#I hate this life and I hate this body I'm trapped in. I hate the world I am forced to live in

[ashwhowrites]

Older Eddie finding out you’re pregnant and has hard emotions over it. He’s excited but nervous because of his age and reader overhears him saying he doesn’t know if he can be a dad and you choose the ending

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Baby talk

Eddie had his dream of having a wife and kids, but it fizzled out the older he got. It never seemed to be in his cards and he found himself okay with that. He didn't feel like he was missing out on anything. He enjoyed his life the way it was.

He had been together with Y/N for about two years. He loved that she wasn't in a rush to be married. She was young and had many years before she felt like her time was cutting short.

Y/N knew Eddie didn't have a plan in mind for having kids, and it wasn't something they talked about too much. She knew at his age, that kids were the last thing on his mind. She'd be lucky to even get a ring on her finger.

As she looked at the five pregnancy tests on the bathroom counter, she feared to tell Eddie the news.

"BABE?"

She jumped into action as she heard his voice. Scrambling to throw the tests into the trash can. She washed off her hands by the time he made it into the doorway.

"Just using the bathroom, what's up?" She asked, a fake smile plastered on her face

"Home from work and was thinking about ordering pizza?"

"Sounds good,"

Eddie nodded and walked out of the room to call the pizza place. YN looked at herself in the mirror and wondered what the hell she was going to do.

~~~

It had been almost two months and she hadn't said a word. She dumped out the trash and tried to forget it.

But now she was sick every morning, and her emotions were all out of whack

She knew she needed to say something before she began to show. She was scared and she hated that it was her own secret. She had all this on her shoulders and needed to share the weight.

"You okay? You barely ate your dinner," Eddie said, he sat across her at the restaurant. Couples talking all around them but they sat in silence. He watched her as she slowly picked at her food. He knew something was going on. She always looked tired, he'd hear her cry all throughout the day and he spent every morning holding her hair back.

"Would you ever want kids?" She asked, finally looking up

Eddie coughed as he was caught off guard

"Um, I don't know. I guess if I'm being honest, I would live perfectly fine without them." He shrugged, "But if it was something you wanted, I'd make it work."

"Make it work?" Y/N scoffed, "What just suffer and stick around because you got trapped?"

Eddie blinked at her aggression

"I didn't say that" Eddie deflected, "I just think if it happened, it would take me a while to be good with that. I never saw myself as a dad and it would be a lot to learn."

"Would you be happy?" she asked, her stomach began to turn and she felt vomit in the back of her throat

"I don't know,"

"Well, figure it out within these next seven months." She said she watched as his eyes shot open and he looked down at her body and back up again

"You're pregnant?" He choked out

She bit her lip nervously as she nodded

"Dammit" Eddie whispered to himself as he sighed

"Dammit?" She snapped, "That is all you have to say!" She stood up and slammed down her napkin.

Eddie watched as she marched out of the restaurant. He quickly threw as much cash as he had on the table and followed after her.

~

The car ride was silent. Every word that left Eddie's lips was ignored. She had her arms crossed as hot anger tears rolled down her face.

Eddie pulled into his driveway and she was fast to get out of the car.

"Baby, can we please talk?" He asked once they made it through the front door

"Sleep on the couch, asshole." She spat as she yanked off her heels and walked down the hallway.

~

Y/N wasn't sure how long she stared at the wall in silence but she knew it had been a while

She closed her eyes when she heard the bedroom door open.

Eddie slowly lifted up the sheets and crawled into the bed

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you" he whispered, he wrapped his arms around her body and pressed her into his chest. "I was caught off guard and surprised. I thought we were always safe."

"Not safe enough," she snapped. She wanted to stay mad but his arms and lips kissing up and down her neck made her melt

"I'm going to be right here the whole time. You're not alone. We will do this together."

She rolled over, tears in her eyes as she tried to find his eyes in the dark

"Good because I am really scared," she cried

"It'll be okay." He soothed, leaned in, and pecked her lips

~~~

"Here is your beer, love," Y/N said as she placed the beer on the small table

It had been a crazy few months. She was now eight months and they were preparing for their baby to arrive.

"Thank you," he said as he pecked her cheek. Then turned his attention back to painting the wall

"I think this color looks great," Y/N smiled as she rubbed her bump. The light blue brightened up the nursery in the perfect way.

"I agree. The crib and changing table will be delivered tomorrow so Wayne will be over to help out. You just stay in bed and relax." Eddie said as he set down his paintbrush and grabbed his beer.

~

Y/N sat in her bed as she watched TV. Wayne and Eddie were down a few doors putting together the last few touches of the nursery.

She sighed as she grew restless, she needed to move. She climbed out of bed as fast as she could. Then walked out to the kitchen, she figured she could make lunch for the boys.

She finished the sandwiches and grabbed some beers. With her hands full, she walked to the room. But she stopped when she heard the two in a heated discussion.

"You are not walking out on her or that baby, Eddie," Wayne's voice was aggressive and stern. Y/N felt her heart drop at the thought.

"I didn't say that! I'm just fucking terrified. I'm too old to be starting over in my life. A newborn? That is a ton of work, and even more for someone who is as old as me." Eddie sighed

"I don't give a shit what age you are. Teenager, her age, or your age, doesn't matter, you are having a baby. I'm sure she's scared. And I'm sure she has been scared since she found out. She needs someone to count on, and you need to be that person. Having a kid will always be scary."

"I know! But what about when he starts school? I'm going to drop him off and be older than every dad there. I'll be a grandpa age by the time he gets into college. I don't know if I can be a dad."

"Edward quit making this about you! Who cares if you are older than the other dads. You've got an advantage. You've been working for years, probably a better income than they have. You have benefits that you can support her and your child with. You already made a fuss when she told you, don't make another scene." Wayne lectured

Eddie sat in silence and Y/N took the cue to walk in

"Lunch is served" she announced as she walked in. Acting like she didn't hear a single word.

"Thank you, dear," Wayne said as he pecked her head

"You didn't have to, you are supposed to be in bed," Eddie said as he pecked her cheek.

"I needed to move my legs," Y/N shrugged, "can I talk to you for a second?"

Eddie nodded and followed her into their bedroom

"Everything okay?" he asked as he softly touched her stomach

"Do you want to be a dad or not? Because it seemed like we figured it out and we were on the right track. And if you don't want him, you don't get me. I want this and I want us to be a family. But if you don't want that, be a man and tell me so I can figure out what I'm going to do for my child." She ranted, her arms crossed as she panted. She tried to keep her tears back.

Eddie sighed and sat on the bed. He grabbed her hand and moved her to stand between his legs. He released her hand to place both on her stomach and looked up at her

"He's our child. I am not walking away from you or him, and I never will. I know I'm all over the place, but I do want this. I'm worried about my age and how that might affect me being a good dad. I just don't want to let him down and I don't want you to regret having this magical moment with me and not someone who has a better grip on things." Eddie said

"Oh Eddie," she sighed then placed her hands on his cheeks. "You won't let him down. All you have to do is love and support him, which I know you can do. I don't want anyone else. I want this baby with you. I know you can do this. I believe in you." She leaned down and pecked his lips.

"I love you," he said against her lips

"I love you too"

And she was right. The second their baby was born, Eddie became the best dad she had ever seen. He adored Gavin, and Gavin was glued to his dad's hip. They were best friends and Y/N couldn't have been happier.

Eddie's fear never went away, but he treasured every moment he had with his family. He became a dad and he conquered it. Next, he was ready to conquer being a husband.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlx @ineedmentalhelp123

[jacksprostate]

Tyler tells me, it's not him who doesn't like my boss. He says, I chant it in the half-conscious delirium I achieve a scant few hours each night. He says, it's like I'm possessed and my body thinks it's dying and my soul needs to blurt out its final demands before it's ejected. He says, I grip the pillow like its my boss's soft, doughy pecs, fat with his complete and utter physical inactivity. Like I'm hoping to slide my hands down his greasy chest until I can claw open his abdomen and finally truly sleep in it.

He tells me this, and I say, Tyler, I don't want to know.

"Too bad," Tyler says. Tyler is blocking me into my room. There's no escape.

He says, you hate your boss.

You feel trapped.

You feel everything wrong in your life is because your father left you and God left you and your boss doesn't give a shit about you, and that's why you left the fight club rules in the copier.

He says, I told you to pressurize his shower head because you were whispering about following him home and fraying his timing belt so one day hopefully soon to now, he becomes a work order for the guy in your position at your competitor's company.

Picture that. Your boss, slathered across the highway because he was riding on someone's ass, two inches to heaven, no seatbelt on the way to work. When the timing belt breaks, all the pistons and valves bash each other to death. Six car pileup.

I say, Tyler, I can't think about this.

"Tyler, I can't think about this," he repeats, nasal and voice cracking. Tyler is mocking me, now. "Shut up and listen."

You told him all about how you could shoot him up because you want him to pay attention to you. Give you the attention you deserve. You want your father to decide you were the franchise he should've stuck with, you want your boss to realize he shouldn't have put you in Compliance and Liability.

You want the great flood. A do-over.

Divine intervention. The fact that it hasn't happened, well, that's just another absent father.

Tyler's looking at me like all this pressure is supposed to do something. Like if he rubs my face in it, I'll shatter and he can build me up to do whatever he wants.

What Tyler doesn't know is, the one of the closest things to me in existence is the 1800s german rabbit. Wanting nothing more than to fuck and live and eat and sleep, and living in constant fear of the beast. The rabbit crafts its burrow with all the other rabbits and they all cower in fear in the trap they've made for themselves, that nature has left as their only option. And they wait until death arrives, the long, wiry beast with foam in its mouth and hate in its eyes. Wringing their necks with a shake of its head and eating their children. Spiritually, I live in fear of the miniature weiner dog.

Denial is my burrow. It's the only tool I've ever had.

I tell Tyler, you hate my boss.

He looks at me like I'm human shit that's been left on the sidewalk for months. Fermenting.

The thing is, actually, I like my boss, I tell him.

You can't change this, Tyler. No matter what you make up about me.

I'm the one who has to go to my bullshit real job.

Tyler gets checks in the mail because he let one boss beat him up, and I threatened the other for him. He didn't even do it all himself.

I have to go to work, I say. And I push through him.

I have to go to work.

[muiitoloko]

Halo! sorry if I bother you, I just want to know if the Eli X daughter reader has a part 3? because first and second parts already broke me and now I want to know what happened to the reader and Eli also I'm really angry with Barkley 😭

If there is a part 3, take your time ok! Bye bye!

Title: Unspoken Words.

Summary: Many things remain unsaid in your new reality.

Pairing: Eli Michaelson & Daughter! Reader

Warnings: Angst, Envy and secrets.

Author's Notes: Hey there! No bother at all, I’m always happy to chat! 😄 As for Eli X daughter reader, a part 3 is definitely on the horizon. I know Barkley is the worst, right? He’s making everyone’s blood boil! 😭 So stay tuned—I promise more drama and hopefully some resolution are coming your way soon! Thanks for your enthusiasm! 🌟

First, Second and Third part here.

Also read on Ao3

You looked out the window, observing the landscape outside the school windows. It had been a week since you had returned to school, a week of receiving pitying looks as you feared. Confined to a chair, unable to play or even write like the rest of the class, Eli and Sarah had hired a teacher and caregiver who would take care of you at school and help you with your studies. She practically did everything for you while you just talked, unable to move your limbs. You hated it. You hated all of it. You didn't want to go back to school, being isolated and watching others run and play while you were alone, with Barkley teasing you. It was all so stressful.

The teacher then announced that there would be a new student in the class and that everyone should welcome him. You watched as a short, hazel-eyed, blond boy carrying a backpack introduced himself to the class, looking quite cheerful and dorky.

"Hi everyone, my name is Sinclair Bryant, but you can all call me Clair," he said with a bright smile. "I just moved here from London, and I love reading comic books, playing video games, and collecting action figures. Oh, and my favorite superhero is Spider-Man because he's super cool and always saves the day!"

He continued to chatter excitedly, sharing more about his hobbies and interests. "I also love science, especially chemistry! My dad used to take me to science museums all the time. And did I mention I have a pet lizard named Spike? He's awesome!"

The teacher had to interrupt him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you, Sinclair. We're happy to have you here. Everyone, please make Clair feel welcome."

As Sinclair took his seat, you couldn't help but feel a pang of envy and sadness. Here was someone who seemed so full of life and excitement, while you felt trapped in your own body, burdened by your condition.

During recess, you watched as Sinclair made his way over to a group of kids, striking up conversations and making friends with ease. He seemed to fit in so naturally, his laughter and enthusiasm infectious. You sighed, turning your gaze back to the window, feeling a sense of isolation wash over you.

That comic event had ruined everything. If only the Spider-Man statue hadn't fallen on you, you wouldn't be quadriplegic. You hated the convention, the statue, and the superhero himself for bringing you to this point.

Your caregiver, Mrs. Watson, gently tried to coax you into eating your snack. "Come on, [Your Name], you need to eat something," she urged softly, holding out a piece of fruit.

You turned your head away, refusing to open your mouth. "I'm not hungry," you muttered, your voice tinged with frustration.

Mrs. Watson sighed, a look of concern crossing her face. "I'll go get a bottle of water. I'll be right back, okay?" she said, giving your shoulder a gentle pat before walking away.

You ignored her, continuing to gaze out the window, lost in your thoughts. Moments later, Sinclair Bryant, the new boy, approached you with a curious look in his hazel eyes.

"Hey there," Sinclair began, his voice bright and cheerful. "Why aren't you eating your snack? I would never waste food!"

You turned to look at him, your eyes narrowing slightly. He seemed completely oblivious to your mood as he continued to babble on about food. "I love snacks. My favorite is chocolate chip cookies. What's yours?" he asked, shifting topics so quickly it made your head spin.

The bitterness in your heart grew, and you looked away, not wanting to engage. But Sinclair's next question caught you off guard.

"Do you like Spider-Man?" he asked, his eyes wide with excitement.

"I don't," you replied bitterly, your voice cold. "I hate him."

But Sinclair didn't seem to hear the disdain in your tone. Instead, his gaze shifted to your electric wheelchair, his curiosity piqued. "Whoa, that's a cool wheelchair!" he exclaimed, leaning in closer to get a better look. "How does it work?"

His enthusiasm and ignorance about your pain only made you feel worse. Here was this boy, full of life and curiosity, unable to understand the weight of your suffering. "It's not a toy," you snapped, your voice laced with anger. "I need it because I can't move."

Sinclair's face fell slightly, but he quickly recovered, a determined look in his eyes. "Well, it must be really handy to get around in," he said, trying to find a positive spin. "I bet you can go super fast in it!"

You glared at him, wishing he would just go away. But Sinclair's relentless optimism made it clear he wasn't leaving anytime soon. "I know it must be tough," he said more softly, his tone surprisingly earnest. "But if you ever want to talk about comic books or anything, I'm here."

You stared at him, surprised by the sudden shift in his demeanor. There was something genuine in his eyes that made you pause. Despite your bitterness, you couldn't help but feel a tiny flicker of warmth at his words. Maybe, just maybe, not everyone would treat you with pity or scorn.

After a moment of awkward silence, Sinclair walked away, his curiosity still lingering. As he returned to the group of new classmates, he couldn't help but glance back at you, seeing the sadness in your eyes as you stared out the window.

"Hey, who is she?" He asked one of the boys, nodding in your direction.

The boy, eager to share the latest gossip, leaned in and whispered, "That's [Your Name] Michaelson. She's Barkley's twin sister."

Another girl chimed in, her voice tinged with pity, "Yeah, she's crippled. My mom said it's the worst thing that could happen to someone, not being able to move."

The kids continued to gossip, their voices low but filled with speculation and sympathy. Sinclair, however, tuned them out. His eyes were fixed on you, observing the way the sunlight streamed through the window, casting a soft glow on your hair and making your eyes shine. In that moment, he thought you looked beautiful, despite the sadness etched into your features.

Sinclair made up his mind right then and there. He decided he was going to be your friend, no matter what. You needed someone who didn't see you as a burden or an object of pity, and Sinclair felt he could be that person.

As the bell rang, signaling the end of recess, Sinclair approached you once more. This time, he wore a determined expression. "Hey, [Your Name]," he said softly, his voice gentle and sincere. "I know things are tough right now, but if you ever want to talk about comic books, or just anything, I'm here. And... I think Spider-Man is pretty cool, but maybe we can find another hero that you like."

You didn't respond, but Sinclair wasn't deterred. He gave you a small, encouraging smile before heading back to class, already planning ways to make you smile. He was determined to break through the walls you had built around yourself and show you that you didn't have to face this new reality alone.

As the school day ended, you navigated your electric wheelchair toward the exit, Mrs. Watson walking alongside you. The routine was familiar by now, but it didn't make it any easier. You were already dreading the evening ahead, knowing it would be another night of frustration and resentment.

Just as you reached the school entrance, you heard a voice calling out, "Hey, wait up!" You turned slightly, recognizing Sinclair Bryant running toward you, his backpack bouncing on his back. Mrs. Watson paused, giving Sinclair a polite smile as he approached.

"Hello, Mrs. Watson," Sinclair greeted warmly before turning his attention to you. "Hey, [Your Name]. I wanted to ask you something."

You looked at him with a mix of curiosity and irritation. "What do you want, Bryant?" you asked, your tone clipped.

Sinclair's smile didn't falter. "I was wondering if you wanted to be friends with me. I think we could have a lot of fun together."

You felt a surge of bitterness well up inside you. "No," you replied flatly, already starting to move your wheelchair again.

But Sinclair wasn't easily deterred. He trotted alongside you, talking a mile a minute. "Oh, come on, being friends with me has lots of perks! I love comic books, so we could talk about our favorite heroes. And I have a pet lizard named Spike, who's really cool. Plus, my dad takes me to science museums all the time, and I could tell you all about the stuff I see there. And I'm really good at video games, so I could teach you some tricks!"

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing how his enthusiasm never wavered. He genuinely seemed to enjoy talking, filling every silence with his animated chatter. Despite yourself, you found a tiny part of you appreciating his persistence, even if you didn't want to admit it.

"We're friends now, you know," Sinclair insisted, a confident grin spreading across his face. "Whether you like it or not, I'm going to be around."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help a small smile from tugging at your lips. Sinclair's energy was infectious, even if you weren't ready to admit it.

As you reached the school entrance, Sinclair suddenly stopped talking. His eyes lit up as he spotted someone waiting for him – a well-dressed man standing beside a sleek car. "There's my butler!" Sinclair exclaimed happily. He turned back to you, his smile even brighter. "See you tomorrow, pretty girl!" With that, he dashed off, his backpack swinging wildly behind him.

Mrs. Watson looked down at you with a soft smile. "He seems like a good boy, [Your Name]. Full of energy and kindness."

You huffed irritably, turning your gaze away. "He's just feeling sorry for me," you muttered, unwilling to acknowledge the warmth Sinclair's words had stirred within you.

As you and Mrs. Watson made your way to your own car, you couldn't help but replay Sinclair's words in your mind. Maybe, just maybe, his offer of friendship wasn't solely out of pity. But for now, you weren't ready to let your guard down. The walls around your heart remained firmly in place, even as a small crack of hope began to form

Meanwhile, on the way home, Sinclair chatted animatedly with his butler, James, who was driving the sleek car through the busy streets.

"So, Master Clair, how was your first day at the new school?" James asked, glancing at Sinclair through the rearview mirror.

Sinclair's cheerful demeanor dimmed slightly. "It was okay, I guess. I don't like it that we're always moving around. It's hard to make new friends when you're constantly changing schools."

James nodded understandingly. "I know it's tough, Master Clair. But your father did say this would be the last time, didn't he?"

"Yeah, he did," Sinclair replied with a sigh. "I hope he means it this time."

"Did you make any new friends today?" James inquired, trying to lift Sinclair's spirits.

Sinclair's face brightened again. "Yes, I did! I made a few friends, and there's this one girl... she's really pretty. We're friends now."

James smiled knowingly, catching Sinclair's excitement in the rearview mirror. "Oh, really? What's her name?"

"[Your Name]," Sinclair said with a big grin. "But... there's something different about her. She's in a wheelchair."

James's expression softened as he continued to drive. "Is she now? That must be challenging for her."

Sinclair nodded, his enthusiasm undiminished. "Yeah, I heard some kids saying she's... quadriplegic," he said, stumbling slightly over the word.

James glanced back at Sinclair, his curiosity piqued. "Quadriplegic, you say? Do you know what that means, Master Sinclair?"

Sinclair shook his head, looking a bit puzzled. "Not really. What does it mean, James?"

James took a moment to think, choosing his words carefully. "Well, Sinclair, being quadriplegic means that she can't move her arms or legs. It's usually due to a serious injury to her spinal cord. It can make life very difficult, but it doesn't change who she is as a person."

Sinclair's eyes widened with a mix of understanding and sadness. "Oh, that's really tough. No wonder she seemed so sad. But I still want to be her friend. Maybe I can help her feel better."

James smiled warmly at Sinclair's determination. "That's a wonderful attitude to have, Master Sinclair. I'm sure she could use a friend like you. Just remember to be kind and patient. Sometimes people need a little extra time to open up when they're going through something difficult."

Sinclair nodded earnestly. "I will, James. I promise. I want her to know that she's not alone and that she can still have fun and be happy."

As they continued their journey home, Sinclair's mind was filled with thoughts of how he could be a good friend to you, determined to bring some joy and comfort into your life despite the challenges you faced

Meanwhile, at your own home, Eli welcomed you and Barkley, saying goodbye to Mrs. Watson as she left for the day. He greeted you both warmly, his eyes filled with concern as he asked about your school day. Barkley eagerly began to recount his adventures, his voice full of excitement, but you remained silent, ignoring your father and avoiding his gaze.

