#i feel a little weird about posting this entire chapter but just pulling out a single passage of it really didn't do it justice

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Maybe, Baby?

Summary: You and Frankie aren't trying for a baby just yet, but when your weird symptoms start to throw your body for a loop, you start to wonder if you actually might be pregnant

Pairing: Husband!Frankie Morales x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings: SMUT (18+), Unprotected p in v sex (wrap before u tap, silly gooses), creampie, praise kink, size kink (if u squint), unintentional breeding kink (lmaoooo, it's me, sorry not sorry), birth control/family planning, pregnancy (or maybe not? part 2 maybe? hehe) symptoms, Frankie and reader mention being closer to 30 than 16 (turns out when you're an adult, it's not a teen pregnancy anymore), reader has hair that can be played with, Frankie being the sweetest husband alive (all the gold stars for him), Frankie is so excited to be a dad that I just may pass away

A/N: I know y'all voted for me to finish chapter 20 but i lied (I'm so sorry), but I wrote this in a day and husband Frankie was really speaking to me on this one 😭 This one is brought to you by my raging baby fever and perhaps some real life inspiration WHOOPS, art imitating life on this one ig 💀 Poorly beta'd bc that's how I roll!!!

Ever since getting off birth control a few months ago, your body had felt… different. 

While you were glad you had made the change for yourself, you still found yourself shocked every month when a new sort of symptom decided to appear at some point in your cycle that you had never dealt with before- acne in new places, weird cramps, and crazy mood swings that showed up out of nowhere before your period were just a few of the things you were learning to manage as you figured out your body post birth control. 

Another symptom you hadn’t expected was that now, you were insatiably horny. 

All the time. 

While Frankie had been more supportive and caring in helping you deal with all of your not so pleasant symptoms than you could have hoped for, he was also more than happy to help you with your newly found positive one, too. 

The only problem was, after so many years of not having to worry about the consequences of your sex life on birth control, you and Frankie were finding it very hard to adjust to be more… careful. 

As you got hornier and hornier, the box of condoms that Frankie had bought after you stopped taking the pill had been seeing less and less use, and to be honest, hadn’t really seen the light of day from the back of his nightstand drawer in about a month an a half- and if you were being even more honest, on top of that, Frankie’s pull out game was almost nowhere to be found. 

You both knew that you wanted a family in the future- That was a part of your reason for getting off birth control to begin with. The two of you had agreed to hold off at least for a little longer to try and get your life more in order before bringing a baby into it, but with with your new lack of protection when it came to sex, and constant horniness around the clock, you both were beginning to have a feeling that that your agreed upon timeline for having a baby might be harder for you to maintain that you thought. 

Especially when you found yourself morphing into an unspeakably horny monster when you were ovulating. 

So little did you realize, that as you were brushing your teeth in the bathroom as the two of you were getting ready for bed and you caught a glimpse in the mirror of Frankie, stripping out of his shirt and jeans, leaving him only in his boxers as he searched around in your dresser for pajamas, that was the reason you nearly spit out your entire mouthful of toothpaste to try and get a mouthful of something else. 

You couldn’t help but ogle at your husband's broad body and freckled tan skin, muscles flexing as he shuffled through your drawers, pulling out an old, worn gray t-shirt and tugging it over his head, running his hand through his messy, curly hair before searching for his pajama bottoms.

At this point, you had honestly braced yourself on the edge of the bathroom counter to keep yourself from falling over at how mouth-watering he looked, already feeling the wetness beginning to pool in the cotton of your underwear at the thought of wanting to rip his clothes off just as fast as he had put them on. 

Letting out a yawn, Frankie raised his hands above his head so a sliver of his soft belly peaked out between his waistband and shirt hem before making his way into the bathroom, sleepily padding along the tile floor until his body was behind yours, chest flushed against your back and arms wrapped around your waist. Even more prevalent, his bulge pressed against your ass, making the wet spot in your underwear grow damper by the second. 

“You ready for bed, querida?” Frankie cooed, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder and smiling at your reflections in the mirror. 

While you were absolutely ready to get into bed, sleeping was not going to be your activity of choice.  

“I think that maybe…” You paused, turning around to face Frankie, his body caging yours against the counter, palms splayed flat on either side of your hips, looking down at you with his sweet, brown eyes, “I think that maybe we should do something else before we go to sleep.” 

“Something else, huh?” Frankie smirked, raising his eyebrows at you as your hands began to run up and down his arms, slightly squeezing the muscles of his biceps as your fingers crept under the fabric of his shirt sleeves. “And what might that something else be, Hermosa?” 

“You know exactly what it is, Fransisco. You expect me to watch you just roam around shirtless in our bedroom and not get all hot and bothered? God, you’re so fucking hot.” You moaned, letting your hands run up his shoulders and around his neck, pulling him in for a long, electric kiss. 

“Damn, what’s gotten into you, babe?” Frankie chuckled, trying his best not to blush at your comment, sliding his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. 

“I don’t- Fuck, I don’t know, I just know that if you don’t fuck me right this second, I think I’m gonna explode.” 

While your statement may have had a flair for the dramatic, it was just about as close to the God’s honest truth as you could get- You were so worked up, you felt practically feral, the ache in your core so strong that you really did feel like you were on the verge of implosion. 

Before you even gave Frankie time to respond, your lips were crashing into his with a ferocious intensity, your hands grabbing fistfulls of his t-shirt as you stumbled back towards your bedroom, bodies bumping and bouncing against the walls and door frames, mouths never parting as the back of Frankie’s knees finally hit the mattress, forcing him to fall backwards onto the bed. 

Crawling overtop of him, you were already straddled over his hips, grinding your bottom half on the bulge growing in his pajamas as your hands crept under the hem of his t-shirt, running along the tanned, soft skin of his chest, making him let out a low groan that rumbled in his throat. 

Frantically shuffling himself further onto the bed, Frankie’s hands dug into your hips and over your ass as your hands slid down from his chest to his waistband, fingers tugging at the elastic to shuffle his bottoms and boxers down his legs, quickly followed by your own, dropping to a crumpled pile on the floor. 

Feeling your fingers wrap around his cock, already painfully hard, you swirled the precum leaking from his tip with your thumb before dragging your hand up and down his length, leaving Frankie sitting up in surprise while he watched you begin to hover over him, dragging his dick through your folds. 

“Hermosa, are you sure you don’t need me to-” But before Frankie could finish the rest of his protest to make sure you were ready to take him, you were already sinking down onto him, whimpering at the sweet sting and stretch of his fullness, followed by the ragged moan escaping Frankie’s lips. 

“Oh fuck… Nuh uh, Frankie. I need to feel you, baby. Needed to feel you inside me.” You whined, taking Frankie cock inch by inch until he had bottomed out inside you, his tip kissing your cervix, the fullness making you cry out in pleasure. 

Normally with Frankie’s size, you would have needed to warm you up first, but with how wet and worked up you already were, you were able to take him with ease, desperate to feel him buried deep inside you. 

“Jesus fucking christ, queirda, you’re so fucking wet. Fuck, baby.” Frankie moaned, feeling you begin to slide up and down his length, coating him with your arousal with each swirl of your hips. 

Arching your back, you jutted your hips forward, bracing your hands on Frankie’s strong thighs, circling your bottom half against his, whimpering at his fullness and the hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your clit, selfishly already longing to chase your own high to ease the ache that had been burning in your core. 

“Fuck, Frankie, you feel so good. Feel so fucking full with you in me.” You whimpered, bouncing even harder and faster on Frankie’s cock, the lewd sounds of your skin slapping his and wetness dripping from your heat coating the walls of your bedroom. 

“Yeah? This what you wanted, pretty girl? Wanted me to stretch this pretty little pussy out and fill you up?” Frankie groaned, gritting his teeth as he began to jut his hips up into yours as you rode him, the added depth of his thrusts making you cry out in pleasure. 

And for as fucking good as it felt, the horny monster you had morphed into had you greedily craving more- to have Frankie stretch you open in a way that had you seeing stars, so much that you could still feel the next day, long after the two of you were finished. 

“I-I want more, p-please, baby. Fuck- Fuck me harder, Fransisco.” You cried, your sweet voice whimpering his full name turning him almost as feral as you were, letting out a low growl as he grabbed you by your hips, flipping you so that your back hit the mattress and he was caging his broad body over yours. 

Practically ripping the t-shirt still covering your upper half off your body, Frankie dove face first between your breasts, groping one while hungrily sucking at the other, flicking your pebbled nipple with his tongue, his free hand reaching down to line his cock back up with your entrance, sliding back in to your aching core with ease. 

Frankie let himself sink all the way back in, filling you to the brim before hooking his arms around your knees, pressing your legs against your stomach, smirking to himself at the ragged moan you let out as the new angle opened you up even further. 

“You want me to fuck you harder, Hermosa?” Frankie mewled, slowly dragging his length out of your heat, looking down to see your shiny slick soaking his cock before looking back at you and the wrecked expression plastered across your face, frantically nodding in desperation. “Tell me how badly you want it, sweet girl.” 

“Fuck, I need you so bad, Fransisco, please.” You begged, damn near close to tears with how deeply you needed to feel Frankie ease the emptiness inside you. “Please, baby, I- oh fuck-”  

Before you could even finish the rest of your plea, your breath was already hitched in the back of your throat as Frankie began to pound into you at a relentless pace, tightening his grip around your thighs while he pressed them closer to your chest, grunting with each rut of his hips into yours. 

“This what you want, querida? Meirda- so fucking wet and tight, baby girl. You feel so fucking good, holy fuck.” 

It didn’t take long for the all too familiar tingle at the base of your spine to start spreading through your body like a wildfire as Frankie continued to slam into your g-spot, making you chant his name like a prayer, your brain at a loss for any other words than “Fuck, Fransisco.” 

And as if you already weren’t close enough, when Frankie reached down to thumb at your clit, rubbing in relentless circles against your sensitive nub, you knew you were a fucking goner. 

“That’s it, Hermosa. Cum for me, baby. Want that- oh fuck- want that prefect pussy to fucking soak me.” Frankie groaned, feverishly pounding into you, desperate to feel you come undone for him giving him long enough to fight off his own high that was rapidly building in the pit of his stomach. 

A few more thrusts were all it took to have the coil snapping in your belly, crying out Frankie’s name as you came, orgasm ripping through your body with a blinding intensity, eyes scrunching shut and jaw hanging open while pleasure and euphoria flowed through every ounce of you. 

Still blissed out and wrecked out of your mind, your eyes shot open as Frankie’s mouth crashed into yours, swallowing your whimpers and moans in a messy dance of tongues and teeth. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking pretty when you cum. Jesus fuck-  fuck, I’m close too, baby. W-where do you want me, Hermosa?” Frankie asked, barley holding on long enough for you to answer, his thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier as his hips began to stutter, gritting his teeth and furrowing his brow with every ounce of self control he had left. 

Still barley coherent enough to form a sentence, your brain blurted out the only thing you could think of, and the only thing that you really wanted in the moment. 

“Inside, Fransisco. Fuck, cum inside me, baby.” 

That alone was almost enough to send Frankie over the edge, letting out a long, low groan, sloppily rutting into you as his brain went blank alongside yours, starting to babble incoherently. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck- you want me to fill you up, queirda? Fuck, I’ll fucking fill you up so good you’ll be dripping out of me for days. Oh fuck, shit baby, fuck, oh I’m gonnaahhhhhh-“ 

Just like that, Frankie took one last thrust, spilling deep inside you, coating your walls with his spend as his body slumped into yours, the pair of your chests rising and falling in sync as you both came back down to earth. 

“Jesus Christ… Holy fuck, Frankie.” You giggled quietly to yourself, blissfully filled with post orgasm ecstasy as your husband carefully pulled himself out before rolling over next to you on the bed, pulling you close against his chest. 

“Fuck me, Hermosa, holy shit.” Frankie chuckled, pressing a soft kiss into your forehead, tracing small circles on your back as he held you, heat radiating off of each other's sweat-ridden bodies. “God, I love you. We should probably get you cleaned up. You wanna shower?” He asked, smirking as your face lit up at his nearly rhetorical question. 

“Only if you’re up for round 2, Morales.”   

“My eyes are up here, Fransisco.” 

“Hmmm? What did you say?” 

“Exactly my point. Can you stop looking with your man eyes and look with your normal, helpful people eyes to help me decide on a dress for Benny and Victoria’s wedding?” You sighed, laughing to yourself as you raised an eyebrow at Frankie, his gaze still fixed on your chest. 

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll be helpful.” Frankie huffed, overdramatically rolling his eyes at you, playfully throwing his hands up in defense as he leaned back against the dressing room door, looking you up and down in one of the cute floral dresses you had picked to try on for your friends’ upcoming wedding. “It’s just that… Nevermind.” 

“It’s just that what, Frank?” You asked tilting your head in confusion at your husband as his eyes traveled back to your breasts, furled look in his brow like he was really staring there to prove a point. 

“It’s just that- Baby, I don’t know if it’s just the dress or what, but your boobs look huge. Like, they always look good, believe me, but like… Whew.” Frankie whistled, practically shaking his head in disbelief at how good you looked. 

“Really?” You asked, turning around to face the mirror in the dressing room, gently cupping your breasts, grimacing as you held them in your hands. “Yeah, I guess they do… Honestly, I was gonna complain about how sore they’ve been all day. I wonder if maybe my period is just coming early?” 

“Maybe? You did ride me pretty hard the last couple nights and put on a good show, so maybe they hurt from all that bouncing and-” 

“Frankie! We are in public!” You playfully scolded, giving him a flimsy slap to the chest to cut off the rest of his thought, the two of you quietly giggling to yourselves and trying to “Shhhh” each other from drawing too much attention to your dressing room stall. “The dress, you goofball, yes or no? Sooner we pick, the sooner we can go get food, because your wife is starving.” 

“I vote yes on the dress. You look beautiful in it, querida.” Frankie smiled, stepping behind you to press a kiss on the side of your head. 

“You just like it because it makes my boobs look huge.” 

“What? Can you blame me for wanting to stare at my gorgeous wife’s boobs all night?” 

“God, you are ridiculous, Fransisco. Fine, boob dress wins. Now let’s get out of here and go get some food before you get stuck in a titty trance and I die of hunger.” 

While the rest of your Saturday was spent enjoying the delicious Mexican food that you had picked up on the way home and a much needed night in on the couch with Frankie, there was a tiny part of your brain that couldn’t seem to shake his comment from earlier about how big your boobs looked. 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t agree with him, because truth be told, they felt huge, too. They had been sore since you had woken up this morning, and while you had chalked it up to what you and Frankie had been up to the past few nights, or bad PMS symptoms, there was still just something about you that felt off. 

Later that night, during your movie marathon, you had paused whatever new action movie Frankie had been begging to watch since it had popped up on Netflix a few days ago for a popcorn refill. 

While Frankie meandered around the kitchen waiting for the next bag of popcorn to finish popping, you stayed curled up with your blanket in your corner of the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your phone, until a sharp twinge began to cramp in your lower stomach. The feeling took you by surprise, digging your fingers into your side to try and ease the dull and achy sensation as your face scrunched in confusion, wondering why in the world you had what felt like period cramps in your belly. 

“Hey, you okay, Hermosa?” Frankie asked, returning with popcorn in hand, his face painted with concern to see the pained look scrunched between your brow as you curled deeper into the couch. 

“Oh, y-yeah, I’m fine. I just um, I just had a weird cramp I guess. Probably just ate all that popcorn too fast.” You replied, trying to convince yourself just as much as you were trying to convince Frankie that you were overthinking whatever mystery symptoms had just flashed through your lower half. 

“Here, lemme just set this popcorn down and then I can rub your back while we finish the movie, okay?” Frankie smiled softly, setting down the bowl on the coffee table before crawling back under the sea of blankets on the couch with you, laying your head against his thigh like a pillow while his hand traced up and down along the small of your back. 

“Thanks, Frankie.” You whispered quietly, taking a few deep breaths as the familiar warmth of your husband’s palm worked up and down the worn fabric of his shirt that you had put on earlier. 

“Of course, baby. If you need anything else, just let me know, okay? Just promise me you’ll take it easy on the popcorn if you have any more there, Killer.” 

The two of you laughed quietly as Frankie leaned down to press a soft kiss into your messy hair laid across his lap before picking up the remote to let the rest of the movie play as your eyelids began to get heavier and heavier as you slowly drifted off to sleep. 

“What’s inside this box?” 

“Open it up and find out! It’s a surprise for you!” 

“Okay? Huh, why is it just a pregnancy test in there?” 

“It’s yours! Congratulations! You’re having a baby!” 

“Ahhhhh!” You shrieked, panting as you woke from a cold sweat, shooting up from the couch. “What the fuck…” You whispered to yourself, coming to and realizing that you were now awake and had only been dreaming moments before this. Running your hands over your face, you blinked a few times to be greeted by the dim light of the TV still flickering in the background, Frankie sprawled out and snoring by your side where the two of you must have fallen asleep on the couch during the movie. 

“What a weird fucking dream…” You sighed to yourself, shaking your head as you quietly pushed yourself off the couch to stumble to the bathroom, pulling your phone out of your sweatpants pocket to check what ungodly hour of the night it had to be since the two of you had crashed on the couch. 

2:07 A.M. 

You let out a low grumble, pushing your sweatpants down to your ankles as you sat down to pee, blinking your eyes open wider to look through the notifications piled on top of each other on your lockscreen. Mindlessly swiping through a few junk emails and text messages from group chats, one notification in particular caught your eye, rousing you from your half awake state. 

“Feeling down? As you begin your Luteal Phase of your cycle, it’s normal to be less cheerful compared to last week when you were Ovulating! Click to track your cycle symptoms for today!” 

Oh shit.  

You could feel your heart beginning to race as you opened up the app, scrolling to the calendar tracker for the month. Swiping through the days, it didn’t take you long to realize that despite all of your weird symptoms you had been chalking up to PMS, you were almost two weeks away from starting your period. Frantically scrolling backwards, you began to try and rack your brain of all of the times in the past week that you had sex with Frankie while you would have been ovulating, and out of that number, how many times he hadn’t finished inside you, let alone even attempt to pull out. 

And that number was a big, fat zero. 

That’s when it hit you like a fucking freight train- You weren’t PMS-ing.

More than likely, you were pregnant. 

“Holy fuck…” You whispered to yourself, your voice trembling and heart pounding as you buried your face in your trembling hands, your mind flooding with a million different thoughts all at once. 

How could you not remember that you were ovulating? Would Frankie be upset? The two of you weren’t even trying for kids right now. Would you be a good Mom? What were you even going to need to do to prepare? Your house was starting to get small for just you and Frankie, let alone a baby. How were you going to find a new place to live in 9 months? And get a new car? How were you- 

“Baby, you good in there?” Frankie groaned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he stumbled into the bathroom, letting out a yawn as he opened the door, bright light flooding into the hallway and revealing the sobbing mess you had become, still pants down, hunched over the toilet. 

“Woah, hey, hey, hey. Baby, baby, what’s going on? Talk to me, Hermosa. Are you okay? What happened?” You could feel Frankie’s demeanor immediately switch as soon as he saw you in the bathroom, instantly dropping to his knees by your side, his hands gently grabbing your face to shift your gaze towards him, carefully swiping his thumb to dry the tears that had been streaming down your cheeks. 

“Frankie, I- I- Fuck.” You stuttered, gulping hard as you tried to catch your breath, fighting back your nervous sobs as you locked eyes with Frankie, wondering how in the world you were ever about to brace him for the news you were about to tell him. 

“Hermosa, what is it? Please, tell me baby, what’s wrong?” Frankie pleaded, softly squeezing your face in reassurance as he waited for your response. 

You took a few more deep breaths, composing yourself enough to at least try to get a coherent thought out, swallowing hard as the words left your mouth. 

“Frankie, I-, Frankie, I think- I think I’m pregnant.” 

Frankie’s eyes went wide, his jaw practically hanging open as he tried to process what you had just told him, wondering if he hadn’t heard you right in his groggy state. 

“W-what?” 

“I think I might be pregnant, Frankie.” 

Before you could even bear the thought of looking at his face again, filled with fear that it would be a look of shock and disappointment, you buried your face in your hands again, fighting with everything in you not to cry and keep your composure. 

Frankie sat quietly for a moment, his hand covering up the gaping hole his jaw had made as it nearly hit the floor, shaking his head in disbelief before wrapping his hand around your wrist, pulling your hands to look at him. 

“R-really? You- fuck- You really think you’re pregnant?” 

As your eyes met his, you couldn’t believe the look on your husbands face- Not only was Frankie practically grinning from ear to ear, the sweet brown of his puppy dog eyes were welling with happy tears of their own, waiting on your every word as if he still didn’t believe what he was hearing. Silently, you began to slowly nod your head, biting down on your tongue, your heart feeling like it was about to shoot out of your chest. 

“You’re...y-you’re not upset?” You stammered, sitting up a little taller at Frankie’s reaction. 

“Upset? Hermosa, why in the world would I ever be upset?” Frankie laughed quietly, gently tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear as his other hand cupped your jaw. “Querida… There’s nothing more I want on this earth than to have a family. And-fuck- The fact that it gets to be with you? That you might give me a family? How could I ever be upset about that? 

“Well it’s not like we were really trying for a baby, Frank. We said another year or two. With the house and money -” 

“Hey. We’ll figure it all out, okay? I promise, we’ll be more than okay.” Frankie smiled, his goofy grin still stretched wide between his cheeks, finally easing some of your worry. 

“I don’t even feel like I’m old enough to have a kid. I feel like I need to call up MTV to tell them I’ll be on the next season of 16 and Pregnant.” The two of you snorted, shaking your heads in awestruck disbelief that a stupid joke about a reality TV show could soon become your reality. 

“Well considering we’re married, have a house, and most importantly, are much closer to 30 than we are 16, I think they may have a hard time pitching the show “Married Couple Has a Baby”.” Frankie teased, giving you a playful nudge as the two of you laughed, giving you a few seconds to catch your breath before trying to dig into details. “Did- Did you take a test? How long have you known?”

“No, I don’t know for sure yet, Frank. It’s… It’s just a feeling, I guess. But the huge, sore boobs, weird, period-like cramps and the fact that we really haven’t been the most careful are all pretty good clues.” 

“Well, I mean, I don’t know, we’ve tried to be care-” 

Before Frankie could even finish the rest of his thought, you were already giving him the sassiest look you could muster in your overwhelmed and sleepy state, making the two of you laugh again he let out a sigh of defeat. 

“Okay, yeah, we really haven’t been that careful at all. Sweetie, listen, I- I know it’s not what we had planned, but… I mean, if you are pregnant…” Frankie paused, smiling at your stomach as he gently place a hand over your belly, tears welling in his chocolate brown eyes, “Baby, I would be so excited. Nervous as hell, but so fucking excited.” 

“Me too.” You sniffed, looking down at Frankie’s palm splayed across your stomach, heart swelling at the thought of Frankie being dad, thinking of how sweet and caring and perfect he’d be as you grew your little family together. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled Frankie in close, letting out a shaky sigh, whispering your words through happy tears. 

“I love you so much, Frankie.” 

“I love you so much too, Hermosa. More than anything.” 

For the sake of Frankie’s shoulder, you pulled away to wipe your tears to keep from soaking your husband’s shirt, quietly laughing to yourself at the fact that this whole time you had been talking to Frankie, you had still been pantsless, hunched over the toilet. 

“It probably would have been way more romantic to tell you all of this not at 2:30 in the morning, pantsless and hunched over the toilet like a little gremlin.” You snorted, Frankie following suit as he shook his head, running his hand through the sleepy curls of your hair. 

“I wouldn’t want it any other way, mi amor. C’mon, let’s get you up to bed.” 

As the two of you sleepily trotted your way upstairs, curling together under the warmth of your comforter with Frankie’s chest pressed against your back, you couldn’t help but smile as his arm draped over your stomach, hand resting on your belly while his thumb traced soft circles on your skin, imagining what it would be like if a few months from now if you really were getting ready to add another member to your family. 

The next morning, as the sunrise began to spill through your curtains, casting bright orange and pink shadows on your bedroom walls, you couldn’t help but stir as the familiar scent and warmth of Frankie’s body was missing from his side of the bed.

 As you sat up in the sea of blankets and comforters, softly rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you saw Frankie’s frame quietly sneaking through the bedroom door, fresh mug of coffee and bag of breakfast in hand with a stupid smile plastered across his face as he was greeted with your barely awake grin. 

“Good morning, beautiful.” Frankie cooed, setting down the coffee and breakfast down on your nightstand as he sat down next to you on the edge of the bed, pressing a tender kiss into the sleep-ridden ends of your hair before wrapping his arms around you in a long embrace. 

“Good morning, handsome.” You yawned, stretching your arms over your head, letting out a little grunt and laying your head on Frankie’s shoulder. “What’s all this for?” You asked, gesturing towards the coffee and oversized McDonald’s bag, assuming it was the reason for Frankie’s absence when you woke up. 

“I- I don’t know, I uh- I was just really excited when I got up this morning. It was early, and I didn’t wanna wake you up, so I made a trip to CVS to buy some pregnancy tests for you and figured I’d pick up breakfast on the way home.” Frankie smiled sheepishly, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, brushing past his untamed morning curls. “I know- I know you can’t really take the tests yet- I spent a lot of time reading the boxes in the store and wasn’t really sure what the best one was to take, so I got like, 4 different ones for when it's time.” 

“God, you’re so sweet. You’re the best, you know that? It’s about to be a long week of waiting before I can take one of those. Do you- fuck, Frankie, do you think it could really be positive?” You asked, tears beginning to well in your eyes again as you smiled up at your husband, already beaming back at you, picturing the two pink lines showing up on all of the tests he had bought for you. 

“Maybe, if we’re lucky.” He smirked, gently cupping your face, swiping his thumb across your face. “But if it’s not, then maybe… Maybe we start trying for a positive one on purpose.” 

“R-really?” You grinned, biting down on your lip in excitement. 

“Really, really.” Frankie replied, bringing his lips to yours in a long, slow kiss, soaking in the sweet taste of you on his tongue. “And maybe…” 

“Maybe, what, Fransisco?” You giggled, bringing your mouth back to his in a sweet and sloppy kiss. 

“Maybe…. We start trying right now, ya know, just to be sure. Wouldn’t want all those pregnancy tests to go to waste.”

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@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog @amyispxnk @samgirl4life @pigeonmama @pedr0swh0r3

[scarrletmoon]

About Powder Blue

This is going to be long. There are going to be discussions of suicide and trauma. This is going to be a bit of a jumbled mess because I can't tell a linear story to save my life. Don't feel like you need to read this, now or ever.

If you're wondering what the issues with PB were, and looking for what's next, read the indented text and skip the rest if you want!

I've had a bit of a...tumultuous relationship with the OFMD fandom. I've made close friends and lost them, made even closer friends who've very patiently reminded me of my worth when I needed that. I'm at a point where I'm still struggling, but I'm getting better. I'm still working on not being afraid. It's a bit of an uphill battle, but I'm still pushing my little boulder. I'm not alone this time, which is nice.

I entered the fandom as a nobody. I had almost 50 fics on AO3 and two had mildly popped off while I wasn't looking, but I wasn't really known for anything. I was a fandom ghost, posting my little fanfics and sharing them with the world because I just enjoyed the characters so much. Like a lot of people, I dreamed of being known for something. I thought that'd be neat.

I'm still in a state of shock and confusion that I've written anything in the past 2 years that people remember and even love. It's weird to be in a place where I never imagined myself to be. I can't stress enough how much I did not write explicit fic before this fandom; in high school, I would've welcomed a porn ban. I was afraid of my own sexuality, convinced it was some sort of monster I had to control. Convinced I was dirty. To other people my age, I was a prude, naive and childish for not being comfortable with it. So I feel for people who lash out now, who insist that attraction is actually fetishization, that if we set enough rules, maybe if we resist temptation, we'll be saved. I see you, and I feel for you. I personally don't think that's a healthy way to live, but if you'd told me that 2 years ago, I would've cussed you out. It's really a realization you have to come to (or not) on your own terms.

Anyway.

I know it's tacky to talk about your own success but it doesn't feel real. I go back and forth, reading other people's work -- and my god, there's some unbelievable talent in this fandom -- and thinking "shit, why would anyone read anything I've written? My stories are kindergarten finger paintings next to museum masterpieces". I am learning, slowly -- very slowly -- that I can't bully myself into a shape I like better. I'll never abuse myself into the kind of writer I think I want to be.

The first chapter of Powder Blue was written on a random day of the week after work. I was in a server -- the first fandom server I'd properly joined and talked in, watching a convo about how funnyt it would be for Ed to be a middle aged sugar baby -- when I pulled out my laptop and wrote for an hour and then posted that chapter to the server. I hadn't written for five years before OFMD. I had never finished a multi chapter fic. I posted that chapter and went to make dinner, and assumed the Google Docs link would get lost in that channel after a few likes.

That's not what happened.

The next few months were...a lot. My 7 year old Twitter account blew up from about 200 followers to 1000 in a matter of months. I was misinterpreted half a dozen times. Suddenly, people knew who I was and had Opinions. Some of those Opinions were Not Nice. I was told to grow a thick skin and get over it. So I figured my extreme reactions -- physical shaking, intense fear, a spiking heart rate, like I was being chased -- were just me being weak. I thought if I just sucked it up and laughed it off, it'd stop affecting me.

Turns out RSD is real and not an excuse I was using to be a baby, and it literally didn't get better until I was medicated! Wild

(This -- "I'm just overreacting and everyone else is secretly handling it better" -- has been a pretty consistent pattern my entire life, so figuring out I'm actually AuDHD has been mindblowing. If you've been wondering why you're so weak your whole life, I've got some screening tests you might be interested in).

Anyway my point is, a few things happened over the course of 2023 that brought me to a level of emotional pain I've never experienced.

At the start of the year, I was taking a self imposed internet break, after being forced to apologize for a tweet thread about Izzy, where I'd made the mistake of suggesting that fans of his should consider thinking about why they enjoy his character, but to only do this if they wanted to and ignore me if they didn't. This was taken as me being a hypocrite, and accusing Izzy fans of being terrible people. I apologized, vowed to never mention him again, and left Twitter for a month. Around the same time, a few things in a very close friend group went very wrong. I assumed it was entirely my fault for misbehaving, picked myself up, and tried to punish myself into a shape that would be acceptable for other people.

It didn't work.

Since I was now marked as an anti-Izzy bully, I couldn't say anything -- either on Twitter or in private -- that wouldn't be interpreted as me trying to start fights, as me being passive aggressive, as me trying to send covert messages for others to decipher so they could come and grovel for my forgiveness. Some of this is my fault -- it took a long time to learn than my private locked Twitter account isn't a diary. it took even longer for me to learn that maybe the people I was hanging out with weren't my people.

During all of this, I was posting Powder Blue after months of tears, pain, heartbreak, frustration and stress. I still don't understand why people write books for work or FUN. It was the most horrific experience of my life. It was valuable and so rewarding but jesus christ did writing PB take a lot out of me.

So as I felt less connected to my friends, as I was trying to hide how I felt because I thought I didn't deserve to be upset about anything (everything is always my fault, you see, and if I just behaved better, these things wouldn't happen to me), someone came to me and said they'd noticed some issues with Powder Blue. I'll refer to this person as the reader.

I was more than happy to hear them out. And it's true that I made some mistakes. The environment that I published PB in was not the one that I wrote it in. I didn't read any other sugar daddy/sex work fics as I was working on PB. PB was never a reaction to those fics. But because of those stories, which had handled things is harmful ways, there was suddenly a responsibility I'd never expected to have. I've never done sex work, I've just spent a lot of time listening to sex workers and trying to understand the legislation and environment as much as I can as a lay person. And since I don't have a personal experience with sex work, I shared my finished but rough draft with the reader, who did.

The problem, ultimately, is not something I could ever have fixed to their satisfaction. The fic doesn't involve dubious consent on a level that I think warrants an archive warning tag -- I tried to make it explicitly clear that Ed never does anything he doesn't want to, and that he's never coerced. The issue is that the nature of Ed and Stede's relationship is inherently uneven -- Stede is rich, and although he gives Ed money that's his to keep, Ed still isn't as obscenely wealthy as Stede is. Ed is poor and has been for a while. He's good at whatever he chooses to do, but he's struggling. That's a very uncomfortable spot to put Ed in. I also put Ed through some things that I've personally been through, as a way to work through my feelings and to try and better understand myself. If I was acting like Ed in real life, the reader is right that it would be concerning. But, importantly, Ed's not real. Nothing in this story is happening to a real person. Nothing in this story is an endorsement of any of his behaviours or unhealthy coping mechanisms.

