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hisunshiine · 4 months

Text

—revelations under the moon

🌙 pairing: alpha!namjoon x omega!reader 🌙 au/genre: ABO au, fated mates au, angst, smut 🌙 series rating: M 🌙 wc: 9,468 🌙 series warnings: mentions of an off-screen character death (barely a character tbh), brief male masturbation, thoughts of 'cheating' (if they aren't true mates though..is it?), cursing, retelling of a fake historical fable that includes VERY brief mentions of murder and suicide as the consequence of a tragic hero's hubris explicit sexual content: biting, marking, knotting, semi-rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare 🌙 an: wow, i did not think i would get this out in time, january was a rough month for me, but my grandpa just finished his last lung cancer treatment last week, and im trying to just balance all the stress of real life, but yeah, i think it's getting better. thank you to my beta readers, @downbad4yoongi @moonleeai and @peachiilovesot7 i appreciate all your help, whether you helped in december or in february, it is much appreciated, as always. you're the best hype squad. this is also my first ABO story, so if you hate it don't tell me. LOL 🌙 summary: "When crescent rises, we shall rise as one, Aligned with moonrise, our time has begun." Alpha-heir Namjoon and his long time sweetheart are thought to be the next pair to rule Highscrest, but when Duskfall is attacked, the heir makes a decision that changes the course of not only his and his girlfriend's destiny, but yours as well.

This story is part of the "New Year, New Me Love" @bangtanwritershq gift exchange, written for the lovely @colormepurplex2! Happy Valentine's Day!

🌒🌒🌒 Tuesday - Waxing Gibbous

The loud chatter of the crowd irritates you; your senses are on overdrive after the past two weeks you’ve had. Packing and moving everything you own across the river during the New Moon was unexpected—almost as unexpected of it being a result of a peace treaty signed by the Beta of your old pack after the death of Alpha Tyvrin.

A Beta jostles you in an attempt to move closer to the raised platform at the far end of the civic center, and you shoot him a quick glare before turning your attention back to the men on stage to avoid any drama. An Omega glaring at a Beta isn’t as bad as if it was an Alpha, but insubordinate enough still. The new tribe members do not know your previous role in Duskfall and have every right to challenge any hierarchical disrespect.

“Quiet, please,” a voice rumbles quietly, but everyone in the room follows the directive. You recognize the Alpha Father, or the father of the Alpha-Heir and most recent Pack Alpha of Highcrest, at the podium. Your irritation drops as your senses can finally focus now that the room is silent. The smells of so many new pack members still suffocates your olfactory system, but it’s bearable now. One scent seems to overpower the rest, a clean forestry smell that seems to dilute the others. “Good evening, and thank you all for coming tonight. We hope you all have been acclimating to the changes these past few weeks. If you have any concerns, please reach out to any of us here.”

The Alpha Father waves over his son, stepping aside to let him take the lead of the rest of the meeting. Your eyes drink in the lithe movements highlighted by the fit of his suit. “Thank you, Alpha Father. For those of you who are joining us from Duskfall, at the time of the New Moon three months prior, I began the ascension steps. Right before your arrival, I had just finished the last of the three trials. All that remains is the bonding.”

You look around the room to see if anyone else is having the same reaction to his voice as you are—the crowd is transfixed; all attention is on the Alpha Heir Kim Namjoon. He’s young, almost thirty, but commands the stage. It’s not just because he’s handsome, though the blue suit and his dark brown hair help. His aura oozes from afar, your inner wolf screaming at you that this is a man you would follow and it’s your turn to receive a dirty look as you bump into the person in front of you. You turn back to the stage, ears attuning to his baritone as he continues.

“—final ceremony will take place in three days, and as you all know, I will be selecting my mate. I know that there are many newcomers who may be wary of joining the pack with all of these changes happening so soon, but please have faith in us. Highcrest will protect you all, and we will be at full strength as soon as the full moon rises in a week.”

Some applause breaks out, and his confidence soothes the wolf inside you that worries about this treaty. Highcrest sits on the eastern side of the Twin Rivers split, atop the range that leads to Twin Falls. Your previous pack, Duskfall, was integrated into Highcrest two weeks ago after Shadowhide attacked and killed Alpha Tyvrin under the cover of the New Moon, in a successful attempt at taking the land between the two streams.

The fertile soil and access to the freshwater source has been a source of contention between Duskfall and Shadowhide for decades, and while a group consisting of the Alpha, Beta and his best warriors patrolled your western border, Shadowhide attacked. The Beta and a few others escaped by the grace of the moon, which gave the pack enough warning to prepare and kept Shadowhide at bay now that the act of surprise was gone. With the Alpha slain and the clock ticking before Shadowhide invaded, the Beta had no choice but to reach out to Highcrest for help. A peace treaty was signed, allowing all pack members of Duskfall to join Highcrest in exchange for their commitment to the pack. Any members who were against the treaty were allowed to leave of their own volition and go back to the main city, or find a pack of their choosing, but with the danger of Shadowhide’s takeover imminent, everyone agreed to travel east across the river and up the mountain range to the safety of Highcrest.

“Thank you to all of Duskfall’s former pack for all of your patience with us as we’ve worked to create a space for all of you here in Highcrest. After the ceremony, which is open to all unmated Omegas, everyone from Duskfall will officially be of Highcrest, and those who have not yet finished their commitment rites can do so at that time.”

You watch as Kim Namjoon waves over a tall, slender woman with sleek hair falling down her back. She is the picture of elegance, her walk stalking forward in a hypnotic fashion as she steps beside the Alpha-Heir and speaks to the crowd. You recognize her from the Apothecary you’ve been training in ever since you’ve settled into your new life here.

“Good evening, everyone. I’m Min Everlight, an Omega of pack Highcrest. I am the head healer for the pack, and if Alpha Namjoon is ever unavailable, please come see me down at the Apothecary. I’ll help in whatever capacity I can in his absence.” Her hand moves almost subconsciously towards his, and they intertwine fingers. “We have committed our lives to this pack, and all of us up here will do our best to provide for Highcrest. Please stop by the apothecary this week if you haven’t yet received the Aconite to remove your Duskfall markings in preparation for your Highcrest one.”

Everlight stays linked to Namjoon as he takes a slight step forward to end the meeting.

“When the crescent rises,” he begins, and the people around you intone their response.

“We, too, shall rise.”

Walking under the waxing gibbous, you and your Beta roommate, Sana, wave goodbye to one of your elderly neighbors. You’ve been checking on all of the members of your old pack, helping them in any way you can to get them acclimated after work. You go home tired every night, but you want to make sure this merger works.

Sana skips ahead as your new home comes into sight, singing the Alpha-Heir’s praises. “He’s so brilliant, I promise you this is the best thing that could’ve happened to us. And Min Everlight? She’s amazing, right? You’ve been working under her these past couple of weeks, isn’t she effervescent?”

You laugh at her excitement, answering her vaguely as you unlock the door to your shared home. “She knows her stuff, that’s for sure. I’ve learned a few new things already since we’ve been here, but most of it I already knew.” Sana dreamily wanders to her bedroom, ignoring your slight diss and chattering mostly to herself about how wonderful tribe Highcrest is. You plop onto the couch unceremoniously, thoughts on Min Everlight.

Everlight is effervescent, with an inner glow that makes her the perfect Omega as mate for the Alpha-Heir. You’ve heard from the other women at the Apothecary that she and Namjoon have been dating for years. Longtime sweethearts and—if their little show on stage meant anything—his choice for his mate. This thought makes you feel sick, because ever since you walked away from Duskfall and followed him to Highcrest, your heart has thrummed for him.

Taking a deep breath that you let out with a sigh, you change your line of thinking before you venture towards a vitriol hatred of your soon-to-be female leader. Min Everlight has been nothing but motherly and nurturing to all of you since your arrival, but the more you see her all over the Alpha-Heir, the harder it is to like her. Not just because of her romantic relationship with Namjoon, either, but that she represents everything that you almost were, and reminds you of everything you lost.

You scratch at your upper arm over your shirtsleeve, where the Aconite serum you rubbed on earlier dissolves your Duskfall tattoo in preparation for your Highcrest one. The Aconite is diluted and mixed with other herbs to prevent poisoning that would weaken you before the ceremony. Sana disappears into the shared bathroom to shower, and you close your eyes for a moment not meaning to fall asleep as you wait for your turn.

The moon goddess blesses you with dreams of Duskfall past, memories of your destined path as the tribe’s Luna-to-be—the Omega paired to the now fallen Alpha Tyvrin—and you wake to the reality that all you have trained for was for naught.

🌓🌓🌓 Wednesday - Waxing Gibbous

Or, more like you wake with the sudden slam of a door, sitting upright as you squint to keep back the sunlight.

“Damn, you slept on the couch?” Sana questions, looking cheery and well-rested.

You clear your throat to answer. “Yeah, I guess so. What time is it?”

Sana glances at her watch. “Um, it’s half past eight.”

“Shit, I overslept, and I’m supposed to meet with Everlight again today.” You stand abruptly, and begin organizing all of the large pillows on the couch, laying the blanket just so until you hear Sana laughing at you. You look up at her with a glare. “What?”

“I think you might be in pre-heat. You’ve fluffed that pillow at least three times, and that blanket cannot be folded over the back of the couch any more perfectly unless you’ve got a protractor in the cabinet.”

“There’s no way, it hasn’t been enough time since the last one.” You ignore her as you clamber back onto the couch, tucking your legs up under you seemingly forgetting your plans for the day.

“Your heat is probably gearing up because of some Alpha at the meeting last night. With Tyvrin gone, rest in moonlight, you’re no longer taking the suppressants are you? With everything that’s happened, it makes sense that you’d forget,” she theorizes, “and apparently Highcrest doesn’t have that practice here.”

You can’t believe you’ve forgotten. In Duskfall, you were chosen by Alpha Tyvrin to be his mate, and asked to take suppressants until the ceremony. This was to help to prevent you from having a heat, decreasing your pheromones from triggering any non-bonded Alpha’s into their ruts and endangering you. These past few weeks since the move, you haven’t been taking any suppressants, and you’re sure by now it's run its course and is out of your system.

“They don’t practice that here?”

“No, weren’t you listening at the meeting? The Alpha-Heir doesn’t choose his mate the same way like in Duskfall. Highcrest has a different ceremony. All unmated Omega’s can be part of it.”

“But isn’t Everlight most likely going to be chosen anyways?”

“I hear there’s blindfolds involved, so maybe instead of sulking, and filling the apartment with your sour scent, you can just join the ceremony and give it a try.”

The news fills your chest with what feels like sunbeams, and you smile at the Beta as you relax into what you’re now realizing is a nest.

“Ah, the room smells so much nicer now. Also—you’re late.”

🌓🌓🌓 Wednesday - Waxing Gibbous

Kim Namjoon sits patiently outside the Apothecary, waiting for Everlight to finish for the day. He can sense her inside, her scent a fresh scent of clean linen, just brought down off of the line after soaking in the sun. It’s always been the strongest scent to him, out of all of the women in Highcrest, and he’s sure that the Moon Goddess will prove her to be his mate this weekend when he ascends to his Alpha status.

Fingers drumming along his clothed knee, he hums to himself as he watches the sunrays filtering through the trees as it sets. The small bell above the door chimes as small groups of girls and women of all ages trickle out from the shop—Everlight hosted a gathering after work for all of the newcomers to review the Highcrest ceremony procedures for women, and they all bow respectfully when they catch sight of him seated in the chair near the door.

Namjoon can’t help but wonder what else they were working on today, his nose itches to investigate whatever new tonic or serum she’s put together this time—the smell is amazing. Like a warm honey coating his tongue, hints of bourbon with small bursts of brown sugar peaking his interest. He hopes it’s not something inedible, like the Aconite serum, and his curiosity getting the better of him, he stands, unbuttoning his suit jacket and moving to peer through the small glass windows framed in the center of the door.

Ah, he thinks as he takes in one of the new pack members, Everlight must have let one of the Duskfall women teach a new tonic. Namjoon recognizes you through the dusty glass standing in front of the group, and remembers that his Beta, Seokjin, had pointed you out from afar when you first arrived.

🌑Two Weeks Ago 🌑 Monday - New Moon

“That’s Alpha Tyvrin’s mate, er—was his mate. They hadn’t actually had the ceremony yet, the attack happened before the full moon ceremony could happen, but she was set to be Duskfall’s Luna.” Seokjin’s finger points down the lane from the window of City Hall, connecting to a woman walking towards the villager housing area. Namjoon eyes you warily before posing a series of questions to his Beta.

“Will it be an issue to have two mature Luna’s in a pack? Should we offer to place her with another pack to mate with an Alpha?”

“I don’t know…I haven’t ever heard of something like this happening. Typically the Alpha has already mated the Luna, and since one cannot live without the other—”

“I see.” Namjoon understands why the Moon Goddess would create such a fate for paired leaders. “Had the ceremony already happened, she would be buried next to him. It could be a help, now that we have so many more people, to have two strong healers in the pack. Maybe she could travel on patrols in case of an attack?” He wonders how Everlight would react to finding out that there’s another Luna-trained Omega in the pack, and if this would be a way to spin it to lessen any blowback.

Seokjin looks thoughtful, eyebrows lifted as he tilts his head and gathers his words carefully. “That could be a good option for the second Luna, so that their training and skills do not go to waste, especially now that our pack has grown…It could also be worth mentioning—with so many new members, it would be a good show of faith if you were to perhaps choose the Duskfall Luna as your mate—”

Namjoon’s growl silences Seokjin momentarily but he presses on when he sees no claws being barred.

“I’m just saying, nothing helps unite two packs better than having one of their own integrated into the upper levels of the hierarchy. If we want to keep peace and help Duskfall feel loyalty to Highcrest, taking their to-be-Luna as your mate would be the smart move. You and Everlight aren’t fated, so it’s not like our pack would frown upon it under the circumstances—”

Namjoon’s eyes cut like daggers as he stares his Beta down, almost dragon-like in ferocity as he contains his inner beast. “Everlight is my mate, Seokjin. I would never betray her like that.”

🌓🌓🌓 Wednesday (present) - Waxing Gibbous

Looking at you now, Namjoon is glad to see that you and Everlight seem to have no issues working alongside each other. After reading through previous Alphas’ historical notes and reviewing the history of the packs of the Twin Rivers Valley, he decided that it would be best to keep you around, as he worries his newest constituents would revolt if they thought he had banished you from Highcrest. He spent the first couple of weeks talking to other elder members of Duskfall, and learned that a lot of the pack had come to rely on you as they became acclimated, that you had been going around to visit with them and check-in, and keep them all calm with the changes happening.

He appreciated that you had taken this on as a duty, especially when you were dealing with the biggest blow of all. Namjoon meant to meet with you to thank you, but the longer he took, the more it felt fake, rehearsed, and like an afterthought instead of what it really was: an Alpha-Heir not yet familiar with his role, and learning about you from afar made him feel like a weird stalker of sorts that he had all this knowledge of you and your skills from others.

Your skills would be most useful to their pack, and though you were meant to lead the pack by an Alpha’s side, you could still maintain some modicum of that role, just as the second to Everlight. Namjoon is sure this plan will work. He plans to have a meeting with Seokjin and Everlight tonight, that way he can make sure that they will follow his plan without any issues.

He knows he could just order everyone to follow along, but using his Alpha to force others to do what he wants doesn’t always work out in the long run. The history of the tribal lands and the fact that there were three distinct tribes from the original one, up until Tyvrin’s death, is proof of that.

It’s much better for a leader to have the consenting loyalty of his pack, instead of forced fealty that brews contempt and derision. Namjoon steps back from the door to allow another person to exit, and once again, the honeyed bourbon seeps through the opening. It’s much stronger this time, urging him to his feet almost against his will.

He feels his blood thrumming, pounding through his veins like a rushing river. Namjoon checks his forehead, as if feverish, and notices his hand comes back with a sheen of sweat. It’s like he’s gone into pre-rut, which would be crazy. He’s pretty regular when it comes to his ruts lining up with Everlight’s heats, and she’s still not due for a little bit…

Namjoon stumbles backward, taking the three steps back to solid ground quickly as he tugs at the collar of his buttoned shirt. He’s too hot, it’s all too much, he has to do something, move, but he’s in the middle of the town, there are people who look to him to be more restrained than this standing all around…Namjoon trips a little on the gravel beneath his feet as he takes off back towards City Hall and away from Everlight, afraid that if she is due for her heat and his pre-rut was triggered by that, he would mount her right there in front of the last few people in the store and fuck her hard against the counter, not caring if everyone saw the powerful way he drove his cock in and out of her until he filled her with cum and knotted her.

He’s locked himself in his office, blinds closed with his fist wrapped around his thick length as he imagines it: his hands firm on the plump rounds of ass, spreading the cheeks apart as he spits between them, Omega slick lathering his cock with every stroke and the tight walls sucking him back in with every pump out, and when he cums—copious amounts leaking around his large hand—it’s only then that he realizes that it wasn’t the clean linen-scented Everlight he was imagining taking his knot.

🌔🌔🌔 Thursday - Waxing Gibbous

You’re irritated—more so than you’ve been since your entire life was turned upside down two weeks ago. The Beta that’s always around the Alpha, Seokjin, randomly showed up at your place in the morning saying you were tasked to go on a supply run to the nearest city. It makes sense—Seokjin explained that the Alpha had handpicked everyone in the group to help new pack members meet others and start to learn their ways, and you appreciate it, except for the fact that you don’t want to be far from home right now.

In fact, because of the upcoming ceremony, Everlight had let all of the women training in the apothecary have the next few days off, as she expected to be chosen and wanted to prepare herself and her home for what was to come. You had mixed feelings when she initially announced this to everyone, because while you enjoy the respite from the constant go-go-go of changes around you, the reason behind it left you feeling miffed.

All of yesterday, you spent time working at the Apothecary and were even asked by some of the others to show them some tonics and potions that they had never heard of, and while you enjoy teaching others, it’s quite draining to go through the motions while talking through every step you make, and why. The girls quietly scribbled down your words in their notebooks, committing your teachings to paper, which made you feel good about yourself, until reality hit about your future.

It almost didn’t feel fair that you were so new to the pack and already others were looking to you to train and teach them new things, meanwhile another person is slated to take the position you’ve wanted and trained for your whole life.

Shaking away your thoughts, you tap back into the moment, finally having arrived in the bustling city a little past mid-day. You hate all of the smells; the odor rising from the sewer grates and scents from the people who jostle you as they rudely push past your group. You hold back the urge to plug your nose, sighing out a weighted exhale as you follow Seokjin through the automatic sliding doors and into a grocer’s market.

🌔🌔🌔 Thursday - Waxing Gibbous

Back in the forest, a half day’s trip from the city, Kim Namjoon spends his time in his office again, hiding out from his duties by disguising them as last minute studying and planning for the ceremony.

He couldn’t bring himself to meet with Everlight the previous night, instead calling Seokjin only to discuss the plans for the supply run. He looked over the list of items Everlight needed in the apothecary, and only because the winter months were starting to fade away into spring meant this would be the last expensive trip until winter came again.

Bees do not make honey in the winter, so why can’t he explain away the coincidence of the honey bourbon smell and the note written in Everlight’s scrawl next to the requested item underlined twice: Honey — we’ve been out for ages!! He doesn’t want to believe that he could be feeling this way for someone other than Everlight, but of two things he knows for sure: he smelled honey, and Everlight is distinctly NOT a honey smell.

Seeing that on the list had Namjoon rise with a wild idea, to send the other Luna far, far away for the day, to help him clear his mind. In reality, he paces his office, wearing thin the once plush carpet with his worried steps until he can’t take it anymore. Crossing the room, he walks with such a force that no one dares to question where he’s off to.

He knows where you live, knows that your Beta roommate Sana should be home, and when he knocks on the door with authority, he expects Sana to fling the door open so hastily that the movement sends the mixed scents of the apartment wafting out at him. Instantly, he expects his spine to straighten as his whole body is overwhelmed by the truth—except that never comes. No one is home, as a kind older woman politely points out to him after his third attempt at knocking.

“Those girls went into town today, it seemed like the Luna had to drag Sana along with her,” she chuckled, clearly a pack member who was fond of the two women. “Did you want me to tell them you stopped by?”

“No! I mean—no need to worry them about my visit, I can talk to them tomorrow, thank you.”

He swiftly departs, deciding to just head home instead of back to the office for some peace.

“Joonie!”

Barely having set foot in his residence, Namjoon is bombarded with the irritating scent of laundry detergent. It’s too pungent; overwhelming in a way that he’s never experienced before. He catches himself before his nose wrinkles and Everlight ascends into his arms. He hugs her back, planting a soft kiss to the side of her head in an endearing manner before she pulls him into the dining room for an early dinner with his parents.

Namjoon spends the evening engaged in conversation with his parents and Everlight, avoiding talks of the ceremony as best he can—despite his mother and girlfriend's best attempts. His dad eyes him warily—in that cunning way that only another Alpha can—sensing the change in the dynamics within the room. Namjoon is grateful his father remains quiet, simply watching the conversation over the nightcap of barrel-aged Cabernet Sauvignon from their cellar.

Once they call it a night and his parents disappear to their room, Everlight begs Namjoon to stay over, and unable to say no to the woman he’s never said no to before, he relents. He regrets this decision almost immediately, as his hopes that Everlight would help him take his mind off of the one thing that’s been at the forefront of it are crushed.

“She’s just really good at healing. She knows a lot, like I can’t believe I’m even admitting it, but she knows things that I don’t. And the things I have been able to teach her, she learns it so quickly and easily. I’m actually kind of jealous.”

Namjoon can tell; Everlight’s face is scrunched up in a way that makes her look unattractive, and he doesn’t know what to do or to say to make her feel less insecure.

“Maybe it’s a good thing she is joining our pack. It’s important to learn and grow continuously.” It’s as diplomatic as he can be at the moment.

“Yes, but she’s trained as a Luna, just like me. It’s a little like she’s trying to take my spot. Yesterday, while I was teaching, the other girls asked her to teach them something I didn’t know, and I just had to stand there and let her take over my lesson. The girls were so focused on her and taking notes, it made me kind of hate her.”

She’s looking at him, her eyes trying to find something within his, but he looks away, reaching for the light next to his bed.

Everlight reaches for him, aligning her body to his as her fingers grip his shoulders so she can position herself atop him.

“That’s why I can’t wait for the ceremony, baby. We can finally be a true, mated pair. Start our forever, with me as your Luna. No room for confusion from the pack about who will bear your pups.” Her eyebrows waggle up and down suggestively as she lowers her lips to his plump ones. “We can practice now if you want, you can scent me, let all the bitches in heat know to back off.” She kisses him again.

Namjoon kisses her back, but her laundry odor fills his nasal cavity and her words are so off-putting for the role she hopes to take on for the pack. He can feel her hands travel down his ribcage, but nothing about her touch turns him on. Pulling away from the kiss, he catches his breath as he readies his excuse.

“Babe, I think we should wait,” his large hands hold her shoulders firmly before his touch grows softer, palms smoothing up and down her arms in a soothing motion. “The ceremony is so soon, and I want it to be sacred…I know that might sound cheesy and un-Alpha-like but—”

“No, you’re right.” Everlight smiles softly at him, but he can see the hurt in her eyes at being rejected. “I’m just feeling overwhelmed with all of the new pack members and the changes happening, I think I got a little over excited.”

“I love that about you, you know? You’re excitement over things, and how you want to be the best version of yourself for our pack. You’re already an amazing Luna in your own right.”

Everlight excuses herself to the bathroom, and Namjoon clambers off his bed, bare feet leading him towards his cracked bedroom window. In the light of the almost full moon, he can now see the noises that drew his attention moments ago: returning members of his pack walking down the path to their homes.

There’s no mistaking it now. A warmth blooms from his groin, spreading higher until his neck grows hot from it as his nose and mouth feel thick with the sweetest bourbon honey scent. With you unaware of his gaze as you laugh with Seokjin and Sana, he feels jealousy boiling into his chest.

“Mine.”

🌕🌕🌕 Friday - Full Moon

You wake up late on Friday morning, your body a little stiff and sore. You feel as if you slept with a heater on, sleep clothes clinging to your body due to the sweat that covers your skin. You try to shake it off, but the feeling doesn’t go away, even after a cold shower.

You’re not surprised you woke up mid afternoon after arriving back at Highcrest near midnight, but you suppose the excitement of what’s to come will keep you awake the rest of the evening. You have to meet the elders for the pre-ceremony rituals at the start of moonrise, so you eat a light snack in the hopes it won’t trouble your stomach too much.

You know now that Sana is right. Your heat will kick in no later than tomorrow afternoon, with the confirmation of the night sweating and soreness symptoms appearing today, but you worry about what it will mean if you end up not being chosen…you’ll begin cramping and sink into Omega-space, leaving you vulnerable to other higher ranking pack members without a plan prepared to get you through your heat.

At quarter till six, you leave your home with a small bag of items and head to city hall, where Elder Aline waits for you and the other Omegas who planned to join the ceremony to arrive. Elder Aline was old—she worked closely with the Luna three times removed was in power, and lived to prepare both of her successors, and now would be helping to prepare this ceremony.

You hug your bag to your chest as the last of the group arrives: Everlight. She only looks slightly surprised to see you in the group of seven Omega’s, but she fixes her facial features quickly and offers you a bright smile.