"Go wash your hands, Barkley," Eli instructed, his tone gentle but firm. Barkley obeyed quickly, running up the stairs to his bedroom. Meanwhile, you pressed the button on your wheelchair and navigated through the house to your bedroom, which was now separate from your brother's. Since Barkley's bedroom was upstairs and you couldn't go there alone, your new room was downstairs, converted from Eli's old office.

Eli followed you into your bedroom, his expression filled with a mix of determination and sadness. He knelt beside your wheelchair, helping you take off your sneakers with practiced care. "Mrs. Watson told me you didn't want to eat again today," he said softly, his voice tinged with worry.

You remained silent, staring straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge him. Eli's heart ached at your stubborn refusal to engage with him. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his frustration in check. "Sweetheart, I know this is hard for you," he continued, his voice gentle but firm. "But you need to eat to stay strong. We want to help you, but we can't do that if you don't take care of yourself."

You turned your head away, the silence between you stretching uncomfortably. Eli reached out to gently touch your shoulder, his fingers trembling slightly. "Please, [Your Name]," he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper. "Talk to me. Let me help you."

But you remained resolute, your eyes fixed on the wall as you shut him out. Eli sighed deeply, his shoulders sagging with the weight of his own helplessness. He stood up slowly, his mind racing with thoughts of how to break through the barrier you had built around yourself.

"I'll be right back with dinner," he said quietly, his voice tinged with a mix of determination and sadness. "I hope you'll join us at the table."

As Eli left your room, his heart heavy with the pain of your silence, he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt and regret. He vowed to find a way to reach you, to show you that you were not alone in this struggle. But for now, all he could do was hope that one day, you would let him back into your world.

Eli moved to the kitchen, his mind a whirlwind of emotions as he prepared dinner for the children. The familiar tasks of washing vegetables, boiling water, and setting the table offered a brief respite from the turmoil in his heart. He meticulously prepared each dish, making sure everything was just right. Barkley, already seated at the table, was eagerly flipping through his comic book, his excitement bubbling over as he waited for Eli to join him.

Eli placed Barkley's plate in front of him and forced a smile. "Here you go, champ," he said, his voice warm despite his inner turmoil. Barkley looked up, his eyes shining with enthusiasm.

"Dad, can I tell you about this cool comic I read today?" Barkley asked, his voice brimming with excitement. "It's about a hero who—"

"Sure, buddy," Eli interrupted, nodding as he set the table. "I'd love to hear about it."

Though Eli didn't understand the appeal of superheroes, he was grateful for the distraction Barkley provided. He listened intently, trying to keep up with the details, even if they felt foreign to him. The animated way Barkley described the hero's adventures was a stark contrast to the heavy silence that often surrounded his interactions with you.

As he finished setting the table, Eli called you to dinner. The soft hum of your electric wheelchair grew louder as you navigated into the dining room. The sound was a constant reminder of the changes in your life, a reminder that cut through Eli every time he heard it.

You approached the table, and Eli quickly moved to help you get settled. He placed your plate in front of you and took his seat next to you, ready to assist with feeding you. Your eyes, still avoiding his, were focused on your plate.

Eli hesitated, his heart aching as he watched you struggle with your emotions. "Mom's working late tonight," he said gently, anticipating your question. "She’ll be home later."

You nodded slightly, acknowledging his answer but remaining silent. Eli’s heart clenched at your reticence. He knew that mealtime was often a battleground, a time when your frustration and resentment surfaced most strongly.

Across the table, Barkley continued to chatter enthusiastically about his comic book, oblivious to the tension between you and Eli. "And then the hero used his super strength to lift this huge truck! It was so cool!"

Eli forced a smile, trying to engage with Barkley's excitement. "That does sound pretty amazing, Barkley," he said, though his attention kept drifting back to you. He couldn't shake the feeling of helplessness as he watched you silently chew your food, refusing to meet his gaze.

Desperate to include you in the conversation, Eli tried to bridge the gap. "So, [Your Name], anything interesting happen at school today?" he asked, his voice tinged with a mix of hope and anxiety.

You remained silent, your expression closed off. Eli's smile faltered, his frustration mounting. He didn’t want to push you, but the constant silence was wearing on him. "Come on, sweetheart," he urged softly. "You can tell me anything."

Your jaw tightened, a flicker of anger passing over your face. You looked up briefly, your eyes meeting Eli's with a mixture of defiance and hurt. "Nothing happened," you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. "Just leave me alone."

Eli's heart sank, a wave of frustration crashing over him. He clenched his fists under the table, struggling to keep his emotions in check. "I'm just trying to help," he said, his voice strained. "I want to know what's going on in your life."

You turned your head away, refusing to engage. The silence stretched painfully, the tension thickening in the air. Eli's frustration simmered beneath the surface as he attempted to focus on feeding you. The silence between you grew heavier with each passing moment, making the simple act of eating feel like an insurmountable task.

Barkley, sensing the tension but too caught up in his excitement to fully grasp its gravity, interrupted eagerly. "Dad, there's a new kid in our class!" he announced, his eyes wide with enthusiasm. "His name is Sinclair Bryant, and he's really cool. He likes comics too, and guess what? His favorite hero is—"

"Enough, Barkley!" Eli snapped, his voice sharp and cutting off his son mid-sentence. Barkley recoiled slightly, confusion and hurt flickering across his face. Eli immediately regretted his harsh tone but couldn't bring himself to apologize. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. "Let's not talk about heroes right now, okay? Let's just focus on dinner."

Barkley nodded reluctantly, his excitement dimming as he returned to his meal. Eli turned his attention back to you, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and frustration. He carefully scooped up a spoonful of food, bringing it to your lips. "Come on, sweetheart," he urged softly, trying to keep his voice steady. "You need to eat something."

You turned your head away, your expression hardening. "I'm not hungry," you muttered, your voice barely audible. The defiance in your tone only fueled Eli's growing frustration.

Eli's patience, already frayed, snapped under the weight of your rejection. He grabbed your chin firmly, his fingers digging into your skin as he forced you to look at him. His eyes blazed with a mixture of anger and desperation. "You will eat," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I’m tired of this. I’ve tried to be patient, but I can't take it anymore. I won't let you destroy yourself. You’ll eat, even if I have to shove the food down your throat."

Your eyes widened in shock and fear, tears spilling over as you struggled to free your chin from his grip. "I hate you!" you cried, your voice breaking with emotion. "I hate you, Daddy!"

Eli's heart clenched painfully at your words, but he didn't release his hold. His grip tightened slightly, his frustration and helplessness boiling over. "Hate me all you want," he snapped, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and pain. "But I won't let you waste away. You need to eat, and you will eat."

The tears streamed down your cheeks as you continued to struggle, your small body shaking with sobs. The sight of your distress cut Eli deeply, but he forced himself to hold firm. He knew he had to be strong, even if it meant being the villain in your eyes.

"Please, sweetheart," Eli murmured, his voice softening slightly as he tried to rein in his anger. "I just want to help you. I don't want to see you suffer like this."

You continued to cry, your sobs echoing through the room as you finally stopped struggling, defeated by your own helplessness. Eli's grip on your chin loosened, and he carefully brought the spoon to your lips once more.

"Open your mouth," he instructed gently, his voice strained with emotion. "Please, just a little bit. For me."

With tears still streaming down your face, you reluctantly opened your mouth, allowing him to feed you. Eli's heart ached with a mixture of relief and sorrow as you finally took a bite, your small frame trembling with the effort.

Eli continued to feed you in silence, his own tears threatening to spill over as he struggled to maintain his composure. Each bite felt like a victory tinged with defeat, a painful reminder of the gulf that had grown between you.

Across the table, Barkley watched in silence, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and confusion. The usually lively dinner table had become a battleground, and the weight of the unspoken tensions hung heavily in the air.

As Eli finished feeding you, he set the spoon down with a shaky hand, his heart heavy with the weight of your words. He reached out to gently wipe away your tears, his touch tender despite the turmoil in his heart.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. "I just... I can't stand to see you like this."

You turned your head away, the pain and anger still etched into your features. Eli's heart ached with the realization that his attempts to help had only driven a deeper wedge between you. As he sat back in his chair, the silence between you stretched unbearably, a chasm of pain and regret that seemed impossible to bridge.

In that moment, Eli felt the full weight of his failure as a father, his heart breaking under the strain of your suffering. He had wanted to protect you, to shield you from the harsh realities of the world, but in his desperation, he had only succeeded in pushing you further away.

As the darkness of the evening settled around them, Eli could only hope that someday, somehow, he would find a way to reach you, to heal the wounds that had been inflicted by the cruel hand of fate. But for now, all he could do was hold on to the fragile thread of hope that bound you together, even in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds.

Later that evening, the house was cloaked in the quiet calm that settled after dinner. Eli carefully navigated you from the living room to your bedroom, your electric wheelchair gliding smoothly across the polished floors. The day had taken its toll, and you were visibly weary. He gently helped you into bed, tucking the blankets around you with a tenderness that belied the day's frustrations.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," Eli whispered, his voice tinged with exhaustion and sorrow as he kissed your forehead.

You stared at the ceiling, your eyes betraying the turmoil within, but you didn't respond. Eli sighed softly, standing up and turning off the light, casting the room into a soft, comforting darkness.

Meanwhile, in the living room, Barkley was engrossed in his video game, his small hands deftly maneuvering the controller as he battled digital foes on the screen. The flashing lights and triumphant music filled the room, a stark contrast to the heavy silence in your bedroom.

Eli moved to the kitchen, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He started washing the dishes, the rhythmic sound of water and clinking cutlery providing a semblance of normalcy amidst the chaos of his thoughts.

"Dad!" Barkley's voice called out from the living room, his tone eager and filled with anticipation. "Come play video games with me!"

Eli paused, his hands submerged in soapy water. He glanced toward the living room, feeling a pang of guilt at Barkley's request. "I don’t know how to play those games, Barkley," Eli called back, his voice tired but gentle.

Barkley’s face scrunched in disappointment as he peeked into the kitchen. "I can teach you, Dad. It’s really fun. Just give it a try."

Eli shook his head, his focus returning to the dishes. "Not tonight, Barkley. We can play something else later, okay?"

A frown creased Barkley's face, and he grumbled under his breath, his frustration bubbling over. "You'd play with me if I were the cripple."

Eli froze, his hands stilling in the sudsy water. The air seemed to crackle with tension as he slowly turned to face Barkley, his eyes wide with shock and anger. "What did you just say?" Eli's voice was low, trembling with restrained fury.

Barkley met his father's gaze defiantly, his small chin jutting out in stubborn resolve. "You always pay more attention to [Your Name]. Never to me. If I were the cripple, you'd play with me. But you don't care about me."

Eli's hands trembled as he set the dish aside, drying them hastily on a towel. He moved towards Barkley, his heart pounding with a mixture of disbelief and anger. "How dare you talk like that, Barkley?" Eli demanded, his voice a harsh whisper as he knelt to look his son in the eye. "Do you understand how hurtful that is? Your sister is going through something terrible, and she needs us."

Barkley's eyes glistened with unshed tears, his lips trembling as he tried to hold onto his defiance. "She’s always getting all the attention. I can run, I can play, but nobody cares about that! I hate her! I wish she would just go away!"

Eli felt as though the ground had shifted beneath him. His heart ached at Barkley's words, the raw emotion in his son's voice cutting through him like a knife. "Barkley," he began, his voice heavy with sorrow, "I know this is hard for you too. But wishing harm on your sister isn’t the answer. You have to understand, we love you both."

But Barkley's resentment only seemed to deepen. "You don’t get it, Dad. She takes everything! You never have time for me anymore. I wish she would die!"

Eli recoiled as if struck, his breath catching in his throat. The words echoed painfully in the quiet kitchen, hanging in the air like a dark cloud. "Enough!" Eli's voice broke, a mixture of anger and heartbreak etched into every syllable. "Go to your room. Now."

Barkley’s face crumpled, but he held his ground for a moment, his eyes flashing with a final spark of defiance. Then, with a choked sob, he turned and ran upstairs, the sound of his footsteps echoing down the hall.

Eli stood frozen in the kitchen, his mind reeling with the weight of Barkley’s words. The dishes lay forgotten in the sink, the water growing cold as Eli grappled with the bitter reality of his son's resentment. The enormity of the situation pressed down on him, threatening to crush the fragile hope he clung to so desperately.

As the house settled into an uneasy silence, Eli's thoughts turned to you, lying alone in your room, and to Barkley, wrestling with his own tumultuous emotions upstairs. The fragile balance of their family had been shattered, and Eli could only wonder how they would ever find a way to heal the wounds that had torn them apart.

Sarah arrived home later that evening, her expression tense and her movements restless. Eli wasted no time in approaching her, his face etched with the weight of the day’s turmoil. He saw the briefcase she carried, a constant reminder of the hours she spent at work, and the exhaustion in her eyes mirrored his own.

"Sarah, did you find out anything?" Eli asked urgently, his voice filled with the desperate need for answers. He grasped her arm lightly, searching her face for any hint of hope. "Can we sue the organizers? They need to be held accountable for what happened to [Your Name]."

Sarah’s eyes darted away, and she hesitated, wringing her hands nervously. The soft light of the hallway cast long shadows across her face, accentuating her unease. She took a deep breath, her shoulders tense as she met Eli's gaze.

"Eli," she began, her voice trembling slightly, "I went to the convention center today. I spoke with their security team and asked to see the footage from the cameras." She paused, her eyes flickering with an emotion Eli couldn't quite place.

"And?" Eli pressed, his anxiety mounting as he watched her closely. "What did you find out? Can we hold them responsible for what happened to our daughter?"

Sarah swallowed hard, her hands twisting the strap of her purse. She took a step back, her eyes clouded with a mysterious, almost evasive look. "It’s not what we thought," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "The footage... it shows that [Your Name] caused the accident herself."

Eli's breath caught in his throat, and he stared at her in disbelief. "What do you mean?" he demanded, his voice rising with a mix of anger and confusion. "How could she cause her own accident? She’s just a child!"

Sarah flinched at his tone, her fingers tightening around the purse strap. She looked down, unable to meet his eyes as she spoke. "She was playing around the Spider-Man statue," she explained, her voice strained. "The footage shows her climbing on it, trying to... I don’t know, maybe get a better look or something. It wasn’t stable, and it fell."

Eli felt the ground shift beneath him, his mind reeling with the implications of her words. "No," he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. "That can’t be right. [Your Name] wouldn’t do something like that. She’s careful, always has been."

"I know," Sarah said, her voice cracking with emotion. "But that’s what the footage shows, Eli. I watched it multiple times. It was an accident, but it was... it was her own doing." Her hands trembled, and she glanced around the room as if searching for something to ground her.

Eli staggered back, his legs threatening to give way as the weight of the revelation crushed him. He sank into a nearby chair, his head in his hands as he tried to process the news. The image of his daughter, broken and confined to a wheelchair, flashed before his eyes, and he felt a wave of grief and guilt wash over him.

"No," he murmured, his voice barely audible as he struggled to contain his tears. "I can’t believe this. It can’t be true."

Sarah approached him cautiously, her movements slow and deliberate. She reached out to touch his shoulder, her fingers cold against his skin. "I’m so sorry, Eli," she whispered, her voice filled with a quiet sorrow. "I know how hard this is to hear. But there’s no one to sue, no one to blame. It was just a terrible accident."

Eli looked up at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of disbelief and anguish. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat, strangled by the knot of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. Sarah’s gaze was steady, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—something Eli couldn’t quite identify.

"Why are you so nervous, Sarah?" he asked finally, his voice trembling with suspicion. "You’re not telling me everything, are you?"

Sarah’s eyes widened slightly, and she glanced away, her hands twisting in her lap. "I’m just... I’m worried about [Your Name]," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "This whole situation is tearing us apart, and I don’t know how to fix it."

Eli watched her closely, his mind racing with a thousand unanswered questions. He wanted to believe her, to find solace in her words, but a nagging doubt gnawed at the edges of his thoughts. There was something in her demeanor that didn’t quite add up, a shadow of unease that lingered just beneath the surface.

But Eli shook his head, his brow furrowing as he tried to recall the events of that day. “No, Sarah,” he said, his voice firm despite the tremor of doubt creeping in. “I remember clearly. She wasn’t climbing anything. She was sitting on the ground, playing with her Doctor Octopus doll. I had just left the diner and saw it happen. The statue fell on her while she was sitting on the floor, not climbing the statue.”

Sarah’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of panic flashing across her features before she quickly masked it. Her hands twisted the strap of her purse more tightly, her knuckles white. “Eli, you were so shaken that day,” she insisted, her voice wavering slightly as she tried to maintain her composure. “You don’t know what you were thinking. It was chaotic and traumatic. Maybe you just misremembered.”

Eli ran a hand through his hair, his confusion deepening as he tried to piece together the fragments of his memory. “I saw it, Sarah,” he repeated, his voice growing more uncertain. “I saw the statue fall on her. I don’t remember much else, just the pain and the sight of her bruised and broken...”

He trailed off, his eyes searching Sarah’s face for any sign of reassurance. But instead of comfort, he found only a deepening sense of unease. Sarah’s evasiveness, her refusal to meet his gaze, only heightened his suspicion that there was more to the story than she was letting on.

Sarah shifted uncomfortably, her eyes darting around the room as if seeking an escape. “Eli, I know you’re struggling with this,” she said softly, her voice tinged with a mysterious, almost desperate urgency. “But you have to trust me. I watched the footage myself. There’s no one else to blame. It was just a tragic accident.”

Eli felt a cold knot of doubt twist in his stomach. His own memories were hazy, clouded by the overwhelming shock and grief of that day. He remembered the statue falling, the sickening thud as it struck you, and the sight of your small, bruised body beneath the wreckage. But beyond that, everything was a blur of pain and confusion.

He looked at Sarah, his eyes narrowing as he tried to read the expression on her face. “Why are you so nervous, Sarah?” he asked, his voice low and probing. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Sarah’s eyes flickered with a momentary flash of guilt, but she quickly averted her gaze, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I’m just worried about [Your Name],” she repeated, her voice trembling slightly. “This whole situation is tearing us apart, Eli. We need to focus on helping her, not on dredging up painful memories.”

Eli clenched his fists, his mind racing with conflicting emotions. He wanted to believe Sarah, to trust that she was telling him the truth. But the nagging doubt in the back of his mind refused to be silenced. Something about her demeanor, the way she avoided his gaze, made him question everything he thought he knew.

“I’m going to get some air,” Eli muttered, his voice tight with frustration as he turned away from Sarah and headed for the door. “I need to clear my head.”

As he stepped outside, the cool evening air washed over him, providing a brief respite from the turmoil churning inside him. He leaned against the railing, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting memories and emotions. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something crucial he was missing, some piece of the puzzle that had yet to fall into place.

Meanwhile, inside the house, Sarah sank into a chair, her hands trembling as she clutched her purse. Her heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing with the fear that Eli was getting too close to the truth. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to steady herself as she tried to think of a way to keep her secrets hidden.

Unbeknownst to both of them, Barkley stood at the top of the stairs, his small frame hidden in the shadows as he listened to their conversation. His eyes were wide with a mixture of fear and guilt, his heart pounding as he replayed the events of that fateful day in his mind.

He had been jealous, consumed by the belief that you always stole Eli’s attention. In a fit of anger and resentment, he had pushed the Spider-Man statue, not realizing the terrible consequences his actions would have. And now, as he watched his parents struggle with their own confusion and grief, Barkley’s guilt gnawed at him, a silent, unbearable weight he carried alone.

As Eli stood outside, lost in thought, and Sarah grappled with her own fears inside, Barkley retreated to his room, his mind swirling with the realization that the truth he held could shatter their family even further. And in the quiet darkness of the house, the weight of that secret hung heavy, casting a long shadow over them all.

[cordeliawhohung]

I read part seven of the pet!au and honestly your brain is just so wrinkly in the most affectionate way possible. Like I could focus either on the smut or the relationship dynamics between Bonnie, Soap and Simon, though I think you put the focus on the psychological aspects more. I love this tbh since I’m a sucker for angst.

My favourite parts are when Bonnie‘s disassociating with her surroundings and also when you wrote that she didn’t enjoy this at all. This is something I feel like usually falls short in writings with non-con.

I also love that Johnny is so trapped in his delusion that he thinks Bonnie‘s crying because she feels neglected. It’s a great contrast to Bonnie being absolutely afraid of Simon.

Again, you’re a wonderful writer and I wish I just had a crumb of your talents❤️

i'm about to YAP like crazy under the cut.

but UGH yes. all of this. i'm so happy someone caught on to this ))):

the smut was to really drive home the fact that Bonnie really is just a toy. in every sense. because like, sure, Johnny was using and abusing her before, but the specific part where Simon lovelessly and robotically fingers her just to make it easier for him to fuck Johnny? literally using her body for pleasure in a way that's not entirely interacting with her? that's such a pivotal point in the work. it seals the fact that this is literally all Simon ever thinks of her. That's all she ever is. how he keeps referring to her as a toy, "we're done playing, clean up your fucking toy" etc - she's less than a pet, than a dog, she's hardly even alive.

as for her not enjoying it - also yes!! i think it's a lot of fun to read/write non-con that borders more on cnc sorta stuff. like maybe despite everything it still feels good and the mc is able to orgasm or whatever, etc. and for some stories that works and it works well! but for this one? Bonnie does not want this at all. and since this is more of a horror story vibe than anything else, she's not enjoying this. she doesn't want to think about it. she doesn't want to be here. this can make things extremely dark, but that's what things are like in situations like these, and i wanted to reflect that in her escapism and overall emotional distress during the whole ordeal.

and god, Johnny. that fucking idiot. one of my favorite things to write about in the series is just how different johnny and simon are in regards to bonnie. how johnny loves her (in his own way) and even cares for her in some twisted way. it really makes it so that bonnie can't really catch a break because she's dealing with two different extremes all the damn time. around simon, she's walking on eggshells, fearing for her life; she's nothing to him, if not hated. but then with johnny he'd worship the ground she walks on, calling her angel; he's the only one to apologize, usually for being selfish, and promising her that he'll make her feel good too. she's either being hung to dry or being smothered, and there's no in between for her. like she def fears them both in some sort of way, but one fear is easier to swallow than the other.

but eek thanks for your comments and for letting me yap about this story i have so many thoughts i think i'll actually explode (:

[unrulylarry]

.