I still believe the reader had good intentions -- the amount of effort they put into coming to me would be utterly bizarre for someone who was just looking to be cruel for no reason. But that also doesn't change the fact that being told I was having a trauma response and needed to stop working on the fic immediately, pushed me into the most suicidal period I've ever experienced.

That's not their fault. I'm sure that wasn't their intention. I've chosen to not try and find out who they are, or try to contact them again to respect their privacy. Some of the things people said to me, publicly dismissing the reader's pain, were so harrowing to read that it made me feel worse for ever writing PB in the first place. They were right to stay anonymous.

I'm sure the reader never meant for me to have such a massive breakdown that I took down the entire fic and left Twitter (and a few friend groups). It's been difficult to understand that just because someone didn't mean to hurt me, doesn't change the fact that I was hurt.

One silver lining is that I did go and find a new therapist. She's great! And she also thinks that how the reader tried to bring things up to me was wrong. As the reader obviously saw, I have a lot of Trauma, so I'm still not entirely convinced that I didn't deserve what happened to me. I'm not angry at them. I appreciate their concern. I just can't do what they asked of me. In the end, Powder Blue was not a story that was right for them. And that's okay.

My point in detailing all of this, is that I stayed quiet for a long time because I didn't think I deserved to tell my part of the story. I was scared that when people said they respected my choice to take down the fic, that they agreed I'd some something impossibly harmful. People trusted my judgement but I didn't trust myself. But people didn't know that I didn't trust myself.

Additionally, reader can't speak on this without revealing themself in some way. I'm terrified that they might read this and say something anyway. My biggest fear is becoming the kind of writer who sees negative criticism and pushes on anyway, or even blocks people who disagree with me. I don't want to hurt anyone the way I've been hurt.

BUT I've been holding onto this for months. I cannot write a perfect fic that will never trigger anyone. I will never write a meaningful story that won't hurt someone, no matter my intentions. There IS a way to admit you fucked up, or a way to listen and disagree, without turning into a raging asshole. I'm struggling to find that line. I'm hoping I'm making the right choice here.

And honestly, I'm just soft. I am so fucking soft. I talk a big game but I am so soft that a single person poking at my trauma caused me to break down so severely that my partner was legitimately afraid for me. I am learning that this softness doesn't mean I should become a crueler person to cope. But it's hard. There are going to be people who see this post and think I'm being a whiny crybaby looking for attention and pity. And I just have to deal with that.

Anyway. All previous chapters of PB will be up soon. Read them or don't. I will do my best to add more detailed trigger warnings. And I would personally suggest that if you're worried about any of the content in the fic, to run these worries past a friend who's read the fic, because they'll know you better than I ever will. Please don't read Powder Blue if you think it'll harm you. I would rather have fewer readers than triggered ones.

If there's anything I've missed that you think I need to address, know that my inbox is open, that anon is on, and that I'm not in the business of retaliating against people who come to me with an issue, even if they're a dick to me while they're doing it. I'm not going to dismiss someone because they weren't nice to me while they were upset. I'm a bitch but I'm not that kind of bitch.

So. Thank you for waiting for this fic. Thank you for waiting for me. We've got something like 16 chapters to go, and I can't tell you when they'll be up, or if they'll be up soon. But thank you for loving this story. I can't tell you how much that means to me, especially now.

Love,

Scarr

[fanficonly]

Wenclair X Reader- What Are You? - Chapter 7

Yeah at this point I don't even think I know why it takes me so long to post... sometimes the drafts are just sat there and I spend a week trying to figure out what it's missing before I can post.

But either way, apologies for my lack of posting, working on some one-shots still aswell which I never posted ... shocker

Hope y'all enjoy😋

After pacing towards the foyer and turning back every few seconds to ensure you were not followed by the two persistent girls, you finally reach where your bags are situated and breathe a sigh of relief.

All here. All in tact. So you grab the jacket, your favourite might you add, out of your rucksack and pull it over your shoulders to cover the blood-stained white shirt beneath it.

Now ... If you take your stuff to your room will they be gone... That is the question.

You give it a few minutes, deciding to sit on your suitcase a observe your surroundings for a while, now that you no longer have a suspicious red patch on your back visible to the public view it seems safe enough. Besides, you need to give Wednesday and Enid time to leave your room, atleast you hope that's what they're doing. Leaving.

The odd student passes by you, some giving you light smiles or nods, others too wrapped up in drama or conversation to pay a random student the time of day, understandably.

But one. There's one student who, although you had been sat here for 10 minutes hasn't said or done anything and instead opts to stare at you from across the room.

"For God's sake" you curse quietly to yourself, rather disturbed at the amount of stalker-like attention you seem to attract from these outcasts.You flit your eyes back to him every once in a while and nothing about his stance changes. Creep.

He's a rather tall looking guy with long shaggy hair, sitting on one of the lounge chairs, a note book in hand and no sense of privacy it would seem as he makes no attempts to hide the fact that he is watching you.

You're painfully aware of his eyes on you but it would seem every time you look directly at him he flits his eyes back to the notepad Infront of him jotting down god knows what.

Another 5 minutes go by and you become lightly frustrated with the uneasy feeling of being watched so this time,when you feel his tortured eyes watching you, you whip your head around to stare directly at him giving him a "what the fuck are you looking at?" Kind of look.

He finally smiles, seemingly unfazed by your looks of judgement. You watch as he chuckles to himself looking away from you and gliding his pencil across the page again before standing up to approach you.

"Hi" he says,now stood Infront of you he looks even taller up close which for some reason annoys you. The audacity to just be like 'Hi' was enough of an annoyance that you're mind quietly screams at you to settle your emotions before someone gets hurt ...or worse.

But you won't get very far unless you reply so all you say is "Umm Hi can I help you?" standing up as you do, so you're not craning your neck so high just to look at him.

"Sorry I just- I was watching you and-" something in you snaps a little, the feeling of uncomfortable subsiding and being replaced with more annoyance that he had so casually stared at you for 15 minutes straight without any thoughts to how it would make you feel.

"Yeah I could tell you're not exactly discreet" you spit, raising your eyebrows in complete disapproval of his invasive actions

"Woah woah I'm sorry, sorry" he repeats raising his hands in defense. "I just- you looked so-" he squints his eyes shut and practically face palms at his own idiocy before taking a breath.

He shrugs and awkwardly rubs the back of his neck doing everything in his power not to make any unwanted eye contact with you. Suddenly, he no longer seems threatening and instead an intense vulnerability emits from his entire body.

"Sorry I didn't mean to snap it was just a bit weird, I don't like being stared at" you scold him but also try to settle the awkwardness.Not a lot you should be apologising for but you wanted to avoid unnecessary confrontation. I mean you don't even know what this guy is or who for that matter.

"No no you're completely right" he interjects " It is weird and I am really sorry for making you feel comfortable" he continues and seems genuinely annoyed with himself and almost ridiculously apologetic now "Let me explain?" he asks clearing his throat and looking to you for confirmation which you grant with a slight nid of your head. He doesn't speak though instead he just turns the notepad towards you.

"Holy shit" you mutter earning a step back from him and another laugh. His eyes widen at the curse not expecting that reaction of course but after shaking it off he smiles with pride.

The notepad you had earlier thought him to be writing in was actually a sketch pad. The image staring back at you was ... Well you, in the exact position you were only moments ago, perched on your suitcase staring off into the distance.

The sketch was incredible for a quick 15 minutes drawing, which is why it deserved the shocked reaction you had just given, it looked exactly like you. The hair, the eyes, the shape. It was like looking at a photograph.

"Thanks" he says smiling again "Sorry again I just saw you and it was like this perfect moment, you weren't paying attention to me but you were so engrossed in the world around you, I'm an artist so I just- I can't really control the pencil when it hits the paper you know" he explains further. A little cliché you think to yourself but at the same time you were no longer mad, the explanation was good enough and you more than anyone understood bad first impressions and hoping for second chances. It was basically your whole life

"No no I get it that's fine that actually- like wow you're really talented" you compliment his work, trying to move past the once impending altercation.

"I'm Xavier" he finally introduces himself holding out his hand for you to shake. Instantly you worry, again not really wanting to initiate any kind of physical contact especially from a stranger. So instead of out right offending the nice student who had offered you his hand you make a joke of it.

"And I'm a Germaphobe hehhh" you step back slightly holding your hands up and laughing a little.

He once again holds up his hands, one still grasping the notebook tightly between his boney hands "No problem uhhh" he points to you this time awaiting a telling of your name.

"Oh right yeah I'm Y/N I'm new" you state the obvious and he smirks slightly but before he can say anything, a loud " Yo Xavier!" Is yelled from somewhere in the near distance. The Lanky dude waved at his friends and looks back to you

"Well it was nice to meet you Y/N hope to run into you again" he walks off joining the boys and as he talks to them he looks back at you. You can only imagine the questions he is being asked right now as he ushers his friends away pushing them playfully into the halls and leaving you to get back to your quiet observing.

Eventually you find the strength to drag your bags to your room, mentally commending yourself for having a very small amount of belongings as you finally reach your door with one last huff.

While reaching for the handle you have a spine chilling feeling of someone's eyes on you and instinctively dart your eyes around in search of any immediate threat.

A few seconds go by and you roll your own eyes at yourself. God you were really on edge today, understandably, so you just shrug it off and make your way into your new quarters.

Meanwhile*

Wednesday and Enid had been left in your room

"That waaaaas-" Enid drags out the word, desperately racking her brain for the right adjective to describe the entire interaction between the 3 of you.

"Odd" Wednesday finishes, staring after Y/N for a brief second and then turning toward Enid.

"Very kooky" Enid smirks at Wednesday with pride as if she had just dropped the smartest quip of all time.

""Very amusing dear" Wednesday's eyebrows jump up as she turns to look at Enid with a somewhat tired look.

"You love it really" Enid giggles and skips over to her girlfriends side, squeezing her upper arm and inhaling her sweet scent.

"Not as much as I love you ma Cherie" Wednesday cooes, still reeling from her encounter with Y/N, she awards Enid a quick but lingering kiss and reaches for the wolf's hand for comfort.

"Soooo do we wait here orrrr..." Enid smiles deviantly at her bloodthirsty paramour. She would never admit it but seeing Wednesday get all worked up gets Enid all worked up and now because of this she was buzzing to retreat to the privacy of their dorm.

Wednesday, having become used to Enid's 'Hints', just squeezed her hand lightly and pulled the smitten werewolf along behind her. She stopped at the door and glanced back at the room, Enid's playful bliss still in full swing but her face contorting in confusion as to why they had stopped moving.

"Me amore this feels like a missed opportunity" the darker haired girl scans her eyes across the room with curiousity.

After a moment of thought Enid understands what her girlfriend is getting at

"We are not going through her room Wednesday!" She scolds tugging at her arms like a whiny child wanting to go home after a long day out.

"Why not? It doesn't seem like she has much here anyway" Wednesday defends, a glance of a hopeful smile fading across her lips.

Enid bites her lip, nawing at it in contemplation, taking a quick glance down the stairs then back at Wednesday, who takes the opportunity to stare deeply into the wolf's eyes. She caresses Enid's face, whispering against her lips

"Cara Mia" before connecting their lips once again then pulling back to gaze into Enid's eyes again. The blonde goes weak, in the knees, hazy from Wednesday's intoxicating scent and she hums in contentment.

When she pulls back and opens her eyes, Wednesday is staring at her in what can only be described as mischievous hope.

"Urgh fine" Enid concedes and Wednesday smirks and turns to re-enter the room.

"Works every time" Wednesday mutters, a sinister smile playing across her pale lips, while she starts scanning the small room.

"Not every time!" Enid follows behind Wednesday, in denial of the power of persuasion the Seer had over her.

"Hmm I seem to forget you have inhuman hearing abilities piccolo lupo" Wednesday hums again, flicking her dark eyes towards Enid before continuing on

"And don't you forget it" She hugs Wednesday from behind and the Ravenette takes a moment to inhale Enid's stimulating perfume before removing herself from her warm arms and getting down to business.

10 minutes go by and the once calm and calculated Wednesday was now back into full frustration mode.

"Baby I told you there's nothing here" Enid had watched Wednesday search the draws,wardrobe and surrounding area but to no avail and commended herself privately for remaining an innocent bystander.

"She must not have had her belongings sent to her room yet nobody is this minimal" Wednesday narrows her eyes "How unfortunate" she all but mumbles before pinching her chin in deep thought. After deliberating with the voices in her head she makes a decision

Wednesday runs her hand along the bed sheets, then stares hungrily at Enid, awaiting the werewolf's eventual realisation of what she was proposing. Look, If she wasn't going to get anywhere with their investigation she might aswell get somewhere else with her beautiful and inviting confidante

"Not here!" Enid almost immediately stutters out after letting her mouth fall open in surprise. Wednesday's ability to bewilder Enid to this day with her unpredictable advances is something the werewolf would never get over.

"I am sure she would not mind" Wednesday shrugs, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

"Who are you?" Enid narrows her eyes at her girlfriend suspiciously. Don't get her wrong, she had seen this side of Wednesday before but the occasions were very few and far between and usually she wanted something or had done something wrong which she was trying got make up for or was about to do something that she couldn't make up for.

Enid giggles though and Wednesday throws back the quilt to playfully entice Enid. But Wednesday notices Enid has pulled her attention away from her and is staring at something on the bed.

"Mon Chiot I am trying to do the whole 'hint' thing am I performing it incorrectly?" Wednesday asked a twinge of vulnerability escaping her tone.

"No no!" Enid fumbles her words "Great job babe but umm what's that?" She points towards the item in curiousity.

Wednesday follows Enid's colourfully painted, pointed finger to see that a piece of paper that had flung from the bed as she had thrown the covers back.

In one swift move Wednesday swipes up the letter and reads aloud "Y/N" before smirking and looking up at Enid with mischief in her eyes once again. "Finally" she deadpans, happy that her efforts to uncover more about Y/N were not entirely in vain.

"Baby I don't think we should read her mail it's private" Enid somewhat whines at the idea of being so intrusive but Wednesday just hums in response, still staring at the letter as if fighting an inner battle between right and wrong

"Wednesdaaaay" she eyes the shorter girl disapprovingly

"Calm cucciola, you will not be implicated in my federal offense I assure you" Wednesday holds her hand up to settle her girlfriend and begins to open the envelope. As if any part of that sentence was suppose to make Enid feel better... It didn't, of course, and she was unable to stop her impulses from taking control in order to stop her Girlfriend.

"Wednesday!" Enid jumps across the bed practically pouncing, arm out stretched, attempting to grab the letter from the Seer tight grasp. Her efforts were thwarted when Wednesday swiftly turns to the side in one quick move, only craning her neck down to watch her incredibly clumsy little wolf fall over herself and land at her feet.

"Enid this might be what we are looking for?!" Wednesday reaches out a hand to her beloved and smiles slightly when she clumsily clambers to her feet. "Why search if I'm not going to investigate what I find?" Wednesday speaks logically

"It just feels wrong" Enid Huff's out, swiping at her clothes.

"Everything I do feels wrong darling because It is, in fact, rarely do I do what society deems correct" she states fact and then insultingly remarks "honestly it's like you haven't known me for the last 2 years" Wednesday fights the urge to roll her eyes and steps back from the blonde and attempts to once again open the letter.

"No Wednesday" Enid's morality gets the best of her and drives over her curiousity as she attempts to grab the letter a second time. Naturally, Wednesday had done far worse and Enid had actually been implicated in her criminally and somewhat irredeemable behaviours but that didn't matter because she loved Wednesday and something about it all excited Enid. Plus, no matter what, her Girlfriend always found a way to protect her and bypass the law.

"Your efforts are futile my dear" Wednesday states bluntly as Enid claws at her girlfriend, playfully of course, to avoid her criminal intent.

"My efforts are not-" amidst the struggle both Girls freeze as they hear a loud bang and some fumbling coming from the bottom of the stairs.

"She's back!" Enid whisper screams at Wednesday letting out a small squeak in her panic state and Wednesday's eyes widen still gripping the letter tightly in her hand, her knuckles turning an even more pale shade as she does this.

[yakourinka]

(late post-guide ahead musings, kind of a long rambly post, part 1?)

I feel like Laterano being peaceful and its residents' wacky wild wild west uwu antics has caused some people to miss just how fucked up Laterano actually is - it's the most fucked up place on Terra in my opinion.

There are the more obvious reasons: racial supremacy that is implicit in their religion, "lesser" races practically serving as adoring errand people and soldiers for the Sankta:

What I can only call as racial segregation: Shit Sucks Everywhere At All Times for the Sarkaz but this is (to the best of my knowledge) the first time we've seen a government officer/cop go I SPOTTED A SARKAZ, GIT'ER at a person who, as far as they know, is a street peddler.

Also they hunt Sarkaz in the wild for sport apparently. (I'm aware that the Sarkaz also fight them, but you'll notice that Sarkaz are in a lot more disadvantageous situation than the Laterans.)

KFC Pope also brushes upon this with the fire analogy in the last chapter (if you give out too much of Laterano's light the place will burn out etc.), but Laterano refuses to share its resources with other nations (despite, hilariously, trying to pull a United Nations shit on their land) because:

(This is also Andoain's Joker moment.) Now consider that they have the resources to waste to the point that you can blow shit up everywhere provided you fill the paperwork and it will get fixed, and the entire city constantly smells of sugar and vanilla.

Putting all of this against the background of Shit Fucked Everywhere that is Terra and you get what is essentially a resource-hoarding ethnostate full of nice, wacky people.

It's also no coincidence that there's a noticeable emphasis on sweets - you might remember a similar thing from Dossoles (and other real world examples cough South America) with coffee and sugar: 1) it's a luxury 2) it keeps people happy and content and wanting more. Which brings me to the next point: The emotion sharing thing.

Everything about Laterano is socially engineered in a way to keep its people content in this proverbial cage. The people here can't even tell when they're in danger, which is simultaneously funny and fucked up:

See, you live in the Saved Land. Your feelings are not private because you're all hooked up on the Holy Hivemind. You feel rather encouraged to keep feeling content and happy and not think too much because your distress will be detected and shared by other people. You are now an anomaly. Ezell returning home after letting Cecelia go is some twilight zone shit because he's seen some fucked up stuff, is confused and in distress and everyone he meets on his way home is like hey man why don't you have a little snack and relax? why don't you have some cake and coffee my guy ha ha? And he has no way of processing his own mental state or articulating himself to anyone, despite the hivemind.

(completely my personal opinion here but I ended up liking Fia and Mos substantially less after the event because Laterano and its weird as fuck extreme collectivism are uncomfortably fucked up to me. like I respect a single-minded to the point of idiocy, rage-filled woman usually, like them even, but Laterano's just way too fucking weird and Fiametta being like yeah so what bitch? to everything Patia and Andoain was saying was, while funny, also unlikable. also Mostima is drinking buddies with the Pope! what the fuck)

I've seen some more positive/funny interpretations of It, the god in the Papal Basement, but what with the hivemind thing I can't help but think of the only other case of hivemind+singular god in Arknights, the Seaborn. Why did It let the incident between Mostima, Lemuen and Andoain happen, but swiftly cancelled the "shoot someone else and you're out" rule the moment Andoain and KFC Pope were shooting at each other? Is it because Andoain is/was essentially a cultish missionary spreading Its word, and the Pope is kinda essential to keeping Laterano stable? Assimilation by consumption versus assimilation by faith?

There's probably a lot more shit you can say about Laterano, like Adnachiel being ostracized because his halo is kinda not straight, what about the infected Sankta, etc., but I'll stop. Laterano's fucked up, man.

[chemistryread]

she is both hellfire and holy water

- part III

you should take it as a compliment, that I'm talking to everyone here but you

jake seresin

part II

part IV

callsign: scorcher

disclaimers/tags: female!aviator!reader. jake is a needy loverboy who wants to be loved. slowburn and angst.

a/n: sweet, kind reminder i don't know much about the navy and my research is lazily done. suspension of disbelief! a few things: if you don't like love triangles, i wouldn't worry. rooster's behavior is better explained in the next part, which finally includes scorcher's pov. i'm in love with loverboy jake struggling. anyway, this chapter is such a tease i might just post the next one tomorrow, that one’s juicy. when i tell you these two are a slowburn…please be patient with them! that's it, have fun :)

tagging: @thedroneranger @shanimallina87 @peakascum @cherrycola27 @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @untoldshortsofthefandoms

Jake's pretty proud of this Hail Mary.

A week later, you've warmed up nicely to him.

Thanks to that one day he put a little more effort in, and a few other late nights talking, you're capable of exchanging more than nods to each other over the table during breakfast.

You had even picked him for your team in a training exercise, for the first time ever. Sure, Bradshaw had pulled the other short straw to be captain and he quickly took Trace and Floyd from you. But he was your first choice when their names were crossed out, counts for something. Especially because he gets to see Rooster's mustache almost turn upside-down with his complete beffudlement.

With Javy on his side, and having reached amicable grounds with the rest of the Dagger Squad, he didn't expect to make any more real connections.

And he certainly never thought he would see the day where the two of you leave Penny's bar early to grab a pizza and eat it by yourselves at the base's kitchen, before the rest of the group could come home and steal any slices.

Your phone sits between you and him, an eighties playlist that you had promised he would love playing. He did love it, but he's unsure if the songs are good or if he's being overpowered by the great feeling that comes from you saying he would love something, the idea that you might have picked up on his likes and dislikes. Paid attention.

The entire squad is suspicious of your sudden change of heart. They ask Jake what dirt he has on you all the time, and if he knows that blackmailing is a crime.

All you do is shrug, leaving them with no answers. He likes it so much. Let them wreck their brains over it.

He's starting to slip up, from time to time, however.

Like this morning, you were on the air and he called you honey. Not a drop of teasing in his voice. Just pure affection.

"Can you tell me where, honey? I can't see anything."

Cackles exploded through the comms.

Rooster is the loudest. "Don't fall for that, Scorch, you'll regret it for the rest of your life. Should I remind you of his callsign?"

"No need, Rooster. There's no danger there, the only way that happens is if I get real cool about a lot of weird shit real fast." More laughs, and he feels the start of a migraine. "Plus, I'm dead. Too late. Can't help you, hun."

Heat creeps up his neck. Embarrassment and tenderness mixed together.

Jake's not stupid. He knows what's going on with him. The thing is, he doesn't want to ruin a good thing.

He's aware of you, not the girl to easily slip and fall for just anyone. If you ever considered a guy at The Hard Deck, he didn't see it.

You're hard to break through. No one is getting to your heart unless you decide they can, and for you to get to that decision, well, it's a long and arduous journey.

It's not that he wouldn't try, always up for a challenge, it's that he already knows he won't make it. You are no challenge.

There's a certain aspect of dating that is dehumanizing. Seeing a person as something to win over, conquer. Part of the game, he knows. The girls who come up to him have the same glint in their eyes, he's just as much of a conquest to them. Even playing field.

That's the only way he knows how to get far with someone. How else does it start? This is what works for him, always has.

But you're the real thing. If he even attempted playing with you, you'd probably laugh in his face and never speak to him again. Maybe call him predictable. You've made yourself bigger than any of that. Above it all. God, is there any opening for him in your life?

On the total opposite end, sits Jake. Almost every girl with a breathtaking smile and a sweet personality has his heartstrings wrapped around their fingers, the warmest parts of him hoping they'll be the one to make him feel the same way his mom and dad do about each other.

While he - as much as he would never say it out loud - just wants to be loved, you could live with or without. Seemingly.

You're not really the same, and it scares him. If he acted on what he feels, you'd be given entirely too much power to destroy him, and the lasting effects could be irreversible. Destroy a good thing instead of herself. That's what Maverick said.

So he tries to focus back on the programme. Do they really need to be back here again? He could be on leave, on a different beach. Different girls on his mind.

It's not life or death. Honestly, you're clouding his mind and it is much more interesting than whatever Warlock wants your group to get on top of.

He isn't one to waste time overanalyzing people's behavior, but he's committed to putting every piece of you together. That's how he got here so fast, solving you in seven days. Sorta.

Maverick's words echo in his mind constantly.

He's been taking notes.

-> you give in when you know you can trust how you feel about someone (what exactly does that mean???)

-> work friendships are safe (not too many expectations, less room for disappointment)

-> you keep even friends at a certain distance

-> loyal, once you see good intentions you'll stick to someone's side no matter what

-> afraid of betrayal or being tricked (haven't seen it yet but don't want to find out what happens)

-> values trust and honesty

Phoenix is the one you allow closest. It figures, she might be the second most upstanding person in the squad after you.

A friend, definitely, but not a best friend. You'd vent to her, but not ask for help. That's too far.

Bradley is the main target of your jokes, as you are his, the one each of you go to for pairings at training, game nights or at the Hard Deck. Your first round together as a team, everyone was sure you would at least hook up once, but it never happened.

The rest of them is more or less the same, people you like and would obviously risk your life for, but not close enough that you would disclose any personal information that doesn't serve a clear purpose.

It's particular, the way you act.

Not mean-spirited, you don't distrust anyone there, you just, in the same vein, don't trust. You laugh with them, fight by their side, listen to their struggles and help if you can. But there's always a wall, at least one, that keeps them from truly getting close.

He hasn't worked out yet if you think it's for yours or their sake.

Captain Mitchell seems to be the one true exception. You talk about him with unabashed devotion and grattitude, like he saved your life. (He asked if that's what happened and you answered no, but did not divulge more). Even said, once, that he might be the only person in the Navy who could break your heart if he ever did anything you didn't expect of him.

"And still, he'd probably get a pass."

"Jesus, you're not in love with him, are you?"

You throw the volleyball at his stomach, making him curl.

"No, Seresin, there are other feelings in the world. Say that again and your crotch is next."

One afternoon, resting after lunch, Maverick sneaks behind him and steals the piece of paper he's often reading, and rereading. So fast for an old man.

Green eyes light up in a mix of shock, amusement and pride, he thinks. It's obvious that he knows, after that night at the bar and the many questioning looks he has thrown Jake's way seeing the both of you become closer these past few days. But he only says one thing, with a strong hold on his shoulder and shaking the notes in his face, dead serious. "Never let her see this."

He almost runs after the captain to explain it is not what he thinks. But what would be the point? He would never believe it. All that's left is hoping he doesn't mention it to you.

Later, that same day, he's following you around the gym to make sure a certain someone doesn't spill his secret to you.

Training together has become a bit of a habit.

Usually, if the two of you were there at the same time, you'd shove your earbuds in as deep as possible and ignore him completely. He didn't mind. Your eyes avoided his, which in turn gave him the perfect opportunity to watch you bend, squat and sweat. Not in a weird way, just, you know, admiring.

You continue to be a huge distraction, and it should make him mad, force him to work out especifically when you're not. But he adores helping you up on the pull-up bar. Watching you do half-splits, shamelessly staring while he drinks his protein shake, the most satisfactory little snickering face you make when you get flustered and tell him to fuck off. Being your spotter and delighting in the small dose of trust you bestow on him.

As a reward, you make fun of him as much as you can. Taste his shake and fake gags. Ask him if he runs marathons with the rest of his frat, where he's hiding his snap back with the Longhorns logo. Sometimes you'll copy him and just watch, biting back a teasing smile, waiting until he finishes a series to shake your head and laugh.

"What?"

"Nothing, you did good."

"Damn right I'm good."

"I said you did good."

"Same thing."

He likes it best when you're winding down on the treadmill, walking slowly and enjoying the music playing on the bluetooth speakers.

Or now, when you're both panting on the floor, sweaty and worn down, discussing which one of the endings for the movie Clue is the best.

"I like when Tim Currry plays the bad guy."

You huff to blow your hair away from your face.

"Doesn't he always? It's predictable."

"More than Ms. Scarlet? Oh, charismatic smart attractive woman can't be good, no."

"It's just sexier when she's also a killer."

"Won't argue with that."

Your hair is still over your eyes and you move to push it away at the same time he does. Knuckles knock together, his hand retracts but you smile. It's not awkward.

Not until Bradshaw bursts into the room, stomping feet and overwhelming body cologne disrupting the moment tragically.

"There you are! With…Hangman. Again."

Jake's proud your closeness gets under the man's skin. It means he sees something in it.

"No need to get your panties in a twist, bud, you too can look like this if you a try a lot, lot, lot harder. Someday. That smell, though, is a hard pass. I'd focus on learning some class."

They're not not friends. It's just easier to keep up the dynamic. (And he's not about to fade into the background just because you two have a more established friendship).

"Boys, please." Belittling. "What do you need, Roo?"

His muscles flex instinctively at the caring turn your tone takes when addressing Bradley directly.

"The caddy." Oh. That's your prized baby. Immediately, a resounding 'no' comes from your lips, and an ironic smile follows it. Jake chuckles to himself. "Please-"

"Give me one good argument and you can have it for an hour."

"An hour? That's-"

"Take it or leave it."

Bradshaw gives you a name. Someone he met at the golf club, or something, but definitely not the girl from the Taco Bell line. Truthfully, he was stupid to send his car to the shop on his day off and now he has no ride for his date. Deal with it, that's what Jake would've said.

"Oh, I do like her. She's hot."

He smiles at your informality, unguarded.

"Very hot."

Bradley is nearly wailing to you.

Despite the comedic sight right in front of him, Jake can't pull his eyes away from you. Normally, Rooster's too loud to ignore, but it's like he's not even there. Instead, he watches your profile as you look up at the fellow aviator, locks sticking to your neck, eyebrow hair a mess, forehead lines stressed in deep thought.

Damp shirt clinging to your waist, perfectly following the curve of your breasts, long enough it almost covers your shorts. Your thighs spill out of them, so inviting to his teeth.

The other man clears his throat, and is met with a daring glare. Yes, I'm eyeing your friend. C'mon, what are you gonna do about it?

But you mistake Bradley's intrusion for impatience, and give him the answer he was hoping for.

"Fine. You dirty it, you clean it." Standing up, you strut to your coat hanging by one of the machines and reach into one of the pockets, pulling out the keys. Before Rooster can take them, you snag them back into your palm, holding his gaze in a threat. "You owe me."

A stupid wide grin on his tanned face and he's thanking you, quickly laying a kiss on your forehead. You recoil, nose twisted up.

"What?"

"The, uhm…The cologne. It is kind of bad."

A vindicated Jake Seresin explodes into laughter from the ground. Your foot digs into his ribs lightly, but he sees the smirk tugging on your lips. A passing moment of camaraderie. Has he mentioned pride yet?

"Really? You too?" Shiny shoulders shrug at him. "How bad is it?"

"Just drive with the windows down, maybe it'll kinda…waft away."

There's a sympathetic look on your face, but the teasing smile never leaves your lips. A supportive friend who knows an idiot when she sees one. You're too nice.

"Or cancel it. I'm sure she has better things to do. And you don't want to make a nice woman throw up on her pretty clothes at the sight of you, do you? Smell! I meant smell."

He can't help himself, displaying what he is sure to be the most insufferable grin Rooster's ever seen.

With a finger wagging between the both of you and a painfully discontended expression, he's about to finally say something about it, but you cut him off. Spinning him around with a snort.

"Go. Before she cancels on you."

He huffs and starts walking away.

Jake is barely one relieved sigh in when the blonde turns back, sprints to your side and hugs you again, making a strong point to kiss your temple and practically rub the cheap smell on you. Your arms are close to your chest, slapping him away and protecting yourself. If it wasn't for your genuine laughter, he would've pushed him off of you.

This time he actually leaves, but not without sending a cutting look to the man on the floor, readjusting the aviators up the bridge of his nose.

You're jokingly scrubbing yourself, pretending to be disgusted. Maybe you would be, if you had seen the territorial intentions of your so-called friend. He wants to say something, almost does, but refrains when he thinks it would come across possessive.

Gathering your stuff to leave, Jake's mind whirls for a reason to keep you around.

"The day has come, Rooster has a date and neither of us do."

Right?

You make a weird face, confused at his sentence. Rooster usually has a date a week, if not more. Certainly more often than you do.

"Uhm, Saturday is right around the corner. And so is the Hard Deck. You'll be fine." His nose twists up the same way yours did moments ago, but he quickly repostures, faint smile on his lips. "Plus, I think he needs it more than you or me."

He stands up now, dragging his feet while he picks up his phone. You've already picked up his bottle for him. Cursing under his breath, the only things he brought to the gym, too efficient. He'll have to think of that next time.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, he gets clingy when he doesn't have a date for too long. As long as he's got a petite blonde to distract him, I don't have to hear his musings about falling in love with the one. Marriage, twins, Golden Retriever, beach house, et al."

You talk about it as if all those terms started with capital letters. Entities. Hence the 'et al'.

