don’t know, I don’t even know what makes me happy anymore” You sigh in defeat turning to face your old friend. Despite the fondness you have for Yunho, a certain part of you will always be jealous that he got the love story you didn't. “I think you do, you might not realize it but there are certain things that clearly make you happy, certain people. “

You groan in annoyance, not wanting to have the same conversation of denial over and over, “Not this again, Yunho listen I- “

“No you listen [Name], we may not talk much, but I know you, heck a few months ago I was you. My dad might not be as controlling as yours but I know the feeling. What I saw in there tonight was you completely out of it, the only sign of life would be the way your lips would quirk up at Chan’s voice. When we walked out here the way your eyes followed him, the way your eyes are softening now watching him sit on the swing and look at the stars. You can’t keep denying it, not to me. Not to the person who was always there when you would light up at the slightest bit of attention from him. You can’t deny the way your shoulders would relax and smile would become less strained in the presence of him, Felix and your mother. These little moments of happiness that's helped you survive are keeping you from living. You can’t hide it from me because before I got with Mingi it was me. You need to grasp the thing that makes you want to live.” Yunho cuts you off and he doesn't leave room for you to argue as he stands up and walks further into the yard to join the others.

Tears sting in your eyes but you refuse to let them fall as you stare at Chan, he stares right back. You give him a smile, albeit bittersweet, but a real one, and a tiny wave. His face lights up and he waves back enthusiastically, allowing you to catch sight of the silver band on his ring finger, one that represents his connection to the moon. One that represents his connection to you.

The moon may not be able to live without the sun, but the sun will forever spend its time chasing after the moon. Maybe it’s time you follow the advice of those around you. Maybe it’s time you live.

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notes: chat do NAWT hold me accountable for how ass my writing is I'm out of practice, also thank Kai for sitting with me when I wrote the begining of this chapter WEEKS ago🙏🏻 ALSO PLS PLS PLS TELL ME WHAT U THINK IN THE COMMENTS OR IN MY INBOX PLEASE I NEED FEEDBACK!!

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