[z00r0p4]

Been progressively getting more depressed and weepy on a daily basis about the hopelessness and meaningless of my life n situation n just today realized "oh it's because I go back to school on monday" and I associate school with pain because the seats are always fucking horrible and I always have to do sooo much work and coordination with accommodations, and I have a 3 hour long class this semester that I have to take in order to graduate with my minor and I cannot sit almost anywhere for that fucking long given my health problems. So I'm going to have to probably talk to this professor and beg them to let me stream in-- which will probably not work. My spanish class is in a room with god awful seating. I have one class more than I usually do and even though its a 1 credit class it's still another hour I have to spend in pain.

So all that said, my brain is apparently so traumatized by how awful my pain has gotten in the last 2 years that it's basically triggered by just. school. Probably need some sort of cptsd diagnosis. And lots of therapy. idk guys. I hope I can actually make it to my graduation.

[bookwyrminspiration]

I absolutely love how Perenelle has just had her own entirely separate side plot going on for three entire books. she got kidnapped 20 pages into book one and we've just been occasionally checking in on her for three books to find out she's absolutely kicking ass all on her own, then we go back to the main plot where Flamel and the twins are amongst multiple other very skilled people and still struggling and constantly almost dying

the author said Perenelle was much more dangerous and powerful than Flamel and then he proved it. if it had been Flamel kidnapped and Perenelle with the kids they would've already mastered all the magics and defeated the Dark Elders by now

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

So. Turns out he hates me (in part) cause I'm the reason he's here

[chuluoyi]

MARRIED ON PURPOSE

- gojo satoru x reader

"for one, i can show you incredible things!" jujutsu, madness, heaven, sin. the strongest sorcerer is sure to show you all of that during the whole duration of your six-month marriage contract.

genre: marriage of convenience, enemies to lovers, crack, fluff, slight satosugu angst/comfort, kamo!reader, very suggestive. gojo clan is portrayed as very traditional, meanwhile kamo clan is rather unpleasant here

note: the unholy amount of times i've edited this story *sigh* but okay i must drop it here or else i'm going to keep editing it and losing my mind. despite my misgivings and all, i really had fun writing this and i hope you enjoy it! wc. 5k !

a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

Some would say... marrying Gojo Satoru would be living the dream.

“Don't look that sour now, wife.”

“…sigh.”

A playful nudge at your side, a lighthearted voice— “You're going to make them question our veeery happy marriage, you know… We don't want that now, do we?”

But to you, it was more like nightmare dressed in a daydream.

It was peak comedy because why would you put marrying Gojo Satoru in your life plans? He was incorrigible, a child trapped in a man's body, and there was also the very fact that you hate him. His only redeeming trait was being born in the esteemed Gojo clan, and now held the title of the strongest.

You know you must have accumulated karma, but out of everything else, why must you end up in this predicament?

Hailing from the great clans of jujutsu society, both of you know well that marriage is the essence to make the clan greater. And when it involves the big three clans, its importance amplifies even further.

It was just that you two were too rebellious to follow it through, for one reason or another. Everyone knows Gojo Satoru was faithless to any woman, and you were not exactly thrilled with the idea of marriage as a whole.

He was the one who came to you, proposing this insane idea of a temporary marriage.

"Look at it this way," Satoru said with a wry grin, contrasting your puzzled frown on that fateful afternoon. "It's either me or Zen'in Naoya for you, isn't it? It's so clear which is the better man."

That was what grated you the most. You would be damned if you married the misogynist.

"What do you get from this arrangement, really?" you questioned begrudgingly.

His name would give you security, stop the harassment from your clan, and maybe even a better life, but you didn't quite get what he'd get from the offer he willingly extended to you.

Satoru flippantly shrugged. "Nah, you are not exactly my type, but you're still far better than the boring puppet my family have considered to be my wife."

"Who?"

"Don't remember her name. All she goes on about is that she'll be the good wife and mother of my child. Ew."

Seven hells. You scowled. Gojo Satoru and his penchant for chasing the thrill. Boring women would kill him before an actual curse would.

"And hey, for one," he shot you a smirk, visibly smug. "I can show you incredible things!"

"That's not the point! Gojo, do you even realize—" your voice rose, pulsating with righteous fury, "—how serious all of this is? My life, your life! We're going to be stuck—together!"

"Six months," he blurted, tilting his head slightly. His sunglasses slipped down just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his sparkling eyes. "It's enough time to work through our shits, and by then if you have enough, we're through."

At that time, it seemed feasible. Both of you tolerating each other to avoid a much worse match.

. . .

BACK TO PRESENT—barely a week ever since you were paraded around as his wife, now you and Satoru were stiffly poised in the studio in your formal garbs, capturing your official wedding photos.

At that time, it seemed feasible, but now, it felt like a chore, as you realized that conversing with him either spiked your blood pressure so much that you wouldn't even be surprised if you ended up with hypertension or completely sapped your energy that you were left exhausted.

"Come on, show a smiiile," Satoru said in a sing-song voice, gesturing toward the camera as it flashed for the pictures. You were beyond appalled, shooting a glare in his direction.

"I am smiling, Gojo."

"Liar. You're pouting, wifey~"

Sigh… this really is going to be one hella of a ride, huh?

MONTH ONE, and you found out that Gojo Satoru is apparently as mad as people made him out to be.

"You've got to be kidding me!" you fumed, right after he hauled you into one of the rooms in his grand, traditional estate. Your glare pierced through him, a blood vessel ready to burst. "We never agreed on ‘consummating’ the marriage!"

You wrote him a goddamn contract. And the three conditions of this chaotic marriage are: one, it would only last six months; two, no personal feelings involved; and three, nothing borderline disturbing.

And this, you concluded, was the height of what could be called as disturbing.

"We will not," Satoru replied with a hint of disdain, grimacing, as if the notion didn't sit well with him either. The audacity! "We're just going to make it as if we are—"

"And why?! Why should I do that?!"

"Why else? Because my old fart believes that we indeed haven't done so."

"Then it's your fault? For failing to convince him? Why turn it into my problem!"

"Because, dear wife," he drawled, his tone taunting on the final note. "Now we're on the same page, in case you have forgotten."

Great clans and their hollow expectations spare no one, not even Gojo Satoru. They place importance in the most banal things, such as the continuity of sacred bloodlines and such.

The only alternative wasn't appealing either. Should you be found out that you married only to divorce... sigh, you didn't even want to know how big of a scandal it would be. One thing was certain: your clan would chop you to shreds.

You really had no choice, huh?

"Five minutes," you warned, glaring at him. "Make it loud. Make it so that no one wouldn't question this anymore."

Oh and sure he would. As Satoru pulled that shit-eating grin, you were in for another ride. You waited out until several maids were nearby, left the wooden door ajar, and began the show—

His hands wrapped around your waist—the feeling was peculiar, but you ignored it—and you let him pull you near that open door. He snuggled his face on your neck—his hair tickling you in the process, but you ignored that peculiarity again—as he started making suggestive noises. "Mm, you're so pretty, darling."

You could hear those maids gasp in surprise. And to add the flavor, you faked a moan.

This is... kinda fun? A twisted part of you suddenly found satisfaction in fooling the maids. A smile tugged at your lips as you shoved him away, and Satoru eyed you in surprise and irritation.

"Husband, you're... insatiable," you worded languidly, and he immediately caught on your act, grinning. "Anyone can walk by, you know."

"Oh? But that's the point." Satoru's bright blue eyes twinkled with utter mischief, and even you couldn't deny the exhilarating rush. "I want them to know."

And suddenly you got this very brilliant idea. You swiftly moved past him and sent the books and trinkets on his desk flying to the floor, causing questionable noises.

"Oh my!" a girlish voice exclaimed.

"The master! And the lady!"

Satoru shook his head, thoroughly entertained. And you rolled your eyes. Those nosy maids would finally have enough now, and this charade would end—

"What's happening here?"

The old fart. Both you and Satoru grunted in unison. You really thought you would leave it up to the maids to spread the word, but then you were taken by surprise when he wrapped his hands around you and flung the door open, slamming you against it—and damn it hurt!—offering everyone a front-row seat to your charade.

The maids squealed. His grandfather raised a righteous, demanding eyebrow. You wanted to scream.

"Hey, gramps," he greeted jovially, breathless, his grip on you tightening and you felt heat radiating from his palm. "Ah, sorry, opened it by accident—the wife here is feisty, you see."

Your veins felt ready to burst. Was this a part of his plan all along? How would you show your face before your grandfather-in-law now that he had seen this... atrocity?!

"So, yeah, we'll resume our business!" Satoru, the idiot, said it as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "See ya!"

With that the door slammed shut, but oh no, it was not the end.

"Mmmph!?" you protested, unintentionally loud and eyes widening in alarm when Satoru muffled your mouth with his hand.

The rotten bastard! You found it nearly impossible to breathe, shooting daggers at him. "Mmmrgh! Mmmrrgh!"

"Oh... so that boy really does it huh," you heard the elder mutter in thoughtful manner from outside—and you were in disbelief at how trusting he was—before rounding the stunned maids and barked, "What are all you doing here? Go!"

You nearly sagged with relief when Satoru loosened his grip slightly, allowing you to breathe, as his meddlesome grandpa finally stalked away. Done. This horrible act was over! But wait, why did he still had his hand on your mouth?

"That went splendidly!" he snickered, appearing rather pleased with what had unfolded. "Now, if only we work together like this more often—"

This is… my life now, you lamented the reality. The feeling of his calloused hand on you made you feel things, honestly speaking, but another emotion—and impulse—currently overpowered that.

Seething with resentment, you fiercely chomped down on his hand hard, causing him to swear and pull his hand out of you.

"You—you devil! You bit me!"

"Serves you right!"

Okay, he was bad. He was insufferable. But to be frank, sometimes it wasn't all chaos.

And what's more, by MONTH TWO, you realized that being married to Gojo Satoru also comes with several perks.

"Miss, please, you're trespassing—"

You looked at the police with the haughtiest look you could muster, unamused. "Don't you know who I am?"

"No, but it shouldn't—"

"I'm that man's wife," you declared regally, motioning towards a certain tall shuttlecock a few meters away. "Is that not clear enough for you?"

For one, no one can look down on you anymore, because should they try, you have the power to raise your chin high and declare yourself as the wife of the infamous sorcerer. The very moment you did, that nosy police stopped yapping, and let you through.

The cursed boy, Yuta and his classmate had just been trapped inside a barrier a curse user pulled down, and you were assigned to look into this case by the headquarters. As much as it boggled you—because certainly, the strongest sorcerer was enough to investigate this—you still had to do your job.

“What is this?” you asked Satoru, who was observing something far beyond what your measly ordinary eyes could see. “What happened here?”

He turned to you, all with bandaged eyes. “Hmm? Oh, you’re here too?”

“Don't act surprised. Answer my question, Gojo.”

"You’re too uptight, wifey," Satoru's lips curved upwards playfully. He had taken to addressing you with pet names as of late, if anything, only to get a rise out of you. "Isn't it the time for you to start calling me by my given name?"

You let out a weary exhale, exasperated. "I'm serious, did you find anything? Who is behind this?"

"Nah, nothing for you to worry about," Satoru waved his hand dismissively, grinning. "More importantly! Let's head back and have dinner! My treat!"

You weren't that oblivious. You noticed things too.

"What do you want tonight? Sukiyaki? Sushi?" he hummed nonchalantly. "Or shabu-shabu?"

You gave him the stink eye. "Is that all you think about? Food?"

"As a responsible husband, it's my duty to feed my wife, no?"

"News flash: temporary wife."

"But still my wife, regardless. I overheard you earlier. Being Mrs. Gojo is convenient, yeah?"

You ignored how a part of your jolted at the emphasis he placed on that word, grunting. "Nah, it's meh."

Call it a feeling or hypothesis. It was similar to how he treated his students. He always said the dumbest things, but it actually served to make them feel at ease.

Then it occurred to you, could this be actually his attempt to change the subject?

"You can't cheat your way out of this." You shot him a pointed look. "You know something. Tell me."

"Hmmm? And what would I get in return?"

"Don't make this difficult. I'm on this assignment too!"

"Nah, if you call me by my name, I might consider it."

Hah. You should really read a parenting book one of these days. Taking on your husband was more or less the same as facing a kid.

"Satoru," you tested, the name rolling out of your lips far easier than you thought. Somehow, using his given name felt like some sort of a leap of faith.

He stopped right in his tracks, turning to you. His glossy lips quirked into a meaningful smile, and you felt funny.

"Wasn't that difficult, was it?" he winked, and you covered the strange heat creeping onto your face by rolling your eyes and huffed.

Needless to say, he still didn't tell you even a clue. You finally gave up, thinking that if he insisted on not disclosing it, then so be it. You trusted him on this, even as he turned your help away, and you hated admitting it, because, well…

You’d trust him with your life. He knows how to handle this better than anyone.

Being a a woman in Kamo clan is, in fact, not any better than in Zen'in—you're regarded more as a commodity than a human being.

"When will you bear the child of the bearer of Six Eyes?" in your father's eyes, you were but a tool to tie the Gojo at his hip, and your worth probably wasn't even twice of Noritoshi's. You had known he would ask this when he summoned you to Kamo ancestral home, and you weren't that naive—you had asked Satoru to join you too. But your father had insisted him to stay at the foyer, while he dragged you into his chamber.

Just because you had seen it coming didn’t mean you liked it. "Is that all? Do you really make me come here just to ask me that?"

And what came next was like a crack of thunder.

"How insolent!"

You shuddered, hating how his voice still had control over you. You wanted to stay deviant, but you couldn't keep yourself from shaking. You thought you would have to endure this shit just like you did before, until—

"Now, now... That's my wife you're talking to. I'd watch your words, if I were you."

You had never whipped your head so fast.

There stood Gojo Satoru, your husband, in all his glory. He was smiling but it was clear that he was displeased, evident from his cutting remark, and most notably, how he had unveiled his striking cerulean eyes for all to see. Truth to be told, you didn't expect him to barge in here at all.

"Gojo-sama," your father bowed his head, displaying utter respect towards him, contrasting the blatant disrespect he showed towards you just now. Satoru paid him no heed, as took big strides towards you and seized your arm, prompting you to rise to your feet.

"What is this? Why are you yelling at her?" His voice lacked its usual hint of amusement or teasing, sending a chill down your spine.

"Gojo-sama, I apologize for my tone towards my daughter earlier. I was just trying to educate—"

“My wife. She is my wife now, and it would do you better to remember that,” Satoru asserted firmly, putting emphasis in the way he addressed you, his gaze hardening. "She is an adult. There's nothing left for you to educate her." Pausing, he added, "And the way I saw it, you were just unnecessarily rude."

"Gojo-sama, there were just certain things in our clan that—"

"Please, don't call on us again," Satoru interjected decisively with a light yet firm voice. You could swear your heart was somersaulting at the sight of him staring down your natural enemy. "I'm sure you're aware, but your daughter bears my name now, and she will get the respect she is due. I will have a word with anyone who fails to treat her accordingly."

Somehow or another, Satoru whisked you away from that hellhole, your hand tightly clasped in his. Your relieved sigh didn't go unnoticed by him, as he looked back to you.

"Have you gone soft?" he teased, eyeing you with a playful snort. "Did you forget who your husband is? You've got nothing to fear. Not even him."

"Thank you," you murmured. Your heart was still pounding and your mind blanked, rendering you unable to engage in your usual banters.

His clear blue eyes widened a touch, blinking at your display of vulnerability, Then, he wore the most innocent expression, even sporting a silly smirk—the hardness from earlier gone. "I was really cool, huh? Totally made you swoon I bet."

And in MONTH THREE, you realized, as he laced his fingers with yours, as his laughter filled the air, as calmness swelled on your chest, and as you loudly snorted at his remark, that—

You felt warm, so warm, in fact, and maybe—

"Pfft, you wish."

—maybe... being with him isn't so bad after all.

MONTH FOUR, and you finally found out that it was Geto Suguru.

Everyone knew that your husband and the criminal used to be the best of friends. You saw them during your high school days, and heck, you used to think that Geto was the better man.

You could only imagine what he must feel.

. . .

When he got back to your shared house after the whole ordeal—after he ended his best friend with his own hands, Satoru honestly didn't expect that you would be waiting for him.

"You okay?" you asked him, brows furrowed in concern. It was probably one of the very few times you had displayed emotions other than contempt towards him.

It felt strange because he was used to your jabs, and he was not sure what sort of expression he should pull now, because truthfully, now he felt empty. Blank. All he comprehended was that he had killed Suguru, that he was gone, and that was something he must do.

It would be just like any other day if hadn't just committed a murder. On someone he held dear.

"Of course, who do you think I am?" Satoru swiftly replied, sounding smug—or at least tried to. "I'm the strongest. I’m unscat—"

"No, not that." You frowned, meeting his gaze squarely. "After everything."

Satoru struggled to choose how he should react, partly because most of his energy had gone after walking Yuta back and reassuring him earlier, and by default, the two of you should be hellbent on hating each other and wishing for this contract to end soon.

"Aww, are you worried about me?" he quipped with a touch of sarcasm just because he had to, to show you that it wasn't enough to ruffle him.

Because he is still the strongest, even when alone. Especially when he is alone.

You let out a sigh, looking away. "Can't I?"

"Whoa, that's sweet of—"

"Don't fool yourself," you stated in straight-laced manner, meeting his gaze with a composed expression. "You're not okay. You might be Gojo Satoru, but no one will be after doing what you just did."

You might be Gojo Satoru, but no one will be after doing what you just did.

Despite himself, his smile fell, and his chest burns. What is this? Were you sympathizing with him?

Does that mean that you don't see him as the entity... that was the strongest?

Before now, Satoru remembered you as the most uncooperative Kyoto girl he had ever met. Your first meeting in high school sealed your fate as the two of you could hardly get along. You didn't mince words, you didn't take shit from anyone else—heck, sometimes when he thought of you, what came up to mind was an impenetrable diamond.

Which was why he chose you. You were someone he could trust. You were pretty in the eyes and certainly wouldn't bore him either. His reasons were purely based on logic. And after four months with you, Satoru came to a conclusion that you indeed fulfilled all his expectations, if not more.

And he felt comfortable, or dare he say, secure even. He felt like he had gained a friend, who could see past his bravado and wouldn't judge him for it.

"You're..." you sighed, casting a sympathetic glance at him, your forehead slightly creased. At that moment, Satoru couldn't help but think you were incredibly endearing, fretting over him. "...an idiot."

"Heh." I really am, aren't I?

"I never knew him well..." you chose your words carefully, hesitant. "Did you try to convince him, before this?"

He barked a bitter laugh. "I did, we even made a scene in front of freaking KFC," he remarked with a scoff. "He didn't listen to me, until the very end."

You wanted to tell him “You have done everything you could” but the words faltered on your tongue. You couldn't bring yourself to say it when you saw the faint quiver of his lips, the slump of his shoulders—the very sight of a boy grieving the loss of his friend.

Your heart pricked too, somehow, seeing that expression on him. And you once again realized that your silly, exalted husband was just as human as anyone else who made him think he wasn’t.

"And you know what he said in the end?" Satoru's tone was flippant, as if asking the most normal thing around, but carried a trace of grief, evident in the slight drop in his tone if you squinted. "He said he didn't regret it, not even a bit."

"I'm sorry," was all you could manage.

Satoru's smile was lopsided. Now that he had finally accepted it, something inside him finally bleeds, and it freaking hurts. The pain gripped his chest like a swirling inferno.

But then, you boldly clasped his hand in yours, gently tracing soothing circles on its back.

"What?" he peered at you, feeling a ghost of a smile forming.

"Consider this emotional support."

And he chuckled softly. Despite the lingering ache, despite the gloom he was sure he would carry for the rest of his life, he felt the pain was more bearable with you by his side, somewhat.

How?

You blamed it on the alcohol, because it was MONTH FIVE and you were kissing Gojo Satoru, daringly.

"We shouldn't be doing this," you rasped between kisses, breathless, as your own sinful hands plucked the buttons off his shirt. The intoxication might have played a part, but the intense heat coursing through you made it hard to think straight.

Satoru crashed his lips against yours again, consumed by blind lust. "Yeah, we shouldn't," he replied in a rush. His breath was hot as he trailed his lips down your jaw and neck next, savoring the softness of your skin.

You two had attended a banquet for the elite, and you were unbelievably beautiful. Standing by his side as his wife, you drew admiring glances, with everyone marveling at what a remarkable couple you made. The Gojo heir who was born with the legendary Limitless and the Kamo heiress, as lovely as her clan's name was powerful.