“I didn’t expect to see you in the group!” Everlight’s tone is friendly enough, but the undercurrent of her words screams out territorial.

“Oh, yeah, my roommate said I should come as an unmated Omega to take part in the ceremony. It’s different from our previous pack’s tradition, and if I hope to carry out my duties and help with future ceremonies, the best way to learn is to be part of it, right?”

Your answer makes sense, perfectly curated to help push away any questions that dig too deep into your motivations, including yourself. Part of you knew that it would be beneficial to you if the worst comes to fruition, but the other part, the more primitive part, knows the real reason is because the wolf inside of you longs for your mate to be Kim Namjoon.

Elder Aline calls for your attention, her weathered voice a calming stillwater that acts as a soothing balm to the nervous energy in your chest. She speaks to the group, sharing some information about how the rest of the night will play out before she leads your small group towards the outskirts of Highcrest, to the south of a small lake on the edge of the forest. The walk takes a bit of time to navigate the terrain, especially with an Elder leading.

You allow her moments to pause and rest, clearly fatigued from traipsing through high grasses and uneven dirt, but soon enough you are there, and placed along the treeline, a small clearing awaits you. She makes quick work of explaining the first ritual’s steps, and you allow her voice to lead you through the routine.

The cleansing ritual itself takes the better part of an hour, as everyone planning to participate strips down to enter the water under the light of the moon which now grazes the top of the trees. A small pouch filled with herbs and petals is handed to each of you to rid you of any lingering outside scents. You lather your skin, taking the time to clean every inch before stepping out to air dry. It’s colder than you expected, but no one wants to risk masking their scent for the ceremony.

The elder had laid a simple white dress on the shore of the lake near your bag, and once dry, you sheathed your body with it, happy for the fabric to provide some warmth. She pulls a thermos from her bag along with small cups.

“Purified under the new moon,” she intones, handing you a steaming cup of tea. “Red azaleas, to pull out your emotions and attract your true mate.”

You sip it slowly, letting the heat warm your hands. The other women join you after the elder gives them each a cup, and you huddle in a circle, trying to stay warm.

“I think it’s good that we have so many of us for the ceremony,” Everlight speaks, her voice light and airy. “It would be a boring ceremony if I was here by myself.”

Her words were clearly chosen carefully, meant to sound like a compliment to the others for their company, while laying claim to the role not yet given to her by the moon. You bristle, feeling your body heat up. Her comments were starting to annoy you, because a true Luna was not insecure or haughty. She was a healer, a person that others could go to when they needed strength, compassion, or empathy. Everlight seemed to have forgotten this.

“I think it is great that Highcrest’s tradition is different from ours, it feels more…pure.” You don’t know how else to describe it, but the act of having the alpha choose his mate through this ceremony feels like how it used to be. The elder hears you and her words confirm this.

“This is the true ceremony. But come now, it is about time for us to begin.”

She leads you around to the north side of the lake. A small copse of trees had blocked the incoming sight, and now that you were closer, you could see the small gathering of pack members standing in a crescent.

Directing you to step into the open space, she takes your cups from each of you as the seven of you line up with ample space between each other. You look around nervously. The cold you felt earlier when you were wet and naked exiting the lake was gone; you notice that you feel hot. You’ve felt hot since drinking the tea.

The crowd murmurs quietly to one another as you look around for Sana, finally finding her to the right near the top point of the moon shape they were standing in. She waves at you, a smile breaking across her face as she takes you in.

All at once the noise in the forest dies out. The muttering follows suit, and Elder Aline steps before the crowd.

“Before the great divide of the tribal lands, the Alpha’s mate was never set in stone until the ceremony was completed. Even if the Alpha had taken many lovers as a young pup, it matters not, for what the moon reveals is the truth. And an Alpha dare not disobey the moon, lest the pack fall weak.”

She then begins her tale of the history of the original tribe they descended from.

“Many, many moons ago, we once existed as a proud and noble pack led by an Alpha of unmatched strength and wisdom named Lycaon. Under his reign, our pack thrived, united as one for the good of the group. We honored the ancient laws dictated by the phases of the moon, for we knew the moon's power was both a gift and a curse. Before the divide, we could shapeshift along with the phases of the moon.

But Lycaon, with his pride swelling within him like a thunderous storm cloud, began to question the moon's choice for his fated mate. He refused his fated Omega, instead choosing who he wanted, and not who our celestial goddess knew our pack needed. Ignoring the warnings of his most trusted Betas, Lycaon decided that his unborn son would also choose his own mate, not the moon.

At first, this defiance seemed to have no negative impact. But before long, cracks began to appear between pack members. By refusing the moon's guidance, the pack ended up with an Alpha-chosen Luna who was not prepared for her role. The rejected Luna fell melancholy, and took her own life, saying she could not watch the ruin of her pack. Some wolves found themselves unable to control their shifting, and began to attack their own kin in fits of madness. Other pack members grew weak—their bodies unable to withstand the impact of their dual nature.”

The entire crowd was enraptured hearing the tale, as Duskfall members did not know the history, and you are among them in learning the true history of the divide.

“As chaos descended upon our once-proud pack, Lycaon's authority waned as the full moon wanes. Desperate to maintain his grip on the pack, he resorted to ruling the pack with fear instead of respect. But his efforts only fueled the flames of discord, and soon, the pack was torn asunder by fights and betrayal.

In the aftermath of our pack's collapse, three new packs rose from the one, each led by a different wolf claiming to be the one true Alpha. They fought for the lands we stand upon today, with Lycaon’s son, Claudin, taking the hills to found Highcrest, and the other two packs fighting over the lower grounds. Claudin knew that in order to reclaim the strength and glory we had lost, he must not allow pride or the greed for power seduce him into betraying the moon.”

A low murmur swept through the crowd. You knew your former packmates had the same thoughts running through their mind as you did—could this really be true? Was Alpha Tyvrin’s downfall predestined to happen in order to reunite the original pack? Elder Aline coughs, and you focus back on her.

“And so, this tale of Alpha Lycaon and our pack serves as a tale of caution for generations, a reminder of the dangers of hubris and the importance of respecting the ancient laws that govern our kind. Alpha Claudin rectified the treachery his father had done unto the moon, but we shall never shift again as punishment.”

A quiet settles upon the crowd, and the elder gestures to a group of children you didn’t notice before. They step towards each of you, and she asks you all to kneel. The small child before you has a face like a cherub, full cheeks pulled tight as he shows his teeth to you, eyes disappearing in his delight.

He bequeaths a length of dark fabric, and his hands move so as to wrap the ends around your face, deftly knotting it behind your head. When you feel him step away, you stand back to full height. Your other senses are heightened, anxiety blossoming at what comes next. You hear footsteps, and sounds of awe and admiration sweep across the crowd stealing your nerves. You freeze in anticipation.

“Alpha Namjoon has done what we once thought impossible, uniting two tribes where whence was three, and we must continue to follow the moon’s guidance. We must not deceive ourselves. The moon will not lead us wrong. It will not lead him wrong.”

Seconds tick by as you wait, eyes furiously trying to see through the thick material stealing your sight. Seconds turn into minutes and you can hear the faint rustling of bare feet traveling across the grass, the weighted foot falls accompanied by heavy inhales of the still air surrounding the area. You know the Alpha has entered the clearing—can feel a palpable shift in the energy as your body grows hotter by the second. His scent sings to you, and you whine lowly, wanting to follow it.

Again, the crowd responds to something unseen by you, this time it has your inner wolf crouching, tail down and ears back—showing submission. Another whine escapes you, a little louder this time. Your distress must be filling the area around you, you can sense the crowd’s movement, reacting to your scent. You begin to panic, fearing that a distressed scent would push the Alpha to choose another, not the scared, submissive and pathetically whining bitch in heat—

🌕🌕🌕 Friday - Full Moon

Namjoon walks up to the clearing surrounded by his closest advisors, some of whom had been absent patrolling the borders and securing their land the past several weeks, and returned in time for the ceremony. As he approaches, the sounds in the forest quickly fade, as if sensing his arrival.

He waits for his signal to enter the clearing, far enough away that he can only smell the crowd of his pack members standing between him and the clearing where the Omegas will stand. Namjoon spent all day in the forest, away from town preparing for the ritual by hunting for game to be used for the meal to feed his mate before the knotting. He also had to follow the same cleansing tradition, bathing under the light of the full moon, drinking the purified new moon tea, and dressing in loose, white linen pants.

He tried his best to clear his mind from the events of the previous evening, and once he was away from the bustle of the town square, he found it easier to convince himself it was just a fluke. After years of being with Everlight, the idea of being fully committed must have made him feel a bit scared, so he latched onto the idea of something new, someone different…you.

Now, after his mindful afternoon in the forest, he knows he just has to trust the moon will lead him to Everlight, his mate. He knows her scent, knows it like he knows the taste of his mom’s cooking or the sound of his father’s favorite whiskey bottle opening.

As the moon climbs higher, he waits, steadily listening as the crowd quiets and Elder Aline speaks, recounting the tale of the original tribe. As she gets close to finishing her tale, Namjoon is tapped on the shoulder by Beta Taehyung, who motions to the blindfold in his hand.

“It’s time, Alpha.”

Namjoon nods, taking the blindfold from the younger male and covering his dragon-shaped orbs. He fastens the knot, and he senses when another one of his trusted Betas approaches him.

“I have the pouch here. Make sure to smell it deeply before—”

Beta Jungkook is interrupted by Namjoon. “I know, I know. Smell it deeply before I let my inner wolf out to track my mate.” He lifts an open palm so Jungkook can place the small, organza fabric reticule into his hand.

When he hears his name, he knows that’s his signal. He follows the sound of the elder’s voice to enter the clearing.

Raising the small sack to clear his olfactory senses, he inhales a piece of his own clothing, a small handkerchief he kept on him all week. A trick using olfactory habituation to cleanse his palate from the surrounding smells, allowing him to only smell his mate. The crowd shifts, he can hear stilted murmurs about his physique being on display since he was shirtless as he walks past his pack.

Stepping fully into the clearing, he inhales deeply, and instantly he picks up the laundry scent that he’s so used to being surrounded by. It’s definitely Everlight’s scent—he’s almost positive—but it has an edge to it, a slight tinge that he’s not used to smelling. The longer he stands there, the more the scent morphs into a cloying, headache inducing smell. It’s almost fake, a manufactured scent that doesn’t entice him.

He steps away from the smell of it, noting an undercurrent of something nice. The crowd reacts, confused at his actions, but he doesn’t care. He knows he has to trust the moon. And that bourbon-honey scent? He wants more of that. Lifting the pouch again to his nose to rid it of the sickly sweet smell, he drops his hand after a few inhalations, allowing the soft honey smell to seep into his pores. It’s alluring, growing more seductive by the moment, but then it takes on the additional bitter scent of anxiety, and Namjoon worries that something is wrong.

He can feel his inner wolf scratching to get closer, to protect, to save his mate—when he steps closer, the crowd reacts again, so he grabs at his blindfold, tearing it free so that he can get to you. He needs to calm you down, you need to feel safe, to know that your Alpha is here to protect you. He’s closer to you than expected, and the whine you let out calls to him in more ways than one.

His body feels alight with flames, he can see you’re trembling. His hand moves without him thinking, gripping the blindfold and tugging it up and off your head.

🌕🌕🌕 Friday - Full Moon

The light of the moon feels blinding as you blink to adjust your eyes to the sudden return of your sight before it’s eclipsed by the broad body of the Alpha. His breaths are almost frantic, a heavy panting that moves his shoulders with each exhalation as his wild eyes roam your face. His neck gland is hidden by a tied piece of cloth, masking his scent partially and you want to bury your face into him, seeking safety and comfort.

Your body responds to his proximity almost immediately, a simultaneous calming of the mind’s anxiety as physically you feel engulfed in a blaze, a sweat finally breaking out along your hairline as you’re thrown into full heat. Namjoon’s nostrils flare as he inhales you, his face looking triumphant as he kneels on one knee before you. He reaches for your hands, which tremble as he locks eyes with you.

“Namjoon, what the hell?!” Everlight stands several omegas down from you, her face free of the blindfold, which now dangles from her fingertips at her side. She doesn’t move for a moment, not until she realizes the Alpha was not responding to her. Her steps don’t falter as she gets closer to you, but your scent grows sour as you take in the murderous look on her face.

Namjoon’s movements are quick and fluid. He stands and postures himself, keeping you protected behind him as he shoves Everlight back with one hand.

“Mine,” he growls. Everlight drops the blindfold, confusion blossoming upon her face.

Namjoon turns to you, grasping your cheeks gently in his hands. “Mate.”

He throws his head back, and lets out a loud howl to the moon.

Chaos ensues. The entire field grows loud as some pack members celebrate the ceremony’s success, while others gossip about the outcome. You can hear snippets of the conversations until another voice grows louder, shouting at the Alpha. It’s Everlight, your brain registers, she’s angry, her sour scent wafting in your direction as she screams.

Some Betas you’ve never seen before hold her back, preventing her from coming closer to you and Namjoon. You back up, jostling into him, and the urge you had earlier grows so strong you don’t hold back. Jumping into his arms, you bury your nose into his neck, and you instantly melt against him, fatigued. Namjoon is startled but holds you tightly, and you can feel when he begins to walk swiftly away from the crowd.

You don’t question it, you just let your Alpha lead you to someplace safe. It takes a few minutes before you arrive at a small cottage, its windows lit with a soft glow. You recognize it for what it is—a mating cabin. Set far enough away from the town square that a newly mated Alpha and Luna can have alone time to get through the next few days.

Namjoon sets you down, but doesn’t let you go. Opening the door, the first thing you see is a pack of water on the small wooden table. It’s one large room, like a studio with an open concept. There’s a small kitchen set up to the left, and straight ahead is a large bed. The sheets are clean and welcoming, and you can feel your body beginning to cramp as your heat kicks in.

You knew it was coming—the low-grade fever, mild cramping, and more recently, increased slick and pheromone production ever since Namjoon touched you in the clearing. You shuffle, uncomfortable as slick leaks out of you, trailing down your thigh slowly.

You can hear Namjoon inhale sharply, before he’s kicking the door shut and grabbing you firmly. He doesn’t speak. His eyes say everything though, the adoration and lust sparkling in the low light in the room.

“Alpha.” It’s a statement. It’s a request.

His lips are on yours, devouring, tasting, suckling as if he can’t get enough of you.

“Honey. You taste like sweet bourbon infused honey…it’s intoxicating.” Namjoon kisses you again, this time his lips trail from yours to your neck. He teases you, teeth nipping at the skin as your thighs rub together seeking pleasure as he pulls sinful mewls from your throat. Your hands grip his upper arms, and you try to tug him towards the bed. You need him. You need his knot.

“Please, Alpha,” you beg, and he shivers in your hold, aroused by your submissiveness. “Need you.”

Namjoon lifts you up, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist. You grind against him, biting his bottom lip aggressively. You feel so hot—burning up—and he’s the only thing that can cure you from this growing pain.

Your heat is in full swing, and you can tell it’s triggering your Alpha’s rut. He’s trying to hold back, be gentle and slow, but when you push your leaking core against him, he gives in. His hands fumble with the waistband of his linen pants before his heavy cock springs free, fully erect and searching for your entrance. You move your waist to help the angle of his cock, as one hand holds your hip and the other holds the base of his shaft to align himself.

When the slight pressure on your slit gives, you thrust forward, forcing him inside you with ease thanks to your copious amounts of slick. You feel full, the head hitting in just the right spot. Attempting to create friction, you try to undulate your hips, but the resulting shockwaves from the tip meeting that sensitive spot causes you to clench around him.

He freezes, feeling the quickening of your walls and you yelp in surprise when he throws you on the bed. The loss of him inside you feels unfair, but he steps out of his pants and soon crowds your body with his own as he climbs over your body. A firm hand presses into the middle of your upper back, before he grips your hips and pulls them upwards. The dress slides down, revealing your bare backside to him and you feel more than hear the growl he lets out.

He leans against your body, ripping your dress up until you are able to slide the garment off your arms and throw it to the floor. A smack jolts you forward, but he adjusts you back into place. You feel his thumb drag over your slick covered folds, taunting you.

“Alpha!” you whine, and he chuckles before realigning his length to your throbbing core. At this angle, he reaches deeper inside of you, and he begins to rock his hips, thrust after thrust inside you. His large hand grips your chin, turning your head to the side.

“Want to see that pretty face as you cum on my cock, want to hear you cry for me when you take my knot.” His low baritone promises you pleasure beyond your imagination.

He licks up your spine, kissing and nuzzling into your neck, and you know it's the spot he wants to mark you at. You beg him to do it, but he just shakes his head against your skin. “Not yet, my love.”

He kisses you with every thrust he takes, before sitting up more to pin you down to the bed. His movements grow sharp, hands grabbing at your ass cheeks as he pounds into you. Switching up his movements, you can’t believe he fucks so well when he begins to rotate his hips and slips his thumb into your mouth. You suck on it, drool leaking from your mouth onto the sheets as your legs shake.

You clench again, involuntarily spasming every few seconds and you know you’re close—you tell him as much.

“Fuck,” he curses, and you grip the bedsheets as he adjusts his hold on you. His hands move to your hips and he arches your back even more as he speeds up his own movements. They're fluid, your slick making it almost effortless for him to please you, to take you from behind like this until he’s so deep he could feel himself poking through your stomach—

“Take my knot, want you to have my pups, fuck—”he presses his hips flush to your ass, streams of his cum filling you up endlessly as your body wracks with euphoric release. You whine as you feel the intense pressure of his knot filling you before the pain of his marking bite overtakes your senses.

You feel overwhelmed in a good way, pain giving way to pleasure as the bite seals your mated status and his knot begins to slowly deflate. Once able, Namjoon rolls you over to face him, nuzzling into you as you hold him close. Your heat was sated for the time being, but you knew that soon you would be climbing him once again to meet your needs.

You wince as his nose grazes your fresh mark and he makes an apologetic face. Standing up from the bed, he grabs a bottle of water for you, twisting the cap off for you and proffering the drink.

You take a full swallow, quenching the thirst you didn’t realize you had. Heats have a way of making you forget to take care of yourself in that way. The fatigue consumes you, and you drop back down to the bed. Namjoon takes the bottle from you and places it on the side table. His hands massage your calves, working his way along your thighs. His movements could put you to sleep, but you knew as well as he did that this reprieve would not last long. The moon shone through the window casting a faint glowing halo around Namjoon’s head.

He was yours.

In the moon's tender glow, we're born anew,

The night's canvas echoes our ancient call,

Omegas and Betas, to their knees they fall,

For the Alpha, bound by destiny's fate.

To lead, to fight, to protect, to mate,

In lunar hours, gaze upon the sky,

Let Luna's wisdom be your guiding light,

Her soothing touch to mend wounds that cry.

When crescent rises, we shall rise as one,

Aligned with moonrise, our time has begun.

632 notes · View notes

fyorina · 4 months

Text

ᡣ𐭩 YOU AND ME (ALWAYS FOREVER)!

FEATURING: dark era!dazai osamu

SUMMARY: more than friends, not quite lovers. that's been your relationship with dazai osamu for as long as you can remember. you didn't want to push him, and you gave him plenty of chances, but there's only so long you can wait for someone. you thought you would be better off moving on—you were wrong, of course. (wordcount: 4.8k; sfw; angst (???) but with a happy ending)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: dark era dazai </3 my heart, i got a sudden urge to write for him and i wanted it to be fluff but then i got this idea and just had to go with it (warnings: fem!reader, smoking & drinking, suicide attempt mentions)

In your defense, you were never dating Dazai Osamu.

Not for a lack of trying on your part, of course. You’ve made your interest in him clear since you met him at sixteen during the Dragon’s Head Conflict, when Mori Ougai pulled you back from where you were stationed in Kyoto dealing with his associates to help with the declining situation in Yokohama. And you’d thought he felt similarly to you. You really did. The two of you had become inseparable within weeks of knowing each other, such a swift and strong connection that it almost felt unreal. You’d heard rumors of him, of course, before coming back to Yokohama—the infamous Demon Prodigy that Mori had brought in and groomed into becoming his heir, ruthless and cold and so terrifyingly intelligent that he had the entire upper echelon of the Port Mafia on edge.

By the time you got back to Yokohama, he’d already had a heavy reputation following him, dark shadows clinging to him like a second skin. Demon Prodigy. Black Wraith. So many monikers attached to him, but he never really felt like the monster that everyone claimed him to be.

He and Nakahara Chuuya had been the one sent to retrieve you from Yokohama Station, an area very close to the heart of the gang conflict, and even from the first meeting, he’d always been… well, you’re not going to say normal because he’s not normal. He’s always had an unnerving air about him, eyes a bit too cold and dark, smile a bit too teethy, but he’s always come across as just another kid your age. Maybe a bit lonelier than most, which could be off-putting to other people, but it never bothered you. And yes, you’ve seen the way other members of the Mafia treat him—they’re scared of him, go to extreme lengths so as to not cross paths with him, but you’ve never seen him in the same light they do.

Well, not until recently, at least.

Again. In your defense, you were never dating him.

But you’d known he cared about you as more than a friend. And you’d cared about him as more than a friend too. And you waited. You waited almost two years for him to say something. You didn’t want to do it yourself, you know Dazai is flighty and he’s not used to emotions, and you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but god, there’s only so much waiting you can take before you start to give up.

When the two year mark hit, you’d become convinced that Dazai was never going to act on his feelings for you; instead, he’d prefer to wait it out until they passed, and if they never did, he’d just pretend they didn’t exist at all. You can’t really blame him, the Mafia is not a place conducive for relationships, it’s only a matter of time before your luck runs out and one of you end up dead by a bullet through the head or captured by the enemy, and the thought of getting attached to someone only to lose them is enough to scare anyone away.

But you don’t want to live your life in fear, no matter how short it may be, and you also don’t want to live it alone. So when an opportunity arose at a cafe near the main headquarters, where you met a civilian around your age who showed immediate interest in you, you jumped on it. And it’d caught a lot of people off guard—Kouyou was surprised, Chuuya was baffled and questioning what a civilian could possibly have that interested you, even Mori gave you a double take and an odd look the first time he overheard Elise interrogating you about your new boyfriend.

But no one took it as poorly as Dazai.

Your throat feels tight as you remember the hurt expression that crossed over his face when you told him. It was so brief and so foreign of an expression to see on his face that you’d thought you’d imagined it, he was quick to school his expression back into a cold and closed-off one (one that he’d never directed toward you before that moment), but there was no mistaking the way the corner of his lip twitched and the way he suddenly couldn’t meet your eyes.

How nice, he’d told you, voice frighteningly icy, acidic, even, before he made a half-assed excuse about a mission that you knew he wasn’t assigned to. And it was so unlike him to offer himself up to handle missions, usually Mori has to force him with threats of giving Chuuya his executive position for him to do anything that makes him extend the barest amount of effort . But he did, and he handled it, very bloodily and uncharacteristically inefficient, as if he was releasing all of his pent up rage onto the unfortunate souls who happened to stumble into Port Mafia territory.

You were never, at any point, dating Dazai Osamu.

You think you’ve told yourself it hundreds of times over the past three months, throwing yourself into your work and enjoying a relationship with a boy who clearly was invested in you and cares about you in a way that Dazai Osamu would never allow himself to admit. You also think that Dazai Osamu has no right being as bitter and angry as he is—you gave him two years to come to terms with his feelings and make a move, you’ve made your own subtle hints that he promptly ignored. If he wanted to be with you, he blew his chance a hundredfold, and he can go screw off if he thinks he can be upset about it only after you’d found someone else.

Which is what he did, pretty much, and it was a lot harder than you expected—going from talking to him every waking second of every day, seeking him out whenever you have free time and vice versa, to only seeing him during the joint meetings between the executives and sub executives, where even then, he wouldn’t even spare you a glance. It was hard, and deep down, you don’t think being able to experience an actual relationship was worth losing your best friend, but the damage had already been done by that point, so you could only lie in the bed you made.

And you did enjoy the relationship. The boy you’d met was sweet. He was good. He was impressively smart—a government and law major at one of the most prestigious universities in this part of the country—and humble to a fault.

But he wasn’t Dazai.

You knew in your heart that you didn’t want sweet or good, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise. You didn’t want the type of smart that he was, top of his class and on track for law school, seeking out a job as a public defender in Tokyo. You wanted the type of smart Dazai was, wicked and devious, putting together vicious and efficient strategies to take down enemies of the Mafia, on track for taking over the position as boss in the future. You wanted him for all of his twisted moralities and questionable thoughts.

And it was unfair to you, and it was unfair to Dazai, and most importantly it was unfair to the boy you kept leading on, that you’ve refused to acknowledge this for as long as you have just for the chance of experiencing a real relationship.

Which is why you stand here now, outside the infamous Bar Lupin that you know Dazai has been drinking himself into oblivion at everyday for the past three months, notably single and possibly about to meet your end at the hands of a drunken and scorned Mafia executive.

You think you must look like a fool right now. You’ve been standing right outside the door in the rain for fifteen minutes debating on whether or not you should actually go in. You’re nervous, and that makes you sad because you’ve never been nervous to talk to Dazai before, and you’re not nervous because you’re scared of him, you’re nervous because you don’t think you have the balls to actually confront him, knowing that you’d genuinely hurt the boy that everyone claimed didn’t have the emotions to be hurt. He let you in when he doesn’t let anyone in, and you chose to be careless and you chose to give up, and you hurt him.