The snort that comes out of you is dismissive. Jake sees an opportunity.

"You don't think about that stuff?"

An even more dismissive shrug.

He steps closer, knocking knees almost, towering over you. C'mon. I don't believe you.

You don't cower, rolling your eyes. But relaxed, confident.

"At the risk of sounding like a big fat liar, I swear it's not something I'm actively seeking out. If it happens, sure, great. But it probably won't, it never does. Sometimes I feel like I wasn't born for it. Wired differently, I don't know."

He tilts his head at that. It's a strange way of thinking. Love is the most essential part of being human.

Oh, Maverick said something about that, didn't he? You're scared of getting exposed as something other than holy, as if you surpassed human needs. Maybe you think love is a weakness.

The lack of space makes you uncomfortable, and you call his name. Softly.

"Darlin', you're like everybody else. It'll happen to ya."

"Are we a hundred-percent sure? Maybe I'm, like, immune. Lucky me."

Whispering. He can smell the vanilla from his shake on your breath.

"One of these days, someone will catch your eye and then you'll have to watch your tongue."

Your smile grows so big. He sees the dimples. A pale blotch in your front tooth. Red skin in the crook of your nostrils, likely from the dry air. The tiniest spark in your cloudy eyes. This is the perfect promixity, to him. Maybe closer, if you allowed it.

"Isn't that a quote from Pride and Prejudice?"

His turn to shrug. "I have sisters."

Towel over his shoulder, dramatic exit.

"Sure."

As planned, you follow right behind him. Glad you can't see the dumb grin on his face.

"You stink of Rooster."

"Ugh, dick."

"Since neither of us has plans, want to watch a movie in the TV room tonight?"

If he asked himself months ago if he ever thought of so boldly making that invite he would've laughed, because yeah, of course. The difference is the bumbling hope you'll agree to it.

"How about Clue? Put to test who was right about the best ending. Bet on it?"

Stopping before you need to take different paths, he holds back the urge to say it's a date.

"My kind of girl."

Beautiful, lovely, soul-crushing eyeroll. You shake hands, committing to the bet, and leave with no more words, just painful smiles.

At night, a surprise Phoenix joins you for your movie night. When you're helping him with the popcorn, you whisper something about her being in a bit of a mood, but don't say much else.

You decide to resolve the weird tension by texting Bob, and he now sits on the floor in front of the couch the three of you were sharing.

It's not what he planned, but it's still fun. Since everyone in the room has seen it before, you suggest that they write their favorite ending on a piece of paper so your bet has more weight to it. You and him get one minute and a half at the end to sway the others' opinion to your side.

Natasha lightens up as the movie goes on, and both of you laugh non-stop at the cheesy jokes. Floyd and him laugh at both of you.

"Hey, they are surprisingly timeless for an eighties movie! It's charming."

"Trace, you wouldn't know charm if it knocked you off the air."

Before she can answer, you jump in. "Seresin, a toothpick trick and an over-the-top accent can hardly be called charm. You wouldn't know a scam if it knocked you off your try-hard cowboy boots."

Phoenix's middle finger is in plain sight behind you, and Bob's red from how hard he's giggling. You're innocently sucking on your metal straw, batting eyelashes.

He knows you're going light on him, sees it in your eyes actually looking up at him this time, scouting for his reaction. Gratifying when your nose is scrunched up, corner of your lips raising slightly. Pulling on an invisible string, seeing if he'll pull back.

Jake responds by nodding his head, a toothy grin to show you got him with that one.

"Does it matter that it's a scam, if the reviews are all positive?"

"All?"

Your arms cross in front of your chest, questioning him. He sighs, exaggeratedly.

"If you want to leave a complaint, that's fine, but you gotta try it first, angelfood."

"Gross."

"What Bob said."

Yeah, but he doesn't miss the way your cheek caves in, probably biting the inside so you don't smile for him.

The next few minutes go by like this. Bob makes light commentary that is surprisingly funny, the rest of you chuckle at his words, and Jake throws a subtle, long glance your way. Every time he does, you look back at him, with a sincere tight-lipped smile. Casual. (Except for the hair is his arms standing up when you do it, guaranteeing this is anything but casual. To him, anyway.) Cycle repeats. It's thrilling.

His good mood dies when Rooster walks in. He's not alone in it, though.

As per usual, Bob is the only one who doesn't seem to notice any weird vibes, greeting the new guest with an excited head nod.

Trace readjusts on the seat. Your dimples make an appearance for the spacious figure throwing himself down on the loveseat by the door, but you go back to the movie almost instantly.

Everyone is watching the film quietly, when he finally interrupts.

"Is no one gonna ask about my da-"

"Nobody wants to know, big head."

It's harsh, but controlled, a warning smile on your face. Jake wonders what he's missing. Are you jealous?

"Mhm." Rough fingers massage the old pillow, and he takes a mental note to never touch it again. "She was very receptive…"

A symphony of 'no's and groans rain on Bradshaw, and unfortunately you steal the fluffy cushion Jake was hugging to toss at his head. It's a perfect hit, so maybe not that regrettable.

"Fine, alright, okay!" He laughs, easing himself back in the room's good graces. Most of them. "Hey, Scorch?"

Your mouth is half-full of popcorn, focus back on the TV, trying your best to ignore the nuisance but he doesn't seem to take the hint.

"What?"

"We should talk."

"Now? I'm watching the movie."

Jake finally turns his attention to Rooster, who's already watching him. Oh, I understand. A while ago, he would've waltzed into that room and taken his spot next to you, joking with Trace and Floyd as he was doing. He's jealous.

Strong, uncovered arms stretch across the back of the couch.

Phoenix takes the image in, dark irises boring straight into his eyes and carrying a dying wish to punch him square in the jaw, before looking away with an unreadable expression, but that's hardly atypical.

His gaze shifts to the man on the loveseat. He sits up.

"I forgot to park the caddy in the right spot. That morning California sun is going to be killer."

Rooster basically sings it.

You lean away from the couch and he misses the warmth, just a little. His instinct is to pull you back, snake his free arm around your waist and sit you back down. Instead, he shoves popcorn in his mouth.

"What? Jesus, Bradley! I don't ask for much-"

"We can go now real quick, just gotta show me where it is 'cause I have no idea-"

"Nat knows."

This time, when you sit back, your bare neck - cortesy of your hair being up - skims his arm. Briefly. And then you make a decision, to lean into it, sinking down on the couch.

It's a clear choice. You're staying right here, with him.

He would smile, triumphant, but Trace has a terribly wounded look on her face that means this isn't that simple.

"But-"

You and Phoenix play a dramatically long game of staring before you sigh.

With a pat to his back, you draw Floyd's attention.

"Don't let him cheat."

Pointing to the folded pieces of paper, you don't even look at him before walking out the door, Bradley on your tail.

Natasha turns in right after you leave, and he honestly can't deal with his night turning into a date with Bob. Not that in another life he wouldn't, it's just not worth it if you're not there. Too busy exploring the base's garage with Rooster.

Before they turn off the TV, he asks who won the bet. It doesn't really matter, he just wants an excuse to look for you in the morning.

"Uhm, 'Wadsworth is bad and the gay guy is not actually gay'."

"So she did. Awesome."

"Yeah, I'd like to see you beat her at something other than flying one of these days. Actually, I wouldn't like that. No offense."

"None taken, Bobby."

He mimicks the pat you gave the mousy man before putting the popcorn bowl in the sink and walking to his quarters, admittedly disappointed. He tries to shake it off as he walks the hallways.

Javy's back from his emergency leave tomorrow and despite missing his friend, he is glad to have the room for himself for one more night. Undoubtedly, if Coyote were here right now, he would've called all of his shit out.

You've had this thing with Scorcher since she didn't acknowledge your dart skills that first night at The Hard Deck, remember? And then she predicted Mav's inverted dive move during the exercise. (He remembers your voice going huskier when you said, "Rooster, you might wanna keep your eyes high in the sky".) Then, she didn't flirt back. You've been achingly staring at her across rooms, hoping she'll look back, ever since. Now that you finally got the woman to speak, you refuse to make a move? What are you doing?

Or something like that.

But with no one to put him in his place, the storm happens freely inside his brain.

Your conversation from earlier, everything he learned about you in this very short amount of time, he mulls all of it over.

Not made for love, or whatever you said. He turns roughly on the bed.

It's a clear, screaming sign that says "I won't love you back".

He thinks it's all bullshit, of course. Some pep talk you give yourself to avoid dealing with the real stuff. But he also knows you've been hurt, and love is not a thing you've been shown a lot of.

It's understandable that you'd turn away, deny it. You don't know what's the protocol. And if you can't tell which parts go where, how can you trust it? You might have to ask for help, and that is the last thing you plan on doing.

So you forego love completely.

But anyone would say that not 'doing' love solely because you don't know how is crazy.

To deprive yourself of such an intoxicating experience that spits you back out into life a litte more worn, but also appreciated. Someone loved at least a part of you, as a reward for letting them see it. That feeling is irreplaceable.

Maybe Bradshaw could teach you that. Maybe he can show you all the good sides of love.

A nice date. The first time you get wasted together. Slowly figuring out what makes you so you. What makes you squirm, and whimper, and laugh when you shouldn't.

He knows what this burning in his chest and the hammering in his temple is. He doesn't feel good enough. There's always the better one. Never him.

Even if you were dedicated to finding someone worthy of the sacrifices and efforts demanded by love, you certainly wouldn't do a double take at him. It's not you. (He lets that echo in his mind a couple times. Maybe he'll learn.)

Again, Maverick's words sound off in his head. Easy to enjoy the company of those you know how to feel about. No danger there. There are other feelings in the world. Maybe you don't even like him that much, he entertains you when you're bored, and nothing else. Safe. The thought causes a cold shiver to run down his spine.

He wants to break your shell and drive you crazy. You want him as another work friend.

His point is, you're a complicated person. One he likes, very much. And he doesn't want to scare you away. So he'll keep his adoration quiet for now, forever if he has to, while he works on possibly killing it.

Another girl will come along. Always does. The right one, this time.

[yanderu-deredere]

drawn.

★ they've just been so lonely, all by themselves in this abandoned little factory town. it's hard not to be attracted to someone so wonderful, so glittering and beautiful, someone like you

a/n: sorry i ended up not posting anything the past few days. ive been really struggling with chronic pain flare ups and general bullshit but you guys really encouraged me to come back! so here i am with the latest chapter of the cannibals!

minor changes with part three where i made it so that none of the friends come down to dinner hehehe wonder why? neway, you can go back and reread that if you'd like but it's not that big of a change.

finally, after teasing it for so long, it's the gore chapter ive been waiting for forever to write! with that said, please mind the warnings!

i feel like this got really long so i didn't really do as much as i wanted to... you'll see when u finish reading. if you think i should keep going, send a couple asks and maybe i'll write another extra chapter?

part one (hook.) ★ part two (line.) ★ part three (sink.) ★ extra (captive.) ★ part four (here) ★ part five (quartered.)

pairing: casimir fiala x reader x emmaline fiala word count: 3612

warning: gender neutral reader, mentions of throat knife violence, mentions of coroner's and mortician's equipment, descriptive head injuries, descriptive eye violence and gore, mentions of drugging someone nonconsensually, mentions of medical and recreational drug use

Casimir knew as soon as the white van pulled up into the factory town that his entire life would be completely turned around, that this group of rule breaking idiots would be different from the usual.

When he saw your cute little face peek out of the window, he knew exactly why.

Casimir always believed himself to be a man of science and he had explained away his fascination (or rather, attraction) to Emm by just acknowledging that the two of them were polar opposites and evolution simply made it so that human beings were attracted to their polar opposites.

Opposites attracted simply because it gave their offspring better survival chances.

But then, of course, you threw a wrench in all of that, didn't you? Because he knew nothing about you except that your entire face made his heart palpitate in his chest for no reason.

He didn't even know if your personality was good with his or if you would even irritate him with your small habits. But, still, he found his eyes attracted to you like a magnet to metal and he wanted more.

Emm felt exactly the same. Unlike Casimir, she believed in love at first sight. It's what she felt when she met Casimir after all.

She knew as soon as she saw the man that she wanted to ravish him and she knew as soon as she saw you that she wanted to ravish you too.

She loved Casimir; the two of them have been together for years now. The only reason they were able to enjoy those years together was because Emm followed those instincts of hers.

Emm wasn't going to let Casimir use his science mumbo-jumbo talk to get her out of keeping you.

Thankfully, the two of them were on the same page. They didn't even have to communicate verbally. They shared a look; Casimir from the road and Emm from her binoculars.

So, despite the rules that they'd agreed on (not to kill the people who weren't breaking the rules, to try and stay inconspicuous, to be polite and nice just in case), Casimir couldn't find it in himself to stop Emm from using a silenced gun and popping your friend's tire.

The both of them only felt more and more justified the longer they spent time with your friends.

They pretended to be polite but whispered about how weird Casimir was. They tried to take photos of Emm's burns (and you were the angel that prevented them from doing it). They even went so far as calling you a freak.

It made both of their blood boil. Emm's more than Casimir's but Casimir's head had always been more level headed.

So, really, the group dug their own graves.

The first one that had to go was that damn bimbo.

Casimir didn't like her at all. Chloe was it? She just didn't look at Emm the right way and don't even get him started on the whole 'taking a photo of Emm' business again.

Plus, she kept sneering at you and whispering about how stupid you were to her boyfriend.

So, when you went upstairs to go change right before helping Casimir out with cooking dinner, he went to work.

"Hey, by the way, you guys wouldn't mind it if Emm smoked a couple of joints, would you?" He mentioned off-handedly to the bimbo as he sharpened one of the knives at the kitchen counter.

His sleeves were pulled up to his elbows, his muscles flexing as he clenched and unclenched his fists, trying not to get annoyed.

It was odd since both he and Emm usually didn't let them last this long but, he supposed, for your sake, he would put up with the disrespect.

It just really got at his nerves that she was treating the entire place like it was hers, looking into their fridge like she owned the place. They said 'make yourselves at home' but that wasn't exactly what they meant.

The ditzy blonde didn't even have the decency to hide her emotions when she looked at him, all wide-eyed with wonder "Oh? You guys smoke?"

"Yeah, some strong medical stuff." Casimir shrugged as he kept his eyes on the smooth metal of the knife and the rough grey of the whetstone, his knuckles turning white as he gripped it harder and harder "You know, because of--"

"Oh, of that whole--" She finished for him, making a gagging sound from the back of her throat.

It took everything in him not to just run the knife in his hand through her face.

He could imagine how satisfying it would be. It would meet some resistance when going through her nasal cavity but the crunch of it as it met bone would feel so good.

Before he completely lost it, though, the sound of the other three idiots in the living room convinced him fully that he needed to keep it together.

This needed to be their cleanest kill yet.

Not just because the four of them were a big group but also because they needed to get away with killing three of them without letting you know.

"Yes, she smokes all of it downstairs in the basement." He nodded his head towards the main hall and he watched her face turn blank, her eyes obviously confused.

She definitely looked like she was turning an idea carefully in her head. Casimir wished she'd hurry it up since she still had the fridge open and it was using up electricity.

Then, as if he could literally see the lightbulb above her head, he saw her expression brighten. She closed the door and gave him a bright smile that grated even harder on his nerves before flouncing away.

Casimir glanced at the knife in his hands, giving her a few seconds, before rinsing it off and wiping it with a dish towel hanging on the oven handle.

Then, he sheathed the knife, grabbed a meat tenderizer, slipped it into his pocket and unfurled his sleeves. Of course, the other idiots paid him no mind. Probably just like they paid their friend no mind as she slipped past them.

They looked deep into a conversation about something, all their backs turned towards the main hallway.

The realistion that hit the bimbo was probably the fact that there was a door at the very end of the main hallway. Normally, people mistook it for a cupboard under the stairs.

Casimir could at least give her credit for being smart enough to realise that it was most likely the steps to the basement he had been talking about only seconds ago.

He quietly followed her down, locking the door behind him just in case.

Casimir was nothing if not careful.

He would've paid big bucks to have seen the look on her face when she reached the bottom of the stairs.

He saw the way her steps faltered (he was right behind her, after all) so he knew she must've been surprised. Plus, she gasped too, which seemed a bit much but she also seemed like the type to overdramatise.

It probably surprised her to see that it wasn't a wine cellar or a man cave in their basement but a clean and proper butcher's dream.

It was Casimir's hard work after all. Emm helped a little but she was a bit too messy to really take care of a lot of the detailed work. Instead, she helped weld things together and fix some things up.

Before the bimbo could turn around or freak out, of course, Casimir shut her up.

She crumpled like soggy paper when the meat tenderizer hit the back of her head.

The crack of it was so satisfying, honestly. The splatter of blood was less so but it still felt good to see the crater of gore in the back of that bitch's head.

Surprisingly, he could see a brain in there.

As he watched her crawl on her hands and knees, trying desperately to get away, Casimir tested the hammer in his hand and frowned.

He wasn't usually one to use such bulky tools. Though the sound of it was music to his ears, the feel of it wasn't right. It really was better to stick to knives and the like. Leave the more brutalizing ones to Emm.

Before the little worm could get too far, he stepped forward, accidentally stepping on her ankle as he scooped her up, his arm wrapping around her torso and his free hand gripping her chin, his fingers digging into her cheeks.

He lifted her easily enough, despite the fact that she was so top heavy.

Unfortunately, he wouldn't get a lot of breast meat from this one since it was probably all plastic but he'd need to get rid of her regardless.

"Now, what are you doing here?" He whispered against her temple, relishing a little bit in the way she struggled against him, her well manicured nails trying to claw at his clothed sleeves.

She was barely making sense before he'd whacked her with the meat tenderizer but, now, her voice was slurred and stuttering beyond recognition.

She was concussed then. He would've been more surprised if she hadn't become concussed. In fact, he had to give her credit. That blow would've knocked most normal people unconscious.

Maybe she was particularly hard-headed?

In any case, her blabbering was entertaining at first but then it eventually got too annoying.

With barely any care at all and completely ignoring the way her feet dragged on the cold concrete, Casimir brought her over to his special autopsy table and plopped her down.

It was his own invention; not exactly his life's work but certainly one if his more brilliant ideas.

It wasn't entirely made from scratch, of course. He built it off of a second-hand autopsy table but he made it tilt one way so that the blood would pool better. He liked collecting it in case he wanted to use it for blood sausage or something.

He also added some restraints for the really shitty visitors that really pissed them off. Sometimes, the couple really liked to take their time with their kills, really carve them up, slice and dice them and hear them scream--

Plus, sometimes, Emm liked putting him in there too and he could be a little too wiggly for her tastes.

In any case, when he slammed her down on the cold metal table, Casimir couldn't say he was taking the usual care with her.

She was sprawled across the cold metal, her body locked into the restraints with a little distain, even his initial incision of her jugular was sloppy at best.

He didn't have any respect for people like her who couldn't even take care of people like you. You had trusted her with your friendship and she betrayed you. She didn't deserve any kindness from him.

She couldn't complain anyway.

Mostly because she was finally knocked out cold.

Anyway, Casimir left her down there. If she bled to death, good for her. If she were still alive when he got back down there?

Well, he wouldn't enjoy her screams in the usual way but he'd definitely get some sort of sadistic glee out of them.

He'd flay her skin open, watch her muscles twitch as she struggled to move away, see the life ebb out of her; he'd make sure that every single thing you'd suffered through, she'd feel but a hundred times worse.

Hopefully, enough, she'd be alive.

Before he left, of course, he had to wash the stupid meat tenderizer. Surprisingly enough, fragments of her skull stuck to the spikes of it and chunks of her scalp clung to the metal.

Then, he obsessively cleaned the blood splatter off the walls, taking care to wash himself and any wash cloths he used with the sink in the room.

It was easy enough to wash everything since the entire basement was made like an embalming room; the floor sloped slightly to the middle where there was a drain.

Lastly, he changed his clothes because he got a little messy in his anger-- No, irritation. He didn't want to accredit such a strong emotion to such an insignificant ant.

He and Emm kept spare clothes down in the basement just for situations like this.

Honestly, the entire thing was so easy that it disappointed Casimir. He had hoped the blonde idiot would've struggled a little bit more, at the very least.

Maybe the others would prove to be a challenge.

Speaking of the others, Casimir knew that the boyfriend would notice the fact that his girlfriend was missing the fastest.

Unless, of course, he was a piece of shit too.

So, Casimir's next objective was to get rid of him.

The very last thing he did before he left the basement was he grabbed a little baggy of weed. It was a specific one they used to drug some of their more troublesome victims.

Seeing as his girlfriend was interested, it was possible that the boyfriend would've been interested too.

The drug wasn't anything deadly. Just something to help them get a... better high. Which didn't just distract them but it also affected their short-term memory and their attention span.

Casimir just had to make sure that he mentioned where his girlfriend could be before the dumb idiot started smoking the stuff.

Finally, when Casimir emerged from the basement, he was met with the boyfriend. He kept saying 'the boyfriend' in his head but, truly, it was because he didn't recall what his name was. Dick? Rick? Something along those lines.

Casimir would mentally refer to him as Dick just because that's what the guy was.

Hell, even the one thing Casimir knew him for (being that bimbo's boyfriend) he couldn't do properly.

When the ditz wasn't paying attention, Dick? complained about how annoying his girlfriend was, about how much of a drag she was, how he was tired of her.

It was a surprise to Casimir since he had pretty much been singing her sonnets since he first met them when she was around to hear his compliments.

Though, it made sense when Casimir noticed the sleeze bag's eyes always seemed to be glued to her chest.

It just showed how two faced this entire group was, Casimir supposed.

"Hey, did you see where Chloe went?" Dick? asked, looking suspiciously at the door behind Casimir and then suspiciously at Casimir himself.

Casimir doubted it was because the idiot thought he killed his girlfriend, though. The man didn't look that smart.

"She mentioned she had a migraine? I think she might have gone to her room." Casimir looked towards the stairs before glancing to the front door "Or maybe she went outside for some fresh air? I don't exactly recall what she said."

The boyfriend clicked his tongue but, before he could leave, Casimir placed a hand on his forearm "By the way, she mentioned she takes medical marijuana for her migraines so I mentioned to her that my wife took some too, for her burns?"

When the guy turned back to look at Casimir, arrogant confused expression on his face, it took everything in Casimir not knock the living daylights out of the guy.

He bet he could make the same crater in this guy's head as he did in this guy's girlfriend's head with just his fist.

"She ran out and asked me for some. Emm had some extra so I figured--" Casimir shrugged and then held up the little baggy with the drugged weed "She told me to ask you to pay for it but, between you and me, it's honestly fine."

"My wife goes through so much pain, I can't even imagine--" Before Casimir could finish, the idiot snatched the baggy up and nodded quickly, that confused expression completely taken over by his arrogance.

"Of course! I'll make sure to get it to her!" Dick-head looked like it took everything in him not to cackle at Casimir.

And it took even more in Casimir not to choke the man.

Before he could be further tempted, Casimir just gave a curt nod and left for the kitchen.

He rolled his sleeves up and went to get ready for you to come downstairs.

It was a shame you had a change of clothes. He had an odd highly illogical fantasy of you borrowing clothes from them, maybe something of Emm's or of his, and then decending down the stairs.

He could imagine you, looking so breathtakingly theirs.

It didn't make sense to Casimir but he supposed his love for you didn't make any sense in the first place either. He would just have to keep you by his side and study you.

"Did you go shopping?" Emm suddenly appeared at his side as he got out cling-wrapped meat from the freezer above the refrigerator, her arm brushing against his waist.

Did you deal with one of them?

She was probably asking because she passed by the living room and noticed that there were only three of them.

"Yes, I did. But that meat is for next week." He pressed a kiss to her cheek, smirk playing on his lips as he closed the freezer door and opened the fridge "We're having the meat I bought last week. It will go bad if we don't have it now."

Yes, she's downstairs. I haven't cut her up into pieces yet. We're having that couple we killed from last week, the ones that tried to break into the factory to steal spare parts.

"You wan' me to take care of next weeks shopping since you've taken care of this weeks?" Emm tried not to grin too widely, excited by the victims that her husband had left for her.

"I mean, I have plans for next weeks shopping but, if the opportunity arises..." Casimir sighed like he was tired of the way Emm always seemed to go off script but, in reality, he was glad she always seemed to enjoy herself.

It was evident by the way that smirk on his face didn't even waver.

"I dun' know what I'd do without such a dedicated house-husband." Emm teased, mirroring Casimir's smirk as she cupped the side of his face and pressed her own kiss against his temple.

Casimir took the ingredients out one by one, bundling them into his arms "And dessert?"

The fourth one. The one best saved for last. That was, of course, you.

"We def'nitely have room for dessert." Emm pulled back enough to look Casimir in the eye and he knew that, from the expression on her face, she would take no arguments.

We're keeping them.

Casimir didn't want to argue with that. From looking at his face, Emm saw that.

"Good because dessert is the caramel flan I made last night." Casimir chuckled almost breathily as he finally pushed away from his wife and brought the food to the kitchen counter.

That one wasn't code at all but an honest fact. It took everything in Casimir to convince Emm not to scarf the six tins he made last night in one sitting.

"I'll jus' go move my bike into the garage." Emm sighed, her expression morphing to one of boredom as she stretched a little.

She didn't like the idea of having to go out into the rain but, if she left the bike just parked there, there was a possibility that it would rust.

It was just hard to go outside, to leave the house really, when you were inside, so close yet so far away. Emm had never felt so pained and lazy before until you.

Then, to make matters worse, while Casimir was getting the ingredients ready for dinner and Emm was putting on her work boots, that stupid boyfriend tried his moves on her.

Unfortunately, he didn't seem high at all.

Had he not smoked it yet? Casimir hadn't smelt anything so, perhaps, he was saving it for later?

Either way, it was stupid to flirt with Emm right there, where Casimir could obviously see them. Normally, Casimir would've lost it but he needed the night to be perfect so he figured he'd let Emm handle it.

"You goin' somewhere, gorgeous?" The idiot leaned against the wall, sleezy expression on his face as he eyed her up and down.

Emm tried her best not to sigh too loudly or even groan like she wanted to. Instead, she tied her boots and smiled politely at him "Yeah, jus' need't park my bike in the garage."

"Oh, you know, I know a lot about motorcycles." The guy didn't even wait to hear what Emm would say before he was putting his shoes on "Let me go with you."

At first, Emm's fist clenched and she felt her entire body tense. But then, she realised how good of an opportunity it was. She'd be able to get him alone.

So, she forced another smile onto her face as she nodded "Sure!"

"You know, my dad owns like five Harleys." He bragged as he stepped out of the house, that same smug look on his face as he walked with his hands in his pockets.

Emm wanted so badly to trip him into a puddle but, instead, she crossed her arms under her breasts and nodded, trying her best to look interested "Oh, I have a Harley in the garage."

"D-Do you?" The pervert didn't even disguise his staring "Why don't you show me that first? I can help you with your motorbike after."

Moron.

"Sure." Emm lead the way through a side door, letting them into the garage without triggering the loud garage door.

It was dark and, even when Emm pulled the string for the florescent lights, the entire room was still dimly lit.

The garage was kind of Emm's domain but she wasn't exactly proud of it. After all, though she could be a real genius when putting parts together, organisation wasn't her specialty.

Casimir had to come down every month or so and fix the place up for her. Even then, the entire place always ended up looking like a tornado went through in a week.

Basically, the clean look never lasted.

"Damn, you should tell your husband to clean up in here." The moron laughed as he stepped over some steel bars.

Emm tried not to cringe "Oh, Cas don't really come in here. The mess's mine."

"Yours?" He said, as if saying 'but you're a girl' and it wasn't the last straw for Emm but it was damn close to it.

She looked around, trying to see if there was anything fun to kill this guy with or if she'd have to go old fashioned and just fuck his head up with a wrench.

She knew she couldn't make too much noise, though, so no chainsaw or anything too fun. Even if splattering his guts everywhere would've been worth the clean-up.

"Sure, let's go with that then." The guy laughed one more time before caging Emm against one of the various shelves in the garage, his disgusting breath damp and putrid against her ear

Emm couldn't take it anymore. She grasped at something with her hand; it was smooth against her palm, dusty, something with metal and plastic.

Her arm was swinging before her brain could even connect the dots as to what it was.

The guy fell onto his back, screaming profanities as he clutched one of his eyes "You fucking bitch!"

Emm just straddled his chest, that grin she'd been suppressing for so long finally stretching out onto her face.

She looked down at her hand and noticed that she had grabbed a spare motorcycle headlight.

When she had swung, the entire thing had been a blur so she hadn't really seen what she had done to him. Even now, she couldn't see because he was covering it.

But the screw end of the motorcycle headlight was covered in blood and the ripped apart flesh of an eyeball. She could make out the veins against the whites, the chunks of it clinging to the grooves of the metal part.

It filled her with a rush to know that she'd jammed the entire thing in there in one try.

To prevent him from screaming any more, she grabbed his wrist and stuffed it into his mouth, essentially making him pretty much choke on his own flesh. Then, she saw a peek of it.

He was still trying to dig the heel of his palm there, as if putting it there would stop the bleeding. Which made sense, of course. But it definitely wouldn't make a difference.

In any case, when she had yanked his hand away, she saw that his eyeball was replaced with bloody indecipherable gore. There were torn parts of the whites of his eyes near the outsides but it didn't look like there was much of it.

She laughed and he continued to struggle, kicking and bucking, desperate to get her off.

"Oh, so you wan'o play with the bull but y'can't handle the horns?" Emm couldn't help but taunt him a little, relishing in the way his own teeth dug into his wrist as she pressed down on him harder.

Despite the fact that they were almost the same height, she was much stronger than him and holding him down wasn't even a contest.

Before long, though, the struggling and the gore started to bore her. She realised she'd gotten too messy and that she'd have to clean up before she could see you.

Which meant, of course, that it would take longer to go see you. Something that felt unacceptable in her eyes.

So, she bashed his face in with a motorcycle headlight. Over and over. Till his entire skull caved in. And the motorcycle headlight got crushed in her fist. Or till it got crushed against his skull?

Whichever one was stronger, she figured. Her palm would bruise but his head caved in so, she supposed, it was her fist?

It was unfortunate, really, but the anger had built up inside her and the way he had tried cheating on his girlfriend really rubbed Emm the wrong way.

It wasn't like they ever used the head or the brains for anything anyway.

Then, she wrapped his face with a towel she had lying around and she carried him to the basement using the back cellar doors.

If holding him down was pretty easy, this was a piece of cake. She just slung his arm around her shoulders and then wrapped her arm around his torso, holding him up entirely.

She would've fireman carried him but there wanted to stay as clean as possible so there was less clean up.

When she entered, Emm spotted his girlfriend and felt bad for her.

That feeling immediately vanished when Emm remembered how rude she was in the van, trying to take a picture of her like she was a freak or something.

The thing Emm really struggled with was putting him on the autopsy table. She always complained to Casimir about the things. She absolutely enjoyed the sausages he made and the soups too but it was so much work.

She had to put his upper body down first but, then, she did it wrong and accidentally hit his head against the edge. Not like he was still alive but it was still annoying.

Emm had to try again and then a third time. Finally, the third time worked but then she had to get his legs up which wasn't that much of a struggle but it was still time she wasn't spending upstairs!

Where the two loves of her life was!

To make matters worse, as she was doing that, the stupid bimbo woke up and started struggling and stuttering and freaking out. She was crying up a storm, begging and pleading for her life and her boyfriend's life.

Like his entire face wasn't caved in and bloody already?

Emm just left her be and went to go wash her own face, hide the idiots' things, lock one of the guest doors and change her own clothes again.

Hopefully, the bimbo would just tire herself and bleed out.

"You okay, my love?" Casimir cupped her cheeks, pressing their foreheads together.

Emm just sighed and rolled her eye before nodding her head "Jus'... wanted to ask you 'bout somethin'."

Casimir smirked at that and pressed a kiss to Emm's lips before continuing what he was doing with prepping ingredients "What is it, my love?"

"I d'no if I was p'ck'n up what you were puttin' down before." Emm crossed her arms and leaned her back against the kitchen counter "But you... you think they're real pr'tty too, right?"

Casimir felt his ears get just a little bit hot but, of course, he quickly nodded because he never hid anything from his wife "We'd of course have to get rid of the nuisances but..."

Emm quickly nodded and hugged Casimir from behind, pressing a kiss to the back of his ear "I love 'em so much and I don' know why but I just--"

"I know, dear, calm down." Casimir laughed a bit breathily, trying to keep an understanding expression on his face as he smiled at his rather nervous and bashful wife.

The two of them had been with each other long enough that they could have discreet conversations without having other people know about what they were truly talking about.