His deft hands roamed the curves of your body, exploring every inch of you. The warmth of his hands tickled something inside you as you closed your eyes to sink into this very moment. Next you knew, his bare body was against yours and you were stripped out of your evening dress.

Lust flickered in his honored eyes, as he took in the sight of you in your undergarments.

"You're really pretty, you know," he whispered. The intensity with which his eyes scanned your form made you nearly squirm. "Shame we don't always get along."

"You're one to talk," you retorted, a hint of exasperation in your tone, as you willed all other thoughts away. Thoughts like what comes after this. Thoughts like—

Is it heaven or sin, if you feel both at once?

His thumb tenderly caressed your plush lips, a hint of a smirk on his beautiful face.

He has long been thinking about your body. He was but a man, after all. He just didn't expect that you wanted this too.

There was always this tension, only this time, neither of you could hold it back anymore. Perhaps it was impulse—hell, most certainly it is, but there was another thing, something more that even Gojo Satoru still didn't dare to say out loud.

"Eager, are we?" he taunted when you leaned in, yearning for the touch of his lips on yours again.

You huffed. “Shut up and kiss me.”

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks at the slip of those words. You were about to rectify it, taken aback by your own boldness, but then he drew you close, silencing any further protest with a gentle hush—

"Too late, sweetheart," his husky voice entered your ears, lips curling into the most wicked smile, and you were in a trance. And Satoru was once again convinced, that choosing you as his wife was the rightest thing there was.

If the two of you went with this, then there would be consequences. Things would become more complicated, harder to sort out.

But, he decided, as he captured your lips in another heated kiss, everything else can wait.

MONTH SIX, and you were dreading the day of your divorce.

You brought this upon yourself. Whenever you reminisced about that night, you wanted to smack yourself in the face and bang your head against the nearest wall.

This marriage has a time limit. And you were doing it out of convenience in the first place.

You weren't supposed to… goddammit—fall in love with him.

But what's done is done, there is no going back in time. Awkward exchanges and lingering stares had been gnawing at your insides these days, and you were sure Satoru too must have noticed them too. You two used to be more relaxed with each other, and he'd even flirt with you, but weeks ever since that night of drunken passion, you almost reverted back to your high school personas—ignoring each other.

This was tough. You didn't like this. And more than that, you were faced with a more pressuring matter...

Gojo Satoru, with everything he possessed, could have had any woman he wanted. This arrangement with you was temporary in the first place, soon he would forget you and flit to the next woman.

The thought made your heart ache, because you had involuntarily gave your heart away to him. Siiigh… What a predicament you put yourself into, huh?

With just a month left together, maybe you should just make the best of it.

. . .

If you thought that things were any better with Satoru, then you were sorely wrong because he too, was debating with himself often nowadays.

Days spent with you were fun and fulfilling. You irked expression somehow had made its mark in his heart. You were pretty, fit to be by his side publicly and preferably, behind the closed doors. With you, he didn't feel the need to carry this facade of being strong—he could be a clown tripping over his own trap and you would amuse him with your deadpan expression.

And ever since that night, he was constantly reminded by how soft your skin was against his. It almost drove him crazy now that he was deprived of it.

How was it the last month already? He wasn't ready to let you go yet.

When he got back home later after his class ended and found you in the dinner table setting the food, all he could muster was, "Hey. Haven't eaten?"

You whirled around to face him in surprise. "Oh... you're back. Just about to. Want to join me?"

Of course he would. And yet as the two of you sat down, it was so painfully awkward Satoru felt like he was dying inside.

Why couldn't he pull off a smart line or two? Where did his suaveness go? He was smoother than this, surely, with his colorful history. One night of passion was supposed to enhance the relationship, not to derail it. What happened to you both?

The salt was near his side when you reached to grab it and bumped into his hand. "Uh-oh."

Turning towards you, he found your spooked expression and your adorable eyes widening in surprise. "S-sorry..."

It was just freaking salt! Salt! Why on earth were you apologizing?!

Enough, he thought. This utter madness of being jumpy with each other. He'd start from his side.

Does he want you to keep being his wife even after all this ends? Yes.

Why? All reasons already listed above.

Does this mean he likes you? Apparently and supposedly, yes. Because if it isn't then he doesn't know what this funny feeling driving him mad is.

With that sorted out, then he only had one more thing to confirm. He put down his spoon and crossed his arms together. "Tell me the truth. Do you like living with me?"

His question obviously took you by surprise. "Huh? What brought this on?"

"Just give me an answer."

"You're so pushy," you grumbled, lips pursed, and he felt like you were finally back to your usual dynamics somewhat. Good.

"Sooo, the verdict? Do you enjoy being with me or not?"

Because to him, it was a resounding yes and more.

Ignoring the warmth that surged to your cheeks, you rolled your eyes. "Surprisingly, not bad, yeah," you admitted, mustering the courage to meet his gaze. "You're annoying, an idiot, a bit crazy—"

"Hey!"

"—but eventually you're still... manageable," you added, feeling your face truly start to sizzle. But covered it up by looking down and playing with your fingers as you still had more to go on. "What I want to say is... I'm glad that I agreed to this—with you—because I can’t imagine it with anyone else."

An unfamiliar tingling emotion rushed to his chest as his face too started to heat up, letting your words sink in. Is he blushing? Oh God. He sure is. And so did he feel hella giddy.

Then it’s sealed.

Suddenly he procured a piece of paper from his work uniform and showed it to you. You first saw his lazily scrawled signature before it dawned on you.

The contract. You almost forgot that you made him sign that looming piece of paper. You were almost dismayed, thinking that he would end this right then and there, but then—

“Well, then… I suppose we no longer need this.”

Riiip~

Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when Gojo Satoru tore out your contract right in front of your face, the most brilliant of his devilish grin adorned his handsome face, as he took of his blindfold to see you far clearly than ever. Heavens, you are cute, he thought.

“Soooo~ seems like you’re stuck with me from now on!”

You gaped, awestruck at the blatant meaning of it all, feeling how your heartbeat started to pick up the pace, when he pulled the rag out of your feet once more by tilting his head to the side, looking at you with a winning smile.

“Let’s start over! What did they say again? Ah, yeah. Here’s to the first day of our lives!”

[januaryembrs]

YOU WERE LIKE AN ANGEL TO ME | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

Request: my DARLING @avis-writeshq says- i’m a menace but i ADORED the spencer fic u posted 🥹 UGH THEYRE SO CUTE YOUR HONOURRRR 👹if it’s okay, may i request another fic with the same couple 🙈 perhaps one day reader is not as sweet or chirpy as she usually is, or she gets injured or threatened in the field? much love and lots of kisses xoxo 🫶

Description: Spencer swore he wanted to hate her. She was too happy, too chirpy, too much for a guy who spent months rotting in prison. But how could he ever hate her when she cried in his chest like that?

Length: 5k (I'm feral for these two)

warnings: post prison reid. Angst. depiction of suicide from the Unsub. gory language used. guns mentioned. mention of $nuff video and other murders. Nothing that hasn't been done on CM already.

authors note: if y'all want to see more with these two just SAY because I am all ears I would die on this ship

There were a lot of times in his time at the BAU that Spencer had wished he could have changed the outcome of their bad guy, surprisingly enough. There was the time they found their UnSub a few minutes too late, and one of the victims fathers decided to take him out then and there with a shotgun to the head. He was just a kid. There was the entire time he was with Tobias Hankel, and he lived in a state of both fear and sympathy for the boy trapped in his own body after years of abuse. There was Nathan Harris, the kid who had stopped him at the subway station and practically begged him for help to stop his urges to murder, only to slit his own wrists before Spencer could get to him because he thought he was tainted. 

He could see how it was easy in their job to get wrapped up in saving the day, in saving everyone they could. He just had hoped, on some stupid grace of a god he didn’t even believe in, that she would have at least remained untouched by the bad luck. 

Spencer had always thought, since the first day he had arrived back into the office after his stint in prison, that she seemed to just waltz through life easier than anyone else. He knew the concept of luck was not quantifiable, that it was just a coincidence that good things happened to some people, and bad things happened to others. He always grouped himself in with the latter, because what was his entire life if not one bad hand of cards after another?

Part of him had been seething with vitriol jealousy when he first met her. He hated how the elevator doors seemed to open without hesitation for her, no waiting required. He hated how her hair never seemed to fall out of place, while his required primping and preening to upkeep. He hated how she was always so happy, whether it had been she’d been given an extra cookie at the bakery for free, or her coffee had just tasted super delicious that morning, or the road works clogging the city had been put on hold the one day she needed to drive into the office. She was one of those people, he had decided, that life just seemed to smile down upon, and she beamed back in that dazzling grin. 

He felt sick to his stomach for ever wishing it gone, especially when she looked like she might never smile again. 

They never liked to say that they had easy cases and hard ones, all of their cases were difficult to process. But this one had been a handful above the rest. 

“UnSub has been killed on site, all units stand down,” Luke said into the radio, and the entire squadron took a sigh of relief, all of them except him. 

Because he saw that look in her eye, the way everything sparkly about her seemed to have vanished.

They had been following Bobbie Wrids for a week. Five bodies in, five men shot between the eyes execution style, almost six by the time they’d arrived on the scene. 

She’d gone with Tara around the front of the abandoned building; Penelope tracked their newest victim, Henry Frond, through his phone pinging off the nearest satellite towers, and it had been straight forward from there. Or at least it should have been. 

Because by the time Spencer and Luke arrived in their own SUV, Penelope had time to access the rest of Henry’s phone, and it was clear to see the victimology behind all six men. 

They were distributing snuff videos of women, some between themselves, some to other usernames on the darkweb, and Bobbie Wrids’ daughter had been one of them.

Bobbie had become somewhat of a vigilante, but he was a grieving father above all. He was a wounded animal chomping at the bit to soothe the ripping pain of his daughter's murder, the same one those men were getting off to. 

Tara and her exchanged a glance as Penelope relayed the information over their headsets, her once serious expression falling into something sombre and sorrowful. How could she arrest a man she couldn’t help but feel sorry for, one she couldn’t help but think wasn’t entirely wrong in his actions. 

“Bobbie Wrids,” Tara’s voice was stern, cutting through the silence of the desolate building. Their footsteps were careful as they made their way through the hallway, down to what had once been a rec-room, or perhaps a staff room, where they knew Bobbie had Henry, “This is the FBI, we’d like to talk,” 

They heard nothing, and she looked up to the older woman hesitantly, her finger hovering over the trigger the way Spencer had taught her. Tara took a minute, knowing she was leading the charge here with the girl being so inexperienced, before she nodded to the door knob and the rookie twisted the handle, pushing the peeling wood open gently. 

Bobbie Wrids stood in the centre of the room, moth eaten couches either side of the damp rug, the ceiling tiles half caved in from wear and tear. Henry Frond was already a pulp in the UnSub’s arms, and yet it was Bobbie that her eyes shot to first, sympathy shooting through every fibre of her being when she saw the distraught look on the father’s face. 

He was grieving. He was grieving his little girl’s death. He was looking for a solution, and this seemed to be his best bet. 

“Bobbie,” Her voice was shaky, her and Tara frozen in the doorway as the man brought the pistol to Henry’s beaten face, cocking it towards his temple before they could even explain themselves. “We’re going to come in, is that okay? We just want to talk, just let us talk-”

They had only edged closer by three paces between them as she was speaking before his knuckles turned white and he squeezed the gun tighter to Henry’s skin, the barrel contorting the flesh, “Don’t come any closer, this pig isn’t worth your mercy,”

“We know,” She said, her and Tara slowly stepping over a fallen ceiling tile, cracking under her boot as she met his desolate gaze for the first time, his head snapping to her. “We know what he did, Bobbie. What they all did.”

His throat bobbed, his bottom lip quivering and the sight of it, a man so broken, forced a frog into her oesophagus, and she willed herself not to cry. 

“They hurt my little girl,” Bobbie choked out, his face turning mauve as the tears began to build behind his eyes, “She was my girl. She was only eighteen.” 

She nodded, his wetted hues seemingly permissive when she stepped closer to where he held Henry hostage. 

“I know, I’m so sorry for what happened to her,” She said, her voice croaky, unstable as she wrenched it into something audible, “I’m so sorry,” 

“He doesn’t deserve mercy, none of them did,” Bobbie spat, his forearm crushing against Henry’s trachea in a vice-like grip. The man floundered, a wheeze coming from his lungs, not that she felt much sympathy for him. 

She sprung into action, flicking her gun onto safety and holstering it, Tara doing the same as she lowered her weapon to her side. He profiled as a vigilante; he had no reason to hurt them. 

“Bobbie, listen, I know they didn’t deserve to walk free, okay?” She said, taking the smallest step towards where the men stood, “But she wouldn’t want this for you, would she?”

The man flinched, his jaw hard as a rock with how he clenched his teeth together, as if holding back a sob. 

“Come on, Bobbie. Let him go, we have enough evidence to get him sentenced. We can get you a plea deal, I know a good lawyer,” She begged, because she wasn’t beneath it, because she knew he was a good man backed into a corner, “Please,”

Maybe it was the way her eyes were soft when she looked at him, or the fact two more agents burst into the room from the hallway, Spencer’s eye immediately falling to where she was stood so close to their UnSub, her gun out of hand. Tara stood by, but that wasn’t good enough for him. He edged with light footsteps until he was behind her, his gaze cautious, never leaving the gun in Bobbie’s hand. 

“Please,” She repeated, and Spencer saw Bobbie’s shoulders drop, every sliver of resolve draining from his body at her gentle tone, a deer approaching a hunter. 

Henry was thrown to the floor, the man practically dead weight as he gasped, almost retching at the feeling of air sucking back into his chest frantically, and Luke and Tara were quick to wrestle him into cuffs, the woman reading him his Miranda rights. 

Spencer almost made a grab for her then, because she was still creeping forward towards the man who had a loaded gun still live in his hand. He didn’t care for one second that the statistics said Bobbie wouldn’t lay a hand on her since she wasn’t part of his list. He didn’t care that every sign pointed to their UnSub being benevolent towards women, especially younger ones, that she fit his daughter’s description. Spencer didn’t care, he wanted her as far away from that gun as possible. 

His heart lurched into his throat when Bobbie did in fact make a lunge for her, just not the way he’d feared. Because she had grabbed him. She’d pulled him into an embrace, a hug, kind and sweet as she always was. 

Spencer cursed her for being so soft. It was going to get her killed. 

“Agent,” His voice was terse, worried if you dug a little deeper than the sharp surface, but she didn’t listen to him. She held Bobbie tight as the man unravelled on her shoulder, falling into heart breaking sobs and it was then Spencer realised she was crying with him. 

“It’s going to be okay, you’re okay,” She was shushing him, the killer, reassuring him he was safe, as if the killing thing wasn’t still between his fingers that clutched at her back with rough hands. 

“They killed my girl, they took her from me, and then they laughed about it,” He wailed, and she nodded, squeezing him even tighter if that was so possible, “No one would listen, the police didn’t listen, I had to do something,”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry,” This was wrong. She wasn’t supposed to be sympathising with the criminals. But she couldn’t help it, she couldn’t help the gasping urge to comfort the man who had lost his whole world, “I’m listening. Tell me about her,” 

“She was so beautiful,” Bobbie whimpered, sniffling into her shoulder. Spencer felt his chest twinge at the scene. He hated that she was so soft. “She never hurt a soul,”

She cried with him, though hers were choked down as much as she could get them, her wet cheeks the only proof she had ever let them slip. 

“I’m sorry,” She said again, because no matter how many times she repeated those two little words, it would never bring his daughter back, “I can help you,”

He pulled away from her shoulder, and it was only then that Bobbie Wrids even noticed Spencer, his face taut in anxiety as he watched the man’s hands still holding onto her body as if she was the only thing that kept him upright, which Spencer wouldn’t be surprised if it were true. 

He fished the cuffs out of his back pocket, his finger never leaving the trigger as he stared down at their UnSub cautiously. He knew he may be being cruel, knew that ten years ago he would be just as caring as her. But that Spencer was long gone. And what remained was screaming in terror that she was in the line of danger, that she was holding the danger in her bare hands like she didn’t see the jeopardy she was putting herself in. 

Bobbie pulled away to look at her, the creases around his eyes deep chasms, and even with the smattering of grey hair, the stubble, the cold, empty look of someone with nothing left, she thought he might have been a handsome man once. He looked at her with a ghost of a smile, and one of his callused hands came up to tuck her hair behind her ear as if it had been second nature to him for eighteen years. 

“You’re a sweet girl,” He murmured, and she blinked at him, her chest easing at the way his wails had subsided into something quiet. She could help him, she swore she would help him. He was a good man beneath it all. “But no one can help me anymore, sweet girl,”

And with that he lifted the pistol beneath his chin and pulled the trigger.

—

She heard someone scream before she realised it was coming from her own throat, but her ears were ringing and she couldn’t open her eyes. Her face was wet and hot, and for a second she thought it was tears, but she was beyond crying now. She felt arms pulling her back into a strong chest, and someone was murmuring to her, or perhaps they were speaking normally and the sound of the gunshot had knocked her hearing. Either way, it was like someone had pulled a bag over her head as she brought her shaking hands up to her eyes to wipe. 

She managed to crack her lids then when the sludge was gone, only to see the room still a blurry mess. She could make out, in the haze of blobs and crimson tint, Bobbie’s body slumped to the floor, a dark puddle seeping into the rug as those long arms tugged her out of the room. She only then looked down to her hands where she had rubbed her face and she caught the same claret plasma coating her fingers, her white shirt, her pants, her arms. It covered her head to toe. 

It was in her eyes, she realised when she saw the ichor coating her fingertips. It was blocking her vision, turning the world a vivid wine colour, and she thinks she whimpered, or perhaps it was a moan of horror seeing the puddle beneath Bobbie’s body growing larger by the second. 

“I don’t understand,” She said out loud, her head spinning, and she brought her fingertips up to her eyes again, maybe to get the blood out, god there was so much blood on her face, or maybe because she hoped to everything out there that she would clear her sight and find it all a terrible hallucination, the product of one too many nights of sleepless tossing. 

But when she rubbed her lids again, this time seeing the scene a little better, Bobbie was still dead. She had still been too late. 

“You’re in shock, you need to breathe,” A voice instructed her over her shoulder, and it was from the same person who had their hands around her waist, pulling her away from the crime scene, as CSI filed in from behind them. 

She tried pushing the arms off her, weak because she couldn’t feel anything that wasn’t the horror in her stomach, and it took her a second before she listened to their words and realised she was holding a breath in her chest, the way a toddler does when they’re overwhelmed. 

“I don’t-” She gasped, the air rushing through her lungs, so fast it made her cough, “I don’t understand, I was going to help him- I don’t understand- why?”

“I know, just breathe for me, sweetheart,” Spencer. She only just realised it was Spencer speaking, because he had never called her that and the gentle tone he’d taken was nothing like his usual, civil cadence. He had been dropping a few jokes the past few weeks since she’d driven him home, had been more touchy feely with correcting her form when she was at the shooting range, had delicately touched the small of her back when they were navigating a crowd together. He was slowly cracking from his statuesque expression that hadn’t left his face since he’d gotten out of prison, but the softness with which he held her waist was entirely new. 

“Spencer, I don’t- I don’t get it,” She said, her voice bubbling into a sob as she allowed herself to be pulled away with no fight left in her. He took her into the hallway, turning her body from the sight of his hand lifeless on the floor with little to no effort. She was damn near limp in his arms, “Spencer, I don’t under-understand, I was going to h-help him, why would h-he do that-”

“Shhh, you need to breathe,” He murmured into her hair, trying to lead her out the front of the building and far away from where she’d just been front row seats to a messy suicide, “Come on, just breathe for me, baby, and then we can talk,”

But she wasn’t listening, and he wasn’t offended. Spencer knew it was the shock. He knew the symptoms by how her respiratory system had picked up in a matter of seconds and it was like she had gone from zero to a hundred. She let out a long whine, tears collecting the blood on her lash line and her chest seized into action, gulping down air, too short to do anything for her lungs, and her legs began to buckle beneath the two of them. 

Spencer stopped in the hallway, realising she was in more shock than he must have thought. He knew she was sensitive, hell it was one of his favourite things about her. He knew she felt everything so deeply, burned too easily, like a daisy wilting in a dry heat, or candyfloss melting in his mouth. Spencer knew, as awful as watching death up close was for any agent, it would hit her hardest of all of them. 

He moved around to her front, his hands migrating from her waist up to her shoulders, brushing over her upper arms soothingly. But her body felt numb, her head felt heavy, and her eyes were glazed over, down a rabbit hole entirely away from him, even when one of his hands cupped her wetted cheek gently. 

“Just breathe, hey, look at me,” He tried a firmer tone, and she bent to his will too easily. It was a punch in the gut seeing everything shining and pretty leached out of her eyes, as if she had become soulless in a matter of minutes, as if she had lost all hope in the world the second Bobbie pulled that trigger. She looked like hell, blood still fresh on her cheeks, in her hair, smeared around her eye sockets where she had scrubbed so hard to get it off her skin, “You need to calm down, you’re going to faint if you don’t breathe,”

She nodded, or something close to it, her eyes falling down to the floor, and she seemed to wrestle for control over her chest then. But what came after was worse, Spencer thought. Her brows screwed together, her eyes welling up with more of those fat tears, and her lips dropping into a devastated pout, her eyes trailing over the mess on her uniform, on her hands. 

“Spencer, I don’t understand, I tried to help him, I wanted to help him,” She sobbed, sniffling to herself miserably, and he barely even thought about it when he pulled her into his chest, not caring that her skin would dirty his shirt. 