And you remind yourself again: you were not dating Dazai Osamu. You remind yourself that you gave him chances, he had opportunities, and he chose not to take them. You remind yourself that he’s just as at fault as you are for the falling out, but you can’t help but also remind yourself that he was the one that came out the most hurt by the situation. Yes, him cutting himself off from you was upsetting, but you didn’t have to watch him go around happy in a relationship with someone else. He did.

With that thought in mind, you push the door open to the bar. A soft bell rings above you and instantly, three heads swivel in your direction: the bartender, and two men that you recognize as Sakaguchi Ango, one of the Port Mafia’s special intelligence agents, and Oda Sakunosuke, who you only know through Dazai’s high praise of the man from when the two of you were still on speaking terms. The only person in the room who matters to you doesn’t even bother to look to see who entered the bar, one hand circling the glass of whiskey in front of him while a cigarette dangles from the other. You watch as he lifts it to his lips to take a long drag, head falling tilting back to look up at the ceiling as he exhales a cloud of smoke, seemingly unbothered by your presence.

Already, you feel as if you’ve made a mistake, but you force yourself to continue.

The bartender nods his head in respect to you, although you can’t help but notice he flashes a wary look to Dazai. You wonder, pitifully, how much he’s said about you in this place. Sakaguchi and Oda share a look with one another. Both of them speak a low murmur of your name, inclining their head dutifully—you’re not quite an executive yet, but with the Piano Man of the Flags dead, you and Chuuya are fighting for the next spot to open up. Chuuya will likely be the one to get it, which you think he deserves from all of the heavy lifting he’s done on operations the past two years, but you feel a bit awkward when they give you your due respect when you're here with your tail between your legs trying to talk to Dazai.

Sakaguchi and Oda take their leave when you arrive, giving short goodbyes to Dazai, telling them that they’ll see him another day, and the bartender makes a fumbled excuse about going to the back to restock, leaving you alone with Dazai. Internally, you wither just a bit because you think if they’d stayed, Dazai might keep a handle on himself because you know he views Oda highly; instead, they left you in the lion’s den alone. Which you might deserve, but you digress.

You let out a quiet puff of air as you make your way over to the bar stool next to Dazai, taking a seat in it carefully. Still, he doesn’t look at you, but you look at him and the aching in your chest returns tenfold as your gaze sweeps over him fully for the first time in months. During the joint meetings between the executives and sub-executives, you were always sure to keep your glances short and sweet, not wanting to risk any lingering looks, but now, you can look at him in his entirety for the first time since that fateful discussion three months ago.

He hasn’t changed much. Or, well, that’s a lie. He’s definitely changed. The circles beneath his eye are darker, his expression a carefully constructed blank mask. You think he might’ve lost some weight, his coat has always been big on him but the way it hangs over his shoulders now is looser than it was before. If it weren’t for the way his fingers were tense around his glass of whiskey, you’d have thought he was entirely unperturbed by your arrival.

You don’t know what to say, and you know you need to be the first to speak because you’re the one that showed up here to talk to him, but now that you’re sitting in front of him you’re floundering for words. You could just come out and say that you broke up with your boyfriend, but you feel like that would be a bit weird, and he’d probably laugh in your face and make a comment about how he doesn’t care. You could ask him how he’s been, but you think he might genuinely put a bullet in you for trying to make small talk with him like that right now.

The longer you stay silent, the more awkward it becomes, and you want to cry because you’ve never been awkward with Dazai before, and for a brief second, you wonder if things really have changed too much to go back to how they were.

Finally, you decide to just come out and say, bracing yourself for the inevitable derisive words that are going to leave his lips. “I broke up with him.”

Dazai’s scoff is loud and instantaneous, you bite your tongue, eyes sliding shut as you turn to face ahead instead of looking at him. Cowardly, you know, but you don’t want to see the sneer on his face when he asks you why he should care.

But he doesn’t say that. He doesn’t say anything at first. If you were looking at him, you’d see the way his cold expression shifted into a more conflicted one, still staring ahead because he can’t bring himself to look at you. You count each passing second, and it’s agonizing waiting for him to speak, a part of you thinks that maybe he won’t, and you’ll just have to leave the bar with your tail between your legs, humiliated.

But then he does.

“Why?” he finally asks coolly, and your eyes snap open and your gaze slides over to him when you realize he did not, in fact, hit you with the derogation you expected.

He still isn’t looking at you, and you watch as he lifts his free hand back to his lips, taking another long drag of his cigarette as he waits for your response. You swallow thickly when you try to figure out what to say next.

What you want to say is ‘because he wasn’t you,’ but you’re not ready to bare yourself vulnerable in front of him like that when he’s still so unpredictable. Just because he didn’t immediately hit you with the harsh words you expected, doesn’t mean he isn’t going to lure you in just to slap you in the face with it, which is how you’re sure he perceived what you did three months ago.

Rather, you say quietly: “He was boring, I guess.”

It’s a lie. Well, a partial lie, at least. He was a good guy, he was just boring compared to what you wanted, and what you wanted was Dazai Osamu, who no one in the world could hope to compare to.

“He was boring,” Dazai echoes your words, a cruel and mocking lilt to his voice, and you brace yourself now, taking the sudden switch in tone as the flicking off of the safety. But he shakes his head as he lets out a puff of air, you can’t tell if it’s another scoff or a laugh. “How cold-hearted of you. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, given your track record.”

Two paths lay before you: you can take the words as well-deserved, trying to avoid the inevitable fight, or you can spit back equally venomous words, dive in headfirst so the two of you can get everything off of your chest. Both choices are double-edged. If you avoid the fight, it means avoiding the topic altogether, and even if the two of you choose to speak again, the resentment of what had happened will only poison and fester. If you dive into the fight, there’s a chance of saying words you can’t take back, and everything might fall apart anyway.

What do you want? You want to ask him, because you aren’t sure what the right decision is. Three months ago, if you and Dazai got into a disagreement about something, you would know in an instant whether or not he wanted to fight it out to let off steam or just pretend it didn’t happen. Now, you aren’t so sure. He’s still not looking at you, so you can’t use the look in his eye as a hint, but his shoulders are tense beneath his jacket, and his knuckles are white around his glass of whiskey. Your gaze drags up to his face, catching the way his jaw is tight, teeth probably grinding together, and you know.

You look ahead again, leveling your vision on a particularly nice bottle of wine on the third shelf of the wine rack as you say: “I’d rather be cold-hearted than a coward.”

For the first time since you’ve arrived, Dazai’s gaze cuts in your direction, head snapping to the side. You turn your head toward him just enough for you to eye him from the corner of your eye, catching glimpse of the way his lip curled up into a snarl and the way flames now rage in the browns of his eye—a far cry from the bottomless void, but you prefer the anger to the emptiness.

“A coward?” His voice is low, cold, dangerous.

You’re treading on thin ice, but you choose to stoke the flame more, gaze sliding back to the wine racks ahead.

“A coward.”

The silence that hangs between the two of you is tense and damning, you have to force yourself not to react to it, keeping your expression as stony as his as you wait for his response. He’ll either hit you back with more venom or he’ll settle down, one will lead to a blow out fight and the other will lead to a very tense conversation.

You don’t want to fight him, but if that’s what he wants, you’ll give it to him.

After what feels like an eternity, Dazai makes another scornful noise but he doesn’t say anything, gaze snapping back ahead as he takes a drag of his cigarette, this one clearly fueled by anger, far more aggressive than the last one. As if to piss him off even more, he hardly gets half of a smoke, down to the nub already. Frustrated, he puts the lingering cinders out on the bartop before reaching for the pack in his pocket, pulling out a new cigarette and his lighter.

You watch as he tries to flick the lighter on, cigarette dangling between his lips, but the old thing refuses to cooperate. Distantly, you wonder why Dazai is so damn stubborn: working with an old lighter, living in a shitty shipping container, wearing the same few pairs of clothes every day when he probably has more money than god hoarded from his executive paycheck. But you only force yourself to not roll your eyes as you pull out your own lighter, flicking it on and holding it out to him without looking at him.

You watch from the corner of your eye as he stares at your hand suspiciously before he exhales from the side of his mouth, dipping his head down to light the cigarette before he faces ahead again. He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he reaches out for his glass of whiskey, still mostly full, and then he slides it over to you.

An offering. A white flag.

You barely withhold the breath of relief that nearly escapes you, accepting the drink and taking a long sip of it. It’s his favorite brand, smooth and familiar on the tongue; you haven’t been able to bring yourself to drink it since your falling out with him.

“Was it really because he was boring?” Dazai finally asks. He’s not looking at you again, but you can see from the way his fingers are tense against the bartop that he’s probably waiting for a certain response from you.

You let your eyes slide shut. “No,” you admit.

“Then why?” he presses, as if he doesn’t already know.

“You know why,” you say tightly, shaking your head and looking down.

“Tell me anyway,” Dazai responds quietly, you can feel his gaze on you but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. Irrationally, even though the atmosphere between the two of you has shifted, you wonder if this is it: he’s going to get you to admit it and then laugh in your face, cruel but probably deserved.

“Because he wasn’t you,” you finally force out.

He doesn’t respond. Your heart sinks to your stomach, a sick feeling churning. You brace yourself again—you don’t know what for, maybe a laugh or a derisive comment, but he does nothing of the sort.

A long exhale, smoke billowing around his face, a heavy look in his eyes. He doesn’t look at you as he says: “You’re right.”

You don’t respond because you’re not sure what he’s referring to. Finally, he tilts his head to look at you, a wry smile on his lips—your chest feels warm at the sight, you can’t remember the last time you’ve seen him smile. Probably not since the falling out.

“I was a coward.”

Oh.

The frustration you felt all of those months ago returns with a vengeance. You had danced with possibilities back then: that you were reading too much into things, that he didn’t actually care for you the way you did for him, that he simply did not want to be with you even if he did care about you that way. Now, faced with confirmation that he had felt the same but was just too pussy to act on it, your chest swells with that familiar anger. You force it away.

“Why?” you ask after a few moments of silence, nails digging into the palm of your hands as you rest them on your lap. “I… I waited for two years, Dazai. I gave you so many openings. You knew how I felt.”

“I know.” His voice is quiet, barely audible.

“Then why?” you repeat his words back to him, pressing hard just like he did. His throat bobs beneath his bandages as he swallows, averting his gaze, or trying to, at least, because you don’t let him. You reach out to grab his chin tightly, forcing him to look at you, and the pads of your fingers burn against his skin, hyper aware of the fact that this is the first time you’ve touched him in three months. “Why?”

His hand comes up to grab your wrist as if to pull your hand off of him, but he doesn’t, grip firm around your wrist, fingers pressing against your pulse point, and you’re acutely conscious of the fact that your pulse is probably racing but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“I told you why,” he says, voice uncharacteristically soft. Vulnerable in a way that you’ve never seen him before. “I was a coward. I… didn’t want to risk ruining our friendship... I don't have many friends. You know that. I would’ve rather just ignored how I felt and kept you as a friend, because I didn’t think there’d be a chance of losing you that way. I thought if I acted on how I felt, one day you’d eventually see me for what I am and I’d lose you altogether.”

“Some good that did you.” You can’t help the resentful words that spill from your lips, but you feel guilty when he winces, hand dropping back to your lap, his grip slipping from your wrist. “You think I don’t already see you for who you are? We’ve known each other since we were sixteen, Dazai. I know all of the sick and twisted thoughts that run through your head, I knew exactly what I was getting into.”

Dazai shakes his head, as if to deny your words. You get frustrated.

“I spend hours at your recovery bed after your attempts, I’ve caught you in the middle of them myself, do you know what the first thing I did was after I told you I had a boyfriend?” you demand, and he stares at you, unsure. “I put a protection detail on him because I thought you’d try to have him killed, or try to kill him yourself.”

Dazai winces. You shake your head and look away, settling down again.

“For someone so smart, you really are so goddamn stupid sometimes,” you sigh, taking a long swig of his drink before placing the glass back down on the table. “I saw you for who you are, and I wanted you anyway.”

“Wanted?” Dazai asks, an uncertain expression on his face as he zeroes in on the past tense.

“Want,” you correct, voice little over a breath, and something akin to relief sweeps across his face as his gaze drops down to the bartop.

The silence that hangs between the two of you is more comfortable this time. Reassuring, even, because maybe things might still be awkward between the two of you for a while, but there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, one much brighter than the one the two of you lived in three months ago.

“I can’t believe you went for a civilian,” Dazai suddenly says, almost sounding indignant. “A civilian. You!”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you snap when you hear the incredulous tone he takes when he says ‘you’.

“You’re a stone cold bitch,” Dazai accuses and you gape, but you can’t find it in yourself to be offended because his eyes are lit up for the first time in months, a lopsided smile painted on his face. “And you’ve got as much blood on your hands as I do. You. A civilian. I think I would’ve been less offended if you went for Chuuya.”

“We both know that’s a lie,” you snort, and then you add, a bit amused, “you know what he wants a job as?”

“Tell me,” Dazai drawls, resting his chin on his hand as he leans on the bar, watching you with such a fond expression that it makes you feel warm all over.

God, you missed him the past three months.

“He wanted to go to law school. Become a public defender.”

Dazai chokes over the smoke he inhales, and you press your hand to your lips to smother your giggles as he desperately wheezes between laughs. You’re not sure if he’s actually choking, you think he might actually be dying from how red his face is getting.

“Maybe you should keep in contact with him then,” he gasps between laughs, “we might need one of those one day.”

“As if you’re sloppy enough to ever get caught,” you say dryly.

He winks at you, his grin sharpening, and you know you’re not going to like what he’s about to say. “Oh, I’m not. By ‘we’, I meant you.”

“Douchebag.” You roll your eyes, letting another silence settle over the two of you, a smile on your lips now as you take another sip of your drink. He’s the one to break it again.

“... Odasaku convinced me not to, by the way.”

“What?”

“To kill him. I was going to. Odasaku convinced me not to.”

You let out a sigh of utter suffering, giving Dazai a pointed look—see, you say silently, I know you. He has the decency to look a bit sheepish as lifts his cigarette back to his mouth in lieu of responding to your unspoken words.

“Stop with the self sabotage, Dazai,” you finally say, tired. “For both of our sakes’.”

He doesn’t respond, and you know him well enough to know that he’ll probably never stop with the self sabotage, but he does reach out to lace your fingers with his, and the warm feeling that spreads through your chest is enough to satiate you.

Little steps, because no, the Mafia is not a conducive place for relationships and yes, it’s only a matter of time before luck runs out for one of you, but if your life is destined to be short, there’s only one person you want to spend it with.

#ᡣ𐭩 carina’s archives #dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you

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chilling-seavey · 3 months

Text

Don't Worry Darling (gr63)

↳ A/N The best part about watching movies as a writer, is being inspired to write my own spin-off of the plot. I was absolutely gagged when I watched DWD and this came of it.

↳ Inspired By Don't Worry Darling (2022)

↳ Summary: Married and thriving in an idealised community based on routine, gender roles, and arguable paradise, you and George seem to be just as perfect together as the utopia you live within - but not everything is as it seems on the surface.

↳ Pairings: George Russell x Wife!Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 21.7k

↳ Warnings: 18+, gender roles, smut, oral (f reciving), breeding kink to the maaaax (and the applicable dirty talk to go along with it), one or two instances of 'mommy' and 'daddy' but not in the spicy sense, unprotected sex (we're trying to make a baby here, people), some descriptions of sickness, brief mention of suicide, some mention of medical content, dark undertones.

The summer sun danced across the freshly cleaned carpeted floors, lining perfectly with the horizontal streaks from the vacuum that had been taken to it only a few moments before. The single storey house smelt of fresh linen and citrus cleaning products and the full glass windows sparkled brilliantly in the early afternoon sun. Outside in the backyard, the two rows of clotheslines were hung over pristine green grass and the crisp white sheets were hung perfectly over each line and pinned precisely on each end. The wind rippled through them in the calm breeze, wafting clean scents across the trimmed backyard and tended garden of flourishing flowers.

In your pastel blue dress, the empty laundry basket rested on your hip as you returned inside from tending to the laundry, a gentle whistle on your lips to a tune you couldn’t quite place but had been stuck in your head for a few days. Your white kitten heels walked silently across the perfectly vacuumed carpet back towards the mudroom that was tucked beside the garage and took the last load of laundry out of the washing machine to place in the basket.

The crisp white dress shirts were hung on the clothesline in the backyard beside the clean sheets, pinned delicately by their shoulders so the wind could take their freshness and dry them in the summer air.

Rain was never a concern as the neighbourhood in which you lived never had a day of spotty weather. In fact, since the day you and your husband moved into the desert oasis town, there had been nothing but comfortable temperatures and clear skies. It was just another confirmation that your decision to move out of your every-day society and into this private section of the world was the correct one.

Running your hands down the front of the final clean dress shirt, you leaned in towards it to inhale the fresh scent of fabric softener that encapsulated the fibres and filled your senses with the familiarity that was your husband. With him away at work during the days, one might think that you would get lonely. On the contrary, there were always things for you to take up your time with. If you weren’t cleaning the house for his return, preparing dinner, or tending to the garden, you had lots of opportunities to visit the shops in town, lounge by the pool with the other ladies in the neighbourhood, or attend ballet classes where you could. Life had no stress. Life was perfect.

With the laundry drying in the yard, you returned inside to begin preparing dinner. Your white apron was tied around your waist and you flipped open your recipe book to select your evening meal. Missing your husband a little extra that afternoon, you decided to make his favourite for his homecoming.

On freshly scrubbed countertops and over the sparkling clean stove, you prepared the meal for him delicately and with nothing but your utmost attention to detail. He deserved nothing more than perfection. The meat was seasoned by your careful manicured hands and laid in a bed of onions and potatoes and spices in the oven to roast, the timer set for an exact hour. With the vegetables cooking on the stovetop and the counters washed down from dinner prep, you began to set the dining table for two.

The china dishes that had been a wedding gift were set between carefully placed sterling silver cutlery and two slim candles were lit in the centre of the table. You crouched in front of the fireplace that divided the dining room from the living room and lit the flame, making sure it caught on the kindling before you shut the glass to protect the pristine home you kept from the smoke or flame. On your way back to the kitchen, you dimmed the dining room lighting down to a romantic glow and stopped by the record player to set one of your shared favourite records to play softly in the background.

When the clock struck 5:00, you had just placed the roast on the table alongside the dishes of vegetables and salad and you hurried across the carpet floor towards the bar. Your apron was pulled off and tossed under the counter and out of sight and you quickly poured a perfect amount of golden liquor into a crystal glass and took it with you to the front door. The moment you reached the foyer, you had just a second to make sure you looked your best in the mirror by the door as the headlights flashed through the frosted glass window down the left hand side of the front door.

The sound of footsteps on the front porch guided you to open the door with an eager smile, revealing your husband on the other side. In his work shoes and black jacket, his hand was tucked casually in the front pocket of his slacks with his briefcase in his other hand. He wore no tie but the buttoned up white shirt that you had ironed for him that morning was already slightly creased from his long day and would require laundering. But your attention was all focused on his perfectly gelled brown hair and his loving eyes that sparkled in the warm light that surrounded you.

George was already smiling as if anticipating your usual greeting after a long day away and he stepped over the threshold of your shared home and set his briefcase by the door without tearing his eyes away from you for a second.

“Welcome home, sunshine.” you said sweetly, offering out his drink.

“Hi, sweetheart.” he whispered adoringly, stepping closer to you and he slid his hands around your waist to rest against the small of your back and he pulled you right up against him for a swift kiss.

Your free hand easily wrapped around his shoulders as he walked you backwards farther into your house, the two of you sharing love-sick kisses after a long day apart.

“How was your day?” you asked softly, when he pulled away from you for a half second to lick his lips.

“Absolute shit until now.” George whispered back, moving right in once more and he let one of his hands raise to cradle your jaw and guide your lips back on his. He lingered on your mouth for a second before his hand finally dropped to take his glass from you.

“Then it’s a good thing I made your favourite.” you said, starting to unbutton his jacket for him as he sipped his drink all while staring at you and leading you both farther into the house and towards the dining room.

“Mhm?” George blindly set his still half-full glass on the kitchen counter with a dull clink as you both passed by briefly so he could pull you back in for more kisses.

You smiled against his mouth and your hands rested daintily against his chest as he leaned into you, expertly keeping up with the way his lips locked with yours in feverish kisses as if he had been too deprived of you. His large hands cascaded down your body and over your hips, steering you towards your perfectly set dinner table under the ambiance of the romantic music crackling from the record player and the fireplace flickering nearby.

“Cleaned the whole house for you too.” you continued between kisses even as your hands pushed his jacket from his shoulders and let it fall to the crisply vacuumed carpet.

“Yeah, it looks so good, darling.” George breathed into your mouth as his hands grabbed your thighs and he hiked you right up onto the end of the dining room table.

In all reality, he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you from the second you opened the door for him. The entire house could have been trashed and graffitied and he wouldn’t have even batted an eyelash because all his focus was on you. It had been that way for as long as you could remember - ever since he first laid eyes on you - and your honeymoon phase only followed you well into your first year of marriage. The whole neighbourhood knew that well. No one was as perfect for each other or as perfect together as you and George were.

Eyes locked, you were breathing heavily into each other’s open mouths as his hands helped themselves up your skirt and you shifted to help him tug your panties down your legs. They were easily tossed to the floor and George’s lips went for your neck, trailing impatient wet kisses down your skin until he was dropping to his knees at the head of the table.

“Oh, I missed you.” you breathed to the ceiling as he bunched up your dress around your waist and then dragged his tongue right between your legs. Your sharp inhale had him doing it again before he was wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling your legs over his shoulders.

You fell onto your back against the table with a gasp, your hands knocking the salad bowl to the floor without concern as you messily caught yourself against the wood top. The simple touch of his mouth against your cunt had your breathing falling shallow and you gasped to the peaked ceiling of your mid-century home as you laid out on the dining table like you were dinner itself.

George hummed gladly against your pussy as he warmed you up with filthy wet kisses. He acted like he had been deprived of you for weeks but in reality it had barely been twenty-four hours since you found yourself in a similar position. Your relationship really had nothing but strength in all aspects behind it.

The feeling of his warm wet tongue gliding up flatly between your lips had your back arching off the table with a strangled gasp and your hands flew above your head to try and grab onto something, only knocking off the two place settings you had so meticulously set. The carpeted floor caught them delicately and without much of a sound but you were all too focused on the way George’s mouth felt to care about anything else. He lapped filthily at your clit as your breaths turned into moans and he nuzzled his face deeper into you, having craved you all day.

“George-” you gasped to the ceiling, eyes screwing shut as he flicked his tongue over your clit in quick patterns. “Oh my God.”

He moaned up against you and let his fingers press into the flesh of your thighs as he held your legs over his shoulders hungrily, playing with your swollen clit until your toes were curling and your back was arching. The filthy slurps and smacks of his mouth and tongue against your pussy were arousing and they easily drowned out the sound of the gentle record player across the room, harmonizing perfectly with your breathless whimpers and moans that were all for him.

He was ruthless with it, eating you out like he wholeheartedly craved you until you were writhing against the wood dining table. Your hands flew down to his head between your legs and your fingers raked through his styled brown hair to tug pleadingly on the roots to feel him closer, to feel more of him. Mouth agape and eyebrows furrowed with pleasure, you peered down your body towards him but the voluminous skirt of your dress hindered your view slightly. Instead, you let your head fall back against the table, your back arching, and you let him urge the moans from your chest.

“Fuck, baby.” you choked out, pulling at his hair harder.

His tongue on your pussy had you quivering and he knew you like the back of his hand; always knowing right where you needed him and how to make you see stars. He tugged you a little closer to the edge of the table so he could get more of his mouth on you and his hands pried your thighs open wider, giving him full access to every inch of you.

Your moans grew louder, pitchier, your hips trying to grind against his face as his tongue ravaged your clit mercilessly until you were flushing warm all over and aching for release. One of your hands reached above your head to grab the edge of the table, swatting the bowl of peas and carrots to the carpet blindly as you did so but you didn’t care. You were all too hung up on him and his perfect mouth.

“Oh, darling-” you cried to the ceiling, “I’m gonna cum-”

George kept his tongue on your clit, lapping quickly at it at that same consistent pace that made you dizzy. Gasping and moaning through the romantic air, you let him take the pleasure from your veins until you were falling perfectly silent and your eyes rolled shut as your back arched helplessly off the table.

George’s deep moan against you sent shockwaves up your spine as he licked and suckled at your cunt as you came for him, soaking his mouth in your creamy liquids that satisfied his cravings just so. You completely sobbed out his name once the height of your orgasm washed over you, your fingers clutching his hair to hold him against you just a little bit longer. He pulled away with a sharp inhale and a lick to his lips, standing up smoothly to let your legs fall gently back to the edge of the table.

You brushed your hands over your once-tidy hair and peered down your body to where he stood at the head of the table unbuckling his belt with nothing but the strongest lust in his eyes. You hiked up the skirt of your dress some more and smeared your fingers through your messy cunt that was shimmering wet for him and from him.

“Come here.” George ordered lowly as he kicked off his shoes across the carpeted floor and let his pants follow before he was sitting himself down on the stray dining chair, his hard cock standing stiff and swollen with need for you.