For Emm to outright ask him these questions, she must've been really concerned about this. So, of course, he wanted to reassure her as best as he could.

"I'm very interested in them as well. Don't worry." He sliced into the middle of a bell pepper with precision, his ears feeling a little hot from his confession.

Casimir wasn't the best at confessing his feelings but, still, he wanted to make his intentions clear to his wife so she wouldn't be so insecure.

"Y'think they'd go for it?" Emm bit her lip a little, frown gracing her lips as she tightened her hold on her husband "Go f'r me?"

"My dear, you are a mighty fine specimen of a woman. If they don't go for you, well..." Casimir thought on the plethora of drugs he had in the basement and smiled, his finger tracing the silver sheen of the knife in his hand "I have a plan for that."

"You an' your plans." Emm huffed, her breath ruffling Casimir's locks a little bit.

Casimir just laughed again, all airy and soft, before shrugging her off and returning to slicing and dicing the peppers for the steak dinner he was making "Why don't you go and fix the garage? I know you were in a hurry and you didn't clean up after yourself."

Emm groaned, burying her face into her husband's neck. He reached behind her and, for a second, she thought he'd comfort her somehow. Instead, he thread his fingers into his hair and gave a hard yank, pulling her head up so that her ear was right next to his lips.

"You know how I feel about messes right, my dear?" Emm couldn't properly see Casimir's expression but she could imagine what it was: that wide sadistic smirk he always had when people tested him or when something interested him a bit too much

So, she huffed and rolled her eyes "Fine, fine."

Casimir let go easily enough and she unravelled her arms from around his torso, pulling away from him but not before pressing a kiss against his cheek.

She'd go clean up as fast as she could and then, maybe, she'd go join you and Casimir in preparing dinner.

Casimir watched as Emm left to go deal with her mess, a fond smile on his face.

Unfortunately, the peace was interrupted when he was shoved from the side by that one guy who loved tormenting you.

He remembered this guy's name purely because he hated him so much: Bran. Like the cereal. What an idiot.

Casimir had heard the footsteps so he hadn't been surprised by the shove but he hadn't exactly braced himself either so, when he was pushed against the counter, the knife clattered out of his hand.

It didn't matter. If needed, Casimir had other things he could kill this douche bag with.

Hopefully, he wouldn't have to. Casimir was hoping to bleed this one out and torture him slowly.

Casimir and Emm both noticed the way Bran had stared after you, looking at you like you were an object to be lusted after, like you belonged to Bran, all while he already had a girlfriend.

It definitely disgusted Casimir and he knew that cheating was a sore subject for Emm.

"The fuck are you two talking about?" Bran tried to sound as menacing as possible.

"Nothing." Casimir just smirked as he turned to face the asshole, hoping this man would give him any reason at all to humiliate him "Can I help you?"

"I'm fucking on to you." Bran spat out which, of course, made Casimir feel especially disgusted. "You and your fucking freak wife."

Casimir felt a little bit of his sanity snap when Bran said that specific phrase but he knew he had to hold back "On to me about what exactly?"

"I don't know." The question made Bran back off and the admission made Casimir smirk mockingly at him.

Bran looked like he was about to punch Casimir in the face but, before he could, Casimir took him by the wrist and straightened himself so that he was easily taller than Bran.

"We have helped you, we have sheltered you and we are now about to feed you. I will not have you disrespect me in my own home." Casimir smirked from ear to ear, his eyes boring into Bran's "So, tell me what your problem is with your words, like an adult, or get the hell out of my face."

Casimir could at least give credit to the man: he was fearless. Bran didn't back down. "They're mine."

"Your girlfriend?" Casimir played innocent, all the while his grip on Bran's wrist tightened to the point of being unbearable.

He could see it in Bran's face; the man was wincing and flinching away but the feeble tugs he tried to make were no match for Casimir's grasp.

Still, stubbornly, Bran continued "You know who I'm talking about."

Casimir finally let go "I am quite sure I do not. In any case, neither my wife nor I have any interest in your girlfriend."

"Where is she anyway?" Casimir added, dusting himself off and wiping Bran's spittle off of his skin.

"She's high right now so she's in Chloe and Dirk's room." Bran growled, still as aggressive as before but unable to make a move against Casimir since he was cradling his wrist "Once Chloe and Dirk get back, we're fucking out of here."

"Have fun driving with three wheels." Casimir just turned back to the food, not at all worried about the idiot behind him.

Oh, but Casimir definitely stored this entire event in his mind, knowing for a fact that he'd get his revenge later.

Bran didn't respond but he could hear the moron's thumping steps as he ran up the stairs and slammed one of the doors.

After your dinner with the two them, Casimir watched as you excused yourself and went outside.

Emm looked worried but Casimir didn't have a single doubt in his mind. His plans were absolute and he wouldn't let you escape. He had planned for every single eventuality and he would make sure you were theirs.

"Wait a few minutes before going after her." He said instead, pressing a kiss against her forehead as he started putting the dishes away.

"What about you?" She glanced at him warily.

Casimir simply picked up one of the sheathed knives with a bored expression on his face "I think the other two got high so I better just chloroform them and bring them downstairs."

Emm seemed satisfied by that because she grinned, laughing at Casimir's expression "What kind'a fucked up freaks are we that we get both'red when the killin's all borin'?"

Casimir just clipped the leather knife sheath to his belt loop and stepped towards his wife, kissing her chastely on the lips "Why, my dearest, the best kind, of course."

[moonchildreads]

small town

Chapter 17 - Girls Just Want to Have Fun

IN THIS CHAPTER: A short roadtrip, blackmailing a jock, and Lady Di sends a signal [7.7k]

WARNINGS: andy the bully makes an appearance but nothing serious happens! lots of foreshadowing tho lol

A/N: shout out to my beloved @justahappycloud for vibechecking andy and dot's conversation for me! you're absolutely wonderful and i honest to god cannot believe i'm gonna hug you in a couple of days. i love you so so much, and i can't wait to tell you that in person. having said that, i'm gonna take a break from posting because i'm going on holiday! i'll still be around if you want to talk and i might leave... a couple of extras for you... you'll have to see! regular updates will return on friday, june 30th!

masterlist - prev - next | main playlist - chapter playlist

Oh, daddy dear, you know you're still number one But girls, they wanna have fun

Friday, May 23rd - 1986

Dorothy Burke couldn’t remember being this fucking angry in her entire goddamn life. She was pretty sure that if she were a cartoon character, steam would have been coming out of her ears the minute she heard Andy fucking Humphrey brag about getting an A in his latest AP Spanish pop quiz. She’d been watching him all week, eyes always stuck to his back during class, ears perking up when she heard his obnoxious cackle in the cafeteria, hands turning into fists when he’d “accidentally” tripped a quiet sophomore on his way to the bathroom. So when Mr. Lorenzo returned last week’s pop quizzes to them on Wednesday and praised him for “finally deciding to take his studies seriously” after she saw him cheat on the entire test, Dottie began plotting for revenge. Not because of the test, she didn’t give two shits about that and, of course, snitches get stitches. No, this one was for Gareth, and Dustin, and Donny, and Jeff, and any of the times he thought being Hawkins High royalty absolved him from sin. She’d make him pay. Not right now, but eventually he’d get what was coming to him. And it all began that Friday before finals week.

Her last class on Fridays was, thankfully, AP Spanish. Dottie planned everything to perfection, tested her escape route on Wednesday in case she needed a quick getaway, and asked her friends to wait until her Dad came to pick her up so she wouldn’t be caught alone in the parking lot if everything went to shit. Hellfire had been canceled because the boys had tickets to see Poltergeist II: The Other Side at 6 pm, but the props room they used as headquarters was unlocked in case she needed a place to hide for a bit. When the final bell of the day rang, she hurried to get her things in her bag and approached Andy’s desk with a sweet smile and shy act that she’d successfully tried on Fred earlier that week. Nancy had, of course, asked her what that had been about, but Dottie had simply told her that the less she knew, the better. The blue eyed girl had grinned with a weird sense of pride and left her to her devices without any more questions.

“Hi! Andy, right?” Dottie asked, carefully crafted honey dripping from her tongue.

“Who’s asking?” he said without looking up, still gathering his things.

“We’re in this class together, I sit over there,” she said, waiting until his eyes landed on her to point to her desk. She could feel his confused eyes scanning her: cute little dress, frilly socks, no Hellfire shirt, pearls in her ears. He has no idea who I am.

“Yeah, of course! I’ve seen you around,” he said, trying to hide the fact that he actually did not know who the fuck Dottie was. Sadly for him, it wasn’t working.

“I saw you did really well on the last pop quiz and I was wondering if you could help me out,” she widened her eyes a little bit to look more innocent and saw the corner of his mouth lift into a half smirk. God, men are so easy, she thought, remembering how Fred had rapidly blinked three times in a row when she pulled that move on him. “Can I see your answers, please?”

“Uh, sure, yeah,” Andy stammered, extremely confused but not about to complain if a pretty girl was making goo-goo eyes at him. Dottie wasn’t the type he usually went for; he liked them better skinny, tall and tanned, but there was a certain kind of charm to the girl-next-door type. “I could, y’know- I could help you study for the final, if you want.”

“Really? Wow, you’re so nice,” she pretended to fawn over him until he got the test out of his binder and gave it to her. The classroom was empty now. “Actually, there was something I wanted to ask you about…”

“Go on,” he said, sitting on his desk to flirt back with her. “Ask me whatever you want, babe.”

Babe. Oh, he was gonna get it now. She had him right where she wanted, and all she had to do was reel him in. Channeling her inner devil, she came up to where he was sitting to stand between his open legs, hand resting on his knee.

“Anything I want?” she smiled, and he nodded. “Well, how about… you leave my friends alone for the rest of the year and I don’t tell Mr. Lorenzo you cheated on this?” she waved the test in the air.

“What?”

“See, you might not know who I am, but I know you, Andy,” she dropped the sweet act instantly, hard eyes on his. He looked so confused. “And last Wednesday, you made the mistake of letting me see you cheat. You even smiled at me while you did it. I gotta admit, it was the first time I saw someone write down the answers on the inside of a water bottle sticker, that shit was clever.”

“Who put you up to this?” he asked, rage beginning to catch up to his bewilderment. She had to get out of there, fast.

“I know you egged Gareth Coleman on Thursday after class. It would be a shame if Mr. Lorenzo found out about your little water bottle trick, don’t you think? You really need this A if you’re gonna keep that Division II scholarship you got to, where was it? Indiana Central?”

“You’re a fucking bitch,” he got up from his desk, getting in her face. He was barely an inch shorter than Eddie, and while the metalhead’s height had always been comforting for her, Andy’s was downright intimidating.

“And you’re a lousy cheater,” she retorted, grabbing the strap of her bag, ready to bolt out into the packed hallway.

“You have no proof.”

“Don’t I?” she said, pressing on her backpack where she’d tucked in an empty plastic bottle. It wasn’t even the correct brand, but he didn’t know that, and his eyes burned when he heard the crackling noise. “Stay away from the boys in the Hellfire Club. This is your only warning.”

And with that, she bolted straight to the girls’ bathroom at the end of the hallway before he could even think about reacting. This particular bathroom had two exits, and she took advantage of that knowledge to sprint across to the other door, past the labs, turning the corner to the Art room and out into the parking lot, where she immediately clocked her friends hanging out between Eddie’s van and Donny’s car, Dustin and Mike leaning onto their bikes while they talked. All the way across the parking lot, was Jason Carver’s car, where its owner and his friends were clearly waiting for one Andy Humphrey to arrive.

“Eddie!” she yelled through gritted teeth, trying to get his attention. “For the love of God, Eddie!”

“Hey, what’s- woah!” she threw herself on him and stuck her hand in his front jean pocket, getting his keys out and opening the van’s back doors before jumping inside with the haste of a madwoman. “Dot, what’s wrong?”

“I fucked up- close the fucking doors! If Andy sees me, we’re all dead!”

“Wait, what? What did Andy do now?” Donny asked, climbing into the back of the van behind her. The rest of the boys looked at each other before they too got in and closed the doors, separating themselves from the rest of the student body.

“He didn’t do anything, I just- I threatened to tell a teacher that he cheated on a test if he bothered you guys again.”

“You did what?!” Eddie asked, eyebrows raising to his hairline.

“I know! I know I fucked up, I was just so fucking angry! He thinks he’s untouchable and it’s about time someone showed him he’s not!”

“Okay, back up. What exactly did you do?” Dustin asked.

Dottie took a deep breath and began retelling the week’s events to the six boys that were surrounding her in the back of the van. The parking lot began to empty and only a few cars remained by the time she had finished but her Dad was still nowhere to be found. An uncomfortable silence settled between them while they took in the situation at hand.

“She can’t be alone anymore,” Mike said, looking at Eddie for guidance.

“You really think he’s gonna hit her?” Gareth asked with worried eyes.

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Dustin said. “Do you think he’s gonna tell the rest of the team?”

“I didn’t tell him my name,” Dottie remembered. “They might not even know who I am, I mean, he didn’t and we’ve been in the same class for months.”

“You told him to leave Hellfire alone, it doesn’t matter if they don’t know you. They know us.”

“Shit, do you think we’re all gonna be targets now?” Jeff looked scared.

“You say that like we weren’t before,” Mike argued.

“We have to move in groups, we can’t let them catch us alone,” Donny said.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough!” Eddie raised his voice, cutting the chatter short. “You good, darling?”

“I didn’t mean to make them come after you,” she put her head in her hands. She’d been so angry that she didn’t stop to think how she might be making things worse with her well-intentioned actions. “God, I’m such an idiot.”

“You’re so not an idiot, come here,” he tucked her under his arm, squeezing her protectively. “You meant well but that’s not how these guys work. They are meatheads, you can’t reason with them.”

“So what do we do?” Jeff asked him.

“Donny’s right, we move in groups from now on. No one goes anywhere alone for the rest of the school year. We’ve got three more weeks and we’re done. Avoid the basketball team, keep your heads down,” Eddie turned to Mike and Dustin. “If anyone does anything to you, you come to me. You think Sinclair can help you two out?”

“We haven’t talked to Lucas in months,” Dustin admitted, looking a little ashamed.

“We don’t need him,” Mike dismissed his friend quickly. “We’ll stick with you guys.”

“Carver’s car is gone,” Gareth announced, peeking through a side window.

“Get home now, take the backroads,” Eddie opened the doors and heaved Dustin’s bike up from the concrete for him. “We’ll figure out pairs on Monday.”

“I’m sorry,” Dottie tried apologizing again, but Dustin went in for a hug.

“It’s okay. We’ve been through worse, I promise,” the younger boy smiled reassuringly.

“Besides, this means you’re officially one of the freaks now,” Mike said, successfully getting a low snort from her.

They said their goodbyes and Dustin and Mike climbed onto their bikes, speeding off the parking lot with impressive alacrity. Donny and Jeff sat themselves on the back of Eddie’s van, surveying the area. Only a couple of cars remained, mostly belonging to teachers. Gareth’s bus had already left, and Eddie offered to give him a ride before turning to Dottie.

“You sure your Dad’s coming?”

“Yeah, he said he was gonna get off early so we could go to Indy. Maybe he got held up at the office?”

“What are you going to Indy for?” Jeff asked.

“Prom’s in two weeks and I still don’t have a dress so hopefully I’ll find something there today or else I’m going naked.”

“Auditioning for Playboy at prom? That’s bold,” Gareth joked, and she immediately kicked his leg.

“Don’t get cute with me, Gareth, I know where you keep your porn.”

“We all know,” Donny said, leaning back on his arms. “He’s not very good at hiding it.”

“I bet his Mom knows too, she just pretends she hasn’t seen it,” Eddie snickered.

“Shut up!” Gareth jumped on Eddie, trying to wrestle him down to the dirty floor.

“Hey, whose car is that?” Jeff asked Donny and Dottie, completely ignoring the other boys yelping while play fighting between their rides. “It’s been there for like twenty minutes.”

“Must be a teacher’s,” Donny guessed. “I saw a pregnant lady come out of it earlier.”

“There aren’t any pregnant teachers.”

“Yeah? Then who’s that?” Donny pointed to the school doors where there was, indeed, a pregnant woman waddling towards the mystery car, another lady behind her searching through her big purse, probably trying to find her car keys.

Nothing could have prepared Dottie for what she was about to see when she turned, because never in her wildest dreams had she imagined she’d see two of her aunts casually strolling through the Hawkins High School parking lot towards a car neither of them owned, as evidenced by its Indiana “Wander” license plate. What on Earth-

“Auntie Rachel?” Dottie raised her voice, and the woman going through her purse looked up instantly, keys finally in her hand.

“Hey, there you are! We’ve been looking for you everywhere!” the woman now known as Rachel said, quickly changing paths and power walking towards them, heels clicking on the concrete. “Your Dad said you get off at two!”

“I do, I just got held up,” Dottie hurried to wrap her arms around her Auntie. “What are you doing here?”

“Your Dad called for backup and we honestly needed a girly weekend,” the pregnant woman said, one hand resting on her belly and the other one at her back, her flowy floral dress swishing around her ankles as she waddled closer to them.

“It’s the last time Mary Elizabeth’s gonna be able to get on a plane until Rose arrives so we spent all my miles and we’re taking you to Indianapolis for a shopping trip.”

“You came all the way to Hawkins to help me buy a prom dress?” Dottie said, disbelief painted all over her face.

“It’s your senior prom, baby,” Mary Elizabeth said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Did you really think we were gonna miss it?”

“Are these your friends?” Rachel asked, directing her attention to the gaggle of boys that were staring up at them.

Gareth still had Eddie in a loose headlock, both letting go of each other instantly when the women approached with curious smiles and mischievous eyes on their faces. Auntie Rachel was a tall severe looking woman with thick rimmed glasses and a classy bob. Her lips were painted a deep burgundy, and she wore stylish pants and low heels - she looked as sophisticated as she was independent and open-minded. She was an accountant and many of her clients included investors that dabbled in the theater sphere, making her the one responsible for Dottie’s intense love of Broadway and musicals. She’d gone through a messy divorce around a year ago, had two boys (Nicky and Peter, ages 14 and 10), and had recently realized that maybe all those times Dottie had begged her to go see Rocky Horror together had been more enlightening than she had assumed they had been at the time.

Aunt Mary Elizabeth - not Mary, not Elizabeth, Mary Elizabeth - on other hand was the poster child for the 70’s hippie movement. What Rachel gave off in casual formality, Mary Elizabeth matched in cozy comfort with her sleeveless prairie style dress and sandals, baby bump proudly on display under the soft flowery pattern. She was married to Uncle Johnny, the same Uncle that Dottie had gone to for advice regarding Eddie’s moldy ceiling, and Rose, who was currently softly kicking her, was their first baby. She hadn’t been born yet but was very much expected and hard fought for.

“This is Hellfire! Guys, these are my Aunts: Rachel and Mary Elizabeth. Plus Rosie,” Dottie said, excited as always whenever her worlds collided.

“Which one of you is giving my niece latkes with applesauce?” Rachel asked, looking at them over the rim of her glasses.

“Uh, that- that’d be me. I’m Gareth,” the curly haired boy said, nervously.

“You’re my fave kid,” Rachel declared, nodding once.

“She’s Jewish,” Dottie said, like that explained everything and to Gareth, it did. “She’s never cooked for me though.”

“You know I can’t cook, my kids don’t even let me make toast,” she laughed, and the boys smiled. So Rachel is the fun aunt.

“Okay, then who is the one that makes those great mixtapes you were talking about the other day?” Mary Elizabeth wondered.

“I guess that’s me?” Donny chuckled, the tips of his ears red. “I’m Donny. Congrats on the baby!”

“Oh, aren’t you a sweetheart,” she said. “He’s my fave.”

“Which one’s yours then, bug?” Rachel joked.

“Definitely Jeff,” Dottie said and the boy beamed.

“Hey! I’m right here!” Eddie complained dramatically.

“You’re Eddie, right?” Mary Elizabeth said; he nodded. “I wouldn’t worry too much if I were you, you’re my husband’s favorite.”

“I am?”

“Yes! My husband was our DM, he thinks you’re very creative.”

“She’s married to Uncle Johnny,” Dottie told him. “The one that was in the bathroom picture from when I was a baby?”

“Ah, yes! Your Dad’s brother from a different father!” Eddie clapped once, knowing he got it right. “He knows about me?”

“Dorothy tells him about all your sessions,” Mary Elizabeth said. “Half of our friends don’t live in New York anymore so we haven’t played as much lately, he’s living vicariously through you guys at this point.”

“It’s great to meet you boys, but we should get going. We’re never gonna get to the shops in time if we keep dilly dallying,” Rachel said, ushering the girls towards the car.

“Okay, let me say goodbye first, damn,” Dottie got away from her insistent palms and headed straight into Donny’s arms. “I’m sorry about today.”

“Stop worrying about it. We’ll take care of each other.”

“You’re one of us, Dot. We got you,” Jeff said, joining the hug too. Gareth and Eddie looked at each other, shrugged once, and joined too.

“Go get your princess dress,” Eddie said, pulling away, not wanting to be clingy in front of her Aunts.

“Call when you get back?” Gareth asked as she walked away. “I wanna know what you got to see if we match!”

“When are you gonna be home?”

“Uhhh, around 8:30 maybe?”

“Gotcha. I’ll call around that time. Have fun, guys!”

“We’re still on for tomorrow, right?” Eddie wondered.

“Of course! Final stretch, Ed, you got this!”

Dottie got into the backseat of her Aunts’ rented car and waved to her friends as they sped away, Pat Benatar’s Invincible filling the air with girlish excitement. Andy fucking Humphrey didn’t matter anymore, not when Mary Elizabeth was singing along to the radio without a single care in the world and Rachel laughed like they were in their 20s again heading down to the beach in her brother’s old Jeep. All that was left, was to find the perfect dress and Dottie could finally convince herself that despite her major fuck up, everything would turn out fine.

They could not, in fact, find the perfect dress. They couldn't find any dress, actually, because if they were the right color, the size was wrong, and if the size was right, then it didn't come in Hellfire colors. Auntie Rachel had announced she was paying for the dress, and Aunt Mary Elizabeth and Uncle Johnny were paying for the shoes. But without the dress, there were no shoes, and without dress and shoes, Dottie couldn't spend the money her Dad had given her on accessories, and every minute that ticked on, she was closer and closer to auditioning for a Playboy centerfold at prom like Gareth had joked about.

Everyone was aware that prom was a sensitive topic for Dottie, and there wasn’t a single reason as to why it was that way. Past bad experiences coupled with the knowledge of yet another milestone she wasn’t sharing with her mother were bound to make anyone’s heart feel tender, so after Rachel noticed the decline in her niece's mood, she declared that they were taking a break from the prom-related shopping and instead let Dottie pick any shop in the immediate commercial area to explore. This wasn't an unusual activity for the girls; they had spent many afternoons browsing weird stores and open air markets, gathering silly little trinkets and handmade goods to bring back to their homes with tired feet and satisfied smiles. Dottie looked around mildly interested and clocked a big thrift shop with what looked like a comfy red couch in the middle of the store to her right, deciding to go in so Mary Elizabeth could rest her swollen ankles for a bit.

The shop was quirky, to say the least. Dottie loved thrift shops, having spent most of her early childhood browsing through rows and rows of clothes picking new tops and bottoms for the school year. Mary Elizabeth knew how to sew, and she'd taught Dottie basic skills like how to hem pants or how to tighten up the waistband on a too-big-skirt - a thrift shop was a treasure trove for creative and resourceful eyes. Rachel was distracted showing Mary Elizabeth baby clothes while the latter rubbed her growing belly on the couch when Dottie saw it. Red glittering chiffon, sweetheart neckline with delicate ruffles at the top and the bottom, and a full skirt that looked straight out of a fairytale.

A few years ago, back in 1982 when she was barely a freshman in high school, Dottie had seen in one of her Auntie Rachel's magazines a picture of one of the prettiest women she had ever laid eyes on. The woman was Lady Diana Spencer, Princess of Wales, and the magazine had run a full issue about her style and fashion choices, calling her an icon and praising her usage of patterns and bold colors. She remembered that in one of the pictures, Lady Diana had been wearing a red Bellville Sassoon dress during a night out at Covent Garden, and that she'd found it so beautiful she'd asked Rachel if she could keep the magazine because she wanted to wear a dress like that one day. That same dress, or one that looked very much like it, was currently staring back at Dottie from the very back of a rack full of poofier and tackier formal dresses.

"Found something you like, bug?" Rachel asked, coming to stand behind her with her hands on her niece's shoulders.

"I think... I think Lady Di is sending me a signal," she muttered breathlessly.

"What?"

Dottie walked up to the rack, almost scared to touch the dress in case it disappeared, but when her fingers buried themselves into fine chiffon, she pulled the dress off the hanger and pressed it to her body in awe.

"It's the dress, Auntie Rach. Remember? The Lady Di Covent Garden gown! With the black cape and silver shoes!"

"I can't say I remember, bug, but you like this one? Do you want to try it on?"

"I can't see a tag," Dottie said, frowning. "I don't know if it's my size."

"Go try it on anyway, we'll find an employee," Mary Elizabeth said, getting excited at the prospect of having found a miracle dress.

It was mere minutes later when both Aunts and an older lady that worked at the store wearing khaki pants and a name tag that said Cynthia heard a soft "holy shit" coming from behind one of the changing booth's curtains. It opened to reveal a dumbfounded Dottie, looking like a princess herself in the floor-length glittery gown.

"How does it fit, sweetie?" asked Cynthia.

"It's... it's perfect? The skirt is a little bit long but everything else is... yeah, it's perfect."

"Never mind the skirt, I can hem that for you in a couple of hours. And it's red, just how you wanted, right?" Mary Elizabeth said.

"Yeah, it's the shade of red I wanted," Dottie said. The dress was the exact same shade of Eddie's tie. "How much is it?"

"I don't think we put a price on this one yet," Cynthia said. "It came in late yesterday and I haven't gotten around to it. This woman came in and dropped three boxes full of stuff on us, said she was moving away and couldn't take everything with her. You’re a really lucky girl!”

“I think I am,” Dottie mumbled, looking at herself in the mirror while she lifted the skirt up to fit her better.

“Okay, how about we go see if there’s anything else you like while Rachel gets this sorted out for you, huh? Maybe we can find some cute shoes to go with it!” said Mary Elizabeth, staring pointedly at Rachel with a clear message: Get her the dress before she can overthink it and convince herself she doesn’t deserve it because the price isn’t right.

With the help of Mary Elizabeth (and Rosie, who was being very active today), a full outfit was put together rather quickly. A gold round sparkly handbag was added to the pile, along with gold kitten heels and a dainty gold necklace with a single white glittery stone. Dottie knew exactly what other pieces from her own jewelry box she was gonna wear: her Mom’s wedding ring and earrings, simple, classy, and meaningful. A way to keep Margaret close on a very special moment. Also on their checkout pile were a handful of baby clothes for Rosie, a Spider-Man backpack for Rachel’s youngest son, a couple of 70s loose dresses for Mary Elizabeth’s growing belly, and a pair of jean shorts and two new shirts for Dottie. She saved a bit of the money James had given her to buy more yarn for the blanket she was knitting for Rose, and after all that shopping, the three girls were hungry and desperately in need of a place to sit down. Rachel pointed to a nearby pub that looked fairly empty, and they made their way towards the building with happy hearts and spirits thoroughly lifted.

While Dottie was on her girls’ day out, Eddie was fidgeting in his theater seat. He knew that he was gonna have to share her with her Aunts all weekend, and he was scared about what they’d think of him constantly invading her personal space. They looked nice enough, and he was aware that Rachel herself was a bit of a freak - she had, after all, seen Rocky Horror live as many times as Dottie herself had -  but there was still some part of him that kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. Things were going entirely too well for him, and he wasn’t used to that.

During the week, he’d tested out a few more theories he had about Dot and was now more certain than ever that he had an opening with her. It had been rainy and cold on Monday, and he’d slipped the flannel he had tied around his hip on her shoulders before second period began; she’d worn it all day and he’d caught her burrowing into it during lunch while she waited for him to get his tray. On Tuesday, she’d brought Wayne homemade banana bread, and on Thursday, she’d asked Eddie to hang out in their spot at Lover’s Lake for a bit before bringing her home, saying she needed to clear her head. They’d sat side by side with legs dangling off the back of his van, and he’d tried teaching her to skip stones to no success. She’d snorted every time the rock sank into the water, and leaned into him when he stepped behind her and grabbed her hand to guide her through the correct motions. He would have kissed her right there and then, but he was convinced she deserved more than a lousy confession in a deserted clearing in the middle of the woods. So Eddie waited, knowing that graduation was only three Fridays away, and he was gonna sweep her off her feet while they wore their ugly black and green gowns and make her feel like the princess he thought he was.

Truth be told, he shouldn’t have been so worried, not when 45 minutes away Dottie sat in that Indianapolis pub, eyes glued to the small menu in her hands but mind in Hawkins, wondering what Eddie was gonna wear for prom besides the gorgeous tie Chrissy had gifted him. She was comparing pros and cons of him wearing a white or a black shirt when Rachel tapped the top of the laminated paper and brought her attention back to the table.

“Can’t decide?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Dottie said, sheepishly. “Which one do you think is better, the cheeseburger with bacon or the chicken stripes with BBQ sauce?”

“The cheeseburger sounds good. I’m getting the buffalo wings,” Mary Elizabeth said, rubbing her stomach. “Believe it or not, this girlie likes spicy things.”

“She’s gonna run circles around all of us,” Rachel said fondly. “I’m gonna get the Reuben. And a glass of wine.”

“Okay, I’ll go order then. Lemonade?” Dottie asked Mary Elizabeth, getting up to head into the bar area.

“Oooh, please!”

Dottie left her Aunts at the table with their shopping bags, and got in line at the register behind a middle aged man while she glanced around the pub. It was a good size, probably even a bit bigger than The Hideaway where she’d gone to play pool with her Dad and Uncles Rob and Joe while they were in town for her birthday. There was a jukebox near the entrance, and a low small stage to the right with a lone mic and stool. A tired looking young man was putting up a poster advertising the weekend’s shows near the bar area. It was a cozy place, probably a cheap hangout spot for college students to relax at after a long week of studying and working. Behind the bar counter was an attractive young woman with wild, crimped raven hair and bold makeup.

“What can I get for you?”

“Hi! Can I get a cheeseburger with bacon, a Reuben, buffalo wings, two lemonades and a glass of wine? Red, please.”

“Uh, you’re not over 21, are you?”

“No, I’m 18, but it’s not for me. It’s for my Aunt, we’re sitting over there,” Dottie pointed at the two older women.

“Good. I’ll get a server to bring you your order when it’s done. Normally I wouldn’t care about the age thing, but it’s still kinda early, y’know?” the girl said, punching a few buttons on the till. “Gotta wait until the sun goes down to start ignoring IDs.”

“I imagine most college kids around here are grateful for that, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, it gets busy after 8. You don’t go to IUPUI?”

“No, I’m not from Indy. I’m going to Michigan next year.”

“State?”

“UMich. You?”

“Final year at Purdue. Forensic science,” she shrugged. “You look like an English major.”

“That was my second choice, actually. Decided on being an elementary school teacher.”

“Yikes. Good luck with that,” the girl laughed. “I’m the oldest of six so kids… not my jam.”

“I’m an only child so, kids? Totally my jam.”

“Figures. I’m Jessie,” the girl said, putting out her hand for a shake. Her dark apron moved revealing half of a logo on the front of her shirt Dottie would recognize anywhere: Metallica.

“I’m Dottie. I’ve got a question for you, if you don’t mind.”

“Shoot.”

“How do I get a really cool band up on that stage?”

“You in a band, teach?” Jessie grinned.

“No, my friends are. They’ve got a regular gig in our town, I think you might like them.”

“Yeah? What’s their name?”

“Corroded Coffin. They play metal covers mostly, but they’ve got a few originals too.”

“You their manager or something?”

“Maybe,” Dottie smiled. “I know next week’s setlist if that helps convince you.”

“Go for it.”

Dottie began ratting off the list she’d heard them put together on Wednesday, which included Black Sabbath, Mötorhead, Judas Priest, Dio, and the lone Anthrax song Gareth had insisted on for ten minutes before they relented and said yes. She mentioned how they also played Metallica and Iron Maiden regularly, and were known to crank out a Mötley Crüe song or two upon request without admitting that she was the one doing the requesting, much to Eddie’s chagrin. Jessie listened, nodding approvingly with her arms crossed. She had a snake tattooed around her left upper arm peeking out from her black t-shirt, and Dottie thought it might be the coolest tattoo she’d seen in her entire life.