His hand wound into her hair, stroking her sweetly as she buried her wails into his vest. He used his other arm to pull her close to him, which she seemed to have zero qualms about as she clawed at his back to keep him close, as if she didn’t want to face what was going to happen when they left that building. 

Spencer regretted ever thinking her sunshine was too bright for him. 

–

She hadn’t smiled in a whole week. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She had given Penny a very forced smile when she had fussed over the younger woman the first day she got back, had said thankyou with downcast eyes and a fragile grin when the blonde presented her with a framed picture of a puppy to keep on her desk ‘incase she needed something nice to think about,’

She hadn’t looked at it once, because they both knew it wouldn’t do anything, no matter how much she pretended for Penelope’s sake that she would put it to good use. 

He had taken her out for coffee on him that first day, but by the time they had got to the front of the queue, he had been doing almost all of the talking, which had become rare nowadays since he had come home from Mexico. Usually, it had been her filling the silences, because he knew in her right mind she hated the sound of static nothingness, she found it awkward and unnecessary when she could talk to anyone without thinking about it too hard. 

They had got to the desk, the barista smiling up at him as he ordered his usual, before he turned to look at her as the woman serving asked her what she would like. But she wasn’t listening, she was watching out the window, nothing particularly invigorating beside a bird cleaning its feathers on top of a stop sign. 

He said her name, putting his hand on her back and her head whipped around, her eyes empty as they looked up at him expectantly, “What do you want to drink?” 

She blinked, waking herself from a stupor, and looked at the barista with an embarrassed expression, “Hot chocolate, please,” 

And that was all she really had to say until lunch rolled around, and she excused herself to head home early. Emily smiled at her reassuringly, her eyes wary as she watched their happy-go-lucky rookie head for the elevators with a desolate look in her eyes. 

Spencer hoped she would come around on her own, or maybe even be brave enough to talk to someone about the thoughts rattling around that head of hers, but she just didn’t. She stayed as silent as possible, only ever speaking when spoken to, asking Emily if she could finish off her reports at home, to which the Prentiss woman never protested. 

But Spencer had had enough. He’d worried himself sick over her, and where all thoughts of how endearing and lovely and charming she was had sat in his head before, now it was all just ways he could think to make her smile again. 

It was the following Tuesday by the time he braved action. She had gone home after their midday briefing, apologising to Emily with tired eyes that seemed to be growing more and more heavy by the day, like she hadn’t slept a wink in a fortnight. Which Spencer thought was entirely possible. 

He pulled up to the house Penelope had not so discreetly told him was hers, definitely not because he’d asked, and definitely, definitely not breaching any human resource policies about distributing fellow workers information (meaning Spencer had almost certainly not begged Penelope for the address with those puppy eyes of his he knew could bag him anything). 

The peonies in the window bays were wilting but her house was something out of a fairytale. He wasn’t sure why he was really so surprised. It screamed her, everything about it, from the toadstool post box to the little green, cast iron bench that sat in the garden, the metal forged to look like florets of ivy holding the sitter upright. 

He rapped the brass knocker, the metal cold under his long fingers. Brushing invisible dirt off his shirt, he hoped she would answer as the present squirmed at his feet. 

“Just a second,” He hushed, and as if she heard him, the front door swung open to reveal her bare face he hadn’t seen since he’d helped her wipe the blood from her skin in the back of the ambulance. 

She looked at him with furrowed brows, before they quickly shot to the floor, to her cobbled pathway that had clicked under his shoes, and her face washed with a shock. 

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She crouched to her knees, a slobbery lick immediately meeting her cheek as the Spaniel rubbed his wet nose up to her ear, sniffing her unique smell, as if it was a bag of Class A’s, “I never knew you had a dog,” 

“I don’t,” He replied, kneeling with her to ruffle the soft fur behind the canine’s ear, “This is Ace. He retired from the Bomb Unit a month ago and Penelope sent me his handler’s number. They said he’s the happiest dog in the world,” 

 “I would be too if I stopped so many people from blowing up,” She said, but before he could ask what she meant exactly by that, Ace had jumped up and attacked her entire face with kisses as if he too thought that statement was worth silencing. 

And she laughed. She laughed louder than she had in days, weeks, her eyes crinkling in joy as the little pink tongue stole away her sorrow, tickled away the traces of the blood that had tainted her skin. 

Spencer smiled, his eyes watching her face scrunch in a squeal, hands eventually coming up to the elderly dog’s jowls to gently push him down. 

“Oh, you are the sweetest guy,” She said, and the words had him tugging at the leash to lick her all over again, “Yes you are, you’re the sweetest little guy around, huh?” 

She chuckled, scratching down the mutt’s neck, and her eyes flicked back up to Spencer, who watched her with more intent than she’d realised. 

“Petting and receiving affection from pets causes spikes in serotonin in our brain and reduces anxiety, did you know that?” Spencer said, Ace pushing his muzzle into the palm of her hand to prove a point. 

Her smile wavered slightly, and she looked at his hazel hues that seemed to see right through her, “Look, I’m sorry I’ve been so off lately, I just can’t sleep at the moment-”

 “Don’t apologise,” He cut in, though his tone was kind, and the two of them stood back up to their full height, “What happened was horrifying, even some of the longest serving agents I know would struggle seeing that,” 

She scoffed, unusually pessimistic coming out of her mouth, “You wouldn’t,”

His head tilted, not quite understanding what she meant, because she hadn’t sounded cruel when she said it. Then again, he didn’t think she was actually capable of that emotion. 

She looked at him, a flash of something vulnerable in her eyes, something like that day he’d held her in the hallway; too fast he almost missed it.

“You’re so brave, Spencer, you’re like invincible. I mean, you survived prison and your mom getting kidnapped and you bounced straight back to work like it was nothing. I can’t even watch a murderer die without spiralling out of control,” She huffed, rubbing the bridge of her nose and before he could respond on just how wrong she was, before he could tell her that that was exactly the opposite of what had happened because he had damn near changed every inch of himself in prison to stop himself from breaking, he caught her murmuring and he thought he might just have been punched all over again, “I wish I was like you,”

His jaw clenched, eyebrows furrowing into a frown as he stepped towards her, and her head shot to him, worried she may have said the wrong thing by mentioning everything that had happened, everything Pen had specifically said was a touchy subject, and she opened her mouth to apologise. 

“Do you know how unbelievably glad I am that you are nothing like me?” Spencer said, his voice bordering on furious and her fumbled for a reply, worried she had truly pissed him off. 

She wouldn’t blame him for hating her. She’d always worried, until perhaps that day they’d gotten into her car and she’d driven him home, that her very essence annoyed him. 

“I’m sorry-” She started, but he shook his head.

“Stop apologising,” He said, his hand reaching up to grab where her fingers tugged together nervously, his hold featherlike, his face softening when he saw her expression, “I don’t want you to be anything like me. I like you just how you are,” 

She sighed, eyes doe like with emotion as she looked at him, “Really?”

He smiled, a rare and genuine smile as she seemed to glow under his words, “Yes, really.” Spencer allowed himself to enjoy the way that the twinkle returned to her expression when he smiled at her with something almost like the old Spencer in him, before he cleared his throat, “We all like you. Everyone on the team likes how you are,”

She paused, nodding to herself as if knocking herself out of a silly daze, and Ace bounced on his hind legs trying to get her attention again. 

“You don’t think I’m too sensitive?” She asked, holding her palm out for the dog to nuzzle at with that wet nose of his. 

Spencer shook his head, “Sensitive is good. It means you feel something. Means you feel the good things deeper too,” 

Her smile was blinding, because she’d never thought of it that way before, and she looked like her old self again. Spencer wasn’t stupid enough to think she was never going to think about Bobbie again, he still thought about that first UnSub he’d tried to save. He still thought about Tobias Hankel. He thought about them all. 

But he was going to make sure she never turned into him. He didn’t think he’d ever forgive himself if she did. He’d protect her sunlight even if it burned him to know he could never have her the way he wanted. Because she was everything good, and he was him. 

She looked down at Ace, the life returning to her as she stood aside for the two of them to enter her house, “Tea?”

Yep. Spencer felt something run hot knowing she would always be out of reach. Didn’t stop him from thinking about it, though. 

[americaswritings]

Voices of Roses and Ruin

Warnings: Psychological torture, manipulation, Coriolanus being himself

Summary: Coriolanus is forced to watch the gamemaker use his voice against you in the arena.

Words: around 2k

Pairing: Young Coriolanus Snow x reader

A/N: I watched TBOSAS yesterday and yeah don't judge me but young Snow is hot and I shipped him and Lucy Gray a lot (until it all went downhill cough cough). Obviously he's horrible and does many unspeakable things later (!!!). But I think the idea of a love story between a mentor and their tribute has so much potential and when I saw the birds in the film I thought of this idea.

This is written from Coriolanus perspective (I haven't read the book yet. I just bought it and I'm so excited to read it!). I obviously wanted this to be about real feelings, but I tried to stay true to his character so there are some 'questionable' and alarming thoughts and motifs in here.

Can be read as Lucy Gray x Coriolanus Snow here

Part II | Masterlist

Coriolanus had thought watching you in the arena, alone and scared, hiding from a pack of murders that were hunting for your life was among the worst things he had ever gone through, but nothing could have prepared him for the Gamemaker’s new horrendous plan.

He was tired, just as you were, but refused to go home like most students had done. Instead his head was resting in his hand as he kept watching your sleeping form, as if he could protect you if he just kept his eyes on the screen and on the lookout for a potential threat.

He wouldn’t be able to do anything for you, if the pack of murders found you. He couldn’t warn you or give you advice.

All he could do was sit here and watch and he found himself thinking if this was not the worst torture of them all; being trapped here while you were out there and all he could do was watch.

You were trembling in your sleep, if from the cold or fear he didn’t know, but he kept his expression carefully guarded as he felt his own heart breaking bits by bits.

Even there covered in dirt, with your hair a wild mess and your clothes strained with mud you looked breathtaking to him.

You were pretty, there was no denying that. Everyone else saw it too. He saw it in the way heads turned for you, men‘s eyes raking over your body like you were theirs to take.

He hated it, every part of it.

They all deserved to die.

But it wasn’t your looks that had drawn his attention to you. What had fascinated him. He liked to think he wasn‘t shallow like most people and blinded by pretty things.

No, what has drawn him to you was the way you carried yourself. The confidence you wore like an amour. Yet you were breakable at the same time.

You seemed to be made up of duality; strong but so weak, fierce but uncertain, opinionated but withdrawn, stubborn but helpless.

You were a dangerous little thing and a petite fragile flower at once. Drawing all eyes on you but forgotten due to your ordinariness by most after a moment.

Not by him though. To him you could never be ordinary.

It was frustrating and captivating and alluring.

Naturally, his constant worry for you since you had entered the arena stemmed from his will to get the scholarship. It was what he deserved and he would claim it.

Tht was why he was so engaged in saving you, not because of the deep unease he felt when he saw you in that arena, your eyes drifting around frantically until they passed a camera and he could have sworn they had locked on his for a moment.

It had nothing to do with the way his whole body seemed to light up when you smiled or the invisible pull he felt towards you when you were in the same room as him.

He definitely didn’t want to kiss you and he didn’t dream about you since the reaping, when his eyes had fallen on you for the first time and he had only thought one thing: You’re mine now.

Mine to claim, to showcase, to protect.

He had gone into the mentorship thinking he would use you to serve him and his purpose of getting what he deserved, but as he watched you now, still rooted in his chair although a deep exhaustion weighted down his body, he knew he was serving you.

Being here with you every second of the way. Vowing to protect you. Whatever it took.

You awoke from your restless sleep right before the screaming started. In an instant you were up, your eyes widened in panic as you gazed around, trying to locate the source. With the rest of the students that had stayed Coriolanus flinched in his seat, leaning forward to try and help you figure this out.

As quickly as it had started the screaming stopped and for a moment you were one, both breathing and blinking heavily as your mind tried to make sense of what happened.

And then he heard a voice. His voice. “Follow me.”

He forgot to breathe for a moment as he stared at what was happening in pure shock. You seemed just as confused, turning around in circles as you tried to find him there.

„Coriolanus?”, you whispered and took a step forward, towards the voice. “Follow me”, it whispered again and he watched you do.

No, no, no.

Around him he heard chuckles from the other students, but he drowned them out. All he could focus on was you, following his voice through the darkness. “Where are you?”, you hissed, your eyes darting around. “Why are you here?”

“I’m here for you.”

He sank lower in his seat, wishing himself somewhere else. It wasn’t him saying the words, obviously, but it was his voice and everyone could hear it, see you follow it.

He hoped people would laugh about you. About your nativity and the brilliant idea of the gamemaker to use your mentors voice against you. Hell, he didn’t even care, if they thought you might have a silly little crush on him and the gamemaker used it against you.

Because if people knew the whole truth, he couldn’t imagine the catastrophe that would follow.

The truth that there was something between the two of you, the mentor and the tribute. That it was something he couldn’t explain, but had let him do dangerous things. Break rules. Forget himself.

The truth that this might not be him speaking those words now, but that he had spoken them to you once. Had they been listening all this time?

His stomach twist in terror as he tried to remember all you had shared with each other, all he had said to you. Promised you.

It would ruin him.

“I can’t see you”, you whispered now, being led further into darkness.

Damn it, think! He wanted to yell at you. It’s not me. I’m not there.

There was no reason for him to be there.

Except…there was.

“I’m here to see you. I won’t let anything happen to you!”

“How cute”, one girl hissed in his ear, but he remained stoic. “She’s as dumb as they come”, another said and he wanted to punch her. Enjoy the feeling of triumph when she looked at him in horror and didn’t dare open her mouth again.

“Looks like you’re guiding her straight to her own death. How ironic.”

And it was ironic.

Maybe in his attempt to protect you, save you, all he had done was ruined your one chance.

All he had said to you to make you trust him and then because he hadn’t been able to stop himself were used against you now and all he could do was watch. Keeping his face carefully blank he shut out their voices. They didn’t matter.

Finally he saw you hesitate. Maybe you had remembered his exact words or maybe you realized that you weren’t getting anywhere. That if it truly was him he would have just stepped out of the shadows and shown his face. “Is this real?”

Oh how funny it was to the people around him. He hated them all. Every single one.

Your words hit a mark. They pierced right through his heart, because he had said them to you. Whispered them. Before your farewell, when he had visited you one last time.

Your faces had only been separated by a few inches and he had fought the urge to kiss you right there and then. But he couldn’t.

Because of everything, but also because it felt too much like goodbye. It was stupid, but if he didn’t give into the temptation then, a part of him hoped it meant you would come back to him.

That your chapter wasn’t over, your story just starting. He would kiss you when you won. When there was a chance for a future with you.

Still those words had escaped his mouth, like he needed the reassurance that you felt the same way. That this meant something, so much that it was worth the risk.

Coriolanus leaned forward in his seat, hope blossoming in his chest. He didn’t know why whatever game they were playing with you hadn’t affected the other tributes yet, but he was sure their time would come.

And right now it seemed you wouldn’t fall for their tricks. Because there could come no answer to your question, as he had been the one asking it.

But he had underestimated the gamemakers.

Instead of a reply there came a scream and then a groan. “Coriolanus?” “Help me!”, he heard himself yelp. What?! He had never sounded like that.

But then flashes came back to him. The bombs. How the arena had collapsed, almost burying him alive. He would have died there, if it hadn’t been for you.

You had saved him.

But how in the hell did they get his voice now?!

“Coriolanus!”

Gone was the glimpse of hesitance and suspicion and you began sprinting into the direction the voice was coming from.

No!

He watched with dread as you ran directly towards the sound. It’s not real, he whispered, knowing you couldn’t hear him but desperately hoping somehow his words would reach you.

When you stumbled upon a clearing you jerked to a stop, twisting and turning, your gaze furiously searching for something.

“Coriolanus! Tell me where you are!” But he could only hear his own painful screams, in between pleading for your help. Sounds he was certain he had never made.

What was this?

With a stab of pain he saw your face was tearstained. You were crying. For him. For someone from the capitol.

Was this what the gamemaker wanted?

Whatever you did or said would never matter again.

All everyone would see when they looked at you now was the broken girl in a dark forest, all alone and desperate and crying for a man she never stood a chance with.

A man who knew hunger just as you did, who in a way fought for survival every day too. But they would never see that, because unlike you he wouldn’t let them. Where you had no choice, he still had one. And he was watching that one chance crumble in front of him.

Flashes of a better life filled his mind.

A house. Plates of food. Tigris smiling. His uniform, a real one made from the finest materials hanging draped neatly over a chair. Laughter echoing through the corridors and then a flash of your face as you stepped into the room, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you leaned over the desk to peek a look at what he was working on.

It was the life they deserved, he deserved, if he got the scholarship. But you were there too. Alive and well, just as breathtaking. And you were his.

There had never been the choice between the scholarship and you, because they were one. Your life was connected to it and so his was to yours.

But now he could loose both and he felt the agony of that thought travel through his whole body.

The screaming seemed to be everywhere and he watched helplessly as you bent forward, covering your ears. All he wanted was to get the screaming to stop, wrap his arms around you and tell you everything was okay.

Instead he forced a neutral expression on his face, as if seeing you break didn’t break him the same way and pray for this hell to end.

Part II

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[mrsbarnesblog]

my everything

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Summary: The last thing that Bucky ever expected to see was the love of his life from the past trapped in one of the Hydra bunkers in the cryofreeze chamber. Yet here he was almost two days later, staring at your still unconscious body through the window at the medical wing, imagining the horror and disgust on your face when you found out that he was no longer the innocent and happy boy you knew before.

Word count: 6.8K

Warnings: angst and fluff, I fucked up original timeline so there is no civil war in here, bucky needs and gets a hug, you're bucky's gf from the 40's, cryofreeze, self hate talk, happy end.

Author's note: enjoy💘

“Aren't you fucking tired of this?” Bucky growled as he burst into the common room where Sam, Steve, and Natasha were sitting. "If you set me up on another date, Wilson, I'll break your fucking wings."

Sam rolled his eyes and said, "Calm down, cyborg. Look at you, all angry and stressed out; you need to get laid! When was the last time you’ve been on a date?"

Steve raised his eyebrows in surprise as he glanced between his two friends.

"Sit down, Barnes." Nat nodded her head at the couch across from her. Bucky hesitated for a few seconds, as too many feelings were bubbling inside of him, but he obeyed and sat down, crossing his arms over his chest. “Now explain what happened.”

 "This idiot is trying to set me up again.” He said, nodding towards Sam. "And I told you I'm not interested."

 “But why? Don't you want to feel like back in the days and have some fun with pretty women? This Hydra shit clearly wasn’t good for you. You’re too tense and always mad. Go on a date, maybe you’ll find a good girl to spend some time with.” Sam genuinely wanted to help his friend, and he didn’t understand why Bucky was so mad about it.

The look on Bucky’s face was weird. Like he wanted to say something but, at the same time, didn’t want to share his thoughts. 

“Are you already dating someone?” Natasha leaned with her elbows on her knees and studied his face. There was definitely something that Bucky didn’t want to say.

Steve looked between the three of his friends, and when Nat asked Bucky a question, it was like a bulb turned on in his head.

 "Buck…" Bucky met Steve's eyes, holding eye contact for a few seconds, like they were talking about something that only they knew.

 “Hey!” Sam said, waving his hands. “What are you two doing? Do you know something, Rogers?”

 “Buck, is it because of her?” The blonde said it almost in a whisper. “You still remember, right?”

“Did you have a girlfriend before the war?” Natasha, as always, understood everything immediately, and it was funny to see how Sam’s mouth fell open in shock.

Bucky clenched and unclenched his hands in his lap, not sure if he should reveal the truth. He had kept it to himself for so long—ever since he escaped Hydra and the memories from the past started to flood his head. It was too painful to think about you. To think about the woman who was his whole life many years ago. He remembered everything, and now he sees you in his dreams almost every night. Sometimes in nightmares, sometimes in the good ones, about the life that you two would’ve had if he hadn’t gone to war.

“What the hell are you hiding from us?” Sam shouted again, trying to get attention.

 “I…” Bucky frowns, staring at his hands. “I had a girlfriend... before the army, before the Hydra.” He closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing. Just the thought of you hurt him, making him regret everything. That he left, that he didn’t marry you, and that the universe had this shitty plan.

 “And that’s why you don’t want to go out with someone?” Come on, man, how long has it been?  80 years? Get over it. It must have been another one of your girlfriends that you hooked up with when you were young.” He chuckled, looking between his friends, none of whom seemed happy with his choice of words.

 "Sam, don't—"

“You sound like an asshole.” 

 “Get over it?” Bucky didn’t let Steve or Nat finish their sentences before he barked at Sam, looking even more angry than before. “Just another one of my girlfriends? Do you have any idea what the fuck you're talking about, Wilson? " He looked like he was ready to kick his friend right in the face. “She wasn’t one of them. In fact, there was no “them”. In my entire life, I’ve never even touched another woman because I've been in love with Y/N since I was 14. We started dating when I turned 18, and I proposed before I had to go to the war.”

Bucky’s emotions quickly changed as the hot rage turned into a longing for memories and feelings. He felt a lump in his throat, so he reached into his pocket for his wallet, from which he pulled out your old and shabby photo, gently running his finger over your face.

“Y/N was everything to me. She said yes, and I promised her that I would return so we could get married. I imagined that I would spend my whole life with her, you know? I don't need any other woman. I do not want it. I still love her, and I don't care if either of you find it funny.

The room fell into heavy silence. Steve just looked out the window, remembering the times when the three of you went to Coney Island, and he was always the third wheel. You were his friend too, and the aching feeling in his chest was too heavy.