You were still shuttering from your orgasm but you pushed yourself up from the tabletop and slid off the edge to land on your feet, your heels catching you silently against the carpet. He patted his thigh and then held out his hand to you, encouraging you over and helped you to toss a leg over his lap to straddle him. George shuffled up the large skirt of your dress and you helped him pull it over your head and drop it to the floor behind you, leaving you in only your bra and him in only his shirt as your lips found each other’s again.

His hands groped your ass, pulling you closer to him hungrily as your lips smacked wetly together amid tongue-led kisses. Your arms around his shoulders allowed your fingers to tangle in his hair and you pulled his head closer until he was leaning into you to keep kissing you, sharing moans and breaths of nothing but pure erotica together.

“Oh, baby.” you breathed out of your heated kisses, tilting your head back as his lips magnetized to your neck and your hands cradled his head adoringly.

“I want you on my cock.” George spoke lowly against your neck, “I want you bouncing on my fucking cock.”

“Yes, please.” you shifted on his lap to rise up slightly with your feet planted on either side of him and he reached down to angle his dick for you.

With your hands on his shoulders, you slowly sunk down on his dick to feel every inch of it stretching you out snugly. Mouth falling open, your thighs met his lap and you moaned shakily at the warm stretch he gave you, swirling your hips lazily to feel him everywhere.

“Good girl, darling.” George praised, resting back against the chair with his hands securely on your hips.

Right away, you began to bounce on him, using the anchor of your feet on the carpeted ground on either side of the dining chair to keep you supported. You leaned your head back with a gentle shake to get your hair out of your face but kept your hands on his shoulders with your fingers gripping onto the once ironed white fabric.

“Fuck, that’s my good fucking girl.” George praised through his teeth.

“Oh my God.” you groaned out shakily.

You were addicted to the clap of your skin together; the filthy lewd sound that was proof of your undying love and devotion to each other. How you were the pair that everyone else envied.

When your eyes met, you could feel your insides fluttering from only his stare and the stormy mixture of love and lust that settled behind his gaze. Fingers tangled in the back of his hair, you held him close as you greedily fucked yourself on his lap, completely salivating at the feeling of his generous cock sheathed so perfectly inside you. It was hard to keep your eyes open with the pleasure that surged within you but your husband’s stare was completely addictive. He stared at you like you were the world and with his hands on your hips, he helped you guide you through your bounces until you were choking out the sweetest moans.

George pulled you close by your waist so you could rest right down against his chest and your arms went right around his shoulders, allowing you to share another sloppy kiss as your bounces moulded into purposeful grinds. You moaned into each other’s mouths as your pussy gripped around his cock with each roll of your hips, your feet still tucked in your heels looping around the back legs of the dining chair to five yourself some added leverage to help yourself to his body. Grinding on him back and forth, a little faster, you broke your kiss with a soft gasp, letting your head fall backwards and his lips found your neck.

George’s hands groped your ass and he pulled you into your motions steadily, making sure you were able to feel all of each other as much as possible. His teeth sunk gently into your flesh where your neck met your shoulder and he groaned tightly against your skin as you ground down on him faster, harder, whining for more. He spanked your ass before gliding his hands up your back and he let his furrowed gaze find your face, staring at the pleasure that took over your features. Your hands gripped the back of his hair and the back of his shirt, rolling your body against his hungrily as your lips were drawn together again.

Both of you shared hungry moans and sloppy kisses as you ground yourself down on his dick and rode him purposefully on the dining room chair. The dinner that hadn’t been swiped to the ground in your initial rush was growing cold on the serving dishes but the waste of your hard work was truly the last thing on your mind. Instead, your attention was taken up by your handsome husband and the feeling of his warm skin taking you over - body and soul.

Breaking your wet tongue-led kiss with a whimpering gasp, your head fell back for a moment as your hips lead their course on his lap, fingers clutching his hair and his shirt as you swirled yourself back and forth on his dick and watched how his handsome face was stricken in pleasure. His hands on your waist urged you to shift again and you gladly moved back into steady bounces using the anchor of your heels on the carpeted floor.

“Oh my God, George.” you choked out, keeping your eyes on his. “Yes.”

His deep groans in time with every bounce of your body on his lap filled the warm romantic air between you, his hands gripping a little tighter to your hips to pull you down a little harder, a little faster.

“Good girl.” he praised lowly.

“Are you close?” you asked shakily.

“Yeah, baby.” his voice was strained slightly and he stared down his body to watch how you took him all with every ungraceful stroke, his feet planted firmly on the carpet as he stayed slouched back against the dining chair. “Fuck.”

“I want you to come in me.” you breathed shakily.

“Yeah?” George’s right hand rose from your waist to hold your jaw tenderly and his thumb slid into your mouth, “Want me to put a baby in you?”

“Fuck- uh huh-“ you groaned through his thumb, shamelessly bouncing harder on his lap until your thighs were aching.

“Mhm?” George’s eyes flicked between your face and his lap, watching you fuck yourself on him with his feet anchroed securely on the carpeted dining room floor. He had been waiting and dreaming for his homecoming all day, desperate for this exact moment. He knew all too well that you would never say no to him. You were equals but you were such a good wife.

George pulled his thumb out of your mouth and slid his hand around the back of your neck to pull your forehead against his as he groaned into his orgasm. You squeezed your muscles tightly around him, making his face screw up in pleasure as his cock throbbed within the tight confines of your cunt and you finally were blessed with that first feeling of him spurting warmly inside you. You shuttered on top of him, grinding down strongly against his lap as you held each other close and met his timing almost perfectly. Your moans together were harmonious and perfect and your heart soared with adoration for him as your souls connected in the dim lighting of your shared home.

“Fuck, darling-” George breathed out of it, holding you to his chest with his entire arms around your back, keeping you grinding against him as your orgasm tapered off.

“Holy shit.” you whimpered quietly against his cheek, your fingers gripping tightly to the back of his shirt, your thighs trembling as you sat all your weight down on his lap to take the weight off your feet.

His hands caressed your back and you moved to be able to meet his gaze as he asked cheekily, “So, how was your day?”

You giggled sweetly and leaned in to kiss his lips, “Amazing. Even more amazing now that you’re home.”

“Missed you so much.” George admitted.

“I can tell.” you smiled, scratching your fingers through the back of his hair.

George tore his eyes away from your loving gaze so he could look towards the dining room table that was left in complete disarray from his rushed entry. He leaned forward slightly to rest his head against your shoulder and you kissed his head and ran your hand through his hair.

“Sorry for, uh, ruining your dinner.” he whispered.

“That’s okay. Worth it.” you assured him, “But you’re cleaning it up.”

“Okay.” he chuckled and raised his head from your shoulder to kiss your lips again.

You took his face in your dainty hands, whispering between gentle chasté kisses, “I love you.”

George smiled peacefully, staring at your adoringly, “I love you.”

His lips peppered kisses down your jaw and your neck and his hands squeezed your ass to prompt you to get up. You moved cautiously as you stood from his lap, letting a thick drop of white slip out of you and onto his thigh and he leaned in to kiss your hip as his hands guided you off of him.

“Any symptoms yet?” he asked gently as you bent down to grab your underwear and pull them on.

“Don’t think so.” you answered with a shrug.

“It’ll happen.” he almost promised.

You stood between his legs and rested your forearms on his shoulders to lean in towards him, “Hopefully.”

“It will.” his large hands caressed your thighs.

You shared a soft kiss.

George patted your bum, “Okay, go wash up. I’ll clean this mess and slice up that roast for us. Looks like it survived the chaos.”

You kissed him once more and then slid out of his arms. Picking up your dress from the floor, you headed across the open living room and down the opposite hallway that turned towards the back of the house and led to your bedroom. You pulled out your nightgown from your dresser drawer and helped yourself to the pastel painted ensuite to freshen up, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.

Once perfectly styled hair was falling out of its pins and your cheeks were flushed from more than just the light coat of foundation and blush that you had applied earlier that day. You felt giddy and warm and yet a tinge of anxiety lingered in the back of your mind as you turned to the side and ran a hand over the flat natural curve of your stomach. You had been trying for a baby for only four weeks but you were impatient for the next phase of your perfect life with your perfect husband and with every passing day, you only got more and more ansty. George promised it would happen when it happens but you were both so familiar with things coming so easily to the two of you that not having results instantaneously was almost tortuous.

Returning to the main space of your single storey house, George was in the kitchen in only his underwear and half unbuttoned white dress shirt, tidying up the dishes and scraping the spilled food into the garbage. To anyone else, they might have been more than annoyed that their hard-work that went into making dinner had gone to unappreciated waste but it was never that serious to you. You lived to give George whatever he wanted and when all he truly wanted was you? Who were you to deny him that?

You leaned against the counter that divided the kitchen from the rest of the space and watched George putter around for a moment before he saw you. He smiled over at you and then brought over the plate of sliced meat that he had taken from the table and cut up himself. Setting it between you, he picked up one of the pieces and fed it to you from his fingers.

“Little cold now.” you chuckled softly.

“Still good.” he complimented, taking a bite for himself.

You stood on either side of the peninsula counter and shared the plate of your half-cold dinner, one of the candles from the table resting between you and still lit. Moments like that only rehashed the idea of your perfect imperfection that was you and him.

“You look beautiful right now.”

You raised your eyes from the plate, slipping one more piece of meat into your mouth as you met his loving stare.

With a bashful smile, you shrugged, and spoke through your small mouthful, “I’m just in my nightgown.”

“I know.” George leaned over the counter and captured your lips with his in a swift kiss.

You smiled against his mouth and raised a hand up to dust your fingertips over his jaw before you were gently pushing him away from your lips. He reached over to gently tug at your pouted bottom lip with the pad of his thumb before standing up straight again and kept your eye contact from across the counter.

“I love you so much.” you whispered.

“I love you more.”

The faint crackling of the record player in the living room drew your attention across the open space of your modest house and George drifted around the counter and danced his hand over your waist on his way past you. You took another bite of your makeshift dinner and watched as he lifted the needle from the turntable to remove the record and slide it back into its case. Whistling happily in his half-dressed state, George skimmed your collection of records and pulled out a new one to place carefully on the turntable.

The tune he kept was the same tune you had stuck in your head for a few days and you inquired, “My love, what song is that you’re whistling?”

George glanced up at you from across the living room, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth seeing you in the light of the kitchen behind your figure, and he looked back down to the record that he spun between his hands and then set it into its place on the turntable, “I dunno, darling. I think it’s just some random song.”

“I’ve had it stuck in my head for a while now.” you explained, leaning back against the counter.

“Mhm?” George seemed to shrug you off as he set the needle back on the record and the speaker crackled as it found its way into the groove.

The house was filled with gentle romantic music and he turned up the volume as the voice of the vocalist flooded the space around you. George’s whistling moulded into the tune of the song playing and he did a little spin as he slunk his way saucily across the floor towards you. He climbed the three carpeted steps of the sunken living room and serenaded you with his rhythmic sways and motions as he approached you. You laughed softly at his goofiness and he held out his hands to you as he whistled along to the music.

When you didn’t make a move to join him for a few seconds - just staring at him while leaning back against the counter with an adoring smile on your face - he requested of you simply, “Dance with me.”

You pushed yourself away from the counter and set your hands in his, letting him pull you close to his body as he slid an arm around your waist and let his other hand stay holding yours beside you. He was the most angelic man you had ever seen and you set your hand around his shoulder as he guided you into gentle sways along with the music.

You closed your eyes and melted into his chest, cheek to cheek, falling heavenly into the comfort of his embrace and the way his body moved with yours. His pitch perfect voice spoke right to your heart as he hummed quietly as you danced slowly in place within your cozy home, swaying to the rhythm of the record. With you in your nightgown and George in his underwear and dress shirt, you were perfectly domestic in that moment, the warmth in your heart swirling around the two of you wrapped as one.

“Someday soon we won’t be able to do this.” George whispered to you.

The ominous nature of his statement had you shifting your head to look him in the eye, “What? Why?”

George just smiled sweetly and rubbed his thumb over the small of your back, “Because there’s going to be a baby growing between us soon. We’ll have to be a good arm's length apart.”

You grinned back at him bashfully and leaned into him again so his lips pressed against your cheek for a quick kiss and then his head rested against yours. He led your gentle swaying on the plush carpet in the warm glow of the fireplace and your cozy home, only growing the adoring flutter in your heart.

“I can’t wait.” you breathed.

“Me neither.” George gave your joint hands a little squeeze.

“I love you.” you whispered.

“I love you.” George found your lips with his, kissing away any of your anxieties surrounding the unknown future with his love that comforted you always.

The ringing of George’s alarm clock woke you at dawn, just like any other weekday. He was cuddled up behind you in your spacious bed, wrapping you up in the warmth of the sheets and his embrace. You sighed deeply as you were forced into consciousness and as you shifted to stretch in George’s arms, he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“Morning, darling.” he mumbled sleepily, his alarm still ringing from his side of the bed.

“Morning, sunshine.” you yawned, earning another cheek kiss from your husband before he was shifting away from you to reach over and swat off the alarm.

You rolled after him under the blankets and as he turned back around from shutting off his clock, you draped yourself across his bare chest to admire him happily in the faint morning light that peeked through the sides of your curtains. He stroked your hair and you tapped your index finger against his lips before you leaned in to kiss them softly. He smiled at you and met you halfway for another.

“Did you sleep okay?” you asked quietly.

“Yeah.” he lazily draped his arm around your back, “Did you?”

You nodded, still tired from your deep sleep you had just awoken from, and your gaze stayed focused on his familiar face. Reaching your hand up from his chest you caressed his cheek with your thumb and across his jaw that housed a faint dusting of hair that was in need of his daily morning shave. He moved his head slightly to press his lips against the pad of your thumb and you giggled adoringly and stretched your body out on top of his as if not wanting to let him get up.

“Do you wanna stay in bed?” George asked.

“With you?” you replied hopefully.

“No.” he smiled sadly at you and stroked your hair again, “I gotta go to work and make some money for us and our future babies.”

You bit back your smile but didn’t make a move to get off him, still staring lovingly at his face.

“Okay?” he patted your bum over the blankets.

You reached a hand up to gently scoop some sleep from the corner of his eye for him with your index finger and a soft melancholy hum and he scrunched his eyes closed and tried to turn away. You sighed dramatically and rested your chin on your hand against his chest to stare at him just a little longer before you would both have to get up.

George’s finger traced the bridge of your nose and then plopped against your lips, tugging gently at the bottom one, whispering to you once more, “Okay?”

You nodded, breathing out a forced agreement, “Okay.”

You moved off of him and let him get out of bed and you watched from your cozy spot against the headboard as he trudged across the room and pushed open the curtains to let the tidal wave of early morning sun flood your four walls. Standing in the light in only his underwear, George was almost just a silhouette to you and as he stretched his arms above his head with a waking yawn and skimmed over your perfectly manicured backyard, you nearly swooned. As the man of your house, he made you weak by simply existing. How you adored him.

Your eyes followed him as he walked across the bedroom towards the ensuite and, like every weekday morning, you let him get ready for his day without hassle. He naturally left the door open and you could see in the reflection of the mirror how he stripped out of his underwear into nothingness and then stepped into the shower, pulling the curtain shut behind him. The water turned on and then his whistle followed, waking himself up in warm water a good tune.

Now alone in your shared bed, you stretched your arms over your head and forced your limbs to wake up, the slight comfortable tension on your muscles forcing the reminisce of your evening reunion to leak out of you and into your underwear. The sheets had fallen down to your waist from George climbing out of bed and you dropped your hands to rest on your stomach with an impatient sigh, staring down at your soft skin exposed to the morning sunlight. Sleeping bare beside him to allow your skin to touch completely was your favourite way to sleep as you so easily learned after you wed and moved into your perfect home together. He always felt so close that way.

When your bare feet hit the carpeted floor and you rose from the mattress, you reached for his white button up dress shirt that he had worn the previous day and had discarded to the chair in the corner of the room. Keeping yourself modest within your empty house, you buttoned up the bottom three buttons, and then straightened out the creased fabric in the full length mirror.

You stopped by the bathroom door, leaning against the frame as you called out to your showering husband, “Darling love; I’m going to start breakfast.”

“Okay, sweetheart, thank you.” George called back through the water and patterned shower curtain.

Your bare feet patted softly down the picture frame lined hallway that was bathed in sunlight from the floor to ceiling windows opposite, and you turned into the main space of your house that had been silent from nightfall. You opened the curtains and turned on the radio to bring your house to life as you began the routine of your mornings.

As usual, the weather was bright and clear and the sun had just barely made it above the horizon, meeting you outside in the backyard with refreshing crisp air and a wash of golden light, filtered only by the neighbouring houses and your clotheslines. The laundry that you had hung up the previous day was now perfectly dry and you unpinned one of the fresh white shirts that matched the one you were wearing and brought it back inside with you as the iron was heating up. The radio announcer spoke to the news of your uneventful town where the most interesting happenings consisted of shopping centre sales or the community pool being closed for cleaning.

The ironing board was set up in the living room and you draped the clean shirt across it to be met with the steaming iron. The creases were steamed and ironed out of the fabric with ease and you found yourself humming that same mysterious tune as you worked, constantly stuck in your head. When the shirt was left neatly on the ironing board for retrieval by your husband, you continued on to the kitchen to put his lunch together and get breakfast started, letting the radio’s news mould into morning hits that livened your home with music.

George joined you in the kitchen a few minutes later, lured from the bedroom by the smell of bacon and coffee in only his dress slacks and socks with his tie draped around his bare neck, his face shaved, and his brown hair already combed and gelled to perfection. At the sight of you in the kitchen in only his shirt and your little panties, George was grinning slyly and walking over to you at the stove. He wrapped his arms around your waist and dipped his face in your neck to kiss your skin.

“Mm, good morning, beautiful woman.” he said lowly against the shell of your ear, the smoothness of his voice enough to butter your toast that morning.

“Good morning, handsome.” you replied sweetly, setting your free hand that wasn’t holding a spatula against his around your middle as you leaned back into him to welcome his lips on yours in a few lingering kisses. When he broke your kisses, your eyes shamelessly skimmed his face and chest and you reached your hand up to touch his smooth jaw, “Mm, you look so yummy.”

“Says you in this little outfit, baby, goddamn.” George tisked, giving your ass a little two handed squeeze that made you squeak in surprise and he kissed your neck again.

“You’re an easy man to please, my dearest.” you said as he drifted away from you across the space to retrieve his shirt from the ironing board.

“You make it easy.” he praised right back as he shrugged on his shirt and buttoned it up on his way back towards you.

He paused as he tucked the shirt into his pants and then stopped to open the front door and grab the newspaper from the porch.

“Coffee’s in your mug already.” you told him as he shut the door again.

Returning to the kitchen with the promise of coffee, already skimming the headlines, he answered you haphazardly, “You’re a perfect woman, baby.”

“Perfect for you, George Russell, and don’t you forget it.” you waved the spatula at him from across the kitchen and he smiled over at you as he lifted his steaming mug of coffee up to his lips for a sip.

He stood at the island with the newspaper laid out before him and he skimmed the stories and articles as he tied his tie around his neck and set his collar down neatly and flipped through the pages as he sipped his morning coffee. You cracked farm fresh eggs into the skillet beside the bacon, watching how the grease sizzled and crackled as breakfast cooked, filling the kitchen with aromas that made your stomach growl. As the pan was left cooking, you tended to the toast in the toaster that had just popped and you placed the perfectly browned slices on a plate.

“What is your plan today, darling?” George asked you, his eyes following you as he sipped his coffee and left the newspaper open in front of him.

“The girls and I are going to go shopping.” you answered casually as you buttered each slice of toast. “I’m thinking my wardrobe needs a bit of a refresher but I already have a dress in mind for tonight that I haven’t had a chance to wear yet so I won’t need to buy anything new for that today. I had my eye on this set that was in the window of the department store this week - these gorgeous blue shorts and a matching blouse.”

“Blue is your colour, baby.”

“Is that why your eyes never leave me?” you flirted smoothly.

Said blue eyes - the very ones you fell in love with - winked at you over the brim of the coffee mug. You smiled widely and cut the slices of toast in halves diagonally before delivering them to where George stood at the island.

“Make sure anything you buy is put on my card.” he reminded you.

“I know, I know. That’s all they allow us to do anyway.” you tisked and returned to the stove. “I must say, every time one of the employees greets me with a ‘good morning, Mrs. Russell’ or a ‘is that all for today, Mrs. Russell’ I swear my heart skips a beat.”

George chuckled lightly at your swooning over your shared name as he took a bite of toast and then spoke through it, “It’s been a good few months now, sweetheart. Still not used to it?”

“I’m used to it.” you assured him. “I just love it.”

He just smiled down to the newspaper.

“I might attend a ballet class this afternoon too.”

“Oh?” George looked over at you again, “Does that mean I get to see you in a leotard and a little tutu?”

You rolled your eyes at him teasingly as you plated the bacon and eggs from the pan, “Don’t push your luck, mister.”

He leaned in towards you as you joined him at the island with your two plates, promising with a quiet, “I’ll be good.”

“You’re always good.” you whispered right back, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before setting the plates in front of you both.

You ate breakfast together over the newspaper and distant noise of the radio, feeding each other bites of bacon and toast and trying not to spill egg on his perfectly crisp clothes. Soon it was time for him to leave for the day and he grabbed his lunch tin that you had set earlier on the counter peninsula and you hurried over to get between him and the door.

“Wait,” you set your hands on his chest as he nearly walked right into you, “I forgot to tell you-”

“Mhm?” George encouraged you on with a little amused smile, already knowing what was coming after this almost daily routine…only made more insistent on the mornings that came after an evening with perfect heavenly love making.

“You can’t go to work.” you told him, even as he started walking slowly towards the door, forcing you to take slow steps back in time with him.

“Why not?” he pressed, his lips grazing yours with how close you stood.

“You don’t feel well, remember?” you slid your hands over his shoulders.

“Oh, I don’t?”

“No.” you licked away your smile as he had you in the foyer now, “And you need to stay home so I can cuddle you and kiss you and tend to you and nurse you back to health.”

“Oh, I see.” George blindly lifted his jacket from the hook by the door, all without tearing his eyes away from yours, “And your shopping plans?”

“Canceled for you, my love.” you answered easily, sliding your arms around his waist as he pulled his jacket on and you leaned in to kiss his smiling lips. “So we should get you into bed.”

“We should?” George had you against the front door and you stood guard in front of it to prevent him from leaving.

“Yes.” you smiled sweetly at him with your lightly frazzled hair and wrinkled shirt of his you wore.

It would have been so easy for him to fall into your little trap and stay home with you all day - it was near impossible for him to say no to you and especially so when you looked like a golden angel in the sunlight that bathed the house. Instead, he reached a hand up and caressed your cheek and then leaned in to kiss your lips once, twice, and then lingered there for a third before pulling away.

“I got to go, darling.”

Pouted in lighthearted defeat, you slunk out of his way so he could open the front door and you followed after him onto the porch, stopping him by the arm for one more kiss.

“I love you.” you said.

“I love you.” he smiled back, his eyes glancing up and down your figure and once more across your face as if memorizing you completely, “See you tonight.”

“See you.” you let your hand fall from his arm and you watched him walk down the front porch steps and around to the drivers side of his shiny car.

The other men on your little street were also saying their goodbyes to their wives and getting into their cars like clockwork but your attention was only on your husband and the way he checked his hair in the rearview mirror before sliding his sunglasses on. He caught your gaze once more and blew you a kiss before turning the key in the ignition.

With the rumble of the engine, you took one more step down the front porch in only his white buttoned shirt and blew him a kiss back, letting your hand stay outstretched in a gentle wave as he backed out of the driveway alongside the other men. Then, like a little parade, they made their way down the street in a single file row and out of sight.

Sitting around in the comfy chairs of the classy department store, you and your friends sipped champagne and discussed your mornings and the ballet class you had just returned from.

“It was more of a workout than I had thought!” one of the ladies expressed.

“Such beautiful dancing though. Do you think they’ll have us perform a show by the end of the season? I would love to be able to show my husband all that we do!”

“Oh, that would be so nice!”

“We should put in a request.”

“My husband does not so much as care about what I do, I must admit.”

“Being one of the most important men in business, it’s fair to say he’s tired when he gets home every night.”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t mind some attention from him.”

As your friends gossiped about their husbands and their home lives, you set your drink flute on the glass coffee table and stood from your chair to browse a few of the near-by racks. In a blue floral dress that swayed around your knees with every step, you held that soft tune on your lips as you gently swiped through each clothing option with the tags labeled without prices. The women never had to bother with money, it was just one way that life was made less stressful in your little picturesque neighbourhood.

One of the ladies spoke a little louder so you could hear, “All of us seem to have things we wish to improve in our marriages and then there are the Russells who could not be any more perfect if they tried.”

With a skirt in hand that you were admiring, you glanced over to your friends who all had knowing looks directed your way. You smiled and shook your head, “I wouldn’t call us perfect. No one is perfect.”

“Oh, but you’re pretty close.” one of the ladies said before turning to the rest of the group, “You won’t believe the things I hear from even the next house over. It’s like their honeymoon phase lasts for months.”

“Okay.” you laughed to try and brush her off as you set the skirt back on the rack beside you.

Another one of your friends added smoothly, “You won’t be fitting in these dresses much longer by the sounds of it then.”

The first friend only continued, “I know! If you two aren’t pregnant soon I think there must be something wrong with the universe.”

The rest of your small group agreed easily.