“Okay, teach. I’m convinced. Let me see when we’ve got an opening.”

Jessie grabbed a battered notebook from under the counter and pulled a pen out of her apron, quietly muttering to herself as she flicked pages. Dottie turned to her Aunts who were eyeing her with interest. The Dorothy they knew didn’t talk to strangers, at least not willingly. She hated small talk, only engaging in it if an old lady started it in order to not come across as rude, but had developed the ability to quickly direct the conversation to non-personal topics like the weather or the price of the bag of oranges the old lady was purchasing. Seeing their niece chit chatting like it was something common she did all the time was downright strange, even if it was a welcome sight. How much had living in Hawkins truly changed her? Did it have anything to do with the boys hanging out with her in the school’s parking lot?

“Earliest spot we’ve got is at the end of June,” Jessie said, grimacing.

“Oh, that’s perfect! That’s after graduation, we’re totally free during June.”

“Friday, June 27th is okay then?”

“Absolutely, yes!”

“We can pay $25 per performer and you can have free drinks all night, but we’ll cut you off if anyone gets too drunk. How many are there in the band?” she asked, writing Corroded Coffin under the aforementioned date.

“Just four. Two guitarists, one drummer, one bassist. We have to bring our own equipment, right?”

“Yeah, all that’s on you. Are you all under 21?”

“Yes, lead guitar is the oldest and he’s 20.”

“They’ve got one hour divided into two chunks with a ten minute break in the middle, shows start at 9:30 usually. You’re coming with them? We can pay you after the set’s done, I’ll keep a free table for you guys at the front. You can watch them from there, we don’t have a green room.”

“That sounds wonderful, thank you, Jessie.”

“Here,” Jessie gave her a napkin with the bar’s info. “Call that number if you need to cancel or reschedule. If they tell you I’m not around, ask for Mark, he’s the day shift manager.”

“Okay, I will. See you in a month then! They won’t disappoint you, I promise!”

“I’m counting on it, teach!”

She came back to the table with an unprecedented giddiness, or at least, nothing her Aunts had ever seen in a long time. Dottie explained her conversation with Jessie the night shift manager while they waited for their food, and when it had arrived, her Aunts grilled her for more information about her friends and their band. She explained what each of them did within Corroded Coffin, taking the time to praise them separately for their skills, mentioning Eddie’s recent songwriting knack and Gareth’s future career as a trained percussionist. She told them in confidence that Jeff was thinking of joining a choral ensemble in West Virginia, excited about the prospect of traveling to perform around the States. Her Aunts let her talk as much as she wanted until the sun had gone down, the college students started showing up, and after a quick bathroom visit, it was finally time for them to leave. They were walking back to the car when Dottie spotted a payphone and began rummaging through her backpack.

“Hold on, let me- I gotta make a phone call!” she told her Aunts, speeding away towards the cabin with her coin purse in her hand.

“Do you get the feeling someone exchanged our Dorothy for a new one?” Rachel asked, following her niece at a much slower pace.

“She’s happy here,” Mary Elizabeth simply said.

“Did you ever notice she was that unhappy back in New York? What was going on under our noses? How couldn’t we tell?”

“That doesn’t matter now. Let her have this. She deserves it.”

“Hello, Mrs. Coleman? It’s Dottie!” the teen said into the phone, both Aunts trying to eavesdrop from outside the cabin. “I know Gareth is still at The Hawk, but could you tell him to come to my house as soon as he arrives? Everything’s okay, I just have good news I want to share with him. Yes, thank you! And could you please tell him to bring the guys around too? I think I’ll be home at around 9 probably, so- okay. Okay, thank you! Sorry to have bothered you at this hour, have a good night!”

“Your friends are coming over?” Rachel asked when she hung up.

“Yeah,” Dottie grinned, and for a brief second, they could have sworn it wasn’t her but Margaret the one who was smiling at them.

A girl’s road trip was never complete without gossiping, and Rachel was showing an incredible amount of restraint when she waited until they had passed the "Leaving Indianapolis - Come Again Soon" sign to lower the radio's volume; Mary Elizabeth looked at her with confusion in her eyes when Madonna’s Angel was cut short halfway into the song.

"So. We've got 45 minutes until we’re back in Hawkins. Gonna tell us what's going on with that Gareth kid or what?"

"Rachel!" Mary Elizabeth chastised.

"There's literally nothing going on. I don't know why you're even asking."

"You called last week to tell me all about the little sleepover you two had and you expect me to not be curious? You’ve been talking about him all day, bug."

"As you know, because I told you about it, we worked on a science project during that sleepover, which we got an A+ on. That's it, I don't see him like that," Dottie said. "Besides, we'd kill each other if we decided to date. He made me see The Exorcist last weekend, I would have murdered him if I didn’t fear prison."

"Hey, that's a good movie!" Mary Elizabeth said, and Rachel looked at her like she was insane. "What? Okay, yes, it's disturbing, but it's a good movie. It's well done."

"You worry me sometimes," Rachel told her before looking at Dottie through the rearview mirror. "You two had a movie night and he picked a horror flick?"

"It wasn't just us. Everyone else was there too, it was Eddie's birthday."

"Aw, that sounds fun. Did you have a good time?" Mary Elizabeth asked, turning in her seat to watch her niece's face.

"Yeah! I mean, the movie sucked and I think I had a panic attack for two hours straight, but we had ice cream later and saw Rocky Horror. That part was good,” she had a wistful look on her face as she looked out the window, remembering Eddie’s birthday.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Actually, everything's been really nice," Dottie laughed. "I just… I didn't know having friends was supposed to make you feel this good."

"Oh, baby," Mary Elizabeth reached out to grab her hand. "You really love those boys, don't you?"

"I do. And I really think they love me too. I don't feel lonely anymore when I’m with them."

"That's good, baby. I'm so happy for you. We were so scared after what happened last year, that awful girl was just-"

"It doesn't matter anymore,” Dottie shook her head. “I don't want to talk about that."

"So nothing's going on?" Rachel asked, but this time her tone was much more soft. “With any of them?”

"They are my friends. Best ones I've ever had," Dottie smiled. “I’d tell you if something was happening with Gareth, but there’s nothing there. I promise.”

“If you say so, bug,” Rachel said. “Johnny was once Mary Elizabeth’s best friend too, you know.”

“Oh, drop it, you nosy old lady,” Mary Elizabeth poked her.

“Who are you calling old?! We’re the same age, flower power!”

During the short trip back to Hawkins, somewhere between being grilled about one of her best friends and Rachel missing the correct exit, Dottie had dozed off in the back of the car while Sade’s Smooth Operator played in the background. Mary Elizabeth had taken off her sandals and propped her feet up on the dashboard, looking out at the quaint little houses and quiet downtown area, wondering if Rosie would like growing up in a place like this instead in the busy city she was so fond of. Rachel pulled into Dottie’s street and saw a familiar old van parked outside her home, four boys hanging out in the front lawn and James leaning onto the front door frame, all engaged in friendly conversation.

“Baby?” Mary Elizabeth called, rousing Dottie. “Your friends are here.”

Dottie opened her eyes, expression caught between drowsiness and excitement when they parked outside the house, all five men turning to look at them when they got out.

“Shopping went well, I see,” James smiled, looking at their bags dangling from their arms.

“Told you to leave it to us, Jamie-boy,” Rachel said, coming to hug her old friend.

“Everything okay?” Gareth asked, anxious. “My Mom didn’t tell me what was going on, just that you called from Indy.”

“Everything’s fine, something really cool happened and I didn’t want to wait until Monday to tell you about it,” Dottie yawned, locking arms with him and Donny. “Let’s go inside and I’ll tell you.”

The boys walked in behind her towards the living room where she motioned for them to sit. The adults headed towards the kitchen for a nightcap, keeping an eye and an ear on the kids. James had no idea what was going on, but Rachel had simply shaken her head when he lifted his eyebrow in inquiry and pointed at the teens. Mary Elizabeth busied herself making coffee for her two friends and tea for herself, smiling in anticipation.

“Okay, so. We went to this pub to get dinner,” Dottie began, taking the napkin Jessie had given her out of her pocket and giving it to Jeff. “It’s a really cool place, not too big, but I really liked it and the food was great.”

“What did you have?”

“Cheeseburger with bacon. They cut their own fries and leave the skin on them.”

“Sick,” Jeff nodded.

“I was thinking we should all go together soon. Maybe on Friday, June 27th.”

“Why?” said Gareth suspiciously. “What’s happening on Friday, June 27th?”

“There’s this awesome band that’s gonna play there. You might have heard of it, it’s called Corroded Coffin.”

The room was filled with an awkward silence for a few seconds while they processed what they just heard before all of them erupted in questions and screams at the same time. Dottie laughed, and held up her palms trying to contain the situation, but the cat was out of the bag and she was all too happy to share all the details with her friends.

“You got us a gig?” Donny asked, coming up to her in disbelief.

“I got you a gig!” she confirmed, and Gareth began hollering. “You’ve got an hour-long set, divided in two chunks. Drinks are free the whole night but you can’t drunk, and they’re gonna pay you guys $25 each-”

“They are paying us?!” Jeff asked while Gareth shook him. “They never pay us at The Hideout!”

“You’re the fucking best!” Donny declared, lifting Dottie up and swinging her in the air, making her laugh.

“That’s so cool,” James said in the kitchen, browsing his pantry for sugar to add to his coffee. “I’m happy for them, they are good kids.”

Rachel and Mary Elizabeth didn’t reply; they were locked onto the scene in front of them. When Donny put Dottie down, Jeff and Gareth immediately came to hug her too, each on one side. They all began talking at the same time, shouting songs they wanted to include in the set, things they needed to do before the big day arrived, planning how they were gonna go, who was gonna drive, how much money they needed to pool to pay for the gas. None of that was as interesting as what happened when it was Eddie’s turn to hug their niece.

He was so quiet as he came up to her, it almost looked like he was choking back tears. Without words exchanged, his arms wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her towards his chest where she instantly tucked her head into, her own hands ghosting upwards from his waist to the middle of his back where she clung to his shirt. This wasn’t an excited, celebratory hug. This was so much more, and yet none of the boys paid them any attention, like this was common enough for it to not be something to look at anymore. Eddie’s hand came up to cradle her head, and they pulled away for a few seconds, staring into each other’s eyes with matching elated smiles pulling at the corners of their mouths. For a single heartbeat, Dottie’s Aunts thought Eddie was going to pull her into a kiss but his lips collided with her forehead instead and stayed there like it was their rightful place. Dottie exhaled, melting into the rugged boy’s arms, their eyes closed, both of them savoring the moment. His hand moved from the back of her head to the side of her jaw, foreheads coming together and they saw her hand wrap around his wrist before the boy mouthed a quiet “thank you”.

Like nothing had happened, they unentangled themselves from each other and joined the festivities, him excitedly patting Donny’s back before they embraced with boyish roughness, her plopping onto the same armchair Jeff was sitting on to help brainstorm the setlist. Rachel turned to Mary Elizabeth only to find her friend already staring at her.

“Oh,” Mary Elizabeth said, lifting an eyebrow.

“Oh, indeed,” said Rachel, and they both silently agreed to not speak of it in front of James until they’d gotten their chance to debrief later that night.

taglist (comment below or shoot me a dm if you want to be added!): @munsonology @kurdtbean

[aylacavebear]

Stockroom Antics - Chapter 7

Maria had changed jobs numerous times over the last five years, more to keep herself safe than anything else. Her mother had told her she was a fairy but she thought it was just her mom being weird. Honestly, though, she had no other way of explaining what had happened to her that stormy day before she'd gone into a coma for two weeks.

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will probably be 18+ I haven't decided yet!

Word Count: 3522

Pairing eventually Dean Winchester x OC

Warnings: Angst

A/N: This chapter switches back and forth on POV's. This one's written a little differently than my last one. Let me know what you think. It's the first time I've tried this type of writing. Chapters will alternate viewpoints as well. I also looked into an actual area so this one could feel more realistic.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 7

Your POV As you finished out your shift, you noticed that he was still watching you, as well as when his partner left. You didn’t go talk to him, nor did he with you. Something else that relieved you was that there didn’t seem to be any demons in the store anymore, which helped you relax. Sarah bugged you about the date, teasing you a bit. 

When five rolled around, you were feeling slightly excited about your date with this stranger and quickly clocked out, bidding your coworkers farewell for the night. You didn’t even notice the Impala in the parking lot as you headed on your way. During the drive, you went through all sorts of questions you wanted to ask him, including finding out what the hell his name was.

“Shit,” you grumbled as you saw the pile of ashes still on the inside of your property line.

You sighed, parked your truck, and headed into your backyard, grabbing the flathead shovel before going back out front. You dragged the trashcan over and cleaned up most of the ashes. It looked like it had to come from at least three demons, although you weren’t entirely sure.

“At least the warding worked,” you mumbled aloud, feeling rather proud of yourself before you put everything away and headed inside.

It was a quarter to six, and the bar was only about five minutes from your house. You didn’t want to overdo it and dress up too much, so you picked out a simple spaghetti strap, black dress, and a pair of black flats to go with it. Then you pulled on a dark blue flannel, tying it so it looked like a half top, leaving it unbuttoned. You left your hair down. Dinner was leftovers since you’d prepared a week's worth of meals for yourself over the prior weekend you had off—chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy, corn on the side.

The time ticked by, sometimes slowly, other times quickly, and before you knew it, it was time to head to the bar. You’d decided that you would stick to somewhat safe topics to start with, and depending on how he answered would depend on how deep your questions would venture. You parked in the dirt area of the parking lot, noticing that he hadn’t gotten there yet. Part of you wondered if he’d actually show.

The bar wasn’t busy since it was the middle of the week, and you found several empty seats near the far side of the bar. When one of the bartenders came over and asked what you wanted, you asked for a double shot of whiskey, at least to start with. She smiled and poured your drink. At first, you just sipped it, but when seven-thirty rolled around, you downed the shot that was left. 

“Jerk,” you mumbled, looking away from the door.

“What’s the matter?” the bartender asked you.

“Got stood up,” you sighed, “Could I get a beer?” 

“Sorry to hear about you getting stood up. I’ll have that beer back in a flash,” she replied, giving you a compassionate smile.

Your mind wandered, mostly about him. What was the point of him asking you if he wasn’t even going to show, you thought to yourself as the bartender set the beer down in front of you. You popped the top and began sipping it. It wasn’t like you lived far away; there was usually very little traffic late at night. Halfway through your beer, you heard the door open again and glanced over, raising an eyebrow. A soft scoff left your lips as you shook your head; he showed up.

----------------------------------------- Dean's POV

He’d spend the last half hour just sitting in the driver’s seat in the parking lot. Her truck was there. He wasn’t feeling all those things he had earlier when he was near her at the store; he just wasn’t entirely sure how to go about getting her to talk. It was clear she knew things as she’d warded her property. He just wasn’t sure how much she knew.

Dean finally took a deep breath and made his way inside, a quarter past seven. He looked around the bar, two pool tables to his left and the bar to his right, and there were tables and booth seats scattered on the other half of the bar. He saw her sitting alone and nursing a beer at the far side of the bar. One more deep breath, and he walked over to her.

“Still up for some company? And, I’m sorry I was late, forgot how long of a drive it was from town,” he told her, only half lying.

She shrugged her shoulders, “I guess so, since you’re here,” she replied without looking up at him.

He sighed and sat next to her on a barstool, “I really am sorry,” he told her again, meaning it.

The bartender came over, and he ordered a beer, which she retrieved, and he popped the top, taking a sip.

----------------------------------------- Your POV

You weren’t entirely sure what to believe, but for now, you decided to give him at least the benefit of the doubt, “How about at least telling me your name,” you suggested, looking over at him.

He smirked a little, “I’m Dean. Thanks for staying,” he replied, sipping his beer.

He was in regular street clothes, jeans, a t-shirt, a flannel, and a jacket, and you were thankful you’d chosen what you had, “Nice to meet you, Dean. Are you allowed to tell me about this stakeout that involves my work?” you asked, raising a brow.

“Well, I could tell you, but I might get in trouble if I do,” he replied, and you could have sworn he was flirting, but it was hard to tell. The man seemed just to be naturally charming.

You smirked, “You look like the kind of guy who’s used to getting into trouble,” you replied, deciding just to be yourself and be playful, even teasing him a little. You still needed information, after all.

----------------------------------------- Dean's POV

He wasn’t feeling those same things he had when he’d been around her at the store, but he still found her more interesting than he should have. Dean was grateful she’d decided to stay but knew he’d have to keep his wits about him. She was quick with her comebacks, something he wasn’t used to from women.

“It’s been known to happen from time to time,” he chuckled.

Dean watched her, noticing how relaxed she looked as she leaned a bit on the counter, her hand on her beer, sipping it from time to time. 

She glared at him playfully, “You like being vague, don’t you?” she asked, although it was rhetorical, and he knew it.

“Looks like you can read me like an open book, Sweetheart,” he replied, shaking his head and still smiling before he sipped his beer.

“I’m working on it,” she mused, “So, what can you tell me?”

He’d prepared for this, figuring she was going to ask, “There’s a group of people in the area that are trafficking people, mostly women. It’s happened before, but we still haven’t gotten the ringleader. This isn’t the first time we’ve been in the area,” he explained to her, hoping he’d buy his story.

----------------------------------------- Your POV

You didn’t watch the news. There were too many bad things going on in the world as it was, and you didn’t want to know just how bad it really was out there. You didn’t live terribly far from the border, so his story at least made sense to you. You’d know people when you were a teenager who had run drugs over the border for the cartels, even if you had never been involved with any of it.

It still seemed as though he was hiding something; you noticed it in his eyes, “How many times have you been to this area?” you asked, seeing just how far you could push.

You noticed how he sipped his beer like he was debating an answer, “More times than I’d like to admit in the last five years,” he replied, sighing.

That sparked something in you, but you managed to hide it from your expression, “What brought you here the first time?” you asked curiously.

----------------------------------------- Dean's POV

He had to really think about how to answer her. It wasn’t like he could tell her it was because of the hardest monsoon the place had seen, when the F0 had touched down in the area due to demonic activity. Dean took a sip of his beer.

“That was when the trafficking started, and my partner and I got assigned to the case,” he told her. It was mostly true.

“Huh,” she replied, then looked away from him and sipped her beer.

He tried to read her, but she wasn’t easy to read. It was like a challenge to him, and he had already decided he was going to face it head-on, “You seem surprised,” he mused, putting on his signature smirk.

“Kind of. That’s when I got into a car accident. There was a really bad storm the next day. At least that’s what my family told me after I woke up from the coma I was in,” she replied, seeming somewhat casual, but at the same time, it almost sounded like she was digging for information out of him.

“I’m sorry to hear about that. Was it a bad one?” he asked, wondering just where she was headed with things and how much she might divulge.

----------------------------------------- Your POV

You glanced over at him, tilting your head a bit, “Figured you had read up on me. You’ve been watching me at work more than my other co-workers. It’s kind of obvious that you and your partner have been keeping an eye on me,” you told him, plainly, but confidently.

He may have asked you out for a drink, but how he and his partner had been watching you at work had been enough to know that they knew something. You were also second-guessing whether or not he was a real FBI agent as well. Since he’d shown up late, it was time to get to the point of things carefully.

Dean didn’t seem to answer you right away, although he hadn’t stopped looking at you, even when he sipped his beer, “Alright. Yeah. I read your file, but it only contains the technical details.”

You watched him, almost studied him as he answered. He knew more than he was letting on, and you knew it, “I honestly don’t remember it. I blacked out the moment my car plowed into the back of that rig. Then, I woke up in a hospital bed two weeks later,” you explained, then looked away from him.

A quiet sigh left your lips as you looked down at the counter, “I should have died in that wreck from what I was told.”

----------------------------------------- Dean's POV

Dean watched how she moved slightly, where her eyes shifted. He was pretty sure she knew she was at least different than a normal human, “I’m glad you’re okay. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to have drinks with you tonight,” he told her with a slight smirk.

She turned to face him, tilting her head just a bit, “So, why are you and your partner watching me, in particular? I know that’s why you asked me out for drinks,” she asked, blunter than he’d been prepared for.

He couldn’t hide all the surprise of her bluntness. He even chuckled at her bluntness, shaking his head slightly. However, Dean had prepared for this question as well.

“Well, Sweetheart, you’re the only connection to all the places that have been hit,” he told her, finishing his beer.

It was her turn to be surprised. Dean had spent his whole life learning how to read people, and it was clear to him that she was attempting to hide something. He just wasn’t sure how far he could push her or if she’d even knew what she was.

----------------------------------------- Your POV

You momentarily froze as your chest tightened and your breathing became shallow. That was the one thing you’d hoped he wouldn’t put together. Dean was clearly more intelligent than he had been letting on.

“So you think they’re after me,” you sighed, signaling the bartender, “I’ll have that whiskey now.”

She nodded at you, then got your drink. You took a sip. Dean was clearly waiting till the bartender left before speaking again.

“You fit the profile, physically. My partner and I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he finally answered, seeming concerned. “When I asked you about the sulfur smell that first day, I questioned you. You’ve smelled it before, haven’t you?” he pushed, but you could tell he was trying to get you to talk more.

You sighed, taking another sip of your whiskey, “Yeah,” you paused, staring more at the bottles on the shelves behind the bar. For a moment, you pursed your lips, debating your following statement, “You’re not FBI, are you? Just like you aren’t asking me about any crime ring. You’re asking me about demons.” 

You could see his reaction from your peripheral, causing a slight smirk to tug at the corner of your lips. That was all you needed as an answer to your question.

----------------------------------------- Dean's POV

Dean barely managed not to choke on his beer with your question. For a moment, all he could do was look at you. He’d prepared for all kinds of ways tonight would go, but your bluntness and knack for reading him was still throwing him off.

He chuckled slightly, shaking his head, deciding just to be honest, “You’re right, I’m not FBI. Yes, I was asking you about demons. I was honest, though. I do believe they’re after you.”

She sighed, sipping her whiskey again, and he tilted his head. He still wondered if she knew what she was. The fact that she was able to keep her expression somewhat void of emotions was something that intrigued him, as it made it hard for him to read her.

“My brother and I want to keep you safe, but we can’t do that if you don’t open up to me,” he told her, trying to reassure her, even if he was a stranger to her.

“Brother, huh?” she chuckled, “I know you’re not a demon. I also know if I can trust you.”

“Yeah, he’s my younger brother. We do this sort of thing a lot. It’s kind of the family business,” he replied, sipping his beer.

That was when he explained everything to her: how he’d been raised in the life, the things they hunted, and the things they’d investigated over the last five years when it came to this particular case. Dean left out that he knew what she was, though. He hoped she’d open up a little more now that he’d been more upfront with her.

----------------------------------------- Your POV

You took a deep breath, as that was a lot to take in. You’d never met nor heard of a hunter before, but it made sense. Monsters did need to be handled by something. The bartender refilled your whiskey, seeing your glass empty. 

“I couldn’t imagine living like that,” you said, almost feeling bad about how the brothers were raised.

“Well, someone’s gotta step up, and we like being able to save people,” he replied, giving you a softer smile than you’d seen all night.

For a bit, your mind wandered. Something inside you told you he was being honest and that you could trust him. It was a new feeling, as it had never happened with a stranger before.

You shifted on your barstool to face him again, studying his expression, “I know I’m different, at least since my accident. My mom said I was a fairy, but after all the research I did, it just didn’t fit.”

The way he seemed to consider your words, pursing his lips briefly, made you tilt your head a bit. He did know something, far more than what he’d already said.

----------------------------------------- Dean's POV

Again, he had to take a moment, although he was thankful she’d finally admitted what she knew. The part that puzzled him was what she said about her mom, which only made more questions in his mind.

“You’re not a fairy. You’re what's called a Pari. It’s similar to a fairy but more powerful. How does your mom know about that stuff? If it’s not too personal to ask,” he told her, wanting to keep her talking.

The bartender brought another beer for Dean, taking his empty before walking away.

He watched her tilt her head, a somewhat puzzled look on her face, “My mom said it was in my bloodline. She told me she dreams of another place where there are more like me. I started dreaming of it too, after my accident,” she explained.

“Well, now, that wasn’t quite what I was expecting,” he said, still a bit surprised, “Pari are from a different dimension; at least, that’s what we could find in the lore. Some people carry a gene that gets turned on when they are in a near-death experience. If my brother and I were back at our place, I’m sure there’s better information there.”

----------------------------------------- Your POV

Sarah was going to have a field day with how this ‘date’ was going, you thought to yourself. You thought about what he said: Pari, a different dimension, carrying a gene. What were you even supposed to do with that information, and how were you supposed to keep yourself safe? Too many thoughts and not enough time to process it all.

“So, what happens now? I mean… It’s clear that demons are after me because of what I am. But I mean…” you trailed off and sighed, looking down at your drink.

“You could come with me and my brother. We can take you somewhere safe where they won’t be able to find you,” he told you, seeming genuine.

“For how long?” you asked, trying not to sound sad at the thought of having to hide for the rest of your life.

“At least until we can figure out what the demons want with you,” he explained.

The two of you sat silently for a few minutes while you sipped your whiskey, carefully considering what he suggested. Your friends and family, as did your home and job, wandered into your thoughts. 

“What about my job? I can’t just walk away,” you asked, still not looking over at him.

----------------------------------------- Dean's POV

She looked so sad to him at that moment, “My brother and I can take care of that part. Can you be ready to go in the morning?” he asked, hopeful. 

At least this way, she’d be in the bunker where they could keep an eye on her. Plus, they would have the books and research at their fingertips to figure out more about her. Now, all he had to do was get her to agree, and then he had to break the news to his brother.

There was another long silence, but he let it linger, letting her think and process it all. He watched her sip her whiskey as he sipped his beer.

“Will you be picking me up in the morning?” she asked, somewhat quietly, and he could tell she was sad.

Dean sighed, “Yeah. I can be there around nine. It will give you time to get your things together and wake up. I’ll let my brother know when I head back to the motel tonight.”

“Then I’ll see you in the morning,” she told him, finishing her drink.

When she stood and reached for her wallet, he stopped her, “I did still ask you out tonight. I got the bill.”

----------------------------------------- Your POV

You looked up at him, his hand on your arm. Even with the strength you felt from him, his touch was soft, almost gentle. It surprised you.

“Uh, thanks,” you replied, a bit unsure of how you felt toward him at the moment.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he told you, giving you a friendly smile.

As you walked away, you only glanced back once, over your shoulder at him. Then, you headed home. Your thoughts raced, but your movements were slow once you got inside your place. There was a duffle bag in the bottom of your closet, which you pulled out and tossed on your bed. Since he hadn’t given you a time frame, you packed a decent amount of clothes, your toiletries, and some personal effects that were dear to your heart.

All in all, you had your duffle bag, a crate with a mix of toiletries and personal items, your backpack with your journal, coloring items, and more miscellaneous needs and keepsakes. Lastly was your purse, which you hardly ever used. You put your wallet, phone charger, pocket knife, and other little tidbits in. 

You sighed once it was all stacked neatly by your front door and then changed into something comfortable for the night. So far, you haven’t messaged anyone about what was going on. You weren’t sure if it was even a good idea to say anything. You weren’t even in the mood to read Tumblr that night.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 8

Link to the series Master List

A/N: If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, leave me a comment, and I'll make sure to tag you.

[the-cult-of-russo]

Just Beneath The Flames (Part 8)

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Warnings: cursing, smut at some point probably lmao, zombie shit, typical canon violence. You know the drill.

A/N: I’ve only just finished writing chapter 9 of this story and it’s been like pulling teeth with how unwell I am. B12 anemia is no joke lmao I’ll be posting it tomorrow obviously, but I’m not sure if chapter 10 will be done in time for the day after or not. It depends on how inspired I am and how I’m feeling. 

That being said, thank you to those that are still enjoying the story!

—-----------------

The sun was only just rising and you pulled your jacket tighter around yourself as you leaned against a tree just outside of Frank’s camp. You weren’t sure if winter had started, and you hoped it hadn’t, or if you were on the cusp of it. Either way, it was starting to get a little too cold for your liking. The camp not too far away was silent and you knew they were asleep. If you had to hazard a guess, you thought it might be around 6 or 7 am, but you really had no idea. You knew not everyone in the camp would be asleep, they took watch shifts over the night to make sure they didn’t get caught with their pants down. That was one thing you missed about being in a group. There was a safety that came with knowing people were keeping an eye out when you slept. It was harder to get a good night's sleep when you were on high alert, having to be ready for anything with no one to watch your back. You waited for about five minutes before Billy sauntered through the trees. He looked a little more rumpled than usual, clearly not having time to style his hair. You’d mocked him once about him having perfect hair, even in the apocalypse and he’d given you a smirk and the line; ‘Hey, the world mighta gone to shit, but it don’t mean my looks have to’. You really hadn’t expected any different from him. This morning though he seemed to be up earlier so his hair was slightly disheveled. He had on a forest green sweater and a leather jacket pulled over it, his usual jeans and boots on. 

“Ready?” you asked, eyeing the bow in his hand. You’d left yours back at the treehouse and you felt like you’d left your pants at home or something, it was weird. You’d been using it a lot more recently, with all the hunting you’d been doing but you’d also been going on more runs with the guys. It had been a little over a week since the whole ‘almost getting set on fire’ fiasco with Karen and you’d been more than happy every time Billy asked you if you wanted to join him on a run as they stocked up for the colder months. Karen had even been on some too, Frank by her side of course, but even you could see a difference in her. She seemed so much lighter having more freedom like that, even if Frank hovered over her like a worried mother the entire time. And luckily, no one else had tried to kill you while you were out so you started to feel a little bit better about the whole thing. Billy nodded at you and you both started walking away from the camp.

“You’re sleepy today,” you mused with a teasing smile as you glanced at him. He wasn’t usually like this. You knew he could run on little sleep, he’d told you it was something he picked up in the Marines. 

“Had watch last night,” he murmured, blinking rapidly as if to wake himself up a little. You stopped walking and gave him a look.

“Billy…” you started with a firm tone and he tilted his head at you.

“Y/N…” he mimicked your tone, a sly smirk spreading on his lips that told you he might be waking up a little and you squinted at him.

“You didn’t tell me you had watch. You can’t hunt with no sleep,” you huffed. The day before you’d agreed to take him hunting, or more accurately, you’d agreed to show him where you’ve been finding the deer so he could hunt. But he hadn’t mentioned anything about having watch last night or you would have suggested tomorrow instead. Sleep was a precious commodity now and those who took the night shift, usually slept in the morning so they at least got some sleep. 

“Watch me,” was his defiant reply, smirk still in place before he continued walking. You rolled your eyes so hard you thought they might stay up there before catching up to him. 

You wound up in the general area you’d been finding deer and just hung back, letting Billy do the work. He’d not bagged a deer yet but you knew he really wanted to, hating every time you did like it was easy. You never really set out to find a deer though, it usually happened by luck. You had a feeling to Billy, this was more of a manly ego thing and he’d assured you in the past that he knew how to track so you wouldn't get in his way. It was odd to be the one tagging along for a change and not hunting. You had to admit that while you felt a pang of sadness every time you killed an animal, it did have a primal satisfying feeling to it, your animalistic human nature coming to the forefront. And it had only intensified since you no longer hunted just for yourself. It filled you with pride every time you were able to bring something good back to the camp and you guessed that was the feeling Billy was chasing. You stayed silent as he walked around, stopping and crouching to examine the tracks every now and again. You knew from looking yourself that a deer was recently here and you hoped he’d find one. The silence between you was kind of weird. Usually your time with Billy was full of chatter, small talk or banter. The man didn’t know how to shut up sometimes but you loved it. You’d been alone for so long and it had been an adjustment going back to having to interact with people and it made it easier when the other person initiated the conversations. But now, you were both silent as not to spook any deer that could be around. You trailed behind him, your footfalls soft and quiet when you heard a groan. Both you and Billy glanced back and you saw a roamer stumbling towards you and you heaved a sigh, annoyed that it might scare off the deer. You nodded to Billy to keep going before you walked over to the dead one, grabbing the front of its shirt to drag it closer before you rammed your knife into its eye. You pulled it back out with a sickly squelch and it fell limp on the floor. You really hoped there wouldn't be others around. You quickly turned around and moved to catch up with Billy, seeing him standing still between some trees with his bow poised. You stopped dead as you saw the deer, almost like a statue so you didn’t scare it away. You watched intently as Billy lined up his shot, blowing out a slow and steady breath before his arrow went soaring into the deer. He got a good kill shot and the deer only made it two steps before it died. You were glad and you were impressed. You knew he was good with his guns and knives but you’d never seen him use his bow before. You’d admit it was a little hot. 