Sam felt a little bit awkward after saying these things about your relationships. He wanted to tease Bucky, not be rude.

Natasha was the one who took the first step when she stretched the arm so Bucky would give her the photo. “You two look so cheesy. She’s really gorgeous.” She smirked, looking at the old black-and-white photo of you two sitting on the bench. Your back was almost lying on Bucky’s body, and his arms were wrapped around you. It seemed like you were talking about something and enjoying the private moment. Bucky had the biggest smile Natasha has ever seen on his face, as he was looking at you with heart eyes.

 “Can I see?” Sam finally asked, nodding at the photograph in Natasha's hands. She passed him the photo and Bucky moved in his place, feeling a little bit uncomfortable about revealing this part of his life. 

“You two look cute. Weird to see a smile on your face.” Sam chuckled.

“Where did you find this photo?” Steve leaned closer to the picture, immediately remembering the day you and Bucky took it and the way Bucky has had it with him ever since.

 “I took it to the war. Always had it in a jacket, even on missions. She was with me that day on the train. I think Hydra found this in my pocket. When I ran away from there, I found a box with my stuff; the photo was there.”

 “Have you… tried to find something about her?” Steve lifted his head, studying his friend's reaction.

 “Yeah,” Bucky sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I don’t know how, but I didn’t find anything. Two years after my fall, there was no record of her. No marriage certificate, no place of residence, no place of work. Nothing. Like she just disappeared.” He shook his head in despair. 

 “But it's impossible.” Steve frowned, giving the photo back. “A person can't just disappear and leave nothing behind.”

 "I don't know," Bucky shrugged, looking back at the photo for a second and then slipping it back into his wallet. "Maybe it's for the best. I don't know how I would come to terms with the news of her death.”

It’s been almost two weeks since that conversation, and luckily for Bucky, Sam didn’t attempt to set him up with anyone anymore.

Earlier that day, Tony announced that his new technology had spotted some weird activity in something that looked like an old and hidden Hydra base. It was pretty much abandoned, but there were signs of small energy consumption, as if something was still constantly working. That’s why the team of Bucky, Steve, Sam, and Tony had to check it out and destroy any possible danger.

After being free from Hydra, Bucky didn’t take part in many missions because the team agreed that it would be better for him to heal and stay far away from triggers. But this base brought up many concerns: it was hidden far away, there was no information about it in nonofficial papers, and even Bucky himself had never heard about it. Tony insisted that someone with knowledge of the Hydra system should go there too.

When the four of them arrived on the quinjet at something that looked like a well-hidden abandoned bunker, they decided not to split up and go through the main and only entrance.

“Be careful; we don’t know that they might hide in here.” Steve said, going in first with a shield in front of him. Bucky and Sam went after him, holding rifles and checking the big and almost empty room.

“They should clean in here, kinda dusty.” Tony chuckled in his usual playful voice. 

“It’s not a good time for your jokes, Stark.” Steve was always a little too serious during missions, and Tony really liked pushing his buttons. “I see the light in the other room.” He whispered, carefully opening the door. 

“Holy shit.” Sam and Tony spoke at the same time when all four of them entered the giant room.

There were five big glass machines that were a little bit foggy and had a little lightning in them.

“What is this?” Steve ran closer to one of them and saw that there was a man inside. “Oh my god, there is a man in here... It looks like he’s alive.”

“There is a folder called “The Winter Soldier Program” with personal information.” Sam said, picking up a file from the shelf in the corner of the room. “George Harris, 27 from New York. Kathleen Hill, 21 from New York…” He read, mumbling to himself.

“It’s a cryostasis chamber. Hydra used it to freeze me.” Bucky lowered his rifle, coming closer to one of the chambers. Another man. “It lowers your body temperature to the point that you can be kept like that for many years. Hydra– “ Bucky went silent when he got to another glass camera. 

“Barnes? Why is there—” Sam didn’t finish his words when the sound of Bucky’s weapon falling on the cold concrete filled the room. 

“No-no-no, please, no!” He whispered, moving closer to the glass. He couldn’t believe what he saw. 

You were right in front of him, with closed eyes and too pale skin. That was impossible. It’s not you. There was no chance that you somehow ended up with Hydra. 

Bucky felt like he was unable to breathe. He tried to inhale some air, but the lump in his throat was too big. The tears blurred his vision; he didn’t hear anything around him, as your almost lifeless body was the only thing that he thought about. You, his sweet girl, somehow ended up trapped with monsters, and he couldn’t do anything to save you from it. 

“Bucky!” Two pairs of hands dragged him from the chamber, and the blurry vision of his best friend was now visible in front of him. “Bucky, listen to me! You should calm down, buddy. Just breathe, okay?” Steve deeply inhaled and exhaled to help Bucky, and after a few minutes, he was finally able to speak.

“T-that’s impossible, Steve. She shouldn’t be there! She should’ve found another man and lived a happy life with her family!” He said in a shaking voice, angrily wiping away tears from his face. 

“I don’t know how this happened, Buck; I really don’t. But she may be alive there.” Steve supportively squeezed Bucky’s shoulder. 

“We can’t just take these people out. We should transport them to the tower and find the safest way to unfreeze them.” Tony said in a serious voice, not joking around anymore. He walked closer to the chambers, studying each of them. “It looks like they are working on their own power, and this one, “he pointed at the one that was dark and with water drops from the inside. “Doesn’t work anymore. The man is probably dead.” 

“Are there any chances of getting them out of there alive?” Sam glared at Bucky, who was just staring at your peaceful but haggard face through the glass.

“I don’t know, but me and Banner will do everything we can.”

It took another day to find a way to move four of the still-working chambers to the compound and ten more hours to defrost everyone. and to say that Bucky was completely stressed out and exhausted was an understatement. He didn’t sleep at all, staying in the room near the lab to get all the news as soon as possible. He walked around the room for hours, overthinking everything—what will happen if you die or if you survive? Is it really better for you to wake up and see all the damage that he has done for the past years? To see the empty shell of the person you loved in the past?

“Barnes!” Tony blasted through the doors with a grin on his face. “We did it.”

“You did it?” Bucky’s whole body was buzzing with energy and anxiety. “Where is she? Is she alive? Is she conscious? Can I see her?”

“Wow-wow, calm down. She is alive, but you can’t see or visit her right now. Dr. Cho has to run many tests to find out whether your lovebird is healthy or not.” Tony nodded his head toward the corridor so Bucky would follow him. “We put each of them into a different room, and your Blonde Bestie insisted on putting Y/N into the best and the biggest one. There is a special window through which you can see her, but she cannot see you from the inside. So you can be as creepy as you want to until she gets better.” Stark slapped Bucky on the shoulder to show some kind of support when they stopped in front of the said window. 

You were lying on the bed, surrounded by too many wires and monitors. Dr. Cho was standing above you, writing something down, and checking the device near your head.

She said something aloud, probably talking to FRIDAY, and came out of the room. 

“Oh, Mr.Barnes, I heard that Y/N was your girlfriend, right?” She smiled, and Bucky slightly nodded, not being able to completely drag his attention from your body. “I’ll tell you this: it’s my most difficult and unique case, but she’s a strong one. Her body heals faster than other people’s from cryo. I believe she’ll be fully awake tomorrow.” 

“Thank you, Dr.Cho.” Bucky felt a little bit better now that he had more hope that you could really be back. Dr.Cho gave him another smile and left to check on her other patients. 

“I have to find out if these people have families. Did Y/N have someone who might be alive?” Tony asked. 

“No, she didn’t.”

“I’ll go, and you, Barnes, will stay away from her for now, understood?” He pointed a finger into Bucky’s face. 

“Yes. I’ll just watch from here.” 

You were alive. You were awake. Bucky saw with his own eyes as your body started moving and you slowly sat on the bed, confused by your surroundings. He saw panic on your face because you were clearly disoriented and scared to be alone in an unknown place. 

As fast as he could, he found Dr. Cho, who was in the room with Steve and Natasha. When he, choking on all the emotions, told them about you, it was a mess. 

Dr. Cho and a few other nurses ran to your room to check your condition because you were the first one to open your eyes.

Bucky, Steve, and Nat stood on the other side of the window. Bucky wasn’t able to fully convince himself that it was true that you were so close to him. It felt like a dream, like a weird picture that his brain created to comfort him. 

“She’s okay, Buddy.” Steve placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder because it seemed like he didn’t even blink or breathe. “You can see her soon.”

“No.” He mumbled.

“What?” His friend’s head shot in his direction.

“Someone else should talk to her first. Tell her about my past. Maybe she won’t even want to see me after everything I’ve done.”

“I can go and talk to her first.” Natasha softly smiled. She knew the feeling when you’re afraid that someone will leave you because of your past. “I think it’s better for Y/N to first find out that she woke up in the new century and that she was cryofrozen for many years. I’ll tell her that Steve is alive, and then me and you can both tell her about Bucky.” 

Bucky just nodded to her words, still not being able to look at anything besides you. He wasn’t sure that after you find out all the truth, you’ll allow him to even be around you, so for now, he tried to memorize you as much as he could. 

Since the moment you opened your eyes, everything felt unknown and different. You couldn’t explain it, but something had changed. You didn’t know where you were, what time it was, how you ended up in that place, or who all these people were. You felt scared as too many doctors crowded your room and fussed around, talking about tests and medical procedures. 

The young woman who seemed to be in charge was actually really sweet. After only you and her were left in the room, she sat on your bed with a pile of clothes in her hands and smiled at you. 

“So, Y/N, my name is Dr. Cho, and I’m here to help you heal faster and without any consequences.” 

“Where am I?” Your voice was too raspy and harsh. It felt like you swallowed a glass of sand. 

She sighed, looking at her journal. “It’s hard to explain, but I promise that there’s nothing to worry about. You are safe. In a few minutes, someone will visit you to talk about everything and answer any of your questions. Now, I was told to give you these clothes so it would be more comfortable for you. You can change in the bathroom right there; there is also anything you might need like a toothbrush, soap, and so on.” She pointed at the door in the corner of the room. 

You stayed silent until Dr. Cho left your room, and then slowly, feeling kind of scared to move around this place, you went to the bathroom to change out of the hospital gown. 

The bathroom looked even weirder than the main room; you had never seen such furniture and interiors. And when you unfolded your new clothes, it took you a few seconds to figure it out. It was some kind of soft pants and a large t-shirt. What kind of clothes was it? Yes, they were actually comfortable, but it wasn’t something that you saw in the stores. 

While you were brushing your teeth, your brain was working too hard trying to figure out what the hell was going on, until you heard someone calling your name. 

“Hey, Y/N, my name is Natasha.” The pretty red-headed woman was standing near your bed with a tray and food in her hands. 

“Please, tell me what’s going on. Where am I? Why does everything look so strange here?” You said in a desperate voice, you almost wanted to scream because you woke up several hours ago, but no one told you a single thing.

“Don’t be nervous, honey. Let's sit on the bed; you’ll eat your special meal, and I’ll tell you everything you want.” She was so nice and genuine, so you nodded and sat down. 

Natasha placed a tray near you, and you saw that it was your favorite food of all time. You took a bite, and your taste buds were immediately filled with the taste of the meal that James cooked you almost every day. James. It was his recipe. The tears flooded your eyes when all of the memories about your dead boyfriend returned to your head. Yeah, how could you forget that it had been at least two years since he was gone? 

“Y/N? What happened?” Natasha’s worried voice distracted you. 

“It just reminded me of someone. I felt like I was home, and it hurts me because nothing is the same anymore.” You wiped your tears away, taking another bite. 

“I promise you that everything is going to be okay. You are not alone here.” You frowned at her words but still nodded. “So ask whatever you want to.” 

“Where am I, and why does everything look so different?”

“You are at the Avengers Tower, located in Manhattan, New York City. I know that might sound ridiculous, but you were in the cryostasis chamber up until now. It’s 2023, and a lot of things have changed in the world; that's why it might be confusing.”

You stayed silent for a few seconds, overthinking Natasha’s words. “It can’t be true. I can’t be more than one hundred years old now. And I look the same.” 

“This is how cryostasis works—it freezes the body so it can survive many years without any changes. Now tell me how you ended up with Hydra. What is the last thing you remember before waking up here?” 

“Back in the 40s, I was a nurse. My– my boyfriend— he died during the war.” You stopped because of the lump in your throat. It was too hard to bring back these memories because it was the first time you said these words out loud. “He died, and then my closest friend died too, and I just had no one left. I was alone, and I didn’t even know what to live for because all of my dreams about family and a happy life with the person I loved died too.” Natasha put her hand over yours on the bed and gave you a supportive squeeze. “Then one day in our hospital, scientists were looking for people who would like to test new serums. I decided that I had nothing to lose, so me and a few other nurses signed in.” 

“Kathleen, Josh, Adam, and Frank, right?” The woman in front of you gave you a sad smile.

“Yes, how do you know that?” 

“We found them with you. Adam’s camera was broken, so he died a long time ago, but the rest of them are here too, but, unfortunately, they haven’t regained consciousness yet.” 

You nodded. Your food was now done and set aside, and you sat on the bed more comfortably, bringing your knees to your chest. “These scientists were running some tests on us in the lab that they brought us in. It felt weird, and I remember that Kathleen always complained that it was painful. The last thing that happened was that they told us to step into a weird-looking machine that was meant to be a part of some kind of experiment. That’s it.”

“It was Hydra. A terrorist organization that tried to rule the world. They were evil, and you were lucky to get out of there alive.” Natasha pursed her lips. “Thank you for telling me this.” 

You two sat in silence for a few seconds until she looked over her shoulder at the weird-looking mirror that took up almost a whole wall. 

“Is anything wrong?” You furrowed.

“I have to tell and show you something really important, but everyone is worried about how you are going to react to this.” She studied your face with a weird expression. 

“Is there anything more crazy than me being in another century after I was frozen?” You tried to smile, but Natasha just nodded. 

“I’ll be right back. Please, try to breathe, okay?” She stood from your bed, took the tray, and left. 

Natasha came back, and behind her was the last person you ever expected to see again. You jumped on your feet, feeling like your eyes were lying to you. 

“This—this can’t be true... No, Natasha—Steve, you died.” You mumbled under your breath. Your heart rate was way higher than usual, and it felt like you were drowning. You put your hand over your eyes, as your body started shaking. It’s just a dream. It’s just a weird fucking dream.

Two large hands wrapped around your body, pulling you into the hard chest. “Sh-s, Y/N, breathe, just breathe.” His familiar voice filled your ears, and you started crying harder, gripping his shirt. He was rocking you from side to side like a baby, while your tears and sobs filled the silent room.

“What– how– how is this possible? You crushed the plane into ice.” You shattered, tears running down your face.

“The Super Soldier serum saved me. The S.H.I.E.L.D. found my body 12 years ago.” Steve loosened his arms around you, allowing you to look up at him. He was exactly the same. This blonde hair, these light blue eyes, and that soft smile that he always had for you. “Please, sit back on the bed. We have a lot to talk about.” His face was now more serious. Even though he was extremely happy to get back his second closest best friend, he knew that Bucky was dying without you.

Steve and Bucky both looked at your interaction with Natasha, and it was obvious that everything Bucky wanted was for you to be near him. He looked through that window without any distraction, and his face lit up with a small smile when you tasted the food that he cooked for you and became emotional. He knew that you would appreciate it.

“About what?” You wiped your face with the back of your hand and sat down, holding Steve's hand. Natasha, who was still standing in the middle of the room, passed him a thick folder and left. Steve sat near you and gave you a supportive smile. 

“Bucky.” 

You froze and snatched your hand out of his. 

“Steve, no. Please—” You wrapped your hands around your body, as if you were instantly trying to hide from the pain that was aching in your chest. “Please, don’t hurt me anymore. I can’t handle that. Talking about him w-when he’s not with me anymore.” The sods started to get out of you, and you hid your face from Steve’s soft and apologizing eyes.

“He is alive.” Steve’s hands fell on your shoulders, and he lowered his head, trying to make you look him in the eyes.

“Don’t lie to me! He is dead; I saw the reports; I got the letter from Phillips saying that he’s sorry for our loss!” You particularly yelled at your friend. 

“Y/N, listen to me, okay? Bucky is alive. He is here. Behind that door, he’s watching us right now.” You were shaking your head in denial. 

That was impossible. You knew all this story; Steve himself told you what happened that day. There was no chance for Bucky to survive the fall from that height in the middle of nowhere. Yet here was Steve, sitting right before you. His big blue and soft eyes were looking into your eyes, and you didn’t see a single sign of hesitation or lying in there. He was so genuine that you wanted to believe that your boyfriend was, in fact, a few meters away from you.

“How? And why? James– he would’ve been with me if he were alive. Why isn’t he here?” You sobbed, and then the realization came to you. “That food—the food that Natsha brought me. It tasted exactly like he made it.”

“Bucky thought that it might comfort you. He found you in that laboratory, he has been near you since that day, and he saw that you were scared and disoriented when you woke up. And that's why I am here. Bucky insisted that I should talk to you first and tell you everything. He is afraid that you might not see him anymore after finding out everything that is written here.” Steve picked up the folder and put it on your lap. 

“The Winter Soldier” was written on top of the old-looking piece of paper, and for some reason you felt something weird in your chest.

“I want to let you know that whatever is in here, it cannot make me hate him.” You mumbled, hesitating to open the folder. “What’s in there, Steve? Tell me everything.”

“These are the papers that S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra had on the Winter Soldier. Everything that happened to him: experiments, torture, assassinations, crimes. This is what happened to Bucky after the fall. This is what Hydra did to him over these years.” 

You felt a lump in your throat when you opened the first page and saw Bucky’s photo from the army. But nothing prepared you for everything you read and saw after that. He wasn’t even James or Bucky anymore. He was a Soldier. An Asset. Someone without an identity. All the detailed descriptions of the medical procedures, brainwashing, electroshock, torture, and punishments with attached photos made you want to vomit and cry hysterically. You couldn’t stop crying when your shaking hands took a picture of the love of your life sitting shirtless and unconscious on some kind of stool with wires attached to his head. 

How could someone do that? How could someone torture a person almost to death and then just write about it like it was a fucking dairy? 

“His arm, it’s metal. Why is it made from metal?” Your teary-red eyes shoot back to Steve’s face. 

“Bucky lost it during the fall. They gave him a new one, but it causes him a lot of pain. Physical and mental.”

“I don’t— Steve, I don’t understand.” You took another picture with Bucky standing in his full black costume and a mask, not a single emotion on his face. “Why did they do this? For what?” 

“Hydra wanted to have the perfect asset. Killing machine. To commit crimes, kill unwanted people, and basically rule the world.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, looking at the floor. “They made Bucky the best. They completely cleared his head from the memories of his past; they trained him to be invincible and invisible. They had a special combination of words to control him, so he would always come back and do as he was told.”

You closed the file and moved it aside, closing your face with your hands while you were crying.

“And he thinks that I can reject him?” You whispered.

“Y/N, please try to understand what such things can do to your brain. Bucky goes to therapy, but he probably would never be able to fully heal from this experience.” His hand fell on your shoulder and squeezed it slightly. “Bucky always was a good person; that's why right now he feels so much guilt that it’s unimaginable. Even if nothing of this is his fault, he can’t forgive himself for these murders and damage. He has PTSD, nightmares, and a lot of trust issues.”

“I understand, but I would’ve never rejected him. He’s everything that I had, and when I lost him, it felt like hell.” You took a deep breath, looking Steve in the eyes. “Please, let me see him. I need it, and he needs it too.” Steve’s eyes softened at you. He almost forgot the love that his two best friends had for each other. 

“Give me a minute, okay?” He smiled, kissed your head, and left your room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You were really going to see the man that you thought you had lost forever in a few seconds. It was almost three years for you, but almost eighty for him. A wave of anxiety washed over you when you thought that maybe he doesn’t feel the same anymore and doesn’t have the same feelings as you do. You almost went down a rabbit hole until the door started to open. 

You slowly stood up, feeling a little bit uneasy. Even though you and Steve were just talking about it, seeing Bucky alive felt unreal. Your eyes were sliding up and down his face to remember every little part. He looked different, more mature, with a broad chest and shoulders and long, silky hair. 

Bucky’s heart was pounding in his ears, and his mouth was completely dry while you were observing him. You had tears in your eyes, and your lower lip was trembling when you tried to hold yourself from crying out loud. You were in some baggy clothes that Nat found for you, but you still looked fucking gorgeous. Still the most beautiful girl on the whole planet. 

“Doll…” Bucky’s raspy voice filled the room, and it was everything you needed. 

In just a second, you ran to him, falling right into his body. Arms wrapped around his shoulders, and your face hidden into his neck. 

As soon as Bucky finally hugged your smaller body and felt that it was real and that you were real, he broke down. Every last piece of strength went through the window as the tears rolled down his cheeks, probably soaking your t-shirt.

He wanted to drop to his knees and beg for your forgiveness for all of the awful things that he had done. He didn’t deserve you anymore, not with this much blood on his hands. But Bucky couldn’t do what he wanted because your grip on him was so strong that he wasn’t even able to move away for an inch. 

“James…” Your quiet voice filled his ears, and it sent shivers down his spine. Only you and his ma called him that, and he missed it so fucking much.

Bucky’s hands moved from your waist a little bit lower, and you viewed it as an opportunity to get even closer. Your legs instantly wrapped around his body, and Bucky, making sure that you wouldn’t fall, went to the bed and sat down with you on his knees. 

“I’m so sorry... I’m so sorry for everything that I’ve done.” He sobbed, shaking his head. You pulled away a little bit, finally meeting Bucky face-to-face. 