“Yeah.” you added, “We’ve only been actively trying for a few weeks but-”

“More like six months by what we hear next door.”

“Okay.” you hushed her with a bashful blushing smile and you turned back to the rack to skim through some more clothes. You tried not to let their innocent excitement for you get under your skin but you were anxious and impatient and wanting a baby more than anything. It hadn’t been very long but when it was the thing you prayed for most in the world, each passing hour felt like a lifetime.

You tried on the outfit you had been eyeing in the change room - that blue full skirt and matching blouse - and although it fit you like it was tailored for you, you silently wished it didn’t fit. You craved the growth of life inside you and it never seemed to leave the forefront of your mind.

Regardless, you let your anxieties out with some retail therapy as you set your blue outfit on the cash desk along with a few more casual dresses and shoes. The man behind the counter rung up your items and folded them into tissue paper and set them in a box with a neat little bow.

“Will that be everything today, Mrs. Russell?” he asked routinely.

You glanced across the counter to him, “Yes, thank you.”

“Wonderful. I will charge it to your husband’s account.” he held out the box to you, “We hope to see you again soon. I couldn’t help but overhear that it may be in our maternity department?”

You offered a polite smile and thanked him quietly as you took your box and returned to your friends who were getting ready to leave with their own purchases. Upon joining up with your little group again, you all emerged out into the sunny afternoon to make your way towards the trolley, discussing your evening in terms of your planned outfits for the neighbourhood dinner that was to be hosted at the lavish event hall in town. Your friends spoke excitedly about the dressed they had picked out and their hopes that their husbands would match their excitement at least partially. It was always nice to have a night off when you didn’t need to have dinner ready for the men’s homecoming - or so your friends touched upon. To you, everyday meant simply looking forward to George being home, regardless of what you had prepared or not. You liked to tend to him and you did so gladly.

That day, however, you felt drained. Your physical body seemed to be taking after your emotional state in that sense and by the time the trolley stopped at the end of your street and let you off and you shared quick ‘see you tonight’s with your friends as you parted ways onto your own properties, you were ready to sit down.

The house felt so quiet and empty when you were there alone and although it never usually bothered you, this afternoon only raised that looming loneliness that had been festering inside you. Trying to calm yourself down, you hummed that same gentle tune that had been stuck in your head and walked slowly down your hallway and into your master bedroom. After your morning tidy, the bed had been already made and any laundry was put away in the hamper, leaving a spotless room for you to set your shopping box down on the pulled tight sheets. With a hum on your lips, you helped yourself to the ensuite and ran a bath in the teal porcelain alcove tub, your gaze drifting over the alarm clock on the bedside table as the water filled and you stripped out of your dress and heels. George was expected home in just over an hour and you would have to be ready for him then so all he had to do was put on his formal jacket and dress shoes and you could be out the door and on your way to the party right away.

The steaming bath water forced a sigh from your chest as you lowered into it and relaxed back against the edge. Your eyes closed peacefully and you rested your head back against the wall to give yourself a moment to ease your tensions that seemed to riddle your body that week, your hair still tied half-up with a ribbon that matched your day dress. In a few moments you would have to get up but you breathed yourself into relaxation to make the most of your quiet day.

You were woken to a gentle touch to your shoulder and your eyes flew open with a surprised gasp, the barely-warm water sloshing around your body as you startled. George was sitting on the edge of the tub still in his work clothes, his expression a mix between surprise and love, and he caressed your cheek with his thumb.

“I was worried where you were when you didn’t meet me at the door.” he chuckled softly.

“Shit, what time is it?” you asked worriedly, your features expressing your unrest easily.

“Just after 5:00.” George answered.

“Oh my- I’m sorry- I was supposed to be ready to go-“ you started to get up but he set a gentle hand on your shoulder to keep you in the water a little longer.

“It’s okay, darling. There’s no rush. We still have a whole hour.”

George dipped down to kiss your lips and your stress lines melted into a tender smile at his touch and you leaned up from the tub to kiss him again gladly. When you sat back again, he just stared at you for a few long seconds, a calm smile on his face. The intensity of his blue eyed stare always had you needing to look away and you smiled shyly down to the bath water.

George broke your silence with a soft, “You look gorgeous.”

You leaned your head back against the wall again so you could look at him, admitting quietly, “I missed you today.”

“I missed you too.” George stroked your hair before he was getting up from the wide of the tub, “I bought you something on my way home.”

Your attention was peaked, watching him walk hurriedly out of the ensuite and out into your bedroom, “You did?”

He came back in with a garment bag and a beaming grin and he unzipped it to reveal a royal blue evening dress with a straight neckline, short dainty sleeves, and a matching bow around the waist. You bit back your smitten grin at the excitement of your selfless husband and you leaned your arms on the edge of the tub to admire the stunning new dress, careful to not touch it with your wet hands.

“Sweetheart,” you breathed adoringly, “It’s beautiful.”

“Couldn’t stop thinking of you in it…I just had to stop and pick it up for you. You’re gonna look beautiful tonight.” George gushed as he hung the hanger up on the shower curtain rod. He started to untie his tie from around his neck as he talked on, “And I even grabbed myself a matching tie from the store while I was there just so we can match tonight. I know you always like that even if you might not always admit it.”

You rested your cheek down against your folded arms on the tub edge and admired him shamelessly as he stepped back into the bedroom again only to return to the bathroom mirror with a royal blue tie that matched the colour of your new dress perfectly. He draped it around his neck and popped his collar so he could tie it as he spoke to you.

“Come on, darling, come get ready.”

You always loved going out with him and especially having any excuse to dress up but the whirling of your mind was distracting and you caught yourself suddenly swallowing back tears. You dropped your face into the crook of your arm and let out a shaky exhale to try and regain your composure.

“Hey,” George’s gentle voice got closer and soon he was crouching beside the tub, reaching out a loving hand to caress your damp shoulder, “what’s wrong, my love?”

You sniffled and raised your head up again to meet his concerned gaze and you shrugged, mouthing a silent and passive, “I dunno.”

“Mm mm.” George shook his head gently, “Don’t do that. Don’t push me away. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I want a baby.” you whispered.

“I know.” George let out a faint chuckle at your obvious confession but his expression stayed serious as he took in your obviously distressed state. His hand stroked over your head and into the damp ends of your hair that had grazed the water in your bath.

“I want one now.” you continued quietly.

“I know. That’s why we’re working so hard.” he nudged your cheek teasingly with his knuckle.

You barely offered him a smile, “I’m scared it won’t happen.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “Why’s that?”

You shrugged, “Because if it hasn’t happened yet then what if it never will?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” George tisked and gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “It’s still early…it’s been barely a month-”

“But we weren’t even really being safe before that. How did it not already accidentally happen?”

“I dunno.” he chuckled, “But that’s okay. I am in no rush. We have our whole lives together and it’s only been a little while of trying and I’m not giving up yet. I’m not giving up on us or our babies, okay?”

You sniffled and nodded.

“So don’t worry, darling. Don’t stress yourself out over this because you’re just going to make yourself crazy with worry.”

“I want to give you a family.” you mumbled sadly.

“You are my family.” George promised and leaned in to kiss your temple. “You’re all I need to be happy.”

“I love you.” you whispered, turning your head slightly to urge his lips on yours in a sweet kiss.

“I love you.” he kissed you once more before he was standing up and offering out his hands to you, “Now let’s get you out of this bathtub and into that dress so you can be the most breathtaking woman at the party.”

The event hall was located near the centre of town and was decorated lavishly for the evening party that was to be hosted there. George parked on the street and even at the slight distance you were from the venue, the lights and music still made their way down the sidewalk and lured you in eagerly. With your hair curled and pinned to perfection and in your brand new gown purchased by the hands of your husband, you already felt like a million bucks, only eased more by the reassurance that he offered you only an hour earlier. He was truly all you needed and anything more was just a perfect treat.

Your hand rested daintily in the crook of his elbow as he led you both into the loud and boisterous hall and right away, other partygoers were greeting you over the music and noise. Butlers passed by with platters of horderves and George snagged you both a small serving each on the way to your table. Right up near the front, your reserved table was awaiting you, and a few of your friends were already there and in their seats, mingling and drinking.

At the sight of you, your friends had plenty to say about your matching dress and tie and the way you just looked so perfect together. Friendly cheek kisses were shared by the ladies and the men exchanged handshakes and everyone was arranging themselves in their seats that were labeled with golden calligraphy name tags. George pulled out your chair for you and helped you take your seat in your spot before he was leaning down with his hands on your shoulders to let you know he was going to the bar to order some drinks. You reached up one hand to pat over his in acknowledgement and he leaned down to kiss your cheek before disappearing through the crowd with a few of the husbands.

“Oh he is enamoured by you.” one of your friends gushed from across the table.

“And this dress is stunning!” another reached over to touch your sleeve.

“He picked it out.” you admitted - only slightly bragging, “Came home with it today and said he needed to buy it for me because he kept picturing me in it.”

The girls swooned over that, lighthearted jealousy filling the air.

“You two are too cute.” another one of the women said, “It’s a known fact that the Russells are all too perfect.”

“Yep. Makes me sick!” another joked.

The one on your right nudged your arm gently, leaning in to say quietly while still being heard over the band playing, “Did you hear that your husband might be getting a promotion tonight?”

Your eyes widened, “No. I didn’t hear that. Is it true?”

She nodded, “My husband heard at work. Apparently George has been doing an excellent job…he’s so dedicated, y’know? The mayor is so impressed.”

“It’s a surprise?” you questioned.

“Think so. But I don’t even know if it’s 100% true so don’t go saying anything anyway. I know you two have no secrets between you and all.”

You pretended to lock your lips with your fingers and throw away the imaginative key and you shared quiet giggles.

The men returned shortly after and George set your drink down on the table in front of you before he was unbuttoning his tuxedo jacket and then sitting down beside you with his own drink. His hand rested on the back of your chair while his eyes took in the party around you from the crowded tables of neighbours to the impressive height of the floral centerpieces on each, sipping his drink calmly. You set your hand on his thigh as you took to your own drink, naturally keeping him within arms reach at all times even if the attention was on the conversation at your table.

It wasn’t long before the performers were introduced to the crowd and the stage was filled with female dancers, their costumes not leaving much to the imagination other than streaks of glitter and sparkle covering them scandalously. The music guided them and the men cheered loudly as the women watched politely, you among them. But George wasn’t looking at the stage. Instead, his head was turned away from the show just so he could stare at you instead.

Cluelessly, you sipped your drink and watched the show, unknowing to the way his attention was focused all on you. A calm smile rested on his lips and his eyes took in every inch of your face as you sat at his side so effortlessly. When his hand dropped to your lap and he gave your knee a squeeze, you finally looked at him, eyes wide in surprise at seeing him already staring at you.

George leaned in towards you and you met him halfway so he could whisper against your ear behind the loud show music playing through the spacious room, “Wanna come get some air with me?”

You smiled innocently at him and set your drink back on the table as your silent agreement.

He got up first from his chair and took your hand to guide you after him, moving smoothly away from your table without wanting to interrupt the show. Your friends only shared knowing glances among themselves at the sight of the two of you sneaking off. You didn’t necessarily know you were that predictable to outsiders.

The music from the ballroom muffled as you emerged into the hallway and let the double doors close behind you, having a moment alone in peace of just the two of you. George spun you under his arm and then pulled you right up against his body, sliding his arm around your waist lovingly as his lips found yours with ease. You raised your hands up to the side of his neck to hold him there, gladly letting him kiss you deeply within the rush of escaping the crowded party.

George pulled away from your lips only to whisper honestly to you, “You really are the most beautiful woman here tonight.”

You caressed his smooth jaw with your thumbs, “All thanks to this dress you picked out.”

“Your beauty requires no thanks to me.” he corrected smoothly, taking your hands from his face to hold in his own and he started to walk backwards to pull you after him towards the washrooms.

You walked after him giddily, only pulling your hands from his grasp and falling against his chest with your arms around his shoulders as he backed into the empty women’s washroom. In the formal setting of the ballroom, the washroom was designed just as lavishly and the mirror framed lounge with a central circular sofa welcomed you warmly. Your lips found his again and he blindly locked the door behind you before spinning you both around and leading you farther into the elegant room.

You could never get enough of his lips and even as he licked his way into your mouth, you were still pulling at the back of his neck to feel him closer, moaning softly into his kiss. George’s hands slid down your body and over your hips and ass and his dress shoes scuffed over the marble floor as he guided you towards the small make-up counter across the room. Often used for ladies to excuse themselves from the party to freshen up their lipstick or blush at the built-in vanity, it was now taken as a place for George to press you up against in the most erotic way, sending your heart in your throat and between your legs in eager anticipation. Only the simplest of touches from your husband sent you spiralling.

“Oh my God.” you breathed into his mouth as your kiss broke for him to focus on shuffling up your voluminous skirt.

Both already breathing heavily, your mouths were open in lust as lips brushed tauntingly and you shared air together. Your hands held onto his biceps over the expensive material of his tuxedo jacket and his warm hands snapped the waistband of your lacey panties against your waist. You giggled and he lowered to a crouch in front of you, holding up your skirt in one hand as his other started to pull down your underwear and his lips trailed after them in slow open-mouthed kisses across your skin. His gelled hair wasn’t easy to get your hand in without ruining it completely so you settled for resting your hands on the cold vanity countertop that you were resting back against the edge of.

George stood back up and in one smooth motion, his lips were capturing yours in a filthy kiss. You let one arm toss around his shoulders as you kissed him back hungrily, pulling hearty moans from his throat at the way you melted into each other and he shoved your underwear in his pants pocket. His hand took its place under your skirt and pressed right down against your clit, making your next breath shutter.

“Fuck-”

George swallowed up your words with his mouth, tasting the way you swore at his touch, locking his pillowy lips with yours perfectly. He stroked your clit lazily with his fingertips and soon had you trying to grind against his hand as he stood between your legs and was nearly leaning into you over the vanity.

You tilted your head back to break your kiss with a exhale, “George-”

Breathing in time with each other into each other’s mouths, you held him close around his shoulders as he made you wet with ease; like he knew your body like the back of his hand. His lustful eyes were on yours, unwavering, glimmering in the warm light of the circular mirrored room you found yourselves in, companion only to the muffled music from the party across the hall.

His fingers moved a little faster against your clit and his attention was focused all on your face as he watched the way your expression changed for him, your nose scrunching up in pleasure and your eyebrows furrowing slightly with the moan that reverberated in your chest. He stopped suddenly, forcing a gasp from you, and his fingers slowed right down to rub over your pussy instead, smearing around the sweet wetness that pooled out of you by his very own touch.

“Fuck, you get wet for me so easy, my good girl.” he praised into your mouth, his body pressed right up against yours.

“I’m yours.” you promised him.

“Uh huh?” he swirled his fingers around your clit again, taunting you, “Do you want me to put a baby in you, darling?”

“Fuck, yes please.” you rushed out.

“Want me to make you a mommy? Say it.”

“Please put a baby in me, George.” you pleaded, tugging at his tie to try and pull his lips on yours again, your legs spreading wider to urge his touch where you craved him. “Let me make you a daddy.”

“God damn, you’re so perfect.” George groaned, rubbing messily at your clit again.

A pleasurable shriek fell from your throat and your head tossed back blissfully, welcoming his lips to your neck in feverish kisses that he moved right up under your ear to make you shiver. His fingers created the perfect friction against your aching clit and you ground against his touch, desperate for more. You always wanted more.

“Baby, please.” you breathed to the ceiling, “Please fuck me. Please cum inside me. I need you so fucking bad.”

George pulled his hand out from under your skirt so he could shove off his black jacket and he tossed it behind him to hopefully land on the couch in the middle of the room. Neither of you cared enough to watch where it went because then he was unbuckling his belt and you were shuffling up your skirt some more and draping your hair over one shoulder as the heat was already rushing over your body. You didn’t separate for long and even still he stood so close to you at the counter that you could breathe into each other’s mouths, eyes locked, hearts beating as one.

He grabbed your thighs and hoisted you up onto the edge of the counter as your hands pulled his lips back on yours for more kisses. George’s grip on your hips pulled you closer to him and the feeling of his fingers pressing into your hips had your body arching into him hungrily. You reached down to wrap your gentle hand around his dick and gave it a few impatient strokes, feeling how it only stiffened up more at your touch. It felt like you were in a rush, driven by lust and desire, and George nudged your legs open wider so he could step right up to the vanity, at the perfect height to let the head of his cock nudge against your sensitive clit.

“Don’t tease me, you asshole.” you giggled breathily, earning a soft laugh from your husband as he kissed the corner of your mouth. You held onto his biceps as he carefully fed his thick cock into your leaking cunt, sheathing so snugly inside you that both of your mouths fell open in unison, eyes locking.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” George whispered against your lips, sliding a hand around the small of your back to urge you a little closer to the edge so he could get as deep as possible.

“Oh my God.” you exhaled shakily, wrapping your legs around his waist to keep him close and your arms slung around his shoulders to pull his lips on yours. “Oh my God.”

You shared deep sloppy kisses as he started to thrust into you slowly and your moan against his lips had his eyebrows furrowing in filthy bliss. He broke your kiss for a moment to look at your face before dropping his gaze down between you, lifting up the hem of his dress shirt out of the way even if your skirt was still covering most of it. You tilted his head back up to look at you desperately, wanting to find the love in his eyes, and he thrusted into you a little faster as your gaze sent him spinning.

You breathed in time together, wrapped up together on the vanity counter, and as George’s feet stayed planted securely shoulder width apart in his dress shoes against the polished marble floor, he had the ability to take you as he wanted you right then and there. His lips pressed to your jaw in fleeting kisses as he held your body close and fucked you faster, desperate to feel more of you.

Your head fell back with a moan and he helped himself to your neck, holding you in place on the edge of the counter. As the seconds passed, he only got more desperate, thrusting into you faster, harder, holding your body against his in that gorgeous blue dress he bought for you.

“George-“ you cried out softly, clinging onto him, spreading your legs wider for him so he could get deeper. Your manicured fingernails grasped the back of his dress shirt around his waist, crumpling the once perfectly ironed material in your fist as your heels dropped from your feet one and then the other, landing on the marble floor with a sharp thud.

“Good girl.” George praised against your cheek, his large hands caressing your thighs and your back as he held you close to his body.

Your eyes were focused over his shoulder to the wall opposite you, hung up on the reflections that the mirror-framed room offered you of all angles. It was possessive to watch like that, how your arms and legs were wrapped around him completely, fingers of one hand drifting into the back of his brown hair as his warm breath was panted against your neck in time with his quick thrusts. It made you salivate with desire for the man you loved more than life itself.

“Oh my God-“ you moaned out for him, dizzy on the sound of his skin clapping filthily with yours as the luxurious bathroom muted the distant sounds of the loud party music through the ballroom. Your hand tightened in his hair as he fucked the whimpers out of you, igniting warmth over your skin. “Just like that, baby, please-“

“Wanna cum for me?” George asked lowly against your cheek.

“Yes, please.” you huffed out shakily. “Please make me cum.”

“Yeah?” George grabbed your thighs to spread you a little wider, making you hold your legs open by linking them over his forearms as his hands took your hips to hold you in place.

Your pleading hands pulled his lips on yours by the back of his head, sharing filthy tongue led kisses between your pants and moans together as he drew you both closer. Both of you were completely ignorant to the muffled speech going on back in the ballroom, too hung up on each other. Tossing your head back with an overwhelmed moan to the ceiling, your hands dropped behind you to the countertop and your teeth sunk into your bottom lip.

The skirt of your dress bunched around your middle and his hands were buried underneath it to hold you by the waist at the edge of the vanity, fucking you deliciously until that warmth was tightening in the pit of your stomach. Eyebrows furrowed as you stared at him lustfully, you basked in the pleasure he brought to you so easily, giving him the sweetest moans that helped him closer to the conclusion you needed from him.

“Cum inside me.” you whispered to him longingly.

George stared back at you strongly, thrusting into you steadily as he taunted you with words that sent you whirling, “Want me to put a baby in you, darling? Cum so fucking deep inside you until you’re completely knocked up?”

“Fuck me.” you groaned through your teeth, your voice wavering, “Please, George. Please knock me up. Please give me your babies. Please, please, please-“

“Uh huh-“ he spoke over your soft begging, holding you by your waist as close as he could so he could hit as deep as possible, making your toes curl in midair.

You tugged the skirt of your dress up and got your fingers on your swollen clit to rub quickly at that spot, desperate for those incredible waves of pleasure that came to you only alongside your darling husband. Your head fell back with a gasping groan, your pussy squeezing down around him snugly as your orgasm approached quickly and you mouthed his name to the mirrored room in a whisper.

So many reflections to watch your sneaky rendezvous but George was only staring at the real you right in front of him, watching how you succumbed to the pleasure he brought you, “Let go for me, darling. Take the fucking cum out of me. Take it.”

Your fingers rubbed quickly at your clit, pulling the air from your lungs as your body gave itself to him completely, pushed over the edge by the way he thrusted into you so perfectly. You tensed up around him and he groaned lowly between you as the pulsing flutters of your pussy radiated bursts of pleasurable sensations up his spine. You came for him with a cry of his name, your eyes staring back at his handsome face as your expression wavered with overwhelm.

George only fucked you faster, desperately chasing that sweet conclusion that would bring you both closer together. You slung your arms around his shoulders as you shuttered against his body with the intense pleasure that radiated over every inch of you. He shifted to get your legs back around your waist and he held you as close as possible as he thrusted into you sloppily.

“Hold onto me.” he whispered strongly, urging your hands to cling onto the back of his shirt to keep you together as close as possible. Your ankles linked together behind his waist and your heels pressed into the flesh of his bum to keep him nice and deep as his breathing grew shallower.

He was coming seconds later, nearly slumping into you as your arms held each other close and he forced himself as deep as he could get inside you. His moans were beautiful and you breathed him into your senses greedily as he was all yours. You took every drop he gave you, grinding against his body to pull more out of him with how badly you wanted it, whispering little breathy yeses against his cheek in time with his final few precise thrusts.

“Oh my God.” you breathed.

“Mm.” George dusted a fleeting kiss to your neck as he stood up straight again.

You held onto his biceps as he pushed up the hem of your dress to allow you both to watch him pull out slowly. His dick was slick in the mixture of both of your love and he was softening slowly in the warm air of the ballroom bathroom. He grabbed your thighs to spread your legs nice and wide and you leaned back on your hands with a sultry little smile as he stared down at your pussy and licked his lips at the sight of the thick white cream dripping back out.

“Keep it in there.” he ordered quietly. “Keep your legs up for a bit.”

“Mhm.” you rested back against the vanity mirror and kept your legs up, clenching your muscles tightly to keep everything in for as long as he wanted you to.

George leaned in to kiss your lips a few times, bringing a loving smile to your face at his obvious adoration that was even more apparent in the way he looked at you when you separated.

“I love you.” he whispered.

“I love you so much.” you replied quietly.

He drifted away from you to tuck himself back into his slacks and he buckled his pants up again and you watched him redress peacefully, always one to linger on the domesticity of it all. George retrieved his jacket from where he had tossed it onto the centre sofa and he shrugged it back on and buttoned the two buttons once more.

Staring at him from your spot atop the vanity, you felt your heart swell with undeniable love for him, tears brimming in your eyes with the overwhelming concept that he was yours for life and that you were aiming to make a family together. He was all you wanted, even if you wanted more of him.

Dedicated to the growth of your family, you let your legs ache as you kept them raised and spread, willing to do anything for the cause. George stopped by one of the mirrored walls of the circular room and let that same tune play on his lips as he tended to his hair and made sure it was gelled back down and away from his face, no remnants of your fingers in it. He then returned to you and situated himself between your legs, sliding his hands up your skirt that hid you modestly and he caressed your warm skin.

“How are you feeling?” he asked quietly.

“Little dizzy.” you admitted, your head resting back against the mirror, “But I’m so good.”

“Dizzy?”

“Mhm. You made me cum really hard.” you giggled.

George smiled, his momentary concern melting into a cheeky grin, and he leaned in to kiss your lips. You shared whispered ‘I love you’s before he was helping you to lower your legs and guide you off the counter. On wobbly legs, you held onto his forearms and took a second to steady yourself until you were able to stand straight on your own. George pressed a kiss to your temple and then pulled your underwear from his pocket for you to put back on. You held onto him as you carefully pulled them up your legs under your dress and then slid on each of your heels one at a time.

“Okay?” he asked.

You smiled at him and nodded, blinking away the slight dizziness that lingered. You had a party to return to after all.

When you returned to the ballroom hand in hand, the mayor was on the stage with the microphone in hand, addressing the crowd. It was otherwise quiet as if they were missing something but almost the exact moment you walked through the doors, the spotlight was on you. You raised a hand up to shield your eyes from the bright white light and George guided you slowly back towards your table as the mayor called you out by name.

“There they are! The Russells have made their return!”

Blushing furiously with the entire town’s attention on you, you clung tighter onto George’s hand and followed close beside him to your table.

On the stage, the mayor wasn’t done, “I have to admit that I am quite proud of these two’s dedication to helping our community to grow into the next generation. I’m sure it won’t be long until we can welcome another child into our perfect little paradise, isn’t that right?”

The crowd cheered loudly with applause and you nearly felt faint, the spotlight following you through the crowd. George’s hand rested on the small of your back as he helped you onto your chair again.