He turned around, a wide and smug grin on his face as he looked at you with his dark eyes.

“Told you I could do it,” he smirked and you snorted, rolling your eyes. 

“I didn’t doubt you for a second,” you grinned cheekily at him, making him scoff with a smile. He looked radiant with his pride as he sauntered over to the deer and tied it up before hauling it over his shoulders and you started your trek back to your place where you’d prep it. 

“So… if I’m Artemis, who are you?” you asked half way through the walk, glancing to him.

“I’m Blackbird,” he snorted like it was obvious and you gave him a look.

“I’m talking about Greek Gods, dumbass,” you muttered and he gaped at you for a second before a laugh fell from his lips. 

“Oh, is that right, dumbass?” he asked with a playful look and you grinned.

“I think you’d be Ares,” you mused thoughtfully and his lips quirked up a little at your words.

“The God of war,” he murmured, shrugging a little.

“And courage,” you added, flashing him a smile when he looked at you. He smiled and it looked slightly bashful as he looked away.

“I can live with that,” he uttered, peering at you with a smile. When you got back to your tree, he plonked the deer on the floor under it where you usually prepped the meat. He sat down and you followed suit, sitting beside him as he started to prep it. You decided to sharpen your knife while he worked, not wanting to just sit there and do nothing. 

“You comin’ tomorrow?” he asked, looking at you curiously. 

“Yeah, I’ll be there. An extra pair of hands never hurt, right?” you asked ruefully and he grinned. Some of the guys would be going on another run the day after. They needed gas and Billy suggested the highway from hell where those assholes had taken the van. There seemed to be a lot of gas there and you remembered how many supplies you found in the cars and you’d barely even gone through any of them. It would be a good scavenge and with more of you going, it was less likely something bad would happen. You liked how Billy would always include you in on things, always invite you. He knew how restless you got and he was making sure you didn’t have to deal with it much. 

“Just make sure you get some sleep this time. You might be a good shot but I can’t imagine you’d be any good on two days of no sleep,” you murmured wryly and a smirk curled his lips.

“You’re real bossy, you know that?” he grinned and you huffed, glaring at him but with no real malice.

“I’m the bossy one? Really?” you asked plainly and it only made his grin widen. 

“And you’re a little mean too,” he muttered, faking a put out face. 

“Aw, you gonna go tell Frankie on me?” you asked mockingly. He gaped at you, a shocked smile playing on his lips.

“Nah, you know what? I’m gonna tell Karen,” he smirked mischievously.

"I always knew Karen was the one to be scared of,” you muttered and he snorted at you.

You both sat there playfully bantering with one another until the deer was prepped and you helped him salt it and put it into bags. Since you rarely had dinner by yourself these days, you didn’t bother taking any of the meat he offered you. It felt pointless as you both knew you’d be eating with his camp. He seemed to have a pep in his step as you both walked back and the closer he got, the shit eating smile on his face only seemed to widen. You knew exactly how this was going to go and Billy proved you right the second he walked into camp.

“Guess who bagged a deer, assholes!” he called out gleefully, all eyes turning to him. Leo covered her mouth with a smile at his cursing as Sarah gave him a look.

“You did?” Zach asked with a smile.

“You bet I did,” Billy smirked and Zach came over to him,

“Uncle Billy is so cool!” he gushed, looking like he was facing his hero and it made you smile a bit. 

“Damn right I am, little man,” Billy grinned, high fiving him. 

“Wow, you’re so smug about it,” Karen murmured with an amused look on her face and Billy turned to her with a raised brow.

“Why wouldn’t I be? Can’t a man be proud he bagged a deer. Don’t you know what it means in this economy?” he asked with a patronizing smile and Frank snorted. 

“Yeah… you finally got a deer after how long of tryin'? I mean, Y/N bagged two deers before you and she probably woulda got that one too but she let you have it. It’s a pity deer,” Frank said mockingly and Billy looked like someone just smacked him in the face, his jaw hanging open as his dark eyes bore into Frank who was grinning. 

“A pity deer?” Billy asked slowly, eyes narrowing to slits. 

“Woah, man. He’s calling your manliness into question,” Foggy commented but it was clear his tone was teasing yet Billy’s jaw tightened a little. You found the whole thing amusing. 

“You think I can’t get a deer on my own?” he asked accusingly and Frank was still grinning at him and you guessed he loved to push Billy’s buttons as much as you did.

“Well… you had to have Y/N show you where they were so…” he trailed off and you bit your lip to stifle your laugh as Billy’s right eye twitched. 

“The last time we had a fight, I put you on your ass in two seconds,” he commented condescendingly.

“I was already injured, man. Wasn’t a fair fight,” Frank shrugged. Billy glared at him before taking a deep inhale through his nose and shaking his head.

“You know what, no deer for you,” he said with a raised brow, pointing at his friend. 

“I think Y/N should get a say in that since it was technically her deer that she gave you,” Frank smirked and Billy looked ready to strangle him. Frank turned to you then and your lips curved into a smile.

“What you think, Y/N?” Frank asked, mischief twinking behind his eyes.

“Well… Honestly, I think you’re being really mean to Billy so I have to agree with him. He’s a very manly man and it’s unfair to try and say otherwise,” you teasing words made Frank bark out a laugh, yet despite your obvious playfulness, Billy grinned widely, throwing an arm around your shoulder and pulling you to his side as he gave Frank a smug look.

“See, no deer for you,” he smirked. He didn’t mean it obviously and Frank got his deer just like everyone else after Karen cooked you all dinner. She was the one who cooked the most and you’d offered to help but not only was it not really a hard job, but she hated people trying to get involved and getting in her way. 

That night, you lay under your pile of blankets as you struggled to get to sleep. You thought that with you being so busy and going out to burn off your restless energy that you’d sleep better but for some reason, you’d been having trouble. You were fully clothed, even down to your boots, a habit you’d picked up when you were out on the road traveling by yourself so you could get out of situations easily without having to take the time to get dressed. You hadn’t been able to shake it, even with the safety of your treehouse. You wondered what it was that was keeping you awake, there were so many things it could be. Maybe it was a combination of all of them. You were worried about Sarah. She seemed fine enough right now and she wasn’t exactly new to being pregnant. You were concerned about the birth mostly though. Curtis would be the one to deliver the baby and he’d asked you if you’d help. You were a vet and sure you’d helped animals give birth before if they needed it, but this was different. Your worry about needing a c-section or her having a more complicated birth was only exacerbated with the knowledge that her previous kids had been born via c-section. The whole thing was stressing you out because no amount of preparing and getting supplies in would help if something unexpected got thrown yours and Curtis’ way since you weren’t obstetricians. There was also the added stress of the newborn phase and you weren’t quite sure what you were all supposed to do when the baby cried all the damn time to avoid the dead coming at you in swarms. You knew they had everything they needed, you and Karen had taken care of that and all the items were now safely locked away on the back of the black van as they weren’t needed just yet. You were still dealing with those confusing mixed feelings of being part of a group somewhat, having moments of blind panic when you realized how attached you were getting to people and the very real possibility they might die like everyone else you knew. Life was a lot easier for you when you had nothing to lose. So much stress came along with caring about people in a group. Another thing that had been playing on your mind was your brother Sam. You knew he would have loved Frank’s camp, he would have loved all of them. He’d probably have gotten on well with Micro as Sam was a computer nerd too. It made your chest ache to think about him and a bitterness flowed through your veins at the thought. It wasn’t fair that he wasn't here. Why did you get out alive and he didn’t? Why wasn’t he the one here right now, meeting Frank and Billy and everyone else? It felt wrong. The last thing keeping you awake was Billy. The more time you spent with him, the more you realized that your attachment to him was a lot different to the others. You found yourself watching him when he wasn't looking, admiring him no matter what he was doing. You’d smile to yourself if he was happy and smiling, finding a warmth blooming in your chest that you hadn’t felt since the old world. The idea of getting actual feelings for someone in this world was terrifying and you’d been trying to ignore acknowledging it like the plague because it wouldn’t do anyone any good. It was hard enough caring about people as friends without deeper feelings being involved and you knew you were being stupid. You weren’t quite sure just what it was about Billy that lured you in like a moth to a flame. Sure, he was attractive, stupidly ridiculously attractive, easily the most handsome man you’d ever laid eyes on. You knew it wasn’t just that though. You could deal with it if it was just a surface level crush, you wouldn't worry so much about him and that's what was bothering you. The worrying, the caring, the potential to be devastated if he died. Somewhere along the way, you’d bonded with him deeper than you’d bonded with the others and your brain had decided that meant you needed to catch feelings for him. You hated it and you hoped it would go away. 

You lay under your mountain of blankets, your eyes drifting to your backpack that was near the open doorway as you considered doing a crossword to pass the time. You’d found a crossword book on one of the runs you’d been on with the others and it had been useful to pass time when your mind wanted to wander down a dark park. But as you considered if you were too lazy to get up and get your bag, you heard a weird thumping noise and you tensed up. You wondered if it was the wind since it had been picking up in the night recently, maybe a branch was hitting the treehouse. But then movement at one of the open windows at the other end of the treehouse drew your eyes to it through the black darkness. You made out a silhouette climbing through the window and your whole body seized up. Maybe it was Billy paying you a visit, he’d never done it at night but it wasn’t like he could climb up the ladder since you always pulled it up when you were up here. But you knew you were being hopeful and stupid because Billy wouldn’t just turn up unannounced in the middle of the night and climb into your treehouse like this. And you knew you were right as you carefully looked at the shadow of a man who was shorter and wider than Billy. You didn’t move, not wanting them to know you were awake and your eyes darted to the knife you’d set over near your bag. You didn’t think you’d need to sleep with it strapped to you anymore but the false security of the treehouse had fooled you. The man crept towards your ‘bed’ and you could hear your heartbeat whooshing in your ears, but then it felt like it stopped all together when you saw the gun in his hand catch the moonlight. You jumped up, tackling him and catching him off guard. You pushed his arm up and the gun went off, the bullet going right through the roof as you tried to fight with him. He was bigger and stronger than you though and he tossed you to the floor across the treehouse and you groaned, refusing to go out without a fight. 

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” the man growled as he grabbed you by your shirt and yanked you up like a ragdoll.

“Fuck you,” you bit out ferociously as you kneed him in the nuts. He cried out with a curse and let you go as he cradled himself and dropped his gun. You swiped the knife from the floor, the pair of you near the doorway and he grabbed your shoulder, whirling you around. You used the momentum to swing your arm and your knife buried itself under his jaw and right through his head. His eyes went wide as he blinked at you, his mouth opening but nothing came out other than a garbled wet noise. You yanked your knife back out as you glared at him and blood poured from the wound. As he went limp, he fell out of the doorway, but as he’d been tangled with you, you ended up going with him, your boot catching the strap of your backpack. Your stomach flipped around like you were on a rollercoaster as you plummeted to the floor. The man landed with a thud, you landed on top of him and while it softened the blow, you heard a sickening crack come from your ribs. You gasped, pain radiating from your ribs outwards and you rolled off the now dead man onto your back. Each breath hurt and your eyes welled with pained tears. You were pretty sure you just cracked or broke a rib or two and your head hurt like a bitch after cracking into him with the fall. The pain made you feel dizzy and you struggled to get to your feet, knowing you had to get out of there. The last thing you expected was for someone to turn up where you slept to try and kill you and through the shock, you felt the bitter sting of stupidity eat at you. You were a fool to feel so safe, to think things would be okay. You’d let your guard down and now you were paying for it. You got to your feet, swaying as a hand cradled your beat up ribs. You saw your backpack, the only silver lining in the fucked up situation as your ladder was still up there and there as no way you could climb with the pain you were in. 

You looked at the man, blinking through tearful eyes as you noticed he was wearing a coat with an eye painted on it like a logo. You remembered Billy and Frank talking about the guy from the store that day who held Billy at gunpoint and how he wore the same. They mused it was something to do with Rawlins so this didn’t fill you with hope that you’d gone under the radar. You’d tried to reason with yourself that the fire thing had been to get at Karen since Frank loved her and you’d just been collateral. But now they were targeting you all alone and it worried you. Anxiety stabbed you then as you thought of the others. What if the men had gone after them too? You slowly bent down to get your bag, idly thinking of the gunshot and how it might attract the dead here. You snatched your walkie, stepping backwards a little away from the man. You heard the metal bang before you felt the pain but then a fiery hot pain burst through your right leg and the loudest anguished yell tumbled from your lips before you were able to stop it. You blinkled down at your leg to see it caught in a small bear trap that you knew for sure hadn’t been there before. You really couldnt believe what the fuck was happening to you and you realized these guys really liked to have plan B’s in case the plan A fucked up. The pain was immense and worse than your ribs, the spikes from the trap deep into the flesh of your calf and blood was oozing around them. You wobbled on your feet, your injuries and pain making you feel like you were about to pass out and you fell on your ass, crying out as it tugged the bear trap as it fell to its side along with you. You felt like you couldn't breathe and tears streamed down your face in rivulets. You tried to ignore the pain in your ribs as you leaned over, trying with all your might to get the bear trap off you but it wasn’t like you’d ever had to do this before. You didn’t know how to disarm a bear trap. You cried softly, sniffling in anger as you tried and failed a few times. You fell back onto your back, wincing with every heaving breath you took and your vision danced around you. Was this how you’d die? Out here in the woods alone, caught in a trap as you waited for one of the dead to find you? You refused to die like this, this wasn’t how you wanted to go out. You looked over at the walkie and strained to reach it, making your ribs feel like they were on fire as you did. You finally managed to get it and relief flooded your system as your head spun.

“Anyone here?... It’s Artemis,” you mumbled down the walkie, voice slightly slurred. You felt like you were on a merry go round at a rapid rate that wouldn’t stop.

“Blackbird here. What’s up?” Billy asked, a note of concern in his voice. You’d never reached out at night before. You felt more relief at hearing his voice. This could very well be the last you heard him if your body decided it was done before he got here. Or maybe the dead would find you first. You felt so tired, you didn’t think you could fight them off.

“Is everyone okay?” you asked worriedly. 

“Yeah… we’re good… Y/N, what’s wrong?” he asked warily and you felt some relief that they were unharmed. 

“I need help,” you muttered, taking a slow and shaky breath as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“What is it? What happened?” he asked instantly, his concern shooting up to panic. 

“I’m hurt… just come to the treehouse please, I’ll tell you when you get here,” you pleaded through your tears, voice trembling. 

“I’ll be right there,” he said quickly and you sighed in relief, hoping he’d get here in time and not find you being eaten by the dead ones. 

“Watch out for bear traps,” you murmured tiredly, your eyes fluttering shut again. He didn’t answer and you hoped he’d got the message as you lay there, fighting with your body so you didn’t pass out. It didn’t take too long before Billy sprinted through the trees with a frantic look on his face. He stopped dead, his eyes first landing on the dead man before his eyes found you laying on the floor with your leg caught in a bear trap. 

“What the fuck?” he muttered, rushing over to you and falling to his knees. His dark eyes roamed over the bear trap as he looked like he was trying to think, his hands hovering uncertainly. 

“This is gonna hurt, alright?” he gave you a pointed look and you nodded, eyes half lidded as you looked at him. He looked guilty and unsure but then he disarmed the trap, pushing on the springs carefully and pulling it open. You cried out as the spikes left your flesh and you felt the blood starting to pour out of the wounds. 

“Shit…” Billy bit out, quickly shrugging his sweater off and then his t-shirt. He wrapped the t-shirt around your leg into a makeshift bandage, a deep frown marring his face as he tried to tie it around your leg to slow the bleeding down.

“What happened?” he asked. His voice was low and tight, his eyes not looking at you.

“He climbed up into the treehouse… tried to kill me. I stabbed him but he fell… I fell with him… then this happened,” you muttered sleepily, the darkness behind your eyes tugging at you. You felt a cold hand on your face and your eyes opened, seeing Billy’s face hovering over you.

“Stay with me, sweetheart, alright?” he asked, sounding worried as his dark eyes scanned your face. 

“I think my ribs are cracked,” you mumbled, blinking slowly at him. His frown deepened, eyes flitting to your torso before back at your face.

“We need to get you back to camp, get Curt to look at you,” he insisted as he moved to help you sit up. You cried softly at the pain as he held you and he looked so sad at your pitiful noises as he tried to get you to your feet. You couldn't put weight on your leg and when you glanced down, his gray t-shirt was already blood soaked and you wondered how much blood you were losing. Ideally, you didn’t want to remove something that was impaling you as it would stop the blood flowing too quickly, but it wasn’t like he could take you back to camp with a bear trap attached to you. You wobbled, his arm around you as you tried to hobble forward, but it only made another pained noise leave your lips. You’d felt pain a few times, having your throat slit had topped the list quite a bit. This was something else though. The pain in your ribs was intense and it seemed to fade into every part of your body. Your leg felt like it was being roasted over a fire, throbbing intensely. 

“‘M tired… why’s it so cold?” you asked in a whisper, head lolling a little bit and making Billy look panicked and wide eyed. 

“I’m gonna carry you, okay? It’s gonna hurt a bit but I’ll be as careful as I can,” he murmured, giving you a pained look as you nodded. You just wanted the pain to stop. He scooped you up bridal style and you hissed at how it jostled your ribs, making him apologize profusely to you. Once in his arms, he hurriedly walked back, trying his hardest not to hurt you too much. You snuggled against him, his bare skin touching you since he was still shirtless, his sweater left discarded on the floor. Your face was in the crook of his neck as you took a small inhale and let it soothe you. 

“How do you smell so nice?... It’s the end of the world,” you slurred into his neck.

“You know me, I’m just perfect,” his teasing didn't have the same effect when his voice had a distressed undertone to it but you smiled anyway. You felt the darkness tugging at you again, luring you in as you closed your eyes and enjoyed the comfort of skin to skin contact coming from Billy. 

“Stay with me, Y/N. You gotta stay awake for me,” he insisted, glancing down at you as his pace picked up. You could hear his heart thumping away at a rapid rate. 

“I’m just so tired, Billy,” you whispered, not opening your eyes. 

“Come on, Sweetheart, stay with me. You’re not gonna leave me like this, alright? I’m not losin’ anyone else,” he pleaded desperately but it fell on deaf ears as you passed out in his arms. 

You were in and out of it when you got to the camp. You’d come to, hearing everyone rushing around and talking frantically before you passed back out. You woke up briefly a few times when Curtis was working on your leg, pained groans leaving your lips before your eyes would roll back and you’d be out like a light once again. When you woke up properly, you were in the tent you knew the children used. You felt weak, your head fuzzy and your mouth felt dry. You blinked tiredly at the ceiling of the tent before you glanced to your side. Billy was sitting next to you, his head in his hands.

“Billy…” you croaked out, frowned at the lack of moisture in your mouth. He sat up quickly, head snapping to you as relief seemed to hit him like a train. He had circles around his eyes and he looked paler than he usually did. 

“Y/N… are you… you feel okay?” he asked hesitantly, scooting closer to you as his eyes darted all over your face. It was a hard question to answer. You were still in a lot of pain and you felt a little out of it, but you were alive and that was what really mattered. You nodded, blinking tiredly at him as he watched you.

“You don’t look so great,” you blurted, your head feeling too fuzzy to really think about insulting him like that. He didn’t look offended though, he frowned softly, his hand darting out and snatching your own as he held it tightly. 

“You lost a lotta blood. I’m a universal donor so… Curt rigged somethin’ up to give you a transfusion,” he explained and it took your disorientated brain a long moment to digest his words. 

“You gave me your blood?” you asked quietly, making him nod. You wondered how much you needed with how ill he looked. 

“Thank you,” you murmured, trying to muster up a smile for him. He looked away quickly, blinking his glassy eyes rapidly. 

“You gotta stop doin’ this shit. I’m gonna wind up havin’ a heart attack if you keep almost dyin’ on me like this,” he smirked, but it was weak and felt forced. 

“What can I say? I love danger,” you drawled with a tired smile, echoing words he’d once said to you. He smiled then, a wistful and slightly more genuine one but then his face turned somber again, his hand squeezing yours. 

“I… I just…” he trailed off and your hazy brain took in his anguished face and it made your chest ache, your brows creasing. 

“I care about you… I can’t lose you,” he murmured, his shiny almost black eyes meeting yours once more. Your chest filled with warmth that wasn’t coming from the pain in your ribs and you smiled at him, your thumb rubbing his hand. 

“I’m not doing it on purpose, I’m starting to think I’m in Final Destination,” you smirked and his lips quirked up a little. 

“I need to just lock you away or some shit. You’re like a danger magnet,” he said wryly. You opened your mouth to reply but Curtis came into the tent. He looked surprised to see you awake but then he smiled.

“It’s nice to see you again, Y/N. We were all pretty worried for a second,” he grinned and you smiled at him. You moved to try and sit up, not liking being laid flat like you were but Billy stopped you.

“Gotta rest for a bit, not move so much,” he instructed as he grabbed a spare blanket and balled it up, putting it under your top half like a big pillow to prop you up a little. You give him a grateful smile, feeling better that you weren’t lying flat anymore. 

“So… how bad is it?” you asked Curtis warily. Your brain still felt a little fuzzy around the edges but you were starting to feel a little more awake. The downside to it being the pain seemed to get worse. Curtis glanced at your leg, a slight wince before he looked at your face.

“Your boot saved your foot, it took the brunt of the worst of it. You almost ended up in the one legged club,” he said with a wry smile but his eyes shone with concern.

“I stitched you up the best I could and I gave you some of Billy’s blood. I’m not sure if your leg’s broken or not with no x-ray. If it is, it's not a full fracture, no bone sticking out or anything. Still might be a hairline fracture though. You need to keep off it for a bit and Matt and Foggy are trying to make a splint for you. Your ribs are cracked, I don’t think they’re broken,” he explained sympathetically.

“Thanks,” you nodded, feeling despondent at the knowledge you'd be out of commission for a while. Laying here doing nothing really didn’t sound appealing. 

“I’ll go and see if they’re done with the splint so we can get it on you,” Curtis smiled before he shared a look with Billy and then left the tent. 

“You’re gonna be stayin’ with us and you’re not gonna argue with me about it,” Billy said firmly, his face telling you he really wasn’t going to have an argument about it. You didn’t want to argue though. You loved your treehouse but you didn’t feel safe there now. It was tainted. This whole ordeal had shown you that you were also a target now and isolating yourself like you had been was dangerous. You were easier to pick off that way.

“Okay,” you nodded and he looked shocked for a moment that you hadn’t argued with him about it. 

“Good,” he said, sniffing as he rolled his shoulder. 

“Thank you for coming to help me… for the blood and everything,” you murmured after a moment of silence. He didn’t have to come and help you, didn’t need to answer the walkie at all and he certainly didn’t need to offer up his blood. His eyes pinned you in place, watching you for a moment. 

“You don’t need to thank me, you know I got your back,” he said easily and it made you smile as your chest tightened. 

“I forgot how nice it was to have people looking out for me,” you admitted and he smiled softly. 

“Been tellin’ you this whole time to just give in and join us,” he pointed out, raising his brow. 

“Yeah, well… you know how stubborn I am,” you snorted and his lips curled into a grin. 

“I know, it’s a pain in my ass,” he huffed, amusement shining in his eyes. You’d been resisting joining the group, only to be forced into it anyway. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing though. Billy had really come through for you, as did the others from the snippets you remembered of getting to the camp. It showed you they really did care and while it was scary, it felt nice. The world had a lot less people on it now, most of them turning as feral as the dead. It was hard to come by good people, people who would look out for you, care for you when you were at your most vulnerable. You’d had that once, forming a bond like family with your old group. You never thought you’d find that again after everything, didn’t think it would be possible, nor did you want it. But now as you looked at Billy with his soft brown eyes as he looked down at you, you knew you wanted to be here. You wanted to be part of something more than yourself. To have people to watch out for you and for you to watch out for them. To have a purpose, a reason to keep going, to keep fighting. You’d lost that along the way but now you knew you’d found it again and you were looking right at it. 

Taglist: (if you’ve been asked to be tagged and aren’t here, it wouldn’t let me tag some people.)

@firexfate

@blanchedelioncourt

@ariesbutalibra

@sunshinedaisies-anddeath

@snowkestrel

@music-indie-tv

@idaofinfinity

@sweetserendipity65

@ramadiiiisme

@k-marzolf

@celestialams

@woowwwee

[mythicamagic]

Xiaolumi Week Day One: Magpie. Chapter One.

Summary: Xiao has been acting strange- bringing back all kinds of pretty things to his room. Jewellery, nick-nacks and fine silks. After seeking out advice for this behaviour, Lumine comes to learn that her adeptus lover is...nesting.

Rated E for eventual smut. Read the whole thing on Ao3 soon: here

AN: For Xiaolumi Week 2024! I wanted to write a new oneshot everyday for it but didn't have the time after my assignments, so I've decided to break down this story into smaller chunks and just post a chapter every day for the ship week.

Todays theme was either First Encounters or First Time - and though this fic will include smut later it won't be for a few chapters, so I picked 'first time' but changed the meaning a little here. Enjoy!

----

Chapter One

Xiao had been acting somewhat…odd, recently.

Not that a little weirdness was a bad thing, Lumine mused. Especially for someone like Xiao, with his sense of duty enforcing strict daily patrols- newness was usually a good and unexpected happiness in his life.

But that didn't make this any less baffling. Lumine sat atop Xiao's bed, or rather, what resembled his bed at Wangshu Inn. During the past week, he'd been changing it from its usual style:

The bedding was now comically fluffed up with comforters and excess pillows like a stowaway sumpter beast was hiding underneath the covers. He'd been adding so many blankets and covers it was any wonder they could both climb into it at all.

That was just the start though. Next, he'd begun adding random things to the walls and rafters, leaving and returning with new hoards each day. Silk scarves and gossamer drapes wrapped around his bed posts. Trinkets he'd usually never care for were abundant. Tiny glass figurines, starconches, ore stones, fresh qingxin flowers and jewellery littered the nightstand and windows. They glittered in the sunlight, casting pretty hues.

During it all, Xiao added everything with quick, agitated movements. He'd occasionally stop and look at his handiwork, before tucking more filling under the bed or adjusting the drapes.

"This Spring cleaning session has been going on for a little while now, hm?" Lumine smiled. She'd tried gently asking about it before, but he always brushed her off.

"Almost done…I think," Xiao muttered distractedly. He didn't look at her, focusing solely on the bed. "No, there’s still something missing…"

Lumine's brows pulled together. She reached out and caught his face in her hands. "Xiao, look at me."

She waited until his murky gaze connected with hers, offering a concerned smile. "I think it's great you're interested in something new like this for the first time. Decorating is a really fun hobby- but you're kind of worrying me. You seem distracted, almost like you’re losing sleep over it. Anything you want to talk about?"

Xiao took a shaky breath. His skin felt hot and clammy under her touch. He reached for her, only to gently grasp her wrists. He kissed her outstretched fingers in parting as he pulled away and created distance between them.

"I'm fine. Don't be concerned."

Lumine frowned.

He took one look at her expression and faltered, clearing his throat.

"That is to say, this is just something I feel like I need to do. I'm not entirely sure why. It's as though there's an itch in the back of my skull," he uttered thinly, gazing at the room again as if he couldn't bear to stop looking at it, searching for something inexplicable. Luminous golden eyes then swung to her unexpectedly- striking her like a lance. Intense. Hungry.

"And I can't add to the room unless you're here. It's not right until you're with me. On our bed."

Her heart skipped a beat and picked up the tempo until it pounded. Xiao was usually so logical. Curt and no nonsense. The only time she glimpsed a more feral nature, befitting of a Yaksha was in the field fighting monsters. This was no fight or flight response though- there was an unfamiliar quality about how he was holding himself: looking at her. All coiled tight, tense muscles at the ready.

Why was he looking at her like that?

Heat rose to her cheeks. It was Lumine's turn to look away and distractedly gaze around the room. “Right. Okay. Well, if that's the case, and you really feel you need to- then sure, keep going! But can I help too?”

“You want to…help me build it?” he rasped, eyes widening.

Build it?

She nodded slowly, not sure what she was agreeing to but wanting to be useful. "Sure, of course. Always happy to lend a hand."

A shudder went through him like he'd been afflicted with electro. Xiao closed his eyes, breathing deeply as his chest heaved. Lumine quickly stood from the bed. “Xiao? Are you alright?”

He held up a palm to signal she stay back, panting softly and bowing his head. Inky dark hair obscured his expression- but his ears betrayed him, holding a faint red tinge.

Lumine felt her own blush return with a vengeance. Had she said something strange?

“I'll…see you later. Just add whatever you want to the room-” was all he said, disappearing shortly after in a plume of dark matter.

[emi-g]

Verde Visión: Deleted Scenes

I would've loved to have Chapter 22 ready yesterday, the 1-year anniversary of when I posted the first chapters to AO3. But it's turning out to be a long one (and an important one) and needs a little more love. Also, work has me feeling like our girl Mirabel here these past few weeks. (It's a good burned out! But it's still burned out...)

But I like marking milestones, so I went back into my snippets folder in Scrivener and pulled out some scenes that I cut from the story so far for various reasons.

Spoilers for Verde Visión below the cut.

Chapter 6

[In the final version, Bruno finds Flora y fauna del desierto de Sonora on his bookshelf on his own. But before that, Isabela was supposed to come in after his talk with Mirabel and give it to him.

I think I cut it because it felt weird to have her come in just for that. But then I went on to have plenty of other characters do similar things so...??]

A moment later, he heard his door creak open. "Mira, please," he sighed, "just knock first?" He turned to frown at her but found Isabela making her way through the antechamber instead. "Oh, hey Isa." He straightened his back and wiped at his face with a napkin, hoping his eyes weren't red. "Doing a little night gardening?" he asked, and went back to poking at his soup, now congealing, not expecting a response. When it came to regular visitors to his room, Isabela couldn't be more different than Mirabel. Where Mirabel was inquisitive and loquacious, Isabela was focused and reserved. She would wander in, borrow a book or tend to the cactus garden she was growing in the sandy ground floor of his tower, and then wander back out, sometimes with barely a word. She'd always had a regal bearing even as a young girl, but since the reconstruction of the house (and the family), it was like she no longer felt the need to perform all the social pleasantries that had been expected of her her entire life. She could just be herself. Her strange, fabulous, slightly-menacing self. She scared him a little bit, but if she was happy then he was happy for her. And she showed her affections in other ways, like decorating his room with plants that thrived in the arid environment. Breezing past him, she patted him on the shoulder, and started climbing the bookshelf ladder. "Ah, going for a book? Let me know if you find a good one," he said, then pitched his voice up to a falsetto, "'Thank you, Tío Bruno! You're my favorite and most talented tío!'" A while later she descended the ladder, book in hand. And then to his surprise, she placed it front of him on the workbench. He read the cover, Flora y fauna del desierto de Sonora. "Your future wife is from Sonora, Mexico and she's big into nature," she said. "Read up so you have something to talk about later." She squeezed his shoulders and made her way back to the door. Bruno almost exploded. "Ahhh not you too! Are there any secrets in this family? Y'know, of course not, I should really know better by now," he grumbled, and then called after her, "Nice talking with you, Isa! You know I love our little chats!" She twirled around to face him, her eyes twinkling with amusement, and then pointed into the rafters. "Your new friend is cute," she said, and then slipped out the door backwards with a wink. He swiveled on his stool and peered upwards. What now? Could no one in this house just leave him alone to wallow in his misery for even a single night?

---

Chapter 15

[A scene from when Esme is sad and restless because she hasn't seen Bruno in a week. She goes to visit Sofía at the café, not realizing it's too early for anyone to be awake.]

When she arrived at the café, she found the patio was empty. Of course it was, she thought, the sun had barely risen, no one else was up at this hour. Well, no one except the Espinosas, judging by the warm and inviting smell of baked goods wafting out of their window, preparations for the busy day to come. Not wanting to distract them, she turned to head back to the schoolhouse. "Esme?" She whipped around and saw Sofía leaning out the front window. "What are you doing out there, Profe?" she said, smiling brightly. "Get in here and let me put you to work!" She made good on her promise, setting Esme to the task of shaping the pandebono dough into rolls and rings. Esme wasn't fast, but she didn't need to be, the pace of life was slower here. Things happened when they happened, what was the rush? And it was soothing, rolling out little ropes of cheesy dough, like making snakes with modeling clay, and then forming them into donuts and laying them on the wooden peel. "You know, if you're looking for company, you should sit out on the patio after this," said Sofía. "You're still kind of a mystery to most folks, I'm sure they'd love to chat." "Hmm, no thanks," said Esme. "I'm pretty sure I know what they'll all want to talk about." Sofía hummed an acknowledgement. "Most of them have given up trying to warn you away from him, you know. Now they're just praying for you." She smiled slyly. "They say he's seduced you with his evil ways." Esme chuckled to herself, picturing Bruno hopping around her classroom with a bucket on his head. "Well, his evil ways are pretty unconventional."