“Don’t you dare apologize for the things that you weren’t able to control, James!” Your voice suddenly became rough, filled with so much anger toward the people who hurt your precious boy. His hand on your waist tightened, and you slid your own to cup Bucky’s face. “I want to kill every one of them. Everyone who hurt you, who punished you,” Soft fingertips traced the delicate skin of the templates where, as you remember from the photos, wires with electricity were placed. “You didn’t deserve to go through this, James. I wish I was there for you.” 

“You were always with me. Even when they wiped me, I still had someone in my head. A woman with a soft voice, who told me that I'm strong and that it will end soon. I would’ve died without it.” You both were looking into each other's teary eyes, both feeling too much love and desire. 

Your head slightly tilted towards his, connecting your foreheads, and for a few seconds, it felt like home. Like nothing happened and you two were just having a lazy morning in bed.

The calloused hand on the side of your face brought you back to reality. Bucky’s beautiful blue eyes were looking into yours, and, sharing one thought, you both moved closer and connected your lips. The kiss was so soft, slow, and gentle, like you had the whole time in the world. It was this type of kiss that said that you both were there and alive. It was a reminder of the love that you had for each other. Reassurance, that no matter what, you will be there.

“I missed you so fucking much, doll. Since the day I first remembered everything, all I could think about was you. Even tried to find you, but there was not a single document. I started to believe that you just found a man, changed your last name, and moved away from that mess.” You were so close to each other, not wanting to split up even for a second. Your hands were moving up and down Bucky’s hard chest while he was rubbing the soft skin of your cheek with his thumb.

“Are you joking, James? No one was able to replace you. The only people I talked to during that time were your mom and Becca.” His facial expression slightly changed at the mention of his family, and you placed a soft kiss on his stubble cheek. “I should’ve been the one who took care of them, but I was nothing without you, and Winnie almost made me move in with them. That’s why I jumped at the opportunity to be a volunteer for these tests.” 

Bucky shook his head, his eyes again full of regret and pain. “I hate that it happened because of me.”

“At least I’m here right now. With you.” You smiled, sliding your hand into his dark, long locks. “You know, James, you look really good for someone who’s older than one hundred years old. I like your hair. And stubble.” His eyes rolled back at the feeling of your nails on his scalp. It had been so long since someone touched him without an intention to hurt him, and the realization of that made your heart swell with the need to take care of your boyfriend. 

“You know that you’re one year younger than me, right?” Your favorite little smirk in the whole world appeared on Bucky’s lips, and you smiled, moving a little bit closer to his body. The metal hand on your waist tightened, and you realized that you hadn't seen it in person yet. 

Your right hand reached behind you, grabbing a hard wrist that was covered in leather. Bucky’s body immediately froze under you, and his eyes snapped open. 

“Doll, no… You don’t have to...” 

“I want to. Give me your hand, James.” You said without any hesitation. Bucky looked you in the eyes for a few seconds, but then brought his metal hand between your bodies. “It’s just me, okay? I’m not scared, and I want to know everything.” You wrapped both of your hands around his hand and then gently started to take off the glove. 

The dark metal with beautiful golden stripes was shining under the bright light of the room. Your mouth slightly opened when you moved each finger with interest. Your gentle hands slid higher, rolling up the sleeve of the red henley Bucky was wearing. It was so smooth, without any sharp details, just an amazing and mind-blowing mechanism. 

“That’s so beautiful.” You mumbled in awe. Suddenly the plates under your hands moved, and a quiet whirring sound filled the room. You shot your eyes back at Bucky in shock, only to see that he was already looking at you with so much love that you almost melted. “Did you do that?” 

“It’s a new arm, not from Hydra. It reacts to my emotions. No one ever touched it without any fear.” You almost missed that last sentence, but the hurt in Bucky’s voice made you grab his face with your hands to get his whole attention.

“Listen to me, James. I’m not afraid of you. I won’t reject you. You are everything that I want. You still have the biggest and kindest heart of the guy that I met many years ago, and I’ll do everything to prove to you this.” The metal hand carefully touched your hand on the side of his face. “I love you. I love you so much, James.”

“I love you too, Doll. More than anything in this life,” Your lips crushed into each other, now sharing a more passionate and deep kiss. You slightly tilted your head, allowing Bucky to part your lips with his tongue and playfully bite you. It was almost too overwhelming, and you both were completely lost in each other until you finally needed to breathe. 

“Stay here with me, please. I don’t want you to leave.” You whined, trying to push your big and strong super soldier onto the bed. 

“I won’t leave, baby.” He chuckled, allowing you to push him back. You happily giggled and laid near him, interlacing your bodies together. 

You two were just staying in your own little bubble on your bed for what seemed like forever, talking about everything and nothing at the same time, until you finally fell asleep, feeling happy and peaceful in each other's arms.  

[iamumbra195]

School Bus Graveyard incorrect quotes because I'm bored

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Taylor: Look how creepy it is looking down this hallway.

Ashlyn: I'm gonna get vertigo.

Aiden: I'm a Virgo!

Tyler, deadpan: No, you're a virgin.

...

Aiden: You lying, cheating, piece of shit!

Tyler: Oh yeah? You’re the idiot who thinks you can get away with everything you do. WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD

Aiden: I’m leaving you, and I’M TAKING ASHLYN WITH ME

Logan, picking up the monopoly board: I think we’re gonna stop playing now.

...

Taylor: Why is Tyler so upset?

Logan: He took one of those “Which Character Are You?” quizzes

Taylor: And...?

Logan: He got Aiden.

...

Ashlyn: What did you do with the phantom's body?

Aiden: What didn’t I do with the body?

Everyone:

Aiden: Okay, that sounded more sexual than I intended. I disposed of the phantom respectfully.

...

Aiden: Here’s a fun Christmas idea. We hang mistletoe, but instead of kissing, you have to FIGHT whoever else is under it.

Logan: Aiden, no.

Ben, with text to speech: Mistlefoe.

Logan: Please stop encouraging him.

...

Taylor: Who thinks I can fit 15 marshmallows in my mouth?

Tyler: You’re a hazard to society

Aiden: And a coward. DO TWENTY.

...

Emma, trying to be nice to Ashlyn's new friends: Would you like to stay for dinner?

Mike, excited for his daughter: WOULD YOU LIKE TO STAY FOREVER?

...

Logan: What's a word thats a mix between 'sad' and 'mad'?

Ben: Disgruntled, miserable, desolated-

Aiden: Smad.

...

Ashlyn: Why are you on the floor?

Aiden: I'm depressed.

Aiden: Also I was stabbed, can you get Ben, please.

...

Taylor: Aiden and I were crossing the street, and this dude drove by and honked at us

Ashlyn, sighing: What did he do?

Taylor: he chased him to the next red light, then reached into his window and...

Aiden: Who wants a steering wheel?

...

Aiden: If I accidentally sat on a voodoo doll of myself, would I be trapped forever in that position, doomed to starve to death?

Logan: How am I supposed to know?

Tyler: You say that as if we don’t use you as a source of knowledge of the occult.

Logan: ...You wouldn't be trapped.

...

Ashlyn: Tyler, keep an eye on Aiden today. He's going to say something to the wrong person and get punched.

Tyler: Sure, I’d love to see him get punched.

Ashlyn: Try again.

Tyler, sighing: I will stop Aiden from getting punched.

...

Aiden, holding a python: Guys I impulsively bought a snake, what do I name him

Tyler: You did WHAT–

Ben: William Snakespeare

...

Ashlyn: Dandelions symbolize everything I want to be in life

Taylor: Fluffy and dead with a gust of wind?

Ashlyn: Unapologetic. Hard to kill. Feral, filled with sunlight, bright, beautiful in a way that the conventional and controlling hate but cannot ever fully destroy. Stubborn. Happy. Bastardous. Friends with bees. Highly disapproving of lawns. Full of wishes that will be carried far after I die.

Aiden: edible

...

Taylor, whispering to Aiden, who’s on the phone with Ashlyn: Ask her something!

Aiden: How are you feeling?

Ashlyn: Fine.

Taylor: Something personal!

Aiden: At what age did you start hearing voices?

...

Aiden: If I die, my funeral is going to be the biggest party ever and you’re all invited

Logan: If?

Tyler: Great, the only party I’d actually go to and he might not even die.

...

Logan: We need a distraction.

Ashlyn: Is anyone here good at jumping up and down and making weird noises?

Aiden, whispering: My time has come

...

Tyler: Where are you going?

Taylor: To get ice cream or commit a felony, I’ll decide on the way there

Tyler: I'll come with

...

Mike, buying a whole bag of knives, guns and other weapons like he's going to war on a random Tuesday: I can explain

Jacob (shop owner): Can you?

Mike: If you give me thirty seconds to think of a lie.

...

Taylor: Heads up, if you try to make a candle with food colouring, it will just sink to the bottom of the glass, and when the flame eventually reaches the bottom all the food colouring will catch fire and become one giant tall flame that you cannot possibly blow out and the glass will start to crack and then you'll throw your tea on it in a panic and then the extremely hot food colouring will boil and sizzle horribly and then the glass will shatter.

Tyler, sighing: What did you do?

Taylor, wailing: A MISTAKE

...

Mr. Thomas: What are your goals?

Ashlyn: To pet all the dogs.

Mr. Thomas: No, I meant your goals for this trip.

Ashlyn: To pet all the dogs in Savannah.

...

Logan: Is letting someone win at chess sapiosexual bottoming?

Ashlyn: Does anyone in this godforsaken group ever think before they speak?

...

Taylor: Aiden isn’t answering their phone

Ashlyn: I’ll call

Taylor: Ben and I have both tried six times each, what makes you thi-

Aiden: Hello?

...

Aiden: I was arrested for being too cool.

Tyler: The charges were dropped due to a lack of supporting evidence.

...

Aiden: Jail is no fun. I’ll tell you that much

Taylor: You’ve been to jail?

Aiden: Once. In Monopoly.

...

Mike: You love me, right?

Emma: Normally, I’d say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere and I don’t like it.

...

Aiden: Let’s watch Sharkboy and Lavagirl.

Ashlyn: Okay

Aiden: And make out during the scary parts.

Ashlyn: The-

Ashlyn: The scary parts?

Ashlyn: Of Sharkboy and Lavagirl.

...

Ashlyn: How petty can you get?

Tyler: I once edited a Wikipedia article to win an argument I was wrong about.

Taylor: I KNEW IT-

...

Aiden: I've already sent good vibes your way… they’re coming. There’s nothing you can do to stop them.

Logan: This is the most threatening way I’ve ever been cheered up.

...

Mike: So what’s for dinner?

Emma, staring at the food she just burnt: Regret.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

That's all for today!

[yzzart]

Could you do a piece where snow forced reader to dress more conservatively and change her hair (cut and style) compared to her normal look and clothing?

"𝐀𝐧 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞."

pairing: president!Coriolanus Snow x f!reader.

summary: Coriolanus didn't just change him but he also changed you.

warnings: mentions of unhappiness, explicit words + take a look at the masterlist!

word count: 1.024!

notes: here it is, anon! and i think it was too long 😖 but i'm satisfied with this work, enjoy it and i hope you like it!

The one in the mirror, truly you?

That question, a confused inquiry, had compromised itself in your mind; with no intention of simply disappearing and leaving you alone. — A lump of embarrassment and imposition formed in your throat.

The image of a woman wearing cautious, at one point even intimidating, and, extremely, expensive clothes was trapped in the huge mirror. — The fabric of the white pigmented dress was very well prepared and dedicated, accompanied by some divine pearls; it would be cruel to touch them. — Jewels around her neck, giving her an air of purity and elegance.

Her posture was honorable, drawing attention from discreet and daring glances; a lucky woman who everyone wanted to get their hands on. — Being the reason for fights and threats between compromised souls.

That wasn't you, but at the same time it was. — That conservative, intimidating style would never be used by you on a casual day or for your good will; your chest would never feel comfortable in such a garment. — You would never feel comfortable with that whole situation.

However, your loved one admired that change in you. — Such a drastic, sudden and radical change that Coriolanus brought to his life; which he dedicated with love and care.

Coriolanus changed everything in his chest, and perhaps even in his soul, throwing that poor, rotten carcass somewhere no one would find it. — And when he saw the chance to change you, you sweet, naive girl, Snow wouldn't let it fall through his fingers.

All the best articles of clothing in the Capital were in your hands, gifted by Coriolanus. — It didn't matter the price, if countless hands were spent producing that fabric, he wanted to see you using it; independent of all. — And you made a point of making him satisfied, happy.

Even though you hated with all your strength, which was so fragile and delicate, that image that was beginning to be built in you; thinking deeply about your old image, about how you really were. — Your chest was tearing, burning and wanting to destroy every bit of that glass that witnessed his current reflection.

But, Coriolanus loved you that way. — He was so pleased.

"Here you are!" — Upon being mentioned, mentally, Coriolanus's voice echoed through the modest and cold room; coincidentally, like him. — Making your thoughts disappear, as if they never existed and didn't bother you.

Wanting to see him, you directed your head towards the door and came across those deep, vigorous eyes, which were once dreamy, staring at you. — The expression of pride formed on Coriolanus's fascinating face; a face that you are sure was carved by blessed souls.

Coriolanus admired you, agreeing how that dress, personally chosen by him, hugged your body in an exquisite way; you were perfect. — If he had the opportunity, even though he has and could snub her, Coriolanus would keep you for his eyes only.

And that spark of thought, an idea began to sink into the head of the boy, or rather, the man Snow every day, minute and second.

"My beautiful girl." — Coriolanus directed his steps towards you, causing some noises on the floor coming from his shiny and expensive shoes; shoes worth half the lives of the Panem. — "So beautiful…"

"Thank you, Coryo." — A thank you in such a fragile voice, almost coming out as a whisper; deep down, you didn't want to thank him for that compliment because you felt like it wasn't really meant for you.

Now the presence of Coriolanus was behind you and joining the mirror; the difference in height drew so much attention, giving you butterflies in your stomach. — You couldn't justify whether it was the excitement of seeing him or the intimidating feeling he showed, but you didn't deny the happiness that grew in your chest. — He was there with you.

Well, a different reflection of the Coriolanus you knew but he was there.

Without saying anything or even sighing, Coriolanus passed his arms covered by the long-sleeved white t-shirt, which was very reminiscent of his dear father's, around your waist; his hands passed over the slightly rough but comfortable fabric of the dress. — There was nothing comfortable about that dress for you. — Distributing a simple squeeze, a sign of wanting your attention, in the region.

For a second, you held your breath, not knowing the reason for this action, and your eyes focused on the mirror. — Coriolanus' head resting on your shoulder, his lips forming a convinced and enchanted smile before you; equal to a man when building a work with perfection and a lot of dedication.

"That dress looks perfect on you." — His dangerous and arrogant lips left long kisses on your neck and areas close to your shoulder; it tickled, it didn't bother you, and it let silent grunts escape your mouth. — "Don't you agree, my dear?" — Coriolanus wanted to elicit a specifically positive and obedient response from you.

At that very moment, and for the first time that morning, Snow didn't get what he wanted. — No words came out of your mouth, just a miserable sigh; still feeling his kisses on your sensitive part of your body.

"Answer me." — He interrupted the sealing session with his authoritative voice, a tone of voice that he began to present in recent times; Coriolanus listened and watched you swallow hard. — "Or are you not satisfied with everything i have done and given you?" — He was bitter and so cruel at the same time with those words.

and God, that's not what you were thinking.

"No, Coryo!" — Was it a scream? You didn't even realize that you had let out a very loud tone of voice. — "No, no." — Shaking your head quickly and disagreeing with the fallacies your lover uttered, you tried to calm the situation. — "That dress was great, i loved it."

Now, a nervous and distressed smile formed on your beautiful and stubborn lips against Coriolanus' venomous and superb smile. — He had you in his cold, rich hands, he had you in the cage like a little bird crying for freedom. — He had you.

"You don't know how happy i'm about this, my love."

[itoshiexx]

wonder

synopsis: sae wondered what it was like to be loved by you.

pairing: itoshi sae x gn!reader | words: 800 | warnings: established relationship, tooth rotting fluff, sae is stupidly in love with u

notes: why hello! i'm barely alive! i know i kinda disappeared but i was struggling with personal issues and my mental health, so i didn't really have creativity to write. i'm not sure i like this either, but i couldn't let sae bae's bday go by without posting anything. also this is slightly inspired by the song "wonder - shawn mendes". thank you for your love and patience! <3

masterlist

there are certain things itoshi sae would never admit. like the way he loved calm walks at the beach or how seagulls were his favorite animal. how he secretly regret hurting his little brother’s feelings when he was a stupid teenager. how his life was way lonelier than the world could even imagine, making him hate the walls of his oh so empty apartment.

mostly, he would never admit he wondered what it was like to be loved — not just by anyone, though, but to be loved by you.

he’s not sure when it started. he can’t pinpoint the exact moment his heart began beating faster and his black and white world was filled with color, but he does know that, inevitably, it all comes back to you, like you’re some sort of big bang that created his whole existence. itoshi sae doesn’t think he was actually himself before he became yours.

if you ask him, he’d say it’s a bit pathetic, really. he was never a guy that cared about romance, and he definitely didn’t believe in the concept of a love that could sweep you off your feet, like the hollywood movies desperately tried to sell. perhaps one of the reasons he liked you so much was because you managed to prove him wrong, and not many people were able to do that. 

sae was usually right. but you, in his life — that was even more right than his stupid beliefs. 

“sae, i need to get up,” your voice breaks him from his stupor, and, instinctively, his hold on your waist tightens. it’s some sort of protection, he thinks. not to you, but to protect him from the pain of having you stray away. 

(he never wants to let go).

the football player twists his body to trap you even further on the mattress, burying his face on your chest and tangling his legs with yours. your giggle reverberates through his whole body and brings warmth to his cheeks. his heart flutters, and he can’t even find it in him to hate it. 

you must have put a spell on him, he concludes.

“i’m serious. i need to make breakfast,” you say again when he doesn’t answer.

“don’t wanna.”

“you don’t want breakfast?”

“nuh-uh.”

you giggle again, and this time, you seem to give in, relaxing your body and welcoming him in your embrace. sae can only sigh in satisfaction when you card your fingers through his reddish-brown locks, relishing in the peace only you seem to be able to give him.

“i wonder what people would think if they knew how clingy the all mighty itoshi sae can be,” the teasing lit in your tone doesn’t go unnoticed by him, and you earn a scoff.

“shut up,” he quips, although there’s no real bite in it. “you love me.”

and you must not be from this world, because it’s easy — the way you pick up on any slight nuance of his voice or demeanor. it’s so fucking easy for you to read him like an open book and to give the reassurance he so desperately needs; albeit unaware. 

your voice becomes impossibly soft, “i do, baby. i love you so much.”

you kiss his forehead, and after wandering around for so long, sae thinks he’s finally home. 

for a while, you two just stay there, in bed, wrapped in each other in a way you can’t know where he starts and where you end. the thought of being one with you makes him happy, but that’s just another item in his long list of things he would never admit. 

your sweet voice breaks the silence. 

“we’re gonna be in bed all day?” there’s nothing but pure curiosity in your voice. no judgment — you never judge him, despite the way he deserves it sometimes. the thought makes his chest tighten with the amount of love he has harbored just for you.

sometimes he thinks he’s too small for it, and he’s scared all this love will overflow and consume him whole. though, it’s even scarier to think he wouldn’t mind: sae is yours. you can have all that he has and all that he is. 

“just a little longer,” he whispers, a little more vulnerable than he would like. but it’s okay. it’s always okay when it’s you. “please?”

you hum in agreement, continuing to caress his hair. 

“of course. whatever the birthday boy wants.”

sae allows himself to close his eyes and bask in your warmth, on the safety that you so effortlessly gave him. by smelling your perfume, he’s filled with gratitude for all the times he wondered what it was like to be loved by you.

“happy birthday, love.”

he’s glad he doesn’t have to wonder anymore.

© 2023 itoshiexx. do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on here or other sites.

[ashwhowrites]

I’ve had this idea for a while. Feel free to ignore if it’s not your thing.

Enemies to lovers maybe “bully”? cheerleader ?reader. And Eddie

They have some kind of arrangement or enemies with benefits and she ends up pregnant while still in high school. They decide to work together but still are “enemies” slowly falling in love during the pregnancy? And when the baby is born and are co -parenting it’s hard with a new born , so she calls Eddie to stay over to help, goes form the guest room to her bedroom eventually and the admit their love for each other. Eddie just loves her and their son so much.

I did what I do best, reading the request and then writing a whole fic without looking back. So the story is still the same! She is just staying at Eddie's place instead. I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻 I had a lot of fun with this one

⚠️little bit of smut

All grown-up

It was a well-known fact Eddie hated the cheerleaders and jocks. And it was a well-known fact they hated him right back.

But there was one person in particular that made Eddie's blood boil. She knew how to push his buttons, get under his skin, and drive him past the turning point. He lost all of his sanity when he was with her.

Which is why he didn't understand why he purposely sought her out. He'd crave her and go walking her way, immediately regretting it the second she opened her mouth.

But then her tongue was in his mouth, her hands in his hair, and her hips rocking against his. And he remembered why he craved her in the first place. Her kisses were addicting but so poisonous. So were her moans and whines.

His brain melted into mush once he inhaled her perfume. His knees weak when her body was against his. His cock was hard whenever she kissed him. She had this spell over him and he couldn't escape it.

It was like tasting the forbidden fruit. He wanted to taste it because he'd died wondering. But fearful for his life when he sunk his teeth in.