The mayor continued, speaking into the microphone as his other hand gestured out towards the two of you, “In your absence, George, you missed my most important announcement of the night.”

George offered him a tight smile as he sat back down beside you with a polite, “Awfully sorry about that, Frank.”

“No, no.” the mayor assured him, “I understand that you take your job as man of the house just as seriously as you take your job with us here.”

Your dizziness was only growing into a sweat at your brow and you dabbed your napkin from your place setting gently at your temples to try and tame your rising temperature. Maybe it was the warm spotlight, you assumed, or the attention of the entire neighbourhood being focused on you that made you nervous but you really weren’t feeling too well.

George was looking up to the nearby stage as the mayor addressed him directly, meaning his back was almost completely towards you. You set a clammy hand on his shoulder.

The mayor continued, “Which is exactly why I wanted to bring up your dedication to your service to us and your ability to live with the morals and values of our dear community at the forefront of your mind.”

You leaned towards George’s shoulder, whispering shakily to him, “Baby, I don’t feel too well.”

He glanced at you briefly before the mayor drew his attention with a call of his name.

“George Russell,”

Your forehead slumped against his shoulder blade, “I wanna go home.”

George shifted to let you lean on his shoulder and your arm naturally wrapped pleadingly around his, warmed by the blinding light of the spotlight.

The mayor was unphased by your obvious distress as he continued addressing your husband directly, “it is with great pride that I would like to offer you a position with some of us in headquarters. It will come with more responsibility but I’m sure the pay increase will be beneficial when it comes to any little additions to your family.”

George’s attention was torn between this surprise news of an offered promotion and the way that you were nearly limp against his shoulder. His arm wrapped around you protectively but his gaze was still politely focused on the stage.

“I really want to go home.” you repeated shakily to him.

Your friends were oblivious, too excited about the proper announcement that was now given to the man it was directed towards under the blinding lights of the decorated ballroom. You felt faint.

“What do you say, George?” the mayor asked loudly, his voice booming across the spacious ballroom. “Will you live up to the kind of man we know you can be?”

“George.” you whispered pleadingly, too out of it to even really know what was going on. “Please, can we go?”

George glanced at you briefly before looking back up to the stage and the expectant faces of his co-workers and mayor. He nodded to him quickly, “Yes, thank you. I would love to accept the offer.”

The crowd broke into applause and with the chaos that it brought, George turned to you quickly and grabbed your purse from the table before standing up.

“Come on, let’s get you home.”

He helped you out of your chair as the spotlight drifted elsewhere across the bustling party and your friends gave you odd stares at your sudden change and out-of-character distress. George, riddled with worry, wrapped his arm around your waist protectively and led you towards the exit doors of the ballroom, the cheers of the crowd echoing in your ears and you clamped your hands over them to block out the noise.

Once out in the crisp evening air, you were stumbling across the pavement and George was pulling you to a stop to look at him. Hands trembling, you pushed your hair out of your face and kept your gaze downcast in near shame.

“What’s wrong, darling?” George asked, rubbing your bare arms with his warm hands.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin your night.” you said shakily.

“You didn’t ruin anything.” George brushed your apology off easily, “What’s wrong?”

“I dunno…it just…was stuffy in there and overwhelming…I don’t feel too good.” you sniffled and he pulled you in for a gentle hug. With your arms tucked around your middle shyly, he held you close and pressed a kiss to your temple. You didn’t want to complain but you were still not feeling much better and you stood back from him again, holding a trembling hand to your mouth, “I feel so gross, George, can we please go home?”

“Yes, my love, of course.” George took your arm and gently guided you towards the car.

He opened the door for you and helped you in and even buckled your seatbelt for you before he shut the door and rushed around to the other side to get behind the wheel. You shut your eyes and leaned back in your seat, the world still slightly spinning around you.

George turned the key and pulled away from the curb, “Did it come on this fast?”

You nodded, working up the courage to speak your response, “Felt really tired today and then dizzy while we were in the bathroom but…”

When your body made you lurch and you pressed your hand to your mouth, George’s wide eyes looked over at you.

“Tell me to pull over if you need me to.” he instructed gently.

You nodded in acknowledgement.

“I’m sorry.” you mumbled.

He reached over to set a comforting hand on your thigh, “Please don’t be sorry.”

The street lamps of your perfect little community whizzed past your window as George hurried towards home, his gaze constantly flicking over to you from the street ahead just to make sure you were good. It was odd the way you so quickly felt sick and it honestly made him quite nervous, wondering what had happened to trigger such obvious illness within you in such a short period of time.

It didn’t take long to get home since your neighbourhood wasn’t very large and George had barely put the car in park before you were tossing off your seatbelt and climbing out of your seat in a rush. George didn’t even turn off the car before he was hurrying after you towards the porch where you caught yourself on the white painted pillar and threw up in the garden. He was right behind you as you sputtered distastefully, pulling your hair away from your face for you as the nausea came over you again and you threw up for a second time right into your rosebush.

“Oh my-“ you whimpered, eyes brimming with tears as you wiped your mouth with the back of your trembling hand.

George hushed you comfortingly as you let out a little sob and he turned you to face him so he could easily pull you into a warm hug. You ducked your face in his neck, embarrassed, and your shaking hands grasped onto the back of his suit jacket to hold onto him comfortingly.

“Let’s get you inside and into bed, okay?” he whispered to you, stroking your hair with a gentle hand that rubbed down your back.

You nodded and sniffled and stepped away from him so he could hurry and turn the car off, gather your purse, and then return to your side to help you inside. Your spotless house greeted you warmly when George flicked on the lights but once glimpse at the kitchen had you panicked again.

“We didn’t even get to eat. You must be starving-“

“I’m okay.” George assured you quickly, steering you towards the hallway so he could take you to bed, “I can find something for us. Are you hungry at all?”

“Maybe a little.” you answered softly.

“Okay,” George pulled back the perfectly tucked bedsheets on your side of the bed and sat you down carefully, “I’ll get you into bed and maybe warm up some soup.”

“Okay.” you breathed.

He reached around you to unzip your dress and you lifted your arms up so he could pull it over your head.

“I wanted us to have a nice night.” you mumbled sadly.

“Hey,” George took your chin in his hand gently to get you to look at him, “I kinda enjoyed myself when we were there, did you not?”

A little smile pricked at the corner of your mouth at his implication and you nodded slightly in agreement, “Yeah. I did.”

He smiled proudly back at you, your dress draped over his arm, and he reached behind you again to unclip your bra. He undressed you carefully and then helped you to shuffle into one of his sweatshirts.

“I ruined your promotion.” you sighed sadly.

“You didn’t ruin anything.” George assured you, gently untying the ribbon from your hair, as his voice lowered to a whisper, “It’s just a job…it’s barely a job. You know that.”

“Yeah.” you said, “Although it’s nice that you’re being recognized. Makes this all a little easier.”

George didn’t answer you for a second, his gentle hands stroking through your hair to smooth it down over your shoulders. When you looked up at him at his lack of response, he appeared deep in thought.

“What is it?” you frowned.

“Do you think you should take a pregnancy test, darling?” he asked softly.

You almost scoffed, “What for?”

“Because you’ve been really tired and dizzy and you just threw up in our garden?”

You bit lightly at your bottom lip and dropped your gaze to your lap. George’s fingers still danced through your hair as he stood in front of you, letting you decide on your answer for yourself.

“I don’t think I could deal with it being negative.” you whispered to the carpet. “I can’t deal with that anymore and especially not here. I’ll fucking lose it.”

George’s thumbs caressed your cheeks and he crouched down in front of you so you could look at him, taking your hands in his, “I know you want this more than anything but that’s the reason why we came here, remember? To have what we always wanted? You keep psyching yourself up about this like we’re still at home that you’re not even letting yourself enjoy it and think of the positives of what could be. We have this whole opportunity for us and I don’t want anything to hold us back from living this life that has been built for us.”

You nodded.

George brought your joined hands to his mouth and he kissed your knuckles without taking his eyes off your downcast gaze and he whispered against your soft skin, “Please take a test?”

You sniffled and lifted your head back to stare at the ceiling.

“Please?” George said softly, pausing to kiss your hand again, “I’ll be right here.”

Your bottom lip trembled and you shyly met his gaze, feeling warm butterflies in your stomach by the way the man you loved stared at you. It was obvious that he loved you more than life itself and you felt the exact same right back. With a moment's thought, you nodded and breathed out a barely audible, “Okay.”

George honestly smiled and he stood up again, pausing just long enough to kiss your head before he was hurrying into the ensuite and pulled open the bottom cabinet, “Okay!”

You pressed the heels of your palms against your eyes as you tried to calm yourself down since your anxiety started to bubble up more in your chest. Still in a full face of makeup, smudging was the least of your concerns at that moment and you focused on deep breathing and keeping your tears at bay.

George returned to his spot in front of you and he held out the pregnancy test to you. You could see how excited and impatient he was - even if he tried to tone it down for your sake - and the thought of having to tell him it was yet another negative made your throat feel like razor blades. Every time it completely broke your heart. He was so strong. This was your last resort. You had given up everything for this one last chance.

You took the unopened test from him and felt the weight of it in your hands for a moment, staring down at the blank screen.

“Where do you want me?” he asked thoughtfully.

“Can you come in with me?” your voice was shaking.

“Sure, sweetheart.” George stepped to the side and let you get up from the side of the bed.

You were less dizzy and nauseous but still terribly tired and he followed you closely into the bathroom just to make sure you were steady…and for your emotional support. He sat up on the bathroom counter as you shuffled your panties down and helped yourself to the toilet, holding the test between your legs while your singular evening party drink went right through you.

You couldn’t remember what number test this was that you had taken and although it was the first since moving into this perfect little paradise of a community, the memory of your past experiences never faded. Your mind whirled with thoughts of the worst…if the alcohol in your recent drink would mess up the results, if you just had a sickness and that’s why you felt so strange all day, if you were too far lost for even a utopian community to save you and your dream.

The test was re-capped and George took it from you to rinse off while you cleaned yourself up and flushed. You wanted to be as far away from it as possible and you returned to the bedroom to sit on the side of the bed while George checked the time on his watch, test resting on the counter patiently.

“Three minutes.” George said, following after you back into the bedroom. “Do you need anything? Some water maybe?”

“No thank you.” you mumbled.

He hesitated in front of you.

“I’m going to get you some water.”

“George-”

He was already half out the bedroom door, “Be right back!”

He couldn’t sit still. You couldn’t move.

From the distant kitchen, you could hear him whistling that same tune that had been stuck in your head for ages but you didn’t have the energy to think much of it. Your leg bounced restlessly off the side of the bed, unknowing of the time, and you awaited your husband's return. He was so selfless. He was so good.

Soon, he was returning quickly and he passed you a glass of water; always one to stay busy. You sipped a bit of it to humour him and despite the fact that your mouth was terribly dry, you did not want to drink. You almost felt sick again. Not wanting to go through the discomfort of throwing up again, you clenched your lips shut and stared at the carpet, trying to keep yourself calm.

George checked his watch.

You held out your glass to him as if by instinct and started to get up.

“You should drink more, love-”

“I’m gonna be sick again.” you hurried out as you pushed past him into the ensuite.

Dropping to your knees at the toilet, you threw up loudly, struggling to hold back your tears. George set your glass on the counter and crouched behind you to comfort you by pulling your hair from your face as your body had you lurching to throw up again. He rubbed your back and your shoulders and hummed that silly little tune quietly to try and help calm you down.

“I’m sorry.” you mumbled weakly.

“Stop apologizing.” he tisked, following you onto the ground as you slumped from your knees onto your bum. You leaned back against his chest and he flushed the toilet for you before wrapping you up in his arms lovingly, pressing tender kisses to your head. “Through sickness and health, remember?”

You let a small smile come to your lips at the faint memory of the quaint English church in the countryside, the gentle organ playing, and George standing before you at the altar with his hands holding yours. It felt like so long ago as if the essence of time was skewed in your mind. In a way, it really was. Life was so different now but you both were sure this would be better…be worth the end of what once was to find your new beginning together.

“I love you.” you whispered.

“I love you.” he promised into your hair. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay.” you sighed.

He gave your hands a squeeze, “Think you can stand and we can take a look at this test of ours?”

You bit nervously at your bottom lip, “You look at it.”

“You don’t want to look at it with me?”

You shook your head.

“You sure?”

You nodded.

“Can I help you off the floor first at least?”

You permitted him to stand up and he slowly helped you up onto wobbly legs and you returned to the bedroom to sit on the side of the bed. Picking anxiously at your fingernails, you watched as he returned to the bathroom counter directly in your line of vision. He took one last glance at you before he was picking up the pregnancy test from the counter and flipping it over to read it, not giving himself a moment to second guess himself.

You struggled to read his expression as he read the result; his eyebrows furrowed and lips in a soft pout. You were waiting for the news you had grown all too used to. He wasn’t saying anything and you certainly didn’t want to be the first one to speak.

George little sniffle had your heart racing with anxiety, making you near positive that it was yet another negative. He looked over at you from the ensuite, bathed in the surrounding artificial light in his tuxedo with his gelled hair falling out of place, and his soft pout was unmissable. A single tear slipped down his cheek.

You sat frozen in place, aching for him to just rip off the bandaid, “What?”

“You’re pregnant.” he breathed, his voice breaking.

It felt as though the air was knocked from your lungs. You blinked at him, “What?”

George broke into a grin and he nodded, reaching up to wipe his eyes with the heel of his palms before taking another look at the test. He let out a wet chuckle at the result that stared back at him, “Holy shit.”

“Bring it here.” you ordered, almost panicking in disbelief.

George joined you on the side of the bed and you grabbed the test from him, almost glaring down at it in your hand. The screen revealed two pink lines, one just a little more faded than the other but still clearly visible to the naked eye.

“See it?” George pointed to it as if you couldn’t see it yourself. “It’s so clear.”

Your mouth opened as if to say something but no words came out. No words felt adequate at that moment. Opening and closing your mouth like a clueless fish, you felt dizzy with emotional overwhelm.

“You’re pregnant, baby.” George rehashed it to you sweetly with a smile as he rubbed his hand over your back, “You have a little us growing inside you right now.”

You couldn’t tear your wide eyes away from the positive test in your hand, stumbling over your next breath as you struggled to hold back the sudden wave of tears that threatened to overtake you. The air felt lighter and you gasped for relief, letting it out with a sob to your bedroom walls.

“Oh God.” you cried tears of joy, your trembling hands clutching the positive test in your two handed grip and you pulled it to your chest.

George embraced you right away, pulling you close with happy tears of his own. You turned towards him lovingly and rested your head on his shoulder with your face tucked in his neck, letting him hold you just like that, basking in the relief that was felt by the both of you. Your tears dripped onto the fabric of his tuxedo jacket even as you held open your palms again to get another look at those two pink lines. George kissed your temple proudly.

“I love you.” he whispered shakily.

“I love you.” you sniffled and finally turned to look him in the eye.

Through your tears, you shared quivering grins and he reached a hand up to caress your cheek and then pulled you in for a wet chasté kiss. Both of you were smiling into your kisses but you couldn’t get enough and the love that swelled in your heart was almost overpowering, forcing you to grab onto his tie and really hold his lips on yours. Your tear streaked cheeks pressed together moistly and your kisses tasted faintly of those salty tears you shared but the warm happiness that burned within the two of you was enough to overtake even the darkest of days.

You broke your kiss only to stare down at the confirmation you held in your hands, your palms delicately supporting the proof of your destiny. Sniffling as your tears slowed, you leaned against your husband who never once left your side, letting his fingers brush your hair over your shoulder so he could lean in beside you cheek to cheek.

“It was all worth it.” he said softly, rubbing his hand over your back, “I knew this would be good for us.”

You nodded.

“How are you feeling?” he asked gently, noting your silence.

You looked back at him with a calm smile and lifted a hand up to slide around the back of his neck and rest his forehead against yours, “So happy. And finally so at peace.”

“Good.” George whispered. “You deserve nothing less.”

“We’re finally gonna have our family, George.” you smiled sweetly, “You and me. What we’ve been waiting so long for.”

He swallowed you up in his arms, hugging you so tightly and so lovingly that you swore you never felt the heat of his love pass onto you as strongly before as it did in that moment. You felt as light as air and you melted into him happily, a peaceful smile on your face as you held onto him and let a content tune hum pleasantly from your lips.

The egg sizzled as it hit the bottom of the hot skillet, the kitchen filled with warm morning sunlight and the smell of cooking breakfast and brewing coffee that lured George from down the hall to join you. In only his work slacks and socks with his tie draped around his bare neck, he made you his priority over getting dressed, enveloping you in the scent of his cologne as he wrapped his arms around you from behind and dipped his shaved face into your neck.

His hands glided softly under the hem of his sweatshirt you wore to feel the smooth skin of your still generally flat stomach, “Good morning, mommy.”

You grinned to the stovetop at the reminder of the long-awaited news you had found out the night before and you leaned your head back against his shoulder to guide his lips to yours for a soft kiss. With his thumbs rubbing lovingly over your warm skin, you melted happily into him, “Good morning, daddy.”

Purely innocent and bursting with love for your family of two that would soon be made three, you shared a few more lingering kisses that made your heart swell.

“You sure you feel up to making breakfast?” George asked softly with one more caress to your stomach and a kiss to your neck.

“Yeah.” you assured him easily. “I like making you breakfast.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“I’m feeling so much better.”

George kissed your temple and then slid away from you to retrieve his shirt from the ironing board where it was left in the living room as it was every morning.

“Newspaper is already on the table.” you told him as he buttoned up his shirt on his way back over to you. “Your promotion made the front page.”

Living in such a small tight-knit community, there wasn’t much to report upon which only made George’s promotion big news. Front page worthy. He stopped at his usual spot at the kitchen island and glanced down at the newspaper as he tied his tie around his neck under the collar of his freshly ironed white shirt. Pausing to take a bite of toast from the plate that you had set beside the newspaper, he chewed as he straightened out his tie, still skimming the article.

“I don’t know what’s the big deal.” he spoke through his mouthful, “Not like it’s a real promotion.”

“Well, not everyone knows that.” you answered calmly, still tending to the bacon and eggs on the stove.

“I guess.” George flipped to the next page before reaching for his mug for a sip of the steaming coffee that you had poured him.

“We’re lucky to even be here under these circumstances. The other wives don’t know a thing.”

George glanced up at you, knowing your conversation was treading towards dangerous territory surrounding the topic that was to be completely silenced under your discretion. You weren’t wrong, however, and thus it allowed you to be the one couple in the community that could freely speak to it - so long as you were completely alone and out of earshot of anyone else.

“Does it scare you?” George asked.

You plated the bacon and eggs and merely shrugged, “Sometimes. I don’t know their stories or why they’re here…what exactly led them to be a part of this without their knowledge. I can only hope that the husbands did it for the right reasons.”

Your two plates clinked gently against the island countertop as you set them between you.

“Besides,” you continued, “all I need to worry about is you and me. And our baby.”

George broke into a grin and he leaned in to kiss you sweetly.

“I know that we’re here for the right reasons.” you rubbed your hand up his chest and around the back of his neck, staring adoringly into his soft blue eyes.

“And that’s all that matters,” he agreed. “You and me.”

“You and me.” you nodded, pulling his lips on yours for another quick kiss. “And baby.”

“And baby.” he whispered happily. “Still so crazy…going to have to get used to that.”

“I know.” you fed him a piece of bacon, “It’s only been months and months of trying and waiting.”

“Are you going to start telling people today?”

“Should I?”

“If you want to.”

You took a bite of bacon for yourself, staring back at him with a sweet smile you couldn’t hold back, “Okay. Maybe I will.”

Breakfast was eaten in close proximity, taking second rank of importance behind lovable kisses and whispers of excitement and adoration for each other and your growing family. George took one more piece of bacon for the road before he was grabbing his lunch tin and you were following him to the front door to say your goodbyes.

“I really don’t want you to go.” you whispered, standing in the warm morning light of the foyer with your arms around his waist as he shrugged on his jacket.

“I know, darling.” George smiled sadly. “But now more than ever it’s imperative that I go every day.”

“I know.” you sighed. “I love you for that.”

George held your face in his hands and pulled your lips to his for a brief kiss before telling you honestly, “I hate leaving.”

“I know.”

You shared another kiss as he insisted, “It’s the worst.”

“Mhm.”

“It’s scary sometimes.”

“I know.” you leaned into him to capture his lips with yours in a lingering chasté kiss.

He sighed into it through his nose, gently sliding his hands from your face down your shoulders and arms, and as he broke your kiss, he guided your hands out from around his waist. You laced your fingers together lazily between you and kissed him once more.

“We’ll be waiting.” you promised.

George’s melancholy expression pricked into a smile and he took one hand from yours to dust over the front of the sweatshirt you wore and then dip under the hem, caressing your warm skin lovingly.

“Can’t wait until you start showing.”

“Me neither.” you gushed, holding up your sweater for him as you both stared down at what was to become your baby, fingers of your other hands still linked together.

George sunk down onto his knees and he gently slid his hands around your waist to press warmly against your back to pull you close. He dusted a sweet kiss to your stomach, right under your belly button, caressing your skin with his gentle loving hands, and you would have absolutely swooned.

“Bye bye, my little one. Be good to mummy today.”

As he stood up, he gave you a smooth kiss next that you were both smiling into.

“I love you.” you grinned adoringly.

“I love you.” he promised, his eyes skimming across your make-up free face as if you were the most beautiful thing he had seen in his life, “See you tonight.”

“See you.” you breathed, letting him slip away from you and out the front door.

You stood on the porch and waved him goodbye as he pulled the car out of the driveway and made his daily drive down your street among the line of fellow men as they journeyed to work together in a single file line.

George whistled happily in his car as the morning breeze took him to the outskirts of the neighbourhood and towards the vast desert landscape that framed your little oasis. With one arm resting on the open window beside him, he coasted in the steady lineup of cars that navigated towards the highly confidential headquarters where all the local men were to report for work at precisely 9am every morning. He hated leaving you but only more so now that you had both found out that you were finally expecting. On the other hand, it only proved to himself that his responsibility to attend his daily expectations was of the utmost importance.

As the glass structure atop the desert mountains grew closer on his approach, his car radio crackled to life with the expected daily recording.

“All male citizens on route to headquarters. Schedule is one time.”

George absolutely dreaded the idea of leaving you but he had a duty to withhold that allowed you to live your life together in your ideal oasis that was already starting to give you everything you ever wanted. So he took the drive without complaint as the road turned into the steep mountainous climb towards the building overseeing the guarded little castaway town.

The radio spoke again with the voice of the mayor, “Security risk is low. All units expected to pass without fault. Arriving at the gate in 3…2…1-”

George’s chest gasped for air as his vision burst from light into the darkness that surrounded him, staring up into the dizzying patterns of light that were projected onto the ceiling above. He reached towards his face and carefully removed the metal clamps from his eye sockets and blinked feverishly a few times as the moisture re-settled over his irises. The wavering sound of white noise that filled the darkened room was almost invisible to him now and as he sat himself up in the bed and stretched his arms over his head and twisted his spine until it cracked in relief, he was unbothered by it.

On his left, laying flat beside him, you laid peacefully, staring at the ceiling. The same clamps that he had been wearing also kept your eyes open, staring blankly up to the dark ceiling and the projection of light patterns that kept you stagnant. George shifted to face you on the bed and leaned down to kiss your pale cheek and caress your arm with the back of his finger.

“I’m here, love.” he whispered, his voice slightly hoarse, “I’m still right here with you.”

Leaving you in place, he slowly got up from the bed and let his bare feet touch the cold wood floor beneath him as he opened the blackout curtains that framed the bed. The room was still pitch black outside of the canopy bed thanks to the extra safety barrier of curtains that covered each drafty window. You couldn’t be too safe.

The floorboards creaked under George’s every step as he navigated the bedroom like he would every weekday and he pulled open the curtains from over one of the corner windows, allowing the room to be illuminated sufficiently by the morning sun. His eyes burned as the stream of bright light came flooding in and he rubbed his eyes with his fists as he once again became adjusted to the reality that surrounded him.

The sunlight guided him to the nearby dust filled table in the corner of the room where he nudged a few of the dated newspapers and magazines to the side, ignoring the way the oldest copy of the Daily Mirror peeked out from the bottom of the pile with a headline that he always avoided looking at and yet couldn’t stomach throwing away.

MAN & WOMAN DEAD IN TRAGIC DUAL SUICIDE

Your wedding picture was printed in black and white just below.

George flipped open his notebook and sat down on the rickey wooden chair to write the date at the top of the fresh page and then recorded his physical status. He took his height, weight, heart-rate, and blood pressure and then did the same for you - all but weight - as you laid limpy on the bed. He scribbled the numbers down carefully and made sure to check you twice just to make sure everything was as it should be - especially since you were now in such delicate condition back in your perfect oasis. He couldn’t afford a single thing to go wrong. You were counting on him after all.

“Perfect numbers today, darling.” George whispered to you as he closed his notebook and capped his pen, returning them both to the messy table across the room.

Having been in only his boxers, George grabbed a folded sweatshirt from the bin under the table and pulled it on to brave against the chilly Scottish air that helped itself through the beams of the worn log cabin otherwise protecting you from the elements. He stepped out of the bedroom and made his way down the narrow hallway to the quaint and virtually untouched kitchen and living room area. The well water collection from Monday still sat on the counter and he scooped himself a glass of water to rehydrate for a moment as he took in the scenic views through the large tinted windows.