---

Chapter 16

[This was originally the beginning of the chapter, where Bruno is going to see Esme for their Friday date night totally platonic coffee and conversation.

Cut because it was one of those scenes where I was just having fun imagining logistics and infrastructure in the encanto and it didn't really add anything.

Also, one of the most flagrant examples of how lazy I am when I pick names for random townspeople. Oh, you designed the fountain? You're Señor Fuentes.]

"Now, class, we've learned that gravity is what feeds the fountain, but can anyone tell us what it is that causes the water to spray into the air?" "Water pressure," Bruno answered under his breath. He shifted his body a few inches to the left to avoid the edge of a clay tile digging into his hip, and rested his chin in his hand again. Currently, he was laying on his stomach on the roof of one of the buildings adjacent to the square, peeking out from behind the roof's ridge. He'd very nearly walked right past Esme and her class on his way to the schoolhouse this Friday afternoon, too absorbed in thinking about what they'd talk about tonight. (And very grateful to have the chance again.) But just as he'd been preparing to jump an alleyway, he'd heard her voice and found them gathered around the town's large stone fountain in the square. They'd even carried the blackboard into the plaza for Esme to sketch a cross-section of the fountain's workings on. Today, he wasn't the only one overhearing her lesson. A good number of the town's residents, intrigued by the spectacle, had gathered to observe. For that reason, he was being very careful not to be spotted up here. The last thing he needed was for the them to fear that he was lurking above them as well as in their nightmares. Thanks for that one, Camilo. A hand went up, and Bruno smiled proudly. "Yes, Mirabel?" "Water pressure?" "You got it!" Esme confirmed, to his niece's beaming satisfaction. She turned to face the older man beside her, wearing a smartly-pressed guayabera and shielding himself from the sun under a sombrero vueltiado. "Señor Fuentes, can you tell us more about it?" Along with the change in venue, evidently, Esme had also invited a guest speaker. Bruno's smile widened. It was good to see he was still around. Señor Fuentes had been a young man about Bruno's mother's age when he fled the violence that had engulfed their former hometown. Alma had counted him as one of their many blessings when she learned they had an engineer among their numbers. And one so passionate about his work that rather than packing his single bag with clothes or money, he'd brought along only his instruments, his most precious possessions. When he was a boy, Bruno had followed him around from time to time, full of questions about his work that he answered with patience and genuine enthusiasm. Those were the days when his gift had felt the most useful. When he could look into the town's future and tell him where they would lay the next road or build the next house. And Señor Fuentes, though he would always verify the suitability of a site with his instruments, was grateful for the time saved finding it. "One of the first major pieces of infrastructure we built here was an aqueduct that carried water from a nearby spring in the mountains to this fountain," he said. "This is where everyone without access to a well used to get their water for drinking and cooking. And water pressure is what makes it possible. Of course, we had to make sure that there was enough pressure to make it flow, but not so much that it would take your head off when you opened the spigots!"  That got a laugh from the class. And as he continued, Esme wrote a formula on the board. "One foot of height creates 0.433 pounds per square inch of water pressure," he said. "Considering the terrain, calculating the height is a little more complicated than we have time for today, but assuming a water elevation of 163 feet, how many psi is that here at the fountain?" Bruno didn't bother trying to answer that one. He'd never been as interested in numbers as he was with letters. Esme, on the other hand, seemed to have a natural affinity for them. Sure enough, when no hand went up, she answered, "Seventy."

Señor Fuentes looked at her with an expectant little smile. "Don't be shy, Profesora." "Point five seven nine," she added, a bit bashfully, and then waved a hand as her students gave her a teasing round of applause and cheers.

[Bruno follows them back to the schoolhouse and overhears Esme and Señor Fuentes from the alleyway.]

"And thank you for the invitation! Before I go home and boast insufferably about it to the lady of the house, I have a question for you, Profesora," he said. His voice, all warmth and amusement, took on a curious note. "Tell me, when can we expect you and Bruno Madrigal to tie the knot, hm? It's been a long time since the last Madrigal wedding, and we're quite looking forward to it."

Bruno flattened himself against the wall and held his breath. He'd never liked to keep Esme waiting, but he suddenly wished he'd been late getting here today. He wasn't sure he should be hearing this.

There was a pause. Long enough to tell him Esme was surprised, but short enough to tell she wasn't that surprised. He wondered, with a wince of sympathy, just how many times she'd been asked that since she'd been here.

"What makes you think we will?"

His heart fluttered a little in his chest.

It's not like he should want her to agree with the prophecy. In fact, for her sake, he sincerely hoped she was dead set against it. Still, he knew that hearing her refuse it outright would've stung.

But she hadn't. Not exactly.

"Come now," said Señor Fuentes. "Surely you've observed by now, his accuracy rate is one hundred percent! It would seem to be only a matter of time."

"A hundred percent?" she asked, with playful skepticism. "Do we really have enough data points to make that kind of claim? What if it's actually ninety-nine point nine nine repeating?"

Señor Fuentes chortled in response to her deflection. "Profesora, you're a lot like me, I suspect. So I'll leave you with some advice. Every once in a while, do what your heart tells you to do, and not just your head."

Well, bless the man for trying anyway.

But there was no time to think about that now. Bruno needed to prepare his best pose for lurking ominously in a doorway. Because soon Esme would be looking for him in the supply closet and he wouldn't be there. Which meant, for once, he'd be able to surprise her. 

He pulled his hood over his head and snickered to himself in anticipation.

He really should've known better.

"There you are!"

With a strangled yelp, he whirled around and found Esme approaching with a book and a stack of papers. "How the—" he sputtered. "Seriously, what is it!? Can you read minds or something?"

"Please," she scoffed, "isn't one curse enough? And can you carry these for me?" She didn't wait for an answer before circling behind him and setting about putting her materials in his bag.

---

Chapter 21

[Another example of just me entertaining myself.

This bit used to be how Bruno figured out where Esme was headed after she runs away from Casita, but I cut it because it interrupted the urgency of the chase and there was already an established way for him to know—an earlier vision.]

Agustín had a theory about Bruno's library. A theory that the books in it were magical reproductions of all the books in the valley.

His theory had been proven correct just days ago, while Bruno was reading to Antonio.

He was in the middle of explaining what the book meant by flocks of birds showing up on "radar", when he'd stopped and realized that he was simply repeating what Esme had originally explained to him during her lessons on World War II. It would be impossible for a book in his library to reference radar. Because it wouldn't have existed before the valley sprang up around them fifty years ago.

That is, unless it was a reproduction of a book Esme had brought into the valley with her. It would explain why he couldn't remember having ever seen that book on his shelf before that night Esme had climbed his tower. It would also explain what a detailed guidebook to the Sonoran Desert was doing in a small town in the Colombian rainforest in the first place.

For the first time, he'd flipped to the front of the book to check the date it was published—1946.

A full forty-six years after they would've been cut off from any printed word besides what they brought with them or wrote themselves. And while there was a small press in town, this wasn't their mark.

Agustín had been ecstatic when Bruno showed him the proof for his theory. And since they now knew the library would add books when new ones were written or brought into the valley, he now theorized that the reverse might be true. That books in the library might disappear if their counterpart was destroyed or left the valley.

Bruno could now tell him that his second theory had proven correct. Unfortunately, it was because Flora y fauna del desierto de Sonora (D. Chavez) was gone from his desk.

Which meant Esme had already left the valley with the original copy.

[Dun dun dun!]

---

Chapter 21

[Just some some silly Bruno dialogue I cut from the scene with him and Esme at the river, because Félix's advice ended up a little different in the final version.]

Félix's advice echoed in his mind. Tell her what you're thinking, be honest with her. "You're looking pretty bedraggled." Not THAT honest! "Ahhh I mean, bedraggled and pretty! Both! Kinda like when one of the rats falls into the mop bucket, ya know? They're all soggy and stuff and their fur's all sticking up in all directions but they're still real cute?" Stop! Talking!

---

Oh, Bruno, you try so hard.

Thanks for reading! Hopefully, I'll see y'all again soon.

[simonambroise]

I've been tagged by @palebdot. I intend to talk about my work.

QnA under the cut or whatever.

1)What motivates you to write?

I love reading my writing when its good, because I can write the story I want to read with gay people in it. There is also my dearest friend Sahara Wheatbrick, a tumblrless follower whomst knoweth where I live, so... Fear and joy in equal measure.

2) A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them)

Oh there's the scene I wrote from Lara's perspective (Lara is an alien called a Ruquati which is bipedal humanoid, typically red, orange or yellow with four arms) when she is first interacting with Taylor, a human child. Lara's internal processes are so fun to write, because she manages to be a space alien and yet so human. I will admit I took some inspiration from the whole humans are weird thing, but I feel the world building and characterization is the best I've ever done. I want to shove the entire chapter in here... But it isn't really a short snippet, yk? Tho its my post and I can do what I want..... Ill spare you the chapter but you'll get the whole scene.

Sorry for rambling tho haha

Lara had been working on a blanket when the larva stumbled in- a simple repetitive task. A useful task. Not the task she had been born for, but a task. Dip into the last row, grab the yarn, pull through. Dip into the last row, grab the yarn, pull through. Dip, grab, pull. She barely registered the door swinging open, but she did notice when little hands with one too many fingers tugged at her transparent sleeve. Lara looked down at the Terran, and blinked slowly. Such a small larva would not have the instincts that said eye contact was a threat, but it was more for her sake. To her surprise, the little Terran blinked back before clambering up to tuck themselves between her lower shoulders and the couch. Their skin was warm, surprisingly so- every reminder that the species could maintain a perfect temperature so well was like a bucket of cold water. A shocking reminder that Terrans were alien in every sense of the word. Another glance at the Terran larva, wide eyes completely unfamiliar on such a tiny face. Ruquatin larva didn’t have eyes, or legs, or much of anything. They only really began looking like adults as pupa, but even when Terran larva first hatched- or rather, ripped their way out of the adult’s stomach like some sort of parasite- they still resembled Terrans. Even inside the adult’s stomach, which Lara assumed was fairly similar to the egg stage, they had arms and legs and… eyes. Well, most of the time. Mistakes happen when you decide to build your descendants inside of your body. It was just poor decision making. A complete lack of planning. How were you supposed to get them out of there if something went wrong? If there were mites or worms or parasites? It was a miracle they even made it to space, Lara thought as the larva tucked close to her. They were warm, as all Terrans were. Radiating heat like the sun. Why they felt the need to head off into the great dark was a mystery. Terrans were a new species by most standards, never mind ancient Ruquatin standards. Their entrance to the galaxy was the catalyst to the fall of the Empire, and Lara could not bring herself to give a single damn. The Empress got what was coming for her. The colony Lara had been born into was gone, and she had been accepted into another. Greta was the Nurse, the healer who stopped what would have been death in it’s tracks. Gabriel was a Architect, a Peacemaker. A planner and mediator, calm and collected. And Piper was the Builder, the Greenie, the Grub, the Cleaner, and the Queen. The one who grew food, the protector, a Queen that ruled over her little colony the same as she cleaned the kitchen sink. She Built their hive with her own hands and Lara could never understand the complete disregard Terrans had for a caste system. Her hive was everything, and Lara was a Diplomat. The one who went outside and made deals, the one who was shunned so the others may remain safe. The larva at her side had begun making little rhythmic growling noises that Piper had referred to as ‘snoring’. It was a behavior, she explained, that some Terrans did while sleeping. Lara was the Diplomat of her colony, the only one. And by Ragaitor she would do her job. For the Queen. For the colony. For the hive.

3) Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them and what are they like?

I don't believe I've mentioned my all time favorite OC on this, but -surprise- its a character I project onto heavily! He's a blond trans guy who's a little goblin and loves embroidery. He's an absolute piece of shit and the most loveable goofball.

Now, for Captain of the Blue Opal, it has got to be Clive. In theory, he's a bad guy. In practice, he's just some guy. Cherry is bullied relentlessly by his crew members for his name, which I believe is entirely unfair to Clay. I mean, Clyde is trying his best. (Sorry to all the Clowns out there. Your name ie valid)

4) What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

First draft, every time. Once I get into the swing of things, words flow and its easy. Its made easier if I plot things out but I find that duller than getting right to it!

5) What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

Oh no I need to talk about myself. Uhhhhhh... I'm really bad at that lmao. I think I'm good at dialogue. I've never had the issue where I had to figure out what a character was going to say in a given situation, because they just said that. I suppose that goes hand in hand with characterization but I've exceeded my one self-compliment yearly limit.

6) What is something in the writeblr community is most enjoyable?

Its an excuse to talk about my book to people who might actually listen. What's not to love?

7) A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

Reedsy, Reedsy, Reedsy. Its a double edged sword, but its the sort of website that works super well with my nurodivergent brain. It lets you set goals and reminds you of said goals- both short term and long term. It's divided up into chapters and lets you put fancy scene breakers in. On the other hand, exporting your book in reedsy format is hell. You just can't do it easily. You want o take your book out so you can send it off to a publisher? Haha, if you're not going through Reedsy they're going to make it difficult.

8) A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

My Ruquati space alien culture. Their social structure is similar to hive insects, they have a strict caste system. Typically they are warm colors-- red and orange, though there are two exceptions. Greenies, who are in charge of tending to the plants. Their skin color is green because of a chemical they secrete- sort of a pesticide/sun lotion in one yk. Then of course we have blue Ruquati, which are typically seen as bad luck. Blue Ruquati aren't confined to a specific caste like Greenies. Any level could be born blue, at which point they'd be set at the bottom of their particular caste. Unfortunately for Lara, she got the quadruple middle finger (which is weird since Ruquati don't have a middle finger) from genetics, so she's a diplomat (lowest caste) AND blue.

Im trying to keep this short but then I realized if people got bored they'd have left by now... So here's a brief overview of the Ruquati social structure!!!

At the top is The Empress, the chief of hive minds and supreme ruler of the Ruquatin Empire. Hive minds, you might ask, simon, where did the hive minds come from?

Well, my dear friend, the hive mind is made up entirely by Queens, all controlled remotely by the Empress. They are capable of individual actions, just so the Empress doesn't have to waste thought on day to day matters of the colonies.

Architects are a bit harder to explain. In canon there isn't a lot of information on their behavior, seeing as if you get close enough to catch them, you've killed the hive. Architects die with their hive. Because I am the author, I can tell you they are the strategists, the military commanders. They plan battles and the size of the Ruquati Empire was entirely dependent on them. They are often referred to as the Peacemakers, not in the sense they will solve their problems diplomatically but in the sense they'll order the deaths of anyone who may "disturb the peace".

Beneath the Architects are the Builders, a job that is fairly self-explanatory. These Ruquati expand and repair the colony under orders from their Queen. In a warlike species who's only goals is expansion (gross oversimplification but i won't subject you to politics) the architects of that expansion are valued highly.

Then, of course, the Nurses. Unlike human nurses, who fix injuries, these Ruquati watch over the eggs, larva, and pupa of of the colony. Young Ruquati are entirely dependent upon the Nurses for their survival. Medics aren't so much a thing as it's very difficult to injure a Ruquati. Once an injury occurs, however, they are, for lack of a better term, absolutely screwed.

Next up, we've got Grubs, the soldiers. They can be sorted into three categories.

Queen's Guard

This is the one position a Ruquati is not born into. The strongest of all Grubs (common and others) are pulled aside for extra training to become the Guards for the Queen. The Queen's Guard. The guards that protect the Queen. Highest ranked of all Grubs, though still below everyone above. They eat a special specialized diet that makes them more aggressive, more territorial, and larger than the average Grub.

2. Grubs

These are the soldiers who fight foreign wars, sometimes halfway across the galaxy. They leave the hive so that the hive may remain strong, sacrificing so much for the colony. Least territorial, but incredibly aggressive.

3. Common Grubs

Common Grubs are the soldiers who stay behind to defend the colony. They are less aggressive then their mobile counterparts but much more territorial, bordering on Queen's Guard levels of territorial.

Then we've got "The Green Ones" or Greenies. They are distinguished from their fellow workers by the green tint to their skin. They are farmers growing a bioluminescent mushroom. Once harvested, it is the main food source for the Ruquati people. Before harvesting, however, they release deadly spores that can and will grow in Ruquati lung equivalents. The Greenies are immune to the spores because their bodies secrete a mucus the ensures spores do not enter the lungs. This mucus has a habit of dying Ruquati skin green, hence Greenies.

General Workers, another fairly self explanatory title. These people do the stuff higher ups can't be bothered with.

Cleaners, the ones who do the dirty work. They do the small, annoying tasks that nobody else will. They are respected, but are definitely considered lesser.

Drones are here to fuck and then they die. I can't elaborate beyond that because that's what they are. They are all about instant gratification (since they're going to die soon anyways) so they often make stupid impulsive decisions that endanger or even destroy the hive. Its happened too many times for Drones to be put into positions of power.

Now, for Diplomats. Yet another self-explanatory title Simon, love the creativity. They are considered the lowest of the low, because they are sent in when winning a war is not possible. For the most part, that doesn't happen. As a result, Diplomats have a tendency to be seen as useless cowards in Ruquati society. Ah, culture traumatizing those it deems unnecessary. How original! Diplomats are an evolutionary holdover from Before the Empress' Hivemind. Back then, warring queens often fought dirty, and fought dirty often. This all changed when the Empress created her hive mind, but this is veering dangerously close to political territory and I'd need several hours to properly explain the politics of Pre-Empress Ruquati Empire, Empress' Ruquati Empire, and Post-Empress Ruquati Empire. Which isn't actually relevant to my story haha. It be boring for everyone involved.

NOTES:

-Blue Ruquati are considered cursed and get sent to rock bottom of the caste they're already in. If a Queen is blue, she will be considered lesser than the other queens, though still above Builders. As a diplomat AND a blue Ruquati, Lara got the short end of all the sticks.

-Drones are technically lower than diplomats but Ruquati society at least recognizes them as having a use. Still, they are regarded with much suspicion. They attempt to seduce whatever Queen is nearby, have sex and then die. What a life.

-Castes were ranked in order of importance to Ruquati society. They value expansion, war and consider themselves superior to other species. (once again, gross oversimplification but c'est la vie or whatever)

-Most Ruquati stay in the hive their entire lives, except for diplomats, Queens, Queen's Guards and Grubs.

9) What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

For me, my blocks are mental. I have the time to write. Theoretically I have the ability to focus on the writing. If I just started, I'd be fine.

Sit down with the computer. Just open it up to your word processor of choice and sit in front of it. Listen to music, sit there, and stare at that document. Eventually you'll get bored enough to start writing.

Another tip that helped me: for your first draft, set word count goals. I'm not talking 1,000, 2,000 words every day, because even people with writing as their full time job can't do that. I'm talking sit down with the intent to write one sentence. One word, on bad days.

10) Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest

ohhhhhhh uh most of the people who inspire me are irl, but i'll mention them anyways. Pseudonyms obviously.

So, to my dearest Dad-Husband-Son-Family-Dog-And-Unlicensed-Nurse-Practitioner (one person), Sahara Wheatbrick, Luigi, Indigo, Duffin Dagels and of course, @coatlsaviator, thanks for the inspiration and support, as well as putting up with my insane rants.

Now for the Tumblr people, of which there are two (three if you count Mike' N' Ike, which I do.) haha. I'm not rlly integrated into the Tumblr ecosystem yet, but part of that is my unwillingness to talk to anyone and Good Old Fashioned Social Anxiety™

I would @ palebdot again but I think that's bad form on Tumblr and i don't want to sent them two notifs for the same post so... Thrilled to see where they're going.

And the Other Writers I Follow Who Seem Cool And Unapproachable to my Social Anxiety Whomst I Wish To Include In The QnA but Do Not Demand A Response From:

@caxycreations @sithbelle

You are mysterious and unknowable friends, Keep Up The Good Work

[astra90x]

Flufftober Day 6 - Candles, Lanterns, Fairy Lights

@flufftober

Fandom: Stardew Valley

Pairing: Sebastian x Reader

Word Count: 1307

Reader Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: Cursing

This is one chapter of an entire linear story! It can be read separately but is better when read as a whole. Enjoy!

❤❤♡♡♡♡♡♡

Fuck these Yoba-forsaken mines!

It’s been two hours. Two hours. You haven’t even gotten down five floors yet! You curse yourself for not listening when the TV’s fortune teller warned you about the spirit’s displeasure, but you figured that was just superstition. You can’t help but second guess now as you slash your blade into yet another slime, trying to clear out this infested floor before you can adventure deeper. 

You’re caught off guard when a slime approaches you from behind, throwing its entire body forward into a lunge that nearly knocks you off your feet. You swing your sword toward the slime, but it’s just out of your reach, and you see it rearing back to leap again. You already feel weak, but you know that you have to make it down one more floor if you want to reach the next elevator and turn its power on. Otherwise, you’ll have to make up all of this progress again.

You dodge out of the way as the slime lunges again, recovering quickly to thrust your blade into the slime. It leaves a deep gash that starts to leak the goo-like substance that makes up the inside of the slime (is it blood? You’re not really sure), but you know that one hit won’t be enough to take it down. These things are shockingly resilient. 

The slime leaps for you again, and this time you aren’t able to dodge, so the slime hits you full force and knocks you back several feet. You stumble and try to keep your balance, and even though your feet remain under you, you can feel the damage that the slime did. You’ll have heavy bruises for the next few days, at least. 

Your vision sways a little and you feel an unpleasant pounding in your head, a sure sign that you’re going to pass out soon. But you refuse to give up. You will not be giving these damn slimes the pleasure of defeating you, even if you faint because of it. 

The slime moves to charge you again, but this time, you stare it head-on, and when it starts to jump you swing your sword with expert ability, causing a large gash to form across the slime’s entire body. That same goo starts to pour out of the large cut and the slime soon crumples to the ground, melding into the ground and forming a ladder to the floor below. Well, that’s some weird-ass magic.

You use your last remaining strength to push yourself down the ladder, then head over to the elevator and switch the breaker next to it on. That supplies power to this part of the elevator shaft, making it operable again. You feel around the wall in your dazed state to find the elevator button, and when it’s located, you wait for the elevator itself to descend to your floor before stumbling into it and letting it carry you back to the entrance of the mines. 

When the elevator dings and the grated doors slide open, you step out into the large cavern and collapse against the wall, finally allowing yourself a moment to just breathe. The dim light of the lanterns posted around the walls is the only thing illuminating the area, but it’s nice. You don’t think your eyes could handle anything brighter. 

“You look like you’re in rough shape.” You look up, completely startled, having not even realized that you weren’t alone. Even though your vision is still black around the edges, you can make out Sebastian standing next to the cave’s entrance, a cigarette held between his pointer and middle fingers. 

You don’t even have the energy to respond, you just shake your head up and down in a pathetic nod. Sebastian smirks knowingly. 

“Here, take this, I think you need it.” Sebastian reaches into his pocket with his free hand and pulls something out, tossing it across the cave towards you. It isn’t until you catch it that you realize what it is: an energy bar. “Eat up.” 

“Thank you,” you mumble weakly, tearing the corner off the wrapping with your teeth and then cracking off a piece of the bar to put in your mouth. As soon as you’ve swallowed the first bite, you already feel a little better. The darkness has left your vision and your blinding headache has reduced to a gentle throbbing. 

Sebastian pushes himself off the wall he was leaning on and makes his way across the cave to sit next to you. A subtle scent of cigarette smoke wafts off of him, but it isn’t necessarily bad. It just smells like Sebastian. A mix of smoke and cologne that you sort of love. 

He lowers himself to the ground next to you and snuffs out the cigarette on the floor of the cave, which you do appreciate. Though you don’t much mind the smell, you’re not sure if your damaged body could handle straight smoke right now. 

“What are you doing in here?” you ask once you’ve finished off the energy bar. It really did work wonders for you. You still feel incredibly drained, but no longer in danger of passing out with one wrong move. It’ll be enough to get you through the rest of the evening, at least. “I thought you usually smoked over by the lake.”

You’re also not sure why exactly you have Sebastian’s basic schedule memorized. You’ve started to take note of where you see him and when lately, and you guess that your brain has started subconsciously keeping track of it, for some unknown reason. Though it is nice to know whereabout he’ll be, if you ever do need him for something. Partner in crime, remember?

“I do, but it’s pouring rain,” he replies. It’s only then that you notice how right he is. Sheets of rain are thundering down to the ground outside, and it’s honestly a miracle that the cave is as dry as it is. A little bit of water has started to seep in from outside, but storms this heavy usually didn’t last super long, so you figure you’re safe to stay in the cavern for a little while. “Can’t exactly smoke in this, and Mom won’t let me do it in the house.”

“I don’t know why you smoke in the first place. It isn’t exactly good for you,” you point out, but you don’t realize exactly how rude it sounds until the words escape your lips. Sebastian doesn’t seem to mind much, though, but he does let out a small sigh. 

“I don’t know what to tell you,” he admits. His face looks shallow in the low light of the cave’s lanterns, and it makes him look more solemn. “Maybe it’s an escape. Maybe I do it because I don’t care if it kills me. Maybe it’s just something that feels like a small rebellion. I really don’t know.” 

You purse your lips together. That’s not the answer you expected. “Well, you at least shouldn’t do it just because you don’t care if it kills you. There are lots of people here that would be sad if you died.”

Sebastian doesn’t respond, but he has an almost shamed look on his face, which makes your heart pang with guilt. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, just… there are a lot of people here who care about you. Myself included.” 

“You barely know me.” He doesn’t say it like it’s an accusation, instead there’s a bit of humour to his voice, like he thinks you’re joking. 

“Yeah, well, I know enough to know that I’d be sad to lose you. Just think about that, okay?”

Sebastian stays quiet, but after a few moments of silence, he responds. “Okay.”

His smoke breaks by the lake seemed much less frequent after that.

❤❤♡♡♡♡♡♡

[callsign-magnolia]

I Hope You Dance // Ch. 21

MATURE CONTENT (18+)

A/N: This is cross posted to my Wattpad, so if this seems familiar that is why!

TW: Mental abuse, emotional abuse, slight physical abuse, death and loss.

Description: When Caila meets Rooster, sparks fly. But, she's already married, to a man who she thought loved her, and won't let her go. Rooster will fight for her, he just has to convince Caila to fight for herself.

Word Count: 6.7k

Chapter 20 | Masterlist

"Did you know?" I asked, walking up to my mom. She hung her head and I scoffed, "I didn't know, until after the mission. I noticed he was acting weird and when I asked he told me." I huffed. "But you knew, and you kept it from me." She nodded, her arms crossing over her chest. Her maroon dress bunching around her. "When he told me, I ripped into him. We didn't speak the entire way home, not on the plane, in the car. He slept in the guest room for two days, I was so mad." I don't know if she was trying to make me feel better, but it wasn't working. 

"When we finally did talk, it was our biggest fight yet. We screamed, we yelled, hell I launched my chaco at him." I pursed my lips. "We have a big problem with throwing things when we're mad." She nodded. "I feel as mad as you. While I understand why he did it, you knew what you were getting into, very well, when you enlisted. He should not have grounded you, I know it and he does too. But before you were a Lieutenant, you were his little girl. Our youngest and frankly the one who gave me the hardest time during pregnancy. You scared us shitless a few times. You and your brother, are our entire world. When we almost lost you last year." She took a deep breath, trying to hold back tears. 

"I knew it would break me, your my little girl, hell my best friend. But your father? I don't think he could've handled it. He didn't talk, didn't eat, didn't sleep. He was a shell of himself. I'm not saying what he did was right, because it's not. But he did it out of love." I licked my lips, tears streaming down my face. "I don't know if I can ever forgive him, mama." I said catching her eye. "Because by holding me back, Rooster and Maverick almost didn't come home. I know there's no guarantee I would've come home, but you two raised me to care about people. I would've happily burned in, if it meant that they got to come home." Mom leaned over, her hands resting on her knees, sobs wracking her body. I rested a hand on her back and after a moment she stood up. 

"I am so proud of you, and I know it may take awhile to forgive your father, but just remember. He did it with your best interest at heart." I nodded and pulled her into a hug as she rubbed my back. "Caila?" I looked to see Jerry, slowly walking over. "I know this is a bad time and I know it's an emotional moment, but..." He trailed off. "But what?" He sighed. "Aaron just fired his lawyer." "WHAT?!" I grabbed mom, quietening her down. "So does that mean we're postponing the trial?" He shook his head. "He's representing himself." He shoulders fell, a shiver running up my spine.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Rooster asked, rushing over and placing his hand on my back. "Oh my god, he's pulling a Bundy." Rooster furrowed his brows. "What? Honey, you gotta tell me what's going on." "Aaron fired his lawyer, he's representing himself." Jerry nodded. "So what does that mean?" I rubbed my face, my hands going through my hair. "It means, that if he calls witnesses he will be questioning them. If he calls on her, he's asking the questions." Rooster shook his head. "No." I sighed, placing my hand on his arm. "Rooster." "No. I am not letting him fucking near you." I nodded. "I know. He is a really good lawyer, for others. He's a narcissist who thinks people should believe him, every word that comes out of his mouth. This... this is his down fall. So if he wants to try and get under my skin, then he can but everything that he has done will come out." 

He shook his head, "After all the shit we've been through, you want to let him interrogate you like your the criminal?" I nodded. "If that's what it takes." He sighed. "You're a hell of a woman,  you know that?" I nodded, grinning at him. "I've been told once or twice." He chuckled, his hand coming up to rest on my cheek. "God, I love you." I pulled him down into a kiss, my arms wrapping around his shoulders. His one hand stayed on my cheek while the other found my waist. "I'm gonna have to ask you two to not do that." I pulled away looking to find Aaron standing next to Jerry. He was glaring at us while Jerry looked down on him, his eyes narrowed almost snarling. Rooster grabbed my waist, pulling me impossibly close to him as he glared at Aaron. 

"And all communication is to be through the lawyers, so you talk to me." Jerry said stepping in between us. "She is being sued for Alienation of Affection. It wouldn't look good to be seen with the man she cheated on me with." Jerry lips twitched, fighting a grin. "Noted. We'll see you in there." They stared at each other, challenging each other until Aaron nodded and walked away. "God, I want to kill him." Rooster muttered as he pressed his lips to my forehead. "I know." I placed my hand on his chest as Jerry faced us. "Ten minutes is almost up. Let's get back in there, he won't get the opportunity to take the stand until tomorrow." We nodded and followed him in. I was about to step through the gate when Rooster tugged me back into his chest, catching me off guard with a searing kiss. "I love you." He whispered, his forehead resting on mine. "I love you too." 

I kissed him one more time before taking my seat next to Jerry. "I need a root canal after seeing you two." I chuckled. "Natasha said the same thing." Judge Durham came back in and sat down. "Okay we will proceed with the plaintiff, Mr. Polinski." Jerry stood again, "Miss Motley, would you join me?" I nodded, walking over to the stand. The bailiff came over standing in front of me. "Please raise your right hand." I did. "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?" I nodded. "I do." "You may proceed." Jerry nodded, tucking his hands in his pockets and giving me a kind smile. "We were discussing the domestic violence within the Wilder home. Now Miss Motley, you were called to attend the United States Navy Strike Fighter Tactics Instructor program, better known as Top Gun, correct?" I nodded. "You were in the middle of a deployment in Corpus Christi four years ago when you were given the letter, correct?" 

"That is correct." He nodded. "You were given a weeks leave before you had to be there?" I nodded. "Yes." "And how did you use this leave?" I took a deep breath. "I went to go see my friend Natasha at her home in San Francisco." I caught her eye and she gave me a small smile. "Why did you not go home?" I grabbed the hem on my dress, trying not to shake. "I didn't want to go home. Things had gotten bad, I wasn't allowed to sleep in the bedroom, I was not allowed to speak unless spoken to." He sighed, nodding to me. "And what would happen if you went against any of those so called 'rules'?" The tears sprung to my eyes at the thought. "Aaron would yell, he would throw things. He would hit me." 

"Any examples?" I nodded. "He threw a lowball glass one time, it shattered on my shoulder and I spent two weeks picking out the glass." He nodded, a sad look in his eyes. "And why did he throw the glass?" I could feel Aaron's eyes on me, boring into the side of my head. "He wanted me to sleep with him and I said no." There were some quiet gasps and murmurs, a tear slipped and I quickly wiped it away. "What did he do after he threw the glass?" I shook my head, Jerry knew and I didn't want to say it. Not out loud. He came close, whispering. "I know it's hard, but he can't hurt you. This will help us get him." I nodded, taking a deep breath. "He uh-he came over, grabbed me by the back of my neck. He dragged me over to the back of the couch, forced me over it. He ripped a hole in my leggings and..." I stopped, struggling to find the words. I caught Rooster's eye. His eyes were glassy but he nodded, mouthing an 'I Love You'. 