"Fuck you always make me feel so good," Y/N whined, her head thrown back as Eddie attacked her neck. His hot lips and tongue against her skin, with the softness of his nose.

"I know I do, whore," he growled, his hands squeezing her ass

~

Hours went on and the two were sticking together by their sweat. Her body was under his as her fingers clawed down his back. Her left leg over his shoulder as he thrust inside of her. His chest was against hers as his hips knocked against hers.

"Fuckkkk, baby. Got me so close," Y/N whined as she moaned into Eddie's ear. His head in her neck as he marked her. He was always stuck with the reminder of her all over his sheets, he wanted her to remember him.

"Yeah? Gonna cum all over my big cock? What's that going to be? Number four?" Eddie chuckled, his words mocked her as his fingers toyed with her clit.

"You drive me insane," Y/N groaned. She rolled her eyes at his mockery.

"And you love it," he smirked. He picked up his pace, loving how her jaw dropped as she silently screamed.

"Be my good little cheerleader and cum for me." He demanded, his fingers working fast on her clit. Her mind was in a haze as she felt her stomach get tight.

"You gonna cum too? Fill my pussy, baby?" She asked, her hands in his hair as she yanked.

His lips were inches away from hers, and his eyes held hers.

"Fuck, beg for it," he moaned

"Cum for me, Eddie. Cum in my pussy and fill me up. Wanna be your good girl and have you dripping down my thigh" she breathed out, panting against his mouth

"Such a sweet talker when I'm fucking you. I wish you kept that energy all the time"

She wanted to roll her eyes again but she felt herself cumming. Her eyes did roll...just into the back of her head. She reached forward and trapped his bottom lip between her teeth, her teeth stabbing into his flesh as she came all over him.

"Fuck, that's it, gorgeous. Soak me," he praised, his fingers circling her clit at a breathtaking speed. Her cunt clenched around him so tight it made him shiver. He wanted to slip out of her and fuck right back in but her walls clamped around him tightly. Milking him right then and there.

He felt his body collapse against hers as shot his cum inside of her. She shivered as she felt her cunt warned by him, the cum sitting inside of her as his cock didn't move. He felt his cock soften the longer he stayed still. Both trying to catch their breaths

"God you feel better every time," Eddie whined as he rolled off of her, his cock slipping out. Both were already missing the feeling.

She hummed in agreement. Her eyes were heavy and she could feel his cum leaking down her thighs.

Eddie took a few deep breaths before he crawled out of his bed. She bit her lip as she took in his naked body, the sweat that dripped down his back.

"Eddie,"

Eddie turned as he heard her voice, his trip to the bathroom interrupted.

He saw the look in her eyes. The burning lust as her teeth ate away at her bottom lip.

"Wanna go again?" She asked, a smirk on her face as he immediately crawled back into bed.

She giggled as he tore the sheet off her body and then silenced her with a hot and passionate kiss.

~~~

When Monday came around, Eddie was back to hating her. He rolled his eyes as she walked in the walls, her eyes already on him as her feet carried her that way.

"Morning, freak. How was your weekend?" She teased.

"What do you want?" Eddie groaned, his back against a random locker. He hated the way he checked her out. The hickies on her neck were dark, he felt a little turned on that she didn't bother to cover them.

"Nothing. Just like to make you cranky." She laughed, ruffling his curls. He smacked away her hand with a growl. "See you later, freak." She sent him a wink as she walked away.

Eddie bit his lip as he felt his blood boiling once again. She drove him insane.

~

The day didn't get any better. She was right back on making his life hell.

He sat in gym class, already hating whatever the teacher planned.

"RUN A LAP!" the teacher yelled, blowing a sharp whistle. Eddie bitched inside his head as he stood up.

He grabbed the hair tie he left on his wrist and pulled his hair up, but the damn thing snapped.

"Son of a bitch!"

"Language Munson," Y/N giggled as she walked up to him. Eddie fought the urge to roll his eyes. It was like she showed up everywhere.

"Zip it, Y/L/N," he snapped back

"Someone is not in the mood," she said, her arms crossed as she snuck a look at his gym shorts and took in the tattoos on his legs. Something she's seen countless times, but knowing his thigh tattoo was hidden by the material turned her on. A little reminder there are parts of him no one has seen.

"When am I ever in the mood for you?" He chuckled, a dark mocking laugh. She loved that he edged her on and played her games. She loved keeping his attention all on her.

She smirked as she leaned closer. Her lips were right against his ear.

"When you want your dick wet,"

Eddie shivered as she lightly bit at his earlobe. She had no shame and didn't care who watched. The idea made him twitch in his shorts.

He regained his composure as she backed away. Her face now looked at his. She could tell her words affected him by how dark his eyes were.

"kneel," she demanded

Eddie's eyes bulged out of his head. Was she nuts?

"We are in the middle of the football field! Do you see all these people?" He asked, he looked over. Most people followed the direction of running the lap around the huge track. The teacher had his eyes on his clipboard, not paying attention to anything.

She rolled her eyes

"I'm not asking you to eat me out in the middle of a football field, Eddie. I mean seriously? Is your head ever out of the gutter?" He took in her serious face but that glimmer in her eye. She was pulling his leg.

"Does yours? I'm not the one who begs for three more rounds." Eddie bit back, loving the way she glared.

"Fine, have fun running with your hair down!" She snapped, snapping the hair tie on her wrist. "If you had manners, maybe I would have still helped."

She turned around, her ponytail flicking in his face as she took off.

He watched as she ran. The way her ass moved in her small gym shorts.

He shook his head and began to run. He tried everything to ignore her body a few feet ahead of his.

She tortured him.

~

Eddie was glad the day was over. Finally, time to go to hellfire. He held his books as he walked towards the room. His eyes were down as he read through his notes.

He jumped when a hand slammed his books, all falling out of his grip and splattering on the floor.

"Oops!"

Eddie felt his body light up with fire when he heard her voice. He looked at her with a pissed-off expression.

"My bad," she lied, happily walking away. He hated the way his head turned and watched her go. Not looking back to his books until she turned the corner.

~~~

But then something changed

She teased him constantly every day. Practically bullying him until he punched the lockers to get rid of the pent-up frustration until the weekend.

But once that weekend came, he couldn't find her at the party anywhere. It was a game they played. She'd give him hell for a week, then he'd get his revenge on the weekends. Which meant they fucked until he felt every ounce of anger leaving his body as he emptied it inside of her.

Monday came and he still didn't see her. When he got home, he almost wanted to call. But they were fuck buddies, he didn't have the right to call.

Then Tuesday rolled around, and she was nowhere.

Same as Wednesday

Until Thursday she finally showed up.

His eyes watched as she walked in. Her arms crossed over her stomach as she practically sped walked through the halls. Not even glancing his way, no comment, and no insult.

He kept his eye on her the whole day. It was weird for her not to interact with him at all. But maybe she felt sick? She was gone for days and came back looking pale and with dark bags under her eyes.

He almost felt like he was worried? But he didn't know why. He could care less about her life and what happens when he's not around. Not like he cared about her.

~

But then a whole week passed and she still hasn't said a word to him. He figured he might have pissed her off? But he couldn't recall anything that would set her off.

He admitted to himself that he was worried, but still wasn't sure why.

He finally called once he made it home. His finger played with the cord as it dialed.

"Hello?"

"Where the hell have you been?" He cut straight to the point

"Eddie?" she asked, she sat up shocked.

"Yeah, now answer the question." He snapped

He waited for a snappy reply, but all he heard was a deep sigh

"I've been at school. What do you mean?" she played with the telephone cord as she chewed on her lip

"Why have you been avoiding me?" He asked

"Why do you care?" she questioned, a part of her hoped he did care. And that he might have missed her.

"I don't!" He snapped right away

"Then why did you call?" She bit back

Two seconds in and they were already at each other's throats

"Forget it!"

He slammed down the phone and puffed out an angry breath of air

He did not care

~

Y/N felt tears dripping down her chin as the phone beeped. She put down her phone and stared at the wall.

"I'm so scared he won't want you," she whispered, tears falling as she cradled her stomach.

~~~

The next morning she took a deep breath and walked over to Eddie's loud van.

She knocked on his window

She smiled as he rolled down his window

"Hey," she said softly, "can we talk?"

"Get in," he said, nodding his head to the passenger side as he unlocked the door.

She crawled into the seat and grabbed a bag from her backpack

"I know we didn't talk on the phone, but I need to tell you something." The nervousness in her voice made him scrunch his eyebrows in confusion.

"What's up?"

She didn't say anything but handed over the brown bag.

He grabbed it, even more confused. He opened the bag and felt his stomach drop to his sneakers. He gulped as he pulled out the small ziplock bag, a positive pregnancy test inside.

"You're pregnant?" Eddie choked out, he turned his head to look at her. She looked pale and hugged herself. He couldn't help but look down at her stomach before he looked back up.

"Yes, that's why I've been ignoring you."

"Because you don't want the dad to know you've been seeing me?" He scoffed, throwing the stick back in the brown bag.

"Eddie, can we talk without it being a battle?" she sighed, she was exhausted. She lost so much sleep from thinking about how this conversation would go.

"Fine," he said as he bit his tongue. "Why are you telling me? To break it off?"

"Why am I telling you?" she scoffed, "Because this baby is yours."

Eddie snapped his head to the side, his scared eyes looking into hers.

He opened his mouth but nothing came out. His hands were sweaty and his heart raced.

"I don't believe that," he laughed. "There is no way. You take birth control, we only agreed to have sex with no condom because of that."

"I know! But my period is late, I've been sick, oh and I peed on three fucking sticks and all were positive. So if you don't believe me, maybe you'll believe the doctor. I have an appointment after school. I want you to come." She confessed. A little annoyed he didn't believe her in the first place.

"I don't know, Y/N. I mean-"

"Fine, I'll do it on my own. I knew you wouldn't give a shit" She snapped and grabbed the bag from his hand. She slammed his door shut as she stuffed the bag in her backpack.

She ignored the tears building in her eyes. She knew he wouldn't want to be a dad, but she was stupid enough to have the hope she wouldn't do it alone. She yanked open the school doors and walked in.

"Fuck me," Eddie huffed as he got out of his van.

~

Y/N sat in the waiting room. Picking at her painted nails as she tried to calm down the sickness in her stomach. She hated to do this alone, but she was too scared to tell her parents and friends. She knew her dad would be pissed, and she feared his reaction more than anyone.

She looked up as her name was called. She took a deep breath and walked in.

~

"Alright, congratulations! You are pregnant. Come back in about three weeks for an ultrasound."

Y/N left the office and drove home.

She told her parents the news, and her dad reacted the way she thought. With screams in her face and disapproval in his eyes.

"You will not have a baby in this house!"

"Dad! I want to keep it." And she did. She was scared and had no idea what to do. But she knew she would love this baby more than she loved anyone.

"Absolutely not! If you want a baby, you get the fuck out of my house."

So she did. She backed up her bags got in her car, and drove to Chrissy's house with tears in her eyes.

~~~

Now that Chrissy knew, she never left Y/N's side.

Eddie watched as they both walked in. He kept his eyes on her, but she walked past him.

He deserved that

~

At the end of the school day, Eddie watched as Chrissy and Y/N got into a car together.

He jogged over and knocked on the window.

Y/N rolled it down but didn't say anything.

"How...how was the appointment?" He asked

"It was fine. Ultrasound in three weeks." She said, short and sweet. Eddie nodded, a part of him regretted not showing up.

"Do you think I could take you home? I'd like to talk to you."

"I'm staying at Chrissy's but I can stop by tonight?"

"Why are you there?" Eddie asked before he thought about it

"Because I'm pregnant. Unlike you, my dad believed me and kicked me out. Are we done here?" She snapped but didn't wait for an answer as she rolled up the window.

He deserved that too

~

Eddie coughed awkwardly as Y/N sat on his bed. She waited for him to talk but it's been five minutes of absolute silence.

"Eddie are you going to talk? Because I've got shit to do." She sighed

"You decided to keep the baby?" Eddie asked

"Yes,"

"And do you...um...have a plan?" He asked, he stood in front of her with his arms crossed.

"Not really. I'll have to quit cheerleading, and get a job. Then raise as much money as I can while I stay with Chrissy. Find a tiny apartment, move out from my old house and have this baby." She explained. It scared her to be on her own, but she wouldn't be alone.

"You can't get a job, you're pregnant!" Eddie said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"So what? Pregnant women have had jobs for years. What? You don't think I can do this?" She snapped, standing up as the anger filled her body.

"You will be doing school and a job. Your body is going to get exhausted. You are going to get stressed and that's not good for the baby!" Eddie explained

"Since when do you give a shit about me and my health?" She scoffed, rolling her eyes as she crossed her arms, mirroring his body.

"Since you are carrying my baby." He fought back

"Oh so now it's yours? Because from what happened yesterday, you don't want any part of it."

"And I was wrong," Eddie confessed, "I'm sorry I didn't go with you."

"Wow, didn't think you would ever admit to being wrong. And I don't need a shitty apology. I'm fine on my own." She spat out

Eddie sighed in frustration

"For once can you just shut the hell up and believe for one second that I'm a decent person?"

She opened her mouth to fight back but closed it. She knew arguing would get them nowhere.

"Fine. I accept your apology." She said, dropping her arms as she sat back on his bed.

"How are we going to do this?" Eddie asked, taking a seat next to her

"We?" She asked, looking over at him

"We," he said, sending her a smile as he placed his hand on her knee

"Start with being better with each other. I don't want the baby to grow up with parents who can't work together and who fight all the time." She explained, her words agreed with Eddie's thoughts.

"We got this," He said, nudging his shoulder against hers. He smiled when she laughed and nudged him back.

"I do have a question though," Eddie said, she hummed as she waited for him to ask.

"Can we still have sex?" A smirk on his face and a glimmer in his eye

"You are such a pig!" She laughed, shoving him as she stood up. He chuckled as he fell against his bed. "I'll see you tomorrow." She shook her head with a smile.

" I DIDN'T HEAR A NO" He yelled as she walked out.

~~~

"Allow me," Eddie said as he lifted Y/N's backpack from the ground.

"Eddie, I can carry that!" She huffed but Eddie shook his head

"Doctor's orders," He smirked knowing he won every battle with that one sentence.

Y/N was over nine months pregnant. Her belly was huge as she waddled down the halls. Over the past months, many things have changed.

Eddie had a crib set up in his room, waiting for the arrival of his son. Even though Wayne chewed Eddie's ass out, he was very excited at the idea of having a baby around.

Y/N still stayed with Chrissy, in the guest bedroom. She got a waitressing job and helped Chrissy manage the cheerleading team. Eddie pitched in to help buy a few things, but Y/N didn't like to think of where the money came from. But Eddie refused to not do his part.

As for their relationship, it got less heated between them. They found themselves good friends and able to enjoy each other's company with their clothes on. Not that they didn't sneak in sex here and there. Eddie was very good at charming his way inside her pants.

They weren't together or anything. Just friends who were going to raise a baby together. But the more time they spent together, the more their feelings were changing.

They didn't tell each other, but they both were falling.

~~~

After the baby came, Y/N realized how hard being a parent was. She was up all night feeding the baby. She barely got a blink of sleep during the week. She was grateful that her senior year was done and that summer began. She lost out on money as she had to quit her job to be with her son. Eddie got a full-time job and used most of his paycheck for his family, and he didn't mind. He took up extra hours and did deals on the weekends.

Eddie was passed out in his bed when he heard the phone ring. He groaned but slipped out of bed. He yawned as he walked into the hallway and picked up the phone

"He-" Before he could speak a word, Y/N's cries came through

"He won't eat, he won't sleep. I don't know what to do. I haven't slept in days and I can't do this. I'm sorry, I can't."

"Shh, it's okay. Take some deep breaths for me and I'll be right there." He hung up the phone and raced to his room. He grabbed the nearest pants he could find and threw on a shirt.

~

Chrissy gave him a small tired smile as she opened the door. Eddie didn't say anything, just racing straight to the guest room.

He opened the door, and she sat on the bed crying as she rocked the crying baby.

"Oh sweetheart, here." He cooed, and he took the baby from her hands. Holding him close to his body as he softly rocked him. The baby's cries fizzled out as Eddie hummed a song.

Y/N watched as she wiped her tears with her sweatshirt sleeve. Her heart hurt by how easily Eddie could get their son to sleep when she spent the last three hours trying the same thing.

Eddie smiled down at the little boy and placed him in his crib. Eddie turned to Y/N but she was walking out of the room. Eddie closed the door behind him and followed her. She walked into the backyard and took a breath of fresh air.

"You okay?" he asked

She scoffed as she sat on the grass

"No, I've spent days and hours trying to get him to rest and nothing. You had it done in under a minute. I'm such a failure." She sobbed, and she covered her face with her hands.

"You are not a failure!" Eddie disagreed, sitting next to her as he wrapped his arms around her. She cuddled into his side as she cried "You are tired and stressed, he probably could sense that. But that isn't anything bad. You just need a little break."

"What if he doesn't like me? He cries whenever I hold him, feed him, change him and even look at him."

"He does like you, and he loves you!" Eddie defended, he hated how hard she was on herself.

"How do you know?" She snapped as she pulled away, his arms still around her. "I mean I have one friend, Chrissy. The cheer squad has hated me since I left. My parents hate me, and you...you hated me too." Eddie looked into her wet and sad eyes, his heart hurting.

"Fuck the cheer squad and fuck your parents. And fuck me for the time that I didn't like you. But that is because I barely knew you. You made my life hell, you were stuck in my head and drove me crazy. But now? I can't find one thing I dislike about you." Eddie said, his thumb cleaning off her tears as she sniffled. "I like how smart you are, how witty and funny you get with me, and I love that you gave me a son. Those people don't matter. They dislike you because they aren't getting what they want from you, and that's on them. You are a great person and a badass mom. He is going to see that and he is going to feel so loved by you. Just like how much I feel loved by you."

She sniffled as he finished his speech. Her heart warm as she melted into his hands that held her face.

"I make you feel loved?" she smiled, Eddie nodded with a smile of his own.

"You do" he whispered, his eyes boring into hers. He'd never stared so intensely into her eyes before. He loved the way it made his heart race and throat dry.

"I feel loved by you too," she whispered. Her eyes flicked down to his lips and then to his eyes.

His heart raced faster when she looked at his lips. He didn't have any thoughts in his head but wanted to kiss her, so he did.

He turned his head as he slowly leaned in, his eyes watching hers to see if he should pull away. But she leaned in, her lips inches away from his.

They stared at each other for a minute, breathing each other's air. Eddie closed his eyes and closed the space between them. His hands were on her cheeks as his lips melted against hers.

Her head spun as she straddled his lap, her hands on his shoulders as she kissed him back. It wasn't the first time they'd kissed, but none felt like this one.

He moaned as he moved his hands down to wrap around her waist, shoving her body further into his. His tongue slipped inside her mouth as she happily opened her mouth.

His warm and strong tongue worked against hers as the world faded away. All her worries and stress melted away as she gripped his shoulders with want and need.

Needing air, they pulled away. Breathing hard as they stared at each other

"Y/N" he whispered

"Yeah?" she whispered back

"I'm in love with you," his eyes held this intensity that made her nervous, but excited.

She couldn't help but smile as she said it back

"I'm in love with you too"

"Come live with me," he said

She looked at him shocked and let out a little laugh

"What?"

"I'm serious. I want to be more involved. I don't want you to be up alone and struggling every day and night. Stay with me, in my room. I have everything we need, and Wayne won't shut up about seeing that damn kid," Eddie chuckled, and Y/N laughed with him. She knew Wayne was obsessed with the baby.

"Oh fuck it, why not?" She shrugged with a smile

"Yeah?" Eddie asked, slightly shocked she agreed to it

"Yeah" she nodded excitedly

Eddie smiled and pressed his lips against hers

~~~

Two years passed and the three were ready to live in their own home. Y/N and Eddie worked hard and saved up every dime they had. It was a small trailer, a few feet down from Wayne. He didn't want them to go far.

Eddie and Y/N loved that Luke was two years old because he could say and do a lot more. He was incredibly smart for his age and spoke in clear sentences. Eddie said he got it all from her.

Luke slept peacefully in his room as Y/N and Eddie slowed danced in the small kitchen. No music played as they swayed back and forth in each other's arms.

Her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat as his chin rested on her head.

"Can you believe where we are?" Y/N asked, "It amazes me that we have a family now."

"I know," Eddie said into her hair as he kissed her head, "We are all grown up."

"Maybe I am, you still play with high schoolers." She teased

Eddie scoffed and smacked her ass playfully. "Such a brat, I see where Luke gets it from."

"Oh shut up," she laughed

They swayed in silence a bit longer before Eddie spoke up again

"Y/N?" he asked, he pulled away to look down at her, but still kept his body wrapped up in hers.

"Yeah?" she looked up at him

"Marry me" he didn't ask, he said it

"What?" she blinked, thinking it was a dream. But the serious look in Eddie's eyes told her she was wide awake.

"Marry me. Let's be a real family. I want you to have the same last name as us." His eyes stared into hers as he tried to read her expression

"You sure about this?" she asked, she wasn't scared but she always thought Eddie would have been

"I'm positive. I want you and me for life."

She felt her eyes water as she smiled

"Oh fuck it, why not?"

"Really?" Eddie asked, a smile breaking out on his face

"Let's get married!" She cheered

She laughed as Eddie picked her up and spun her around. He placed her back on her feet and held her face in his hands.

"I fucking love you," he said, a daydream smile on his face

"I love you too,"

They smiled as they both leaned in to connect their lips

They truly were all grown-up

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