Miles of lush forest sprawled in all directions for as far as he could see and after so long, he had started to forget which way was north or even which way civilization was. The Scottish highlands and forests were your only protection. Sometimes he wished you were able to watch the sunrise with him over the mountain peaks ever again but he had to force himself to stop missing what could be and focus on what now is. Your life was perfect together. Just you and him.

Never permitted to set foot outside the cabin, George took the stairs down to the cellar and patted barefoot across the stone floor in the dark until he reached the sliver of light that peeked through the cellar door from outside. Hidden beneath the shallow stairs that led to the fresh air, a grey bin sat in the pitch black.

George knew the routine well so his eyes didn’t need time to focus as he crouched under the stairs and shuffled through the bin in the dark. The rustle of grocery bags drew his hands in and he lifted them up and out of the hiding spot to take back upstairs. He only reached back in for the final item - a small bouquet of flowers still wrapped in cellophane from the store.

With a soft smile on his face, George took his time returning to the kitchen and he set his delivery on the stone countertop. The first bag contained a few food items for him such as non-perishable canned beans, peas, and cooked pastas in tomato sauce as well as a new bar of soap, a razor, and a few more similar necessities. The second bag contained a sealed medical kit in which George found needles, gause, tape, and rubbing alcohol. The medical bag of clear liquid was carefully wrapped in a clean towel alongside it.

George organized the supplies into piles and then lifted up the bouquet of flowers again, pulling down the cellophane slightly to get a good look at the mix of brightly-colored tulips, peonies, roses, and hydrangeas nestled in a halo of baby's breath and greenery. He raised it to his nose to take a deep inhale, savouring the heavenly scent of fresh flowers.

The card that was nestled within the flowers called his attention and he opened the little blank envelope to pull out the message inside.

Happy anniversary 🤍

He always requested weekly flowers from his sister in order to keep some sense of romantic normalcy in your changing lives together but her little sneaky addition of the card brought a tearful smile to his face. He had almost forgotten your anniversary among the strange twists of life and time. Life in your new home was different than in the physical world…both in reality and the linear flow of time. He would have to make a point to buy you something in the shops on his drive back to your shared home that evening.

But the generosity of his older sister never went unnoticed and he thanked the stars that he turned to her to keep your biggest secret. You had allowed George to choose the one person who would be your supplier for virtually the rest of your lives in hiding since he would be the one between the two of you who would return to the real world almost daily. It wasn’t a small ask to have her be the only person in the world to know your whereabouts and your story - to hide that from your families and friends as they grieved what they thought was your tragic and sudden death - but she was your most trustworthy and safest bet. Her devotion to her brother and you - her sister-in-law - was monumental and she managed to deliver the necessities to your secret hideaway twice a week like clockwork. George never knew how he would ever repay her.

George took his time freshening up with the water from the well, sparingly rinsing himself off with soap and a washcloth before shaving over the bone dry bathroom sink to get the best look he could of himself in the grimy and cracked mirror. Even if you would never see him in person again, he always wanted to look his best for you.

Then it was your turn and he took the bags back to your bedroom and set up the chair at your bedside to tend to you. You were laying perfectly still in your nightgown on the sturdy mattress with your ankles bound to the footboard and your arms resting at your sides. The IV needle was taped gently into your forearm and the bag hung on the metal pole just beside the bed, allowing a slow but steady drip of calorie-rich medicated liquid to keep your body fed and nourished while you laid in your stagnant state.

George first replaced the flowers in the vase beside your bed, removing the week-old ones for the fresh ones that had been delivered by his sister. He refilled their water and arranged them nicely and spoke to you quietly about how nice they looked and how pretty they smelled.

With washed hands and wearing medical gloves just to be extra cautious, George gently pulled the tape away from your skin and twisted off the IV drip from the needle that stayed nestled in your forearm. He wiped the area with rubbing alcohol to disinfect it and then retaped the needle in place. As he worked, he thought back to your conversation that morning and tried to imagine where the other husbands were at that moment and how they could tend to their wives like this without their consent. It nearly made George sick to think about that - about the possibility of having the one you loved most trapped there under his control for who knows how long simply for his own gain. That’s what made you and George different. You were in it together. You were in it for each other.

With another clean cloth and the bar of soap, George gently washed down your body and rinsed you off the best he could, tending to you lovingly. He brushed your hair and your teeth and made sure you were lying comfortably even if you couldn’t feel anything. Leaning over you cautiously, he dropped a few eye drops into your still eyes to keep them moist as they were being held open by the metallic clamps.

He then pulled out the new medical bag from the delivery from his sister and replaced it on the IV pole. He screwed in a fresh tube into the bottom of the bag and then attached the other end to the needle in your arm, double checking to make sure the drip was steady and as it should be. You only deserved the most precise treatment.

To pass the day and keep an eye on you, he helped himself to a can of beans that he opened with a dull knife and hid the rest of the food stock away under the table in the bedroom. He sat at your bedside and ate quietly, keeping an eye on you and the IV as the minutes passed in the silence.

When the food was done, George collected all of his garbage and any sign of life from the kitchen to hide away in an empty grocery bag in the bedroom until he would have to place it in the cellar bin for his sister to retrieve at her next stop-over. He locked the bedroom door behind him and returned to your bedside, straightening up the vase on your nightstand and he gently picked up the white music box beside it. The lid was topped with a baby blue decal of a sleeping puppy and framed in little stars and George smiled softly down at it as he turned it around in his hands to crank the tiny handle at the bottom.

He had purchased it years ago when you were first trying for a baby, back when life was simple but the weight of its burdens rested heavy on your shoulders. Back then, it all seemed hopeful and exciting as newlyweds wanting to expand your family and George couldn’t help but buy something to surprise you on the eventual day you would find out you were pregnant. He never ended up being able to gift it to you but it stayed with him the whole time and found its rightful place in this cabin with you while you gave up your lives for your ultimate dream.

When the music box was fully primed, he delicately turned it back around in his hands and opened the lid, letting the familiar gentle tune fill your otherwise silent cabin. He had shamefully played it a few times before when he would find himself alone during the days and waiting beside your still body just like that, maybe to hope for some sort of promise that things would work out. He never knew you could subconsciously hear him during the days when he left to tend to you like that but he found comfort in it too. Neither of you were ever truly alone.

The soft tune played softly from the nursery music box and George helped himself to his side of the bed alongside you, resting back against the pillows to stare at you just a little longer in the patterned lights that were projected to the ceiling of your canopy bed. Soon, he would be called back by the passing of time to return to your true presence in your perfect little paradise with your growing dream tucked safely inside you.

359 notes · View notes

imtryingbuck · 5 months

Text

Eighteen

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky comes from a well respected family, he falls in love with a girl who prefers the simple things in life. Follow their journey through the years.

Word count: 5,786

Warnings: fluff, angst, heavy use of pet names. eating humans (doesn’t happen obviously and it’s only said as a joke) mentions of cheating, mentions of past suicide attempt

A/N: No description of reader other than she has curly hair.

Masterlist Series Masterlist

It had been three years since she was last at home, three years at private school and it was amazing for her.

She made friends with two of the girls there Natasha and Wanda, they had introduced themselves to her first and Wanda shyly had asked if Y/n would like to be their friend, she hesitated at first but eventually said yes which brought a huge smile to Wanda’s face and a shy smile to Nat’s.

They accepted her with open arms and Nat even enjoyed playing in the mud and climbing trees with Y/n. When that fateful day came where they saw her scars she panicked and knew that they wouldn’t want to be her friends anymore but instead of judgemental or looks of horror Wanda burst out crying and pulled her in to a bone crushing hug whilst Nat stood there cursing in Russian. For the first time since James she opened up to what had happened to her.

Not even Steve knew the whole story, especially not Sam. Sam had heard things but chose not to listen; he chose to wait until she had said something herself.

Once she had finished telling them everything she was comforting the two red heads reminding them that she was okay now.

It had felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders and for the first time she felt like she could breathe.

If you saw one of the girls the other two was close behind.

Throughout the three years that had passed she had heard about Bucky, Sam and Steve from her parents. The boys had showed up a few days after she had left so James could apologise and when they found out she had gone James started to cry, Steve and Sam too. When she heard about that she wanted to go back home to make up with her boys fighting with herself on whether or not she should but ultimately she decided that she wasn’t going anywhere. James had made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t her friend and that he never wanted to be in the first place.

It was a hard decision for her to make but luckily she had Nat and Wanda by her side supporting her.

Now that school was over she was heading back home, she had decided she didn’t want to go to college and after a bit of back and forth with her parents - especially her mom - they agreed to let her do what she wanted to do.

“We’ll see each other in a month Wands don’t cry” she says hugging Wanda who was in fact balling her eyes out.

“A month is so long away an-and what will I do if I’ve forgotten your face or-or your voice?” Ever so dramatically Wanda cried.

“Really? Really Wands it’s four weeks you’re not going to forget anything about me and if you do I’ll have to punch you in the arm”

“Please don’t, but you’re right. I’ll just have to go on living without you my friend, go go leave and don’t look back, I don’t think my heart could take it” Wanda says bringing one hand across her face and the other clutching her chest.

Y/n looks at Nat who stands there with one eyebrow raised “this…this is our best friend”

“I know. Wand why do you have to be so dramatic all the time?”

“Hey I’m not dramatic I’m traumatised!”

Nat and Y/n burst out laughing, shaking their heads at the red head. “Traumatised? Wanda I love you but you my friend are so dramatic”

“I’m trying to be…emotional and romantic well not romantic because even though I love you Y/n I have to admit baby girl you’re not my type”

“Don’t say that-“ Nat says quickly but gets cut off.

“I-I’m not y-your type? H-how dare you!”

“Great just great, look everyone these two weirdo’s are my best friends!” Nat shouts pointing at her friends.

“I have to be honest with myself Y/n/n okay, I can’t keep lying to you it-it’s not fair, I’m sorry” Wanda says in a wobbly voice.

“No, no I understand. I’m just not good enough for you and that’s the truth! Don’t keep lying to yourself Wanda!”

“Guys please stop…” Nat butts in.

“Great you’ve upset our daughter!” Wanda shouts throwing her hands in the air.

“Me? Me? Well guess Wanda she might not even be yours! That’s right I cheated on you with your father!”

“W-what? H-how could you? I loved you”

“But you don’t love me anymore now the truth can be out there!”

“To be fair Wanda could possibly be my dad because we both have red hair…”

“She gets her attitude from you Y/n, how could you do this to us?”

“Us? You’re the one that literally just said I wasn’t your type!”

“Guys please, I don’t want to come from a broken home”

“Oh Natty come here sweetie me and your maybe father was just playing” Y/n says opening her arms for Nat to shuffle into. Wanda then wraps her arms around the pair.

“Well ladies that was a very moving performance if I do say so myself but it’s time for you to break it up and leave” Mr Walters says from the steps leading up to the school.

“Right, sorry sir. Emotional day” Y/n speaks first.

“A lot of truth came out sir, we needed it” Wanda then says.

“Wanda might not be my father sir, I’m so depressed” Nat shrugs.

“I’m…I’m actually traumatised because of you three. Thanks for that.”

“Rude. Well goodbye sir, thanks for being the best teacher ever!” Y/n waves.

“Bye ladies, good luck with everything” he says walking back in to the school, he had to admit that he was going to miss seeing the trio and miss their antics.

“You’re such a teacher’s pet” Nat laughed.

“It’s called respect madam, something you clearly don’t have for your mother!”

“Y/n, baby it’s time to go” Maria interrupts whatever Nat was going to say.

“Coming. Well ladies I guess this is it, it’s been a pleasure knowing you but this is where the curtains close, I bid you adieu.” Y/n bows.

“And I’m called dramatic” rolling her eyes Wanda bows too.

“Alright guess I’ve got to do the same” Nat follows along.

“But no in all seriousness I’m so glad I met you and I’m forever grateful to the pair of you”

“Always Y/n you know this, we’ll always be friends no matter what and we’ll see each other next month” Nat said as she pulls Y/n into a hug.

“I love you both” Wanda says wrapping her arms around her friends.

Pulling away they all smile at each other.

“Last one to their parents cars are a rotten egg in 3…2…1”

They take off running to their parents; Y/n first, Nat second and Wanda third.

“No fair! You guys know I’m terrible at running!” Wanda shouts from her parents’ car.

The drive home was filled with conversations, laughter and catching up. It had been six months since they had seen her in that six months she looked more grown up, more sure of herself, happier.

Maria couldn’t help but smile as her daughter rambled on about what her and her friends had been getting up to. Amazed by how she looked so much like her mama, Maria made it her sole mission to make sure Y/n got a few photographs of her and her mama from the hell hole of a house she grew up in. Maria had kept one for herself it was a photo of Y/n who was roughly three or four years old with her arms wrapped around her mamas neck who had a baby Y/n in her arms as they stood outside a cabin, both smiling widely as the camera captured a beautiful moment between mother and daughter.

It was only after seeing that photograph that Maria understood where Y/n had gotten her crazy unruly hair from, Maria knew that Y/n was blessed to have taken her looks and traits from such a beautiful woman.

Y/n didn’t know that her momma would go to her mamas grave and put fresh flowers down every weekend or how she would sit on the hard ground and speak to the woman she never met before and talk for hours telling her how their daughter was growing, how she was cheeky and caring, how smart she was. Or how just before she would leave the grave where her birth mom laid Maria would place a kiss to her fingers and place them on the headstone and say “thank you my friend” because yes even though she had never met the woman and that she was no longer alive she had become Maria’s friend, and every time she thanked the woman it was for giving her a wonderful gift, Y/n.

“-mom? Momma are you even listening?” Y/n says.

“Oh, sorry darling yes I’m listening”

“No you weren’t but it’s okay I was just saying that Nat had found a rat in her bag and she screamed so loudly it nearly burst my eardrums”

“To be truthful I would have done the same thing” Maria chuckles.

“I know! I had to calm it down because it had gotten scared, I mean well so would I if I had Nat screaming and trying to hit me with a bag” Y/n giggles.

Shaking her head she was so happy that Y/n had Nat and Wanda as friends, they treat her good and were really amazing friends to her daughter. When she met the two red heads she was taken back by watching their dynamic and how well Y/n fit in so perfectly.

“Natasha’s reaction was perfectly justifiable” she points out.

“That’s true but she could have calmed down, I was there and we all know I’m great at talking to animals and calming them down” she smirks.

“Very true angel, listen…please don’t be mad-“

“No…dad you both promised!”

“It wasn’t our idea angel but George’s and Winnie’s, darling they’ve missed you-“

“A party dad? I suck at those things”

“It’s not a party but more like a get together-“

“So a party. Uncle George and Aunt Winnie don’t do “get togethers” dad and you know that”

“Well it’s happening and you’re going to enjoy it, you’re going to smile and have a good time and you’ll thank George and Winnie afterwards” Howard speaks.

“Yes Master”

“Good boy”

“Treat?”

“Not yet”

“Do you want me to give you my paw?”

“Mar our dog talks way too much, I told you we should have gone with a German shepherd and not a Chihuahua”

“Oi I’m not a Chihuahua! If I had to be a dog I probably would be basset hound…”

“Why?”

“They’re so cute and lazy and small”

Howard lets out a booming laugh as he nods, Y/n joins in whilst Maria looks at the driver who’s trying not to laugh “would you be a dear and crash the car for me please?”

“No don’t, I can’t get a treat if I’m dead” Y/n laughs out causing Howard to laugh even louder.

“‘A get together’ yeah alright dad! It’s like the whole world is here” she scoffs.

“Don’t be so dramatic, come on and don’t forget to smile”

Half of the people who had showed up she didn’t even know and the ones she did were either nice to her or people who helped to torment her but doing as her father said she smiled at everyone, saying her thanks when people congratulated her for graduating school.

“My sweetie!” Winnie’s loud voice came from across the garden, Y/n watched at the woman who she’s missed dearly nearly runs over to her.

“Miss Winnie, I’ve missed you!” She wraps her arms around her third mother figure.

“I’ve missed you too my sweet baby, oh look at you! All so grown up and so bloody beautiful, where’s that’s little girl who broke my heart all them years ago gone?”

“I killed her and buried her in the backyard but don’t tell my momma or dada that” she giggled.

“I won’t don’t worry your secrets safe with me” Winnie winked.

“Is-is that…no I don’t believe my eyes. It’s my darling girl!” George shouts ignoring all the looks that get thrown his way as he makes his way over to Y/n and Winnie.

“Hi Mr George”

“Oh my, you’re as beautiful as ever!” He picks her up and spins her around just as he did when she was little “oof and your heavier”

“George!” Winnie scolds.

“What have they been feeding you at that school hey missy?” He asks completely ignoring his wife.

“Humans from all over the world” she winks with a shoulder shrug.

“Are they nice? I’ve been thinking of getting into eating humans”

“Honestly? I recommend that you should, tasty” she laughs, George and Winnie joining in.

“On a serious note though, I’ve missed you darling and I’m so proud of you. And please remember I love you, you’ve always been our daughter too. Oh God I’m so fucking proud of you” George says with tears in his eyes as he remembers the first day he met her, how small and scruffy she was, how scared she look. After what that monster did to her he was scared that she wasn’t going to survive. It’s true though, he and Winnie saw her as their daughter before Howard and Maria adopted her.

“I love you both too and I will forever be indebted to you both”

“Nonsense silly girl” Winnie says.

“Are you trying to steal my daughter away?” Howard laughs as he walks over.

“Obviously, the plan is to knock you and Maria out and I’m going to kidnap this one” George says.

Howard laughs which has George turning to Y/n “he thinks I’m joking, but I’m not”

“Don’t wind him up” she laughs.

She’s oblivious to the conversation that’s happening on the other side of the garden as she laughs with her parents and surrogate parents.

“My sweetie!” He hears his mother call out and he knows instantly that Y/n has arrived as he looks in the direction his mother is making her way over to his breath gets caught in his throat.

His Bunny.

His Bunny all grown up.

His Bunny all grown up and looking just as beautiful as she looked the last time he saw her.

There hasn’t been a single day that’s gone by where he hadn’t regretted this shit that spewed out of his mouth that day. When he found out that she had left it felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest and stomped on a million times.

Of course he was never friends with her out of pity, she was easy to talk to, she made him laugh, she was his best friend, his person.

His soulmate as Winnie would say.

But every day he reminded himself that he only had himself to blame.

“I-is that…” Steve questioned with his eyes trained on his best friend who he hasn’t seen in three years.

“Bunny” Bucky nods.

“Holy shit she’s gorgeous” Sam says.

“Yeah she is” Bucky agrees.

“When are you going to talk to her?” Steve asks.

“I’m not. She’s not going to want to talk to me, not after what I said the last time we saw each other”

“That was three years ago Buck, it’s Y/n she’s no doubt forgiven you”

“I doubt it. Steve you have no idea how sad she looked man”

“Bro just go and talk to her” Sam says taking a sip of his beer.

“I-I can’t, are you two going to talk to her?”

“Yeah…well I was going to wait for her reaction with you first before making my way over to her” Steve admits.

“Same if she hits you then I’m staying away but if she doesn’t then yeah of course I’ll talk to her”

“Cheers” Bucky grumbles his eyes refusing to move away from her.

They all watch as she laughs with her parents and Bucky’s, they don’t stop the smile from forming onto their lips as they watch their best friend.

They all carried their own guilt from three years ago and all silently hope that she forgives them for what happened.

“Buck go and talk to her” Steve tries to encourage his friend mainly so he could then talk to her.

“Yeah…yeah I’m going to do it” he puts his drink down on the table before straightening his shirt out.

Just as he was about to take that first step closer to his Bunny he stutters when he sees a tall bulky guy with blonde hair walk up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist, watching as she squeals turning around in the guys hold.

He watches as she places her hands on either side of his face and places her lips to his.

He’s pretty certain that he hears his heart breaking.

“Buck…”

“Huh? Yeah?”

“A-are you alright?”

“I’m fine, so she’s got a boyfriend that’s cool” he turns to pick his drink back up and downs it in one gulp. “Do-do you think she’s happy?”

Steve and Sam share a look before answering. “We’re not sure pal”

“I hope she is, t-that’s all I’ve ever wanted for her.”

They continue to watch as Y/n introduces the guy to Bucky’s parents and they can tell instantly that Winnie’s smile is fake, she’s always been the one rooting for Y/n and James to get together. The smile on Y/n’s face is as big as it ever was as she stares up at the guy.

“How do you think they met?” Bucky asks.

“God knows, but as long as he treats her right that’s all that matters really.” Sam says eyeing Bucky cautiously.

“I hope so”

As the party winds down the boys not barely moving apart from Sam as he raids the table with all the food on it. They watch as the blonde guy leaves, not without having a make out session with Y/n.

As the guests start leaving Bucky’s quick to notice that Y/n is no longer around and when George stumbles over to the boys he finds out that Y/n’s disappeared and wonders if they had seen her, they all shake their heads.

“I think I might know where she is, hold on”

He makes his way down to the bottom of the garden and climbs over the fence, really hoping he was right.

“Bunny” he whispers when he sees her sitting on the ground in the spot they claimed as theirs, the same spot he first laid eyes on her when he was just seven years old.

“Hi James” she whispers back keeping her back to him.

“C-can I sit next to you?”

“Sure”

For the first time since the two have known each other they sit side by side in uncomfortable silence. It pains the both of them that this is how it’s come down to this.

But unfortunately it had.

“So-um-how are you?” Bucky asked as he stumbled over his words.

“I’m good, what about you?”

“Good, that’s good. I-I’ve missed you Bunny” he admits, his heart squeezing when he sees her flinching.

“Oh”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I just don’t know why you would have missed me when you didn’t want me to be your friend anymore or ever”

“I didn’t mean it Bun I swear. I was angry an-and I took it out on you, I’ve regretted it ever since”

“Why was you angry? I’m the one that had my back exposed to the whole school and the three people who were my only friends, the only people I trusted more than anything didn’t try and stop it or-or even try and help me. You had no right in being angry James” he hates how she doesn’t raise her voice and hates that she calls him James.

“I know and I’m sorry Y/n I really am”

“It’s okay I guess.”

“No it’s not! None of the shit I said or didn’t do was okay, you’re my best friend Bun and I should have stuck up for you. I shouldn’t have said I chose Dot over you because you always came first no matter what”

“It’s okay because it doesn’t matter anymore, I got over it”

“Over it or over me?”

“Honestly? Both”

Bucky released a choking sob at her admission, she had gotten over him and he didn’t know what to do. “Bun-“

“You shouldn’t call me that James, don’t want to upset your girlfriend”

“I-I don’t have a girlfriend”

“What happened with Dot?”

“She-I walked in on her having sex with Brock”

“Really?”

“Yeah, she said it was a one time thing but he said they’d been at it for months so…”

“I’m sorry, I never liked her”

“Did you even know her?”

“No…what kind of name is Dot anyway?”

“It’s short for Dolores” he laughed.

“Stupid name for a stupid girl. How long were you two dating for?”

“A year, actually walked in on them the day after our one year anniversary”

“That’s cold”

“Yeah. What about you? Lover boy back there” he watches as her cheeks start to turn red and a shy smile on her lips, his heart pounds loudly in his chest at the sight.

“His names Pietro, w-we’ve been dating for five months now”

“How did you two meet?”

“He’s actually my best friends twin brother, we met when her family came up to see Wanda and she introduced us and yeah, he asked me out on a date and then another and another then he asked me out”

“Does he make you happy?”

“He does, well when he’s not talking with his mouth full” she giggled, and for the first time in over three years she looks up at him. Breath gets caught in her throat as he’s looking just as beautiful as he looked the last time she saw him.

“I’m glad, not about the food in mouth when he talks thing but I’m glad he makes you happy”

Not knowing how to reply they fell back into silence but this time it was comfortable.

Y/n was the first one to break the silence “do you know if anyone lives in my old house?”

“No one wanted to move in after…you know”

“Oh. Have you ever been there?”

“Once, I didn’t go in or anything I just stood outside”

“When?”

“A few months after you left. I’m not sure why I did it but” Y/n stood up and held her hand out for James to take and helped him stand, pulling her hand away from his once he was stood up she started to walk in the direction of her old home.

“Come on slow pokes” she called over her shoulder.

“Y/n are you sure about this?”

“My therapist said that it might help me to be able to finally move on”

“You’re in therapy?”

“Yeah, mom said it might help after what I did”

“W-what do you mean?”

“I tried to kill myself” she shrugged.

As she carried on walking she hadn’t realised that Bucky had stopped. She had tried to end her life and no one told him. Bucky had lost her as his friend and nearly lost her in this world completely and no one told him.

“Ducky?”

His heart stopped at that name.

“Duck? Come on we’re not that far now”

“Y-you called me Ducky”

“Well yeah that’s your name isn’t it?” She smirked.

“Bunny please don’t joke about this. You called me Ducky even though we’re not friends anymore”

“You’ll always be Ducky to me James. And who said we’re not friends anymore?”

“We-we aren’t?”

“Nope, we said we’d be friends forever and forever hasn’t ended yet so therefore our friendship is still intact, come”

“B-but what I said”

“It’s in the past”

“Can we go back to being Bunny and Ducky again?”