"He forced himself on me." I rushed out, tears covering my cheeks. "Objection." Aaron said, standing. "Explain." Judge Durham did not look happy, one bit. "You can't sexually assault the person your married too." My jaw dropped, as did everyone else's. "Overruled." He said and Aaron's face turned red. "Are you sure you don't want to hire other council, Mr. Wilder?" He huffed. "I have this handled." The Judge gave me a look that said, 'What were you thinking marrying him?' "Moving on, so you went to stay with Lieutenant Trace before you went to Top Gun. How did you spend that time? How did you get to Top Gun after?" I pursed my lips, keeping the tears at bay. "I called my mother and she had my car shipped to San Francisco and she flew out with some of my stuff." He nodded, motioning me to keep going. 

"Natasha, my mother Regina and I all went out. We went to a few clubs, a few bars. Um, the next day was just a relaxing day there were a few conversations that ended in tears." He nodded. "And what were those conversations about?" "Rooster-Bradley. At the gala, I told him to stay away from me, leave me alone and Natasha told me later it... hurt him, a lot. I never actually wanted to hurt him, I just wanted to keep him away. It had made Aaron so mad and I just... I didn't want him mad, I couldn't have him mad at me." I inhaled deeply, trying to soothe myself. 

"While Natasha and I were talking about him, he facetimed her." Jerry perked up, "And what did he say?" "He asked me the usual questions about how I was doing. Then he um, he told me how beautiful I was." My face heated up at the confession. "What next?" A smile crept up on my face at the memory. "He told me, if I wanted, all I had to do was ask and he would drop everything and fly out to meet me." I bit my lip at the memory. "And what did you say?" "That I couldn't ask him to do that. He told me again and I considered it." He nodded. "And did you eventually give in?" I nodded. "All I said was please and he packed a bag and caught a red eye to San Francisco." 

I heard a few awes in the crowd, making me blush. I looked to Rooster and he was rubbing the back of his neck, which had a pink tint. "What happened when he arrived?" I bit my lip. "Natasha and I met him at the airport before going out to dinner. We had a few drinks, got back to Natasha's. Bradley felt the scar on the back of my shoulder from the lowball." "And how did he react?" I bit my lip. "He was angry, he wanted to catch a flight to Atlanta." Jerry nodded as he paced in front of me. "Why?" 

"He wanted to hurt Aaron." He nodded and I glanced to Aaron, he was seething. "Why didn't he go?" I thought back on it. He easily could've pushed past me and went out the door, but he didn't. "I blocked the door, and I told him I was filing for divorce." Jerry threw his hands out. "And why did that divorce not go through?" "Aaron knew the lawyer. The lawyer called him and told him, and he blocked it." I wanted to crawl out of my skin, the looks of pity were too much. I could handle them before, but now, it was like I was under fire. "So, you spent the weekend with Mr. Bradshaw and Miss Trace, with the promise of meeting Mr. Bradshaw at Norfolk international after you graduated from Top Gun?" I nodded. "But those plans changed when Aaron showed up and attacked you." I nodded again.

"He tossed me into the wall, held me in a chokehold, and threatened me. He broke my phone, giving me one that he kept when we were together, he monitored it, making sure I didn't add any numbers that he didn't recognize. That's also where he told me he was having Bradley followed." Jerry nodded. "You may step down." I got up, walking back to the table, finding Rooster's eyes on the way. Whether he knew it or not, his presence helped tremendously. The little nods of encouragement, the small words of affirmation, those were things that made this easy. Not my parents, not the team, not the knowing that if we win this Aaron will spend a long time in prison. 

Him. Him supporting me, loving me, protecting me. That was what made this easier. "Miss Motley wanted out of her marriage, long before she started seeing Mr. Bradshaw. Her husband cheated on her repeatedly over the course of multiple deployments and still blocked her request for a divorce. She was forced to live in a loveless marriage, in a home that she couldn't even speak in. Now, let's take our focus off of Bradley and bring our focus back to Aaron. I'd like to call to the stand my next witness, Lieutenant Jake Seresin." I immediately knew where this was going, I wanted to sink back in my chair. 

Jake walked over, being sworn in before crossing his ankle over his knee and leaning back, a smirk on his face. "Mr. Seresin, when was the first time you officially met Mr. Wilder?" Don't get cocky Jake, don't. "At the gala, the same one that he made Caila leave with him from." Jerry nodded. "What was the topic of conversation?" Jake's face shifted, a hard look settling on his chiseled features. "Originally it was how embarrassing he thought Caila was. I told him we don't talk about ladies like that where I'm from. So, he very unhappily changed the conversation to his job." Jerry nodded. "What were some things he said about Miss Motley?" 

"He was going on about how it was un-lady like for her to walk with another man, her father invited Bradley to sit with them for the dinner, and he was going on about how he was going to make sure she stayed away from him." Jerry stopped pacing, turning to Jake. "Did he give details on how he would do that?" Jake shook his head with a frown. "Let's move on, the second time you met Mr. Wilder was actually at Miss Motley's Top Gun graduation?" He nodded. "He interrupted our conversation, he placed his hand on her shoulder and she froze. I could see the fear wash over her, her face turned white, she started sweating. I knew then that something wasn't right so I steered the conversation towards me." Jerry nodded. "And what did he say?" 

"He mentioned how proud he was, but that she would be ending her career soon. He didn't like her being gone so much, he said he 'had to keep her home.'" Tears welled in my eyes at the thought of staying home with him all the time, I couldn't do it, I knew that. "So the next time you saw him, that was New Years Eve two years ago?" Jake took a deep breath, nodding. "What happened at this party?" 

"My oldest sister Kim and her husband throw a New Years Eve party every year. This was the first one after Laura, my other sister married Caila's brother Jameson, so she invited his family. Their parents came, as well as Caila and Aaron. I greeted Caila at the door with a hug, the same way I did her mother and Laura. I saw the look on Aaron's face and he wasn't happy but as soon as Caila pulled away he had a smile on his face. All throughout the night we were just drinking and having a good time. But I noticed he had kept her close all night, which wouldn't be odd but the grip he had. I noticed fresh bruises after an hour." I took a chance and glanced at Aaron, he was rubbing his face, angry.

"At about one a.m. she got up and went to the kitchen, she was fairly sober but Aaron was drunk, he followed her. I gave it a minute and peeked in on them, just to check. I looked around the corner and saw he had her pinned to the island by her throat, a knife pointed between her eyes." I held my breath, no one but those that were there knew about that. "She was... begging him to let her go. Come to find out it was because she hugged me and spoke to me." I knew Hangman felt bad about it, he still sort of felt like it was his fault and no matter how many times I told him otherwise, he never truly believed me.

"I stepped in and he let her go and dropped the knife. By the time everyone else stepped in they were yelling at each other. She took a step back towards me and he threw the glass he had, it broke and part of it hit her on the side of her head." I subconsciously touched my head, feeling the small bump that caused so much blood to fall down the side of my face. "All hell kinda broke loose at that point, everyone was swinging, pushing them apart. Laura held Caila off to the side while her dad and Jameson threw him out." I closed my eyes, hoping to push down the emotions that flooded me. 

"How did Miss Motley respond to that?" Jake sighed, looking to me. "She was apologizing profusely. To me, my sister, my parents, her parents. She kept saying it was all her fault, and it wasn't. It isn't." Jerry nodded in agreement. "Thank you, Mr. Seresin. You may step down." Jake nodded stepping down and tossing a wink my way as he walked by. "Now, as we may all be aware seeing as  it was on the news there was an altercation outside of the Wilder home between Mr. Wilder and Mr. Bradshaw. So I want to call my next witness, Mr. Wilder." My head spun and my heart raced. Why was he calling Aaron up there? What could he possibly say that could help our case?

Aaron looked confused as he walked up to the stand, stepping up and swearing in, the same as everyone else. He sat down, getting comfortable the same way Jake did, his smirk similar but nowhere near as charming as Jake's. "Mr. Wilder, what were you doing before Mr. Bradshaw showed up?" His smirk grew and I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. "I had just finished fucking my wife." The slam of the gavel made me jump. "You will not use vulgar language like that in my court room." Aaron sighed but nodded. "Yes, your honor." 

"What did you do after that?" He had a look on his face, like he was thinking on his next words. Surely he wouldn't lie, he knows what would happen if he did. "I got in the shower." He nodded. "So Miss Motley answered the door while you were in the shower, so you were not there for the first part of the conversation, correct?" He nodded. "So when did you walk outside to fine Mr. Bradshaw, Miss Motley and Miss Montgomery?" His face dropped at the mention of Melissa. "I walked outside and saw them as Mr. Bradshaw was dragging her away from... Melissa." His voice cracked. I had only ever seen him upset like this once and it was when his grandfather passed, the only male in his life who ever showed him any form of love. I wanted to believe he had a heart, he wasn't all bad but I know that he is a world class manipulator. 

"After that I understand that Miss Motley became concerned for Mr. Bradshaw's safety. She was worried you would have him killed in front of the house, so she went upstairs to call the police. What happened while she was gone?" Aaron narrowed his eyes at Jerry. "We had a yelling match." He nodded. "And didn't you threaten to kill Mr. Bradshaw during this 'yelling match'?" He pursed his lips, taking a deep breath before nodding. "He told me if I did, I would go down and told me I did not deserve her." Jerry turned his back to Aaron, biting down a grin. "Not long after Miss Motley announced that she called the police, she passed out in Mr. Bradshaw's arms." Aaron slowly nodded, furrowing his brows. 

"After Mr. Bradshaw was arrested you told the police that Miss Motley was a lightweight and that's why she passed out, too much red wine?" He nodded. "She never could hold her liquor." Jerry nodded, smirking at him. "Mr. Wilder, were you aware that Miss Motley dropped her almost full glass of red wine when she opened the door. The glass was broken on the floor and there was red wine all over the marble that Miss Motley cleaned us the next day." I could see his body go rigid, his eyes shifting to me, then Rooster, then back to Jerry. "No, I was not aware." Jerry straightened out his body, almost excited. 

"So even though she was a lightweight, why would she pass out from two sips of wine?" He'd been caught, he knew it. "I-I-She-" He was a stuttering mess, and he looked terrified. "After the car accident there were some tests run on Miss Motley's blood. I have those here as evidence." I furrowed my brows, I never heard about these tests. "There were trace amounts of Rohypnol in her blood. A very common date-rape drug." I screwed my eyes shut, pulling back my tears. "Did you, or did you not drug her every night?" My eyes flew open, seeing Jerry standing directly in front of Aaron. Aaron looked like a fish, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly. "Answer the question, Mr. Wilder." He shook his head. "No." 

"You know what happens if you lie under oath, Mr. Wilder." His eyes were shifting, he was doing anything to avoid Jerry's gaze. "Now I'll ask again. Did you or did you not drug her nightly?" Aaron shook his head, clamming up. "No." Jerry slammed his hand down on the stand. "DID YOU OR DID YOU NOT DRUG HER EVERY DAMN NIGHT?!" "I DID!" The room went quiet, I figured he would've held out longer. "Why?" Aaron scoffed, looking at me, staring me down. I averted my gaze as Jerry blocked his line of sight to me. "Don't look at her, look at me." 

"I couldn't handle the crying! It was every night! I couldn't sleep, the only peace I got was when she was deployed!" Jerry shook his head. "So why didn't you comfort her, help her? She was your wife." "SHE IS A WHORE!" He said standing up, so fast it tossed the chair back into the wall. "Calm down, Mr. Wilder!" "No! I'm not the one who started all this! She's a whore! Just like her mother! Just like her grandmother! It runs in her fucking blood!" The urge to jump the table and tackle him was great, but I held back. "Bailiff!" The bailiff stormed over just as Aaron went to step off the stand. He went to grab him when Aaron threw himself into the bailiff. The bailiff hit his head on the corner of the jury stand, falling flat on the floor. 

Everything moved so fast, Aaron stood and moved towards me. Jerry stepped in front of him just as Rooster and Jameson hopped the divider behind me. I stood from my seat, backing into the divider as Rooster and Jameson grabbed him. Phoenix and Hangman grabbed my arms as all three of them getting him on the ground as another Bailiff rushed in, cuffing him. The sobs hit as Rooster rushed over, gathering me in his arms. "It's okay, pretty girl. I got you." He swayed us back and forth, comforting me. "Arrest him. I don't want him wandering free until we resume tomorrow. Dismissed." I sighed, clutching Rooster tighter.

"Oh, I got you Mags." The arm around my shoulder pulled me in tight, my face being buried in his chest. The scent of his cologne helping me to calm down. "Let's get you back to the hotel." Phoenix said as she rested her hand on my back. I nodded, allowing them to lead me out as Aaron was hauled down the back hallway, his yells echoing around us.

~~~

It was quiet in the suite. It was about two p.m., traffic was busy but you couldn't hear it from way up here. I slipped my heels off by the couch, tossing them over towards the bedroom as I sighed in relief. I looked towards the kitchen to see Rooster looking at me with pity in his eyes. "Don't look at me like that."

"How can I not? After everything I just heard? He hurt you and if your brother hadn't grabbed my arm, I would've killed him on that court room floor." I shook my head. "This is why I never told you more than I did." He huffed. "I wish you did, I would've helped you." I shook my head. "You would've looked at me like you are now. Everything would change, I knew it would." He furrowed his brows. Stepping around the counter, moving closer to me.

"Nothing has changed, Magnolia." I shook my head, a sob resting on the back of my tongue. "It did." My voice broke, I sounded like a child. "For so long, I have put up this front that I am fine. But I am broken, Rooster. So fucking broken, all because of him. Now you know and that's all you'll see." He shook his head, moving a strand of hair behind my ear.

"No, no. Mags, you got up there and you told so many people what he did to you. That makes you so strong, honey." He said as he rested his hands on my cheeks. I shook my head as the tears slid down my cheeks. "I always told myself, if I ever had the chance I would tell everything. But now, being up there, having to tell people what he did. I would've rather shut my mouth and let the ground swallow me whole." He nodded.

"Because you feel embarrassed or because it hurts to relive it?" It was embarrassing, but seeing everything playing back in my mind it was so hard. I surprised myself with the sob that escaped me, not expecting it. My knees went weak and he caught me, lifting me up bridal style, carrying me into the bedroom. "Come on, pretty girl. Let's get you in the shower, you'll feel better." He gently placed me onto the counter in the bathroom, turning to start the shower. As he did he shut the shower door, turning back and taking my cheeks in his hands, pulling me closer to place a kiss on my forehead. "Let's get you out of these clothes." He reached behind me, carefully unzipping my dress before pulling it off my shoulders and down my legs. 

I offered him a small smile as he pulled the panty hose down my legs, gently placing them on the counter next to me. He unhooked my bra, sliding it down my shoulders, soft kisses following. He was being so gentle, that is something I love about Rooster. His hands are rough, callous even but when they brush over my skin, they're so soft. I've seen him yell, fight, cry, love but at the end of the day he's always so gentle with me. "Mags." My head snapped to him as his hands drifted over my bare hips, he was still fully dressed in his suit which he looked so good in. "Do you want to be alone, want me to join? Hm?" He asked, tilting his head and placing a soft kiss to my jaw. "Can I have some time alone?" He nodded, kissing me gently. "Of course, pretty girl. Yell if you need me." I nodded as he helped me off the counter, placing one last kiss to my temple before stepping out. 

I waited for the soft click of the bathroom door before stepping into the steaming water. He even knows exactly what temp I like my water when I shower, that man is literally my gift from God. Some higher power had to lead me to him, knowing I would need him. There's no other way to explain how someone like me would be given a chance by a man like him. A man with such a large capacity for love, to care for people like he does. I've hurt him so many times, and yet he still wants me, that's a capacity for love that I've never seen from anyone but a parent. I finished my shower, getting out and stepping into the bedroom to pull on a soft pair of shorts and one of his UVA shirts. 

I walked into the living room, seeing Rooster sitting on the couch with Lily of the Valley, Blue Hyacinth's and Pink Carnations. "Are these for me?" I asked as I furrowed my brows, they couldn't be from Rooster, all these flowers were typically used for apologies. "Yeah." He said standing up, his suit jacket had been discarded across the back of the couch. "They're uh-they're from your dad." My face fell, and I looked to the flowers with disdain. "I'll toss these." Rooster grabbed my arm as I came around the couch, slipping till he intertwined our fingers. "He hurt you, and you have every right to be mad. I'm not going to tell you how to feel. But he did it because he was scared to lose you." Rooster turned, his free hand grazing my cheek. "And I don't blame him. I'm not going to lie, I considered begging Mav to keep you grounded. I didn't, but the thought crossed my mind and I know it crossed yours too." 

I pursed my lips, tears building up. "Let them sit and if you want to throw them out in the morning, I won't stop you. But he hand delivered these with tears running down his face. Mags, he's beating himself up." I shook my head. "Then he shouldn't have done it. I-I don't feel like I can trust him anymore. My entire life my parents have stressed to us that trust is the basis for all relationships, including ours. I never gave them a reason to not trust me and they never gave me a reason not to trust them. But now... he took a huge shot from me, he took my job from me. Even if Mav didn't pick me, I would've rather that come from his own decisions. Not my fathers." Rooster nodded. "I know, but please. Don't throw the relationship you have with him away because he made a mistake." He said kissing my forehead, wiping the tears from my eyes. 

"I'm gonna take a nap, I just-today is too much." I said pulling away from him. I walked into the bedroom, burying myself under the thick covers. I heard him walk in and sigh, "I'm going to take a shower. You want me to join you when I get out?" I hesitated, I wanted alone time but I always feel better when he holds me. I gave him a small nod, and I heard a quiet chuckle behind me. "Alright, pretty girl. I'll be out in a minute."  I felt the bed dip behind me, and a kiss was placed to my temple before he placed his foot back on the floor and the soft click of the bathroom door. I laid there, listening to the water run and the smell of Rooster's body wash seeped under the door, lulling me to sleep. I was slowly awoken when someone kissed the back of my neck, arms encircling me and pulling me back into a chest. "Go back to sleep, pretty girl. I'll be here." It was so easy to fall back to sleep in his arms.

~~~

"Magnolia." Rooster sang quietly in my ear. I groaned and rolled face down into the pillow. "It's seven o'clock and I ordered you dinner." He sang again and I rolled slightly, just enough to peek at him with one eye. "I'm listening." He smirked at me. "It's chicken carbonara and I got you extra breadsticks and a bottle of Riesling with it." I raised a brow, impressed. "I also had them bring up an entire thing of tiramisu." I launched myself at him, tackling him to the bed, kissing around his face. "I love you! So much! I don't know what I did to deserve you!" I said as my hands rested on his cheeks. His arms wrapped around my waist, smiling at me. "Anything for you, pretty girl." He said rolling us over, he kissed my lips. My hand drifted into his hair, smiling into the kiss. 

His tongue jutted out to lick my bottom lip, and I eagerly opened my mouth, his tongue settling against mine. I gripped his hair, pulling a moan from him. "Come on, let's get you fed." He said pulling away. "I think I want something else for dinner." I said, slipping my hand down his chest grazing against the growing bulge in his boxers. "If you're good, you can after you eat your dinner." He said standing up, pulling me with him. He pulled me out into the living room, the food still steaming as it sat on the coffee table, the Riesling in a bucket of ice with two glasses and the tv was set up to play The Exorcist. I gasped, turning to him. "Are you finally going to watch The Exorcist with me?" He nodded. "I will attempt it. But if I don't like it-" "You never have to watch it again." He nodded picking me up and setting me on the couch.  "Come on." I said holding out my hand, he smiled, taking my hand and climbing over the couch to sit next to me. 

We finished our food and the movie, and now we were just sitting in the living room drinking the last of the wine and watching 911 reruns. "Can I ask you something?" I nodded, my eyes glued to the screen. "What did Aaron mean when he said you did the same thing your mom and grandmother did?" I froze, mid sip. It was a question I wasn't ready for. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to." I nodded. "You could find out this stuff just as easily with a google search, better to hear it from me." He nodded and I set my glass down. "My mom was engaged when she met my dad." His eyes widened, shocked there was someone before my dad. "Her and my dad were friends, but she said she called it off the first time she got the urge to kiss him." He nodded. "My grandmother, woo buddy. That's a hard one."

"What'd she do?" Rooster asked, he scooted closer to me, one arm going around my shoulders, the other resting on my thigh. "My mom is the youngest of five, and the only one with a different dad." He nodded, his hand rubbing my shoulder. "She was married for twelve years, four boys then she met my grandfather when he was on a business trip." Hie left eyebrow raised. "They were together for two years, seeing each other whenever he came into town. She lived just outside of Knoxville at the time so he was there often for business. They would meet at this cute little roadside motel in the seventies and after two years my mom came along." I pulled on my thumbs, nervous as to what he would think, but I felt better when he laid his hand over mine. He pulled them into his own hands, his thumbs rubbing my knuckles. 

"My mamaw didn't know what to do. She was married to another man with four older boys, she didn't even know how to tell my grandfather. So she did the only thing logical in her mind at the time, she made an appointment for an abortion, days after Roe vs. Wade was passed. But she worked up the nerve to tell him and she never went, she managed to tell her husband who not surprisingly was livid and tried to force her to have an abortion but she managed to get a divorce. Her boys weren't happy of course, especially her oldest Josh. He still hates my mom, blames her for the family being torn apart but her other three are okay with it now." I didn't have any hard feelings towards my grandmother, hell if she hadn't done it, I wouldn't be here. 

"So your grandmother fell in love with someone else, your mom broke up with her fiance when she realized she was in love with your dad, and you ran from an abusive ex-husband. I personally don't see much of a problem. Yeah, technically your grandmother cheated on her husband. But it all worked out in the end and now I have you." I nodded. "It's nothing to be ashamed of Mags, you did what you had to do. He almost killed you, you couldn't stay." I nodded wiping the few stray tears that slid down my face. "I'll never blame you for what you did, and neither will anyone else that cares about you." I looked to him, "What? You don't believe once a cheater, always a cheater?" He shook his head. "Nope, because you're too in love with me. I trust you wholeheartedly, Mags." My bottom lip wobbled and I leaned in to kiss him. "Thank you, Roo. You have no idea how much that helps me." He nodded, pulling me closer to him and kissing my cheek. "Never apologize for doing what you had to do, Mags. I'd hate to think what would've happened if you didn't get out." 

"I'd probably be dead." He sighed and I looked up to him, his head was facing the ceiling with his eyes screwed shut. "Rooster?" He shook his head. "I don't want to think about doing life without you." I shook my head, moving to straddle him. I moved one hand to his cheek, my thumb gently moving back and forth across it. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere, Rooster." He sat up, looking at me. It was the same look he had when I found him at the end of the bed this morning. "I'm so sorry." He furrowed his brows, sniffling a little. "Why?" I bit my lip. "I wanted so bad to give you a baby and-" "Stop. That is not your fault, we had no control over that. Mags, it could take a long time before you get pregnant it sucks but we have to be patient." I nodded, licking my lips. "Wanna go try again?" 

His eyes softened at the question, giving me a small smile. Suddenly he stood, my legs around his waist and my arms wrapped around his shoulders. "I always want to try with you, pretty girl." I smiled as he carried me into the bedroom. It was slow, it was sensual, it was loving. His thrusts were slow and deep, my hands stayed in his hair as our moans filled the room. "I love you, pretty girl." I smiled at him. His head was resting on my chest, he was still buried between my legs, just staying there, just being. "I love you too, Roo." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@mak-32 @rosiahills22 @dhwanishah09

[kathxsoupp]

In Love With a Fever: Chapter 7

NOT ENTIRELY LORE ACCURATE!!! This fic is also posted on my AO3, linked in my pinned post, it's the first thing I have ever posted, so I hope you like it!

Summary: Reader is a detective who was put on the missing children incident case, her person of interest is William and is currently investigating him.

WARNINGS: Full tag list is on my AO3, Please read with caution as this work contains and will contain very disturbing topics and stuff so take care <3

Notes: Sorry I kept you all waiting but thank you so much for all the love on this it truly makes me so happy <3

--MINORS DNI--

Chapter 7

I parked my car before the entrance to the restaurant. Naïve, little Y/N helped me set my plan into action without her ever knowing. She is under my spell now and I have an alibi. I was with Y/N L/N last night before taking her home and afterwards, heading off to my own. That’s exactly what she would say if anyone would question my involvement in this.

I entered the building and walked to my office. I just couldn’t stop smiling. The butterflies in my stomach and the lightheaded feeling overwhelmed me. This is what makes me alive. This is what will burn my name into the pages of history. This is what y/n must have felt like a few hours ago when she was with me. Poor little girl. She must be thinking so highly of me. She has no idea she is just a pawn in my game of chess. I don’t love her. Not at all. I’ve never loved. I’ve never even loved that bitch who dared to call herself my wife. To be fair, I think she was even worse than me. I can’t have someone as disloyal so close to me, oh no. That’s why I enjoyed slaughtering that horrible woman a few years ago. I threw away her things along with her body and blamed it on her leaving. And no one has ever found out to this day. No one ever will.

Y/N, on the other hand… Y/N is loyal. She has to be, she’s a cop. That’s why her quick submission to me… surprised me. Don’t get me wrong, I still don’t love her, but I do admire her. I know she’ll make a good accomplice when the time’s right. The only thing I’ve found strange is how I felt when she told me about her co-worker who’s taken an interest in her. I felt… weird. I refuse to call it jealousy. I don’t love her. That man is simply a stupid obstacle, but I don’t believe he’d be capable of taking her away from me. He sounds like too much of a twat for that.

I blinked, bringing myself back to reality. I don’t get lost in thought often and I certainly cannot afford it right now when thinking about her. I cannot let her have any effect on me whatsoever.  I walked inside my office and closed the door behind me. I opened the bottom drawer of my desk and pulled out a pair of black rubber gloves. I carefully stretched them over my hands and then picked up the large kitchen knife that was laying beside them. I left my office and made my way to the Parts and Service room. There, as expected, lay on the floor a young child. I didn’t know his name. I didn’t need to.

I lured him back here after another party had taken place at my establishment right as everyone was packing up ready to go home. I had to wait. I had to wait for my beautiful Y/N to show up and cover my back. The exact timeline of the child disappearing, and Y/N arriving could get easily mixed up and all of a sudden, I’m going to be the innocent one. My gleeful Spring Bonnie suit appealed to him a little too much. I promised him a gift if he followed my lead and lo and behold, the boy did just as he was told. I knocked him out cold as soon as I got him alone and then locked him in this same room. Why didn’t I take his life immediately? Well, for one, I couldn’t have the whole restaurant here during the act. That would be way too risky. And, second of all, it was all a part of the plan.

I kicked the child in the hip. I saw his brows furrow and his eyes flutter open. I didn’t want to let him be completely conscious and feel all the pain, I’m not that evil. I dropped to my knees and pinned the boy down by the neck. I squeezed and pressed down with both my hands as he struggled. It was all futile. I watched life drain from his eyes. He stopped kicking and I let go. I picked up the knife I previously brought, sprung up and plunged it into his lifeless figure. I chuckled. My chuckles turned to a laugh. I couldn’t stop laughing. I felt so fucking ecstatic. This is my little wonderland. I laughed and laughed away  until it wore me out.

I kneeled at the crime scene for a few minutes after I was done. I panted as my laugh died down and I regained my composure. I stood up and dropped the knife. Then, I left.

- 7:06 am, The next day. -

You dreaded going to work today after what happened with Tim last night. You seriously did not want to see him nor speak with him. On the other hand, your worries were overshadowed by William.

William

Even thinking about his name made you feel giddy. You didn’t quite understand how it was possible to get so attached to someone so quickly. It was like he’d placed a curse upon you.

You were walking up the stairs to your office with your mind wandering elsewhere when you were stopped by your best friend, Caris.

“Y/N, hi, um, it’s an emergency. We’re going back to Freddy’s.” she informed you with urgency in her voice. Her announcement made you feel worried. “Why-what happened?” “They found a body.”

What? You couldn’t believe you actually had a body now. So far there were none discovered. There was a sliver of hope the missing children would be found alive somewhere, however, now you were fairly certain something way more horrible had happened to them. Other than that, this meant you at least had some kind of lead to work off of since you had nothing so far.

“A child’s body? Is it recent?” you questioned further. “Yeah, they said it’s a small boy, no older than 5. He died last night.”

Last night… You wanted to tell her you were at the pizzeria last night and hadn’t seen anything suspicious, but you couldn’t tell her you were there with William. But if you were with him and the murder happened after you’d left, it couldn’t have been William. Of course, you still couldn’t be one hundred percent sure he’s innocent, but this realization helped you lift some weight off of your shoulders. You turned on your heel and followed Caris out.

- At Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria -

The police vehicles once again surrounded the establishment. You walked inside along with Caris. You were then greeted by your captain who led you both to the Parts and Service room at the back of the pizzeria. There, lay the young boy’s body in a pool of blood scattered with deep cuts and stab wounds. You put on a pair of white rubber gloves and crouched down beside the corpse. Caris followed. After observing the body for a few seconds, she motioned to his neck.

“Y/N, look.”

You inched closer and noticed dark green and purple spots on the child’s neck.

“Are they bruises? Huh… So he must have died from asphyxiation rather than succumbing to the wounds.” “Whoever did this had to make sure, I guess. I mean, why would you choke someone and then stab them multiple times as well.” Caris noted. “We’re likely dealing with a psychopath here. Or at least someone who enjoys murdering kids so much they had to do it twice.” You replied. “That’s the same thing as a psychopath.” She pointed out. You gave her a glare and paused. “Thanks, Caris.” You replied sarcastically.

She looked down seemingly trying to hold back a grin.

You looked around the room. There was a knife lying next to the body.

“Weird… They didn’t even dispose of the weapon.” You said and nodded in the direction of the blade.

You got up and walked towards it bending over to pick it up and safely securing it in a bag as evidence. You passed it over to an agent standing by so it could get sent for analysis.

“How many times did this person had to stab that poor kid, I mean, look – apart from his face his body is almost unrecognizable…”

You furrowed your brows. “Yeah. Almost as if choking him wasn’t enough.” Caris turned to face you. “Do you think they maybe choked him after they’d stabbed him to death?” You shook your head. “No, I don’t think so.  But we’ll know for sure when we hear back from the lab.” “Yeah…” Caris said while standing back up.

You walked around the room. Other than the knife you hadn’t found anything incriminating. You took the opportunity to scour through Parts and Service, though. In the back of the room there was a large table with animatronic parts along with a robot head. It looked like a spare for Freddy Fazbear, the brown singing bear. You traced your fingers on the bear’s hat. The material felt cold and metal-like. You expected it to feel like fabric, like a normal hat would.

You looked down at the animatronic eyes. Your blood ran cold. Freddy’s eyes were motioned upwards, as if they were looking back into yours. You could have sworn he was not able to do that on his own. You stumbled back in horror.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Caris’ voice startled you.

You snapped your head towards her and then back at the animatronic head. His eyes were staring forward now. Your heartbeat increased. You’re just making it up. It wasn’t looking at you. You attempted to calm yourself down.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright.” You walked back towards your friend. “Okay, I think we’re done here. Now we just wait to hear back from the lab.” You spoke and flashed her an awkward smile. “Oookay…” she replied, slightly unnerved by your behavior.

- 3:41 pm, Your office. -

Scribbling onto a piece of paper you sat at your desk. You were thinking about all of today’s events. You thought it was a little bit strange you didn’t run into William earlier. Of course, you didn’t know his schedule, so you didn’t know when he usually came to work. But you knew they had to let him know they found a dead body at his restaurant. Maybe you just missed him by a few minutes. You wanted to call him, but you decided to wait until you heard back from the lab. There was so much you wanted to talk to him about. You also wondered why you haven’t seen Timothy all day. Maybe he’d just gotten sick…

You were ripped out of your thoughts by Caris barging inside your office.

“Y/N, come to the meeting room. Like, right now.” “Oh, alright. Did we get the results?” you said. “Yeah, come on.”

You both arrived at the meeting room and sat next to each other. Then, your boss came in.

“Detectives, we got our results back from the lab. They’ve found fingerprints on the murder weapon we discovered on the scene and found a match with one of our suspects. They belong to Mister Henry Emily, co-owner of Freddy Fazbear’s pizza.”