“Well of course, that’s if you actually did want to be my friend and not just doing it out of pit-“

A loud squeal echoed through the woods as Bucky charged at her picking her up as if she weighed nothing and spun her around. “I never meant what I said Bun never not for one second, please forgive me and I promise I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you”

“Buy me an ice cream and all is forgiven”

Laughing he puts her down slowly and nods “I can do that. Bun”

“Yeah”

“Yo-you tried to kill yourself?”

“Yeah, it was about a year ago”

“Why did you try and do it? Why wasn’t I told?”

“I was in a dark place Duck, remember my special place?-“ she taps the side of her head and watches as he nods “-well it wasn’t special anymore and-well I don’t want to get in to it but it got bad so I wanted to end it”

Rolling her sleeves up she showed Bucky the two angry long scars on her arms, he slowly reached out and gently glided a finger down the scars. “Nat found me in the bathroom and screamed out for Wanda who went and got a teacher, Mr Walters came running and picked me up rushed me to the schools nurse and I was taken to the hospital when an ambulance arrived. My parents were called and I begged them not to tell anyone that included your parents Ducky, they don’t know.”

“Bunny…”

“I’m okay now though, yeah I have bad days still but it’s not as bad as it had been and Dr Cho is incredible, she’s so sweet and she’s never once judged me about anything and she makes me laugh, oh and she always has sweets!”

“I should have been with you Bun, I’m so sorry I let you down”

“Hey none of that! It’s not your fault at all, mental health is a bitch-shit-fuck-please don’t tell momma I swore!”

“You still don’t swear?” Bucky laughs.

“No momma says it’s unladylike”

“You? A lady?” He has to stop walking and bends over with laughter.

“Oh shut up! I could be a lady”

“Never!”

Y/n knows it’s true herself but that was beside the point.

“Shut up. Come on I need your support to get this over and done with”

“I’m coming Bun, are you sure you want me here with you?”

“Always”

The rest of the walk was done in silence and before she realises she’s standing in front on the wired fence surrounding her old home. Looking at Bucky she musters a smile that he knows is fake and presses down on the fence and climbs over.

Waiting for Bucky to do the same she stares at the slowly decaying building that’s haunted her nightmares since she was seven years old. The ivy wraps itself around the house, windows are smashed from either Mother Nature, kids playing in the woods or animals. For some reason the building looks just like it’s supposed to - a building. She feels quite silly for letting it terrorise her dreams now that she’s standing in front of it, it doesn’t seem so scary now.

“Bun, we don’t have to go in if you don’t want to” Bucky’s gentle voice came from next to her.

“No I’ve got to, I’ve got to put the monster to bed once and for all. It’s-it-can we just wait out here for a few minutes, please?”

“Of course Bun. I’m right here”

A few minutes go by and she finally puts one foot out in front of the other, taking slow steps towards the place she once called home a very long time ago now. Her chest starts to feel tighter as she got closer to her nightmare.

Pushing the door open Bucky stepped up first knocking the cobwebs out of the way before moving back to where he was before.

“Thanks” she whispered.

I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. She chanted softly to herself as she forced her feet to move forward.

It was weird. As she walked further into the cabin she saw the small dinning table laying on its side, the two chairs broken and the small dingy couch still in the same spot as they were that night her father nearly killed her.

The floorboards creaked under their feet as they moved around the place.

“Th-this is where it happened” she whispers to Bucky as they stand in the middle of the room.

“Bun-“

“That’s my blood Duck” she points to the faded blood stains on the floor.

“Bun-“

“It’s creepy isn’t it? I laid right there and was on my way to play with angels before the cops showed up and now my blood is stained into the wood”

“Bun look at me, come on Bun look at me. Good, it’s okay. It’s all okay”

“I-I know it’s just creepy isn’t it?”

“Yeah, yeah it is”

“Can I show you my room?”

“Okay”

Walking down the hallway she comes to a stop in front of the first door on the right and she starts to push the wooden door open, both wincing as the hinges squeak.

“Nothings changed in here ah” Y/n moves over to the tiny desk her mama had gotten her she smiles “look…”

“It’s a stick Bun”

“Ah nope it’s not any old stick Ducky, it’s the stick you picked up the second time we met”

“What? Really, you kept it?”

“Of course aha. Hey can you help me move this?”

“Sure”

They move the desk - well Bucky did whilst Y/n stands there and watches - Y/n thanks him before kneeling down on the floor and started to lift up the floorboard smiling in victory when she sees the metal tin her mama had put there when she was five.

“What is it?”

“This, this has my toys that my mama hid so that he wouldn’t break them” she sits with her legs crossed and smiles up at Bucky as he sits across from her.

“Toys?”

“Yeah, but not any old toys Duck, no these are animal toys-look” she groans as she pulls the lid open “this is a giraffe, this is a sheep? no a goat, and an elephant-“ she lists off all the animals in the box as she blindly hands them over to Bucky who’s sitting there with his eyes fixed on her, the way her smile lights up makes his heart tingle, the way she sounds so happy brings a smile to his face. It had been so long since her saw her shine so brightly.

“And here’s a photo of me and mama”

Taking the photo his eyes bounce from the photo to her, it was the first time since he was either eight or nine that he’d seen a photo of his Bunnies mom “you look just like her”

“No, she’s beautiful”

“Exactly.” He smiles when her cheeks start to go red. “Hey do you have anything of your mamas?”

“Just photos” she shrugs.

“Come” he helps her put all the toy animals back in the tin and stands, helping her raise too he takes her hand and asks “is this her room?”

“Yeah why?”

“Let’s see if there’s anything of hers still here so you can have them”

“Duck…”

“It’s okay Bunny” he opens the door instantly shutting it before placing his body in front of the door.

“James?”

“I-I-we can’t go in there Bun”

“I know. Is there still blood?”

“You know?”

“Yeah, that’s the reason why he nearly killed me that night. I tried to find my mama and went into her room and well, yeah”

“Oh Bun”

“It’s okay, I want to go in it might help me feel closer to my mama if I have something of hers”

“Just don’t look at the bed okay baby”

Baby. Her heart shouldn’t stutter the way it did.

“Okay”

Bucky opens the door making his way over to the bed to flip the quilt over so she doesn’t have to see the stains, again.

“She always wore this jumper, I put it on once and tripped over when I tried to walk” she giggles.

“Take it, what about this?” Bucky hold up a long skirt that had patterns on it.

“In the summer she would pull up over her chest so it was like a dress and look it has pockets!”

“Take?”

“Absolutely”

Over the course of twenty minutes Bucky had found a small suitcase and they filled it with all the clothes she wanted to take.

“Bun is this box your mamas?”

“Yeah it’s where her jewels lived.” Laughing when Bucky cocks his eyebrow up “I couldn’t say jewellery so mama said jewels and told me that the box was their home”

“Fair enough, would you like to take it?”

“Okay”

By the time they had finished it was close to being pitch black in the cabin. “Come on Duck its getting too dark to see anything now”

“Okay” as they moved their way through the cabin laughing at each other when the other had bumped into something, getting to the door Bucky stopped “wait a second Bun”

“Duck-“

“Gimme a second Bun”

He goes back inside and she giggles when she hears him say “ow” a few minutes he comes back out smiling whilst holding up the metal tin that housed her toy animals.

“Couldn’t forget this now could we?”

“Y/n? Where the hell have you been?”

“My old house…”

“Oh.”

“Yeah Ducky helped me get things that was my mamas”

“Ducky?” Both sets of parents say in unison.

“Yeah, we’re friends again”

Their dads, Bucky and Y/n all flinch when Maria and Winnie start screaming in joy, hugging each other whilst they jump around in a circle.

“Don’t even think about it George” Howard warns his longest friend as George slinks over to him.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about Howie”

“Don’t call me that!”

Bucky takes Y/n’s hand in his and slowly backs up whilst their dads argue.

“That was embarrassing” he laughs.

“It’s cute. Maybe we’ll be like that with our kids one day”

“W-what?” Bucky splutters, cheeks going bright red.

“N-no I mean me and my husband and you with your wife…you know?”

Before Bucky could reply they heard Sam’s voice from the doorway.

“Y/n…”

“Hi Sammy, hi Stevie”

Bucky watches as his three best friends reunite with each other, he has to admit that her comment about kids made his stomach flutter then drop when she mentions about her imaginary husband and his imaginary wife.

For the first time in three years Bucky felt whole once again.

Tags: @cjand10 @unaxv @mcira @bisexualnikkisixx @kneelforloki @kandis-mom @sagebarness @sandyruston @scott-loki-barnes @nikkivillar @saltedcoffeescotch @scentedharmonymiracle @examinarei @sarcastickiddo @sadboiabby @unholyhuntress @8crazy-freak8 @ijustneedpopcorn @moonbeampillgoth @imcinnamoons @elmo-1066 @violetwinterwidow01 @suz7days @adoredire @ozwriterchick @randomrosie01 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @emerald-writes @justafangir1 @sibsteria @spencerreidisagorgman @sapphirebarnes @bruher @hawkinsavclub1983 @onlyonetifosi @parisadams @unabashedstarlightcrown @nash-dara @allofffmypeaches @loki-laufeyson68 @behindmygreyeyes @missvelvetsstuff @pigeonmama @lizslibrary @gloriouspurpose01

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barns x y/n #Through The Years #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #marvel fic #Bucky Barnes series #Bucky Barnes angst #bucky barnes x y/n #Bucky Barnes fluff #James Barnes #james barnes x you #Bucky series #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes friends to lovers

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incognit0slut · 7 months

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Right Kind of Wrong (16)

She never thought she’d be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Spencer is faced with a dangerous confrontation. wc: 3.4k

Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide, mentions of SA

A/n: this part went through so much editing until I was satisfied with it, also, can't believe this is ending soon!!

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15

EVERYTHING FINALLY FELL INTO PLACE. Although it took longer than it normally did to solve a case, Spencer finally gathered every piece of information, every obscure clue, and every small detail he unfortunately missed before to make a clear profile.

Eric Adler—or Henry Wyatt as Garcia discovered through her meticulous sleuthing—was a master of disguise. He had concealed his identity under a different persona, changing his name the moment he packed his bags and left the town he grew up in. Oliver confirmed this discovery when Spencer visited the hospital the following day, once he had regained consciousness.

"Eric... he's a stranger to me," Oliver had said, his voice carrying a tinge of disbelief, a foreign look gleaming in his eyes. "Henry, on the other hand, was one of my closest friends."

"I'm assuming something happened for you to drift apart."

Oliver's gaze shifted. "We grew up in a very tight community. Religion was all we were taught," he began, his voice tinged with defiance and nostalgia. "I guess we became close from our rejection of those traditional values and practices."

Spencer acknowledged his words with a nod. "Your files showed there were a lot of crimes you committed in the past."

"I-I was very rebellious."

"I would say forcing yourself on a young, innocent girl was more than rebellious."

Oliver winced. "Listen, I'm not proud of my past," he confessed, his voice carrying a hint of regret. "But yes, my friends and I grew up doing things that were out of morals."

Spencer studied him. "What happened then?"

"A lot of pointing fingers," he admitted. "Our community leaders eventually found out and threatened us with severe punishment. From the outside, it was simply community service, but from the inside, it involved a lot of restraints and, well, whips."

Silence stretched between them. "It was how they punished the bad," Oliver explained further, his eyes searching Spencer's for comprehension. "They always say it whenever they were going to abuse us; 'The wicked will not go unpunished, but those who are righteous will go free.'"

"Proverbs 11:21," Spencer mumbled under his breath, recognizing the scriptural reference.

A hint of surprise flickered across Oliver's face. "Are you a religious person?"

He shook his head, implying a depth of knowledge that surpassed the boundaries of religious beliefs. "Was that what made you drift apart?"

"Partly, yes," Oliver answered with a sigh. "We didn't admit to it at first, but then under the pressure and the constant threat of punishment, I guess I became weak."

"Did you betray him?"

Oliver acknowledged the truth with a slow nod. "We were both punished, along with the others who were involved, but our leaders always wanted one name whom they could sacrifice, a name who held all responsibility. The initiator of all sins."

"So you put the blame on him," Spencer summarized, understanding the dynamics that had led to the fracture in their friendship.

"It was the only thing I thought of doing to save myself," he confessed. "He became a sacrifice. All the punishment turned onto him until he was cast out of the community. When his family didn't even try to interfere, he eventually left town. Never heard from him ever since."

"And then years later you saw him again."

His shoulders lifted in a nonchalant shrug.

"I didn't even recognize him at first. He had a different name, different hair, different style—he was practically a different person. When I realized who he actually was, I tried to confront him but he never acknowledged me." He then looked away, the emotion in his gaze concealed. "I just thought he didn't want to be associated with the past anymore."

It explained everything. The revelation about Eric's past and the harsh punishments he had to endure shed light on the motivations behind his actions. It explained why he felt compelled to punish people, as it was the only method deeply ingrained in his brain.

Their shared upbringing, the weight of betrayal, and the scars of their past had shaped his sense of justice, leading him down a dark path of vengeance. And with that new knowledge in mind, Spencer passed on the information he had discovered when he came to work the next day.

Everyone was gathered by the round table, an unusual thing to happen given that they were typically scattered in their assigned tasks, but all of them were present for once. Morgan leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing in contemplation after Spencer finished his thoughts. "So let me get this straight, Eric's vendetta against Oliver is personal. Goes beyond just catching a killer then."

"It's a cycle of betrayal." JJ, standing by the door with crossed arms, agreed aloud. "He attempted to shift the blame onto Oliver, something he also went through in the past."

Spencer nodded as he started to pace around the room. "Psychologically speaking, his actions seem to be rooted in a need for retribution, a manifestation of the punitive measures ingrained in his upbringing."

"So we're dealing with a man who sees himself as a guardian angel dispensing justice, even if it means resorting to extreme measures."

"A guardian angel while simultaneously executing his revenge," Emily mused from the other side, her words laced with a blend of contemplation and concern. "Very personal indeed."

Hotch crossed his arms as he stood by the table, and scrutinized his team with his usual detached and professional expression, devoid of any visible emotions. "We need to understand his patterns," he began. "If we can predict his next move, we might be able to intercept him."

"He clearly has a deep affection towards Y/n." Morgan offered, prompting Spencer to halt his pacing and turn his attention toward him at the mention of her name. "He probably has a list of people who he thinks have hurt her in the past."

Rossi studied everyone in the room, attentively listening to their thoughts. He tapped his finger against the wooden table, directing his focus on Morgan. "We should find out who might be on that list. It could give us insight into his next move."

Hotch agreed with a curt nod. "Morgan, Rossi, work on compiling a list of individuals connected to Y/n. Garcia, cross-reference it with Eric's history. Let's see if we can predict his next move based on the people he might target."

Garcia instinctively rose from her chair and nodded. "Yes, sir," and waltzed out of the room with determined steps, making her way to her office.

The others shifted from their spots, while Morgan, unlike the rest, kept his gaze on Spencer. He observed the frown stretching across his face and pondered whether to voice what he had in mind. He hesitated, acknowledging that Spencer's involvement with their witness wasn't strictly his business. Yet, considering the recent events, he felt compelled to express his thoughts.

"I don't want to be that kind of person to bear bad news, but I think—I think—there's a high chance that pretty boy here could be a target," Morgan declared. Spencer quickly met his gaze.

Everyone else, momentarily suspended in a collective pause, turned their attention toward him. He could feel their penetrating gaze, which started to make him uncomfortable as the seconds ticked by. He didn't want to entertain that possibility, but it made sense. Considering Eric had been with her right after he had hurt her, he could very well be the next target.

JJ, breaking the silence, voiced what lingered in everyone's thoughts as she took a step closer to him. "We should keep you safe then. If you're a potential target, we can't afford to overlook any possibility."

Spencer glanced over at her, noting the concern in her eyes. He sensed a silent plea in the way she looked at him as if she were urging him to agree, to step back and act on what seemed to be the logical thing to do. However, despite that, the gears in his mind were turning. If he was a potential target, it could offer an easy opportunity to get closer to their Unsub.

"No," he said, a conviction in his voice. "You can use me as bait."

The room held its breath as his unexpected proposal hung in the air. The team, still processing the revelation of his potentially being a target, turned their focus to his daring suggestion.

JJ simply stared at him, dumbfounded by the audacity of the idea. "You're crazy."

"No, think about it." He turned towards Hotch, knowing the older man would at least consider his idea. "We can get to him by luring him in."

Hotch held his gaze. The weight of leadership rested on his shoulders as he considered the risky proposition. "Reid, it's too dangerous. We can't—"

"If Eric believes he has a score to settle with me, then let's use that to our advantage. We set up a controlled scenario, anticipate his moves, and ensure we have the upper hand."

Emily looked at him with worry, taking a step forward from the other side of the room. "Reid, it's too risky. We don't know how he'll react, we can't even guarantee your safety."

"Yes, you can. You'll keep an eye on me." His eyes traveled around the room, meeting each one of their concerned gaze. "It's not something we haven't done before; we've used this method to lure an Unsub, and right now, we have no clue where he is. The only way we can draw his attention is by using me."

Hotch's gaze shifted between Spencer and the rest of the team, weighing the potential outcomes of such a high-stakes plan. It was undeniably risky, but Spencer was right. This wouldn't be their first time baiting an Unsub, and given their past success, a part of him believed the outcome would work out according to plan.

After a moment, he slowly nodded. "Alright, but if we proceed with this, we have to ensure everyone's safety." He gave Spencer a pointed look. "Especially yours, Reid."

He quickly nodded as a moment of understanding passed between them. The room suddenly filled with noise, and amidst the bustling movements, he felt a desperate grip on his arm, pulling him away from the group.

"Spence." JJ's grip tightened as she voiced her concern. "You could be putting yourself in danger. What if this goes wrong?"

That was the thing. It was the nature of their job—there would always be different outcomes. There was no certainty about what could transpire. But with nothing else to do, Spencer was growing desperate for more answers, so he held her gaze, determination etched in his eyes.

"If it means stopping him and knowing her whereabouts, I'm willing to take any risk."

It was raining when it happened. It had been pouring for the past few days as they started to plan the operation. The team decided to elevate the stakes by choosing his apartment as the bait location, aiming to create a scenario that would be emotionally charged for Eric, potentially triggering a faster and more decisive response.

They studied Eric's patterns and behaviors, gathering insights into his actions and motivations. Garcia, constantly stationed at her desk, continued to monitor social media, public records, and any other available data to gauge Eric's movements. She had identified potential triggers that might prompt Eric to act, such as media coverage or public discussions related to Y/n.

In addition to electronic surveillance, Morgan and JJ conducted physical surveillance on locations connected to Y/n's past, anticipating that Eric might revisit places with emotional significance. They strategically placed themselves in key positions, ready to observe and intercept any suspicious activity.

And then the clock ticked away, the minutes stretched into an agonizing waiting game, every second pregnant with anticipation.

Until it finally came to that night.

Everything felt strange. His apartment. The weather. Himself. The rain outside continued its steady rhythm, and Spencer watched the raindrops hit his windowpanes from his couch.

Weeks ago, he sat in the same place where he was now. The only difference was that he was alone. There was no faint smell of chocolate or the sweet melody of laughter. She wasn't here, gracing him with her smile as she nestled on his lap. Her whispers of his name were absent, and the cruel thing was, he didn't even know where she was now.

He had never felt so much pain before, the ache of not knowing where someone was, all the while having to keep his head up high. It was a facade he learned to put on. Pretending that the hidden cameras strategically placed in his apartment didn't unsettle him, or the discreetly wired microphone, or the inconspicuous headpiece nestled in his ear. He had to act as though the looming potential danger didn't faze him.

But then it finally happened, a sudden shift in the atmosphere permeated the air—like the calm before the storm. And in an instant, Garcia's voice crackled over the communication devices, urgency lacing her words. "I've got movement. Eric's online activity just spiked."

Morgan and Prentiss, stationed discreetly around the apartment complex, receiving the signal, tightened their surveillance. The external cameras around his building captured a figure approaching, shrouded in the shadows of the rainy night.

Within the confines of his home, his senses heightened. The rain outside intensified. A streak of lighting flashed through the window. A loud sound of thunder echoed in the background. Spencer waited with bated breath, his gaze fixated on the front door. Then, with a creak, it slowly swung open, revealing a silhouette of a figure in the doorway.

Water dripped from his clothes, leaving a trail of wetness as he crossed the threshold. Their eyes briefly locked, and a smile played on Eric's lips as he observed the way Spencer scrutinized him, closing the door behind him.

"Dr. Reid," his sinister tone sliced through the silence, his words dripping with a twisted sense of satisfaction. "I see you've been waiting for me."

Spencer watched him, maintaining a composed exterior despite the tension in the air, and met his gaze with a steely resolve. "And I see you've been busy."

Eric cocked an eyebrow.

"Carving your path of justice one victim at a time."

His expression remained unyielding. Stepping further into the room, Eric left a trail of dirty shoe marks on the floor as his eyes observed the dimly lit apartment. "I'm just doing what needs to be done."

Spencer slowly rose from his seat. "And what is that?"

"Punishing those who have wronged her."

"You're not her savior. You're a vigilante with a distorted sense of righteousness."

"And that's where you're wrong. You don't know the pain she's been through. I'm the only one who can protect her."

Spencer silently watched as he continued to survey his apartment. Eric's eyes swept through all the framed certificates on his wall, his finger delicately tracing the edge of each frame. When he was met with silence, Eric turned back to him, narrowing the distance between them.

"You were always the one she trusted, weren't you?" He shook his head with disdain. "Yet you're the one who hurt her the most."

Aware that each word could either defuse or escalate the situation, Spencer continued to engage him. "I haven't hurt her," he responded carefully. "I've been trying to protect her from someone like you, someone who's lost sight of justice."

Eric let out a scoff. "You think I've lost sight? No, Dr. Reid, I've found clarity. I've seen the darkness that lurks in the hearts of those who pretend to be righteous."

"Your version of justice is a perversion. You've become the monster you claim to fight against."

The room crackled with tension as they held each other's gaze. "Do you even listen to yourself?" Eric retorted, his eyes narrowing with accusation. "You claim to protect her, yet she's left alone in the darkness you couldn't save her from."

The air in the room seemed to thicken as the weight of his words hung between them. His heart quickened its pace while he tried to maintain a calm facade. "Where is she?"

Eric's laughter cut through the air. "You think I'll tell you voluntarily?"

Spencer's gaze remained steady on him. "What do you want?"

The sinister grin on Eric's face revealed a gambit. "You." He took another step closer. "Come with me and I'll take you to her..."

There was definitely a but. It was never that easy, and the way he trailed off his words prompted Spencer to ask, "On what condition?"

He smiled, eyes narrowing as he conveyed a sense of menace while he delivered his proposition.

"Cut off all communication with your team."

Tension lingered around the room like an invisible web, each word contributing to the growing stakes. Eric's laughter, a haunting sound, followed the slightly alarmed look on Spencer's face.

"You think I didn't know?" he taunted. "Two of your agents are outside this building, and come on, you could've hidden that earpiece better than that." He pointed towards the device. "Your hair might be long, but it's not that long."

Eric then picked up a framed picture sitting on his shelf. It was a photo of him and his team casually smiling to the camera. He remembered that day, it was one of the many times they visited Rossi's house for dinner, and Garcia decided it was the perfect time to capture the moment. To preserve the happy times, she had said, and true to her words, he was happy that day.

His mind suddenly raced, considering the options and potential consequences of complying with his demand. He finally responded. "What if I refuse?"

"Then you'll never find her," Eric retorted, looking back at him. "It's a simple choice. Sacrifice your precious communication or lose her forever."

He wanted him to step into his trap willingly. It was a cruel choice, and it seemed he wasn't the only one who agreed. As Eric's demand hung in the air, the team's voices crackled urgently through his earpiece. Panic and concern infused their words as they frantically implored him to reconsider.

"Spence, step back!"

"Reid, don't do it."

"Stand down, Reid. We're coming through."

The chorus of concerned voices reverberated in his earpiece, each team member contributing to their worry. Despite the chaos of emotions echoing through the line, Spencer remained outwardly composed, his mind working swiftly to navigate the dangerous situation.

"Don't—" he urged, his gaze piercing on Eric while his voice pointed towards his team. "Stay where you are."

Eric watched him with a predatory gleam in his eyes.

"Seems like your team is in quite a frenzy there. Are you really willing to risk her safety for their voices in your ear?" He continued with a sinister grin, reveling the chaos he had stirred. "Strip away your lifeline, Spencer. The battle is between you and me."

Spencer stood there, calculating his next move. He weighed the possible outcomes of his choices and realized that nothing good would come from either of them. Eric, observing his contemplation, smirked with a twisted satisfaction.

"Come on, Dr. Reid, time is ticking." He tapped the watch around his wrist. "Make up your mind."

Spencer inhaled a sharp breath. Eric was right, there was no time to waste. The more he contemplated his answer, the more danger she was in. He needed her safe. He needed to see her. He needed to know where she was. And there was only one way to find out.

At the other end of the line, Garcia, stationed at her desk, watched Spencer through the screen with a growing sense of urgency. His gaze slowly swept over the room, and she could sense the critical decision looming. Her heart raced as his eyes fell on one of the hidden cameras.

"He's onto us," she muttered to herself, her fingers flying over the keyboard. She tried to maintain the connection as he walked over to the device and unplugged it.

Garcia cursed under her breath. "No—" She pressed on her intercom, her voice tinged with frustration. "I'm losing him."

One by one, the video feeds from the hidden cameras in his apartment turned black. The loss of visual contact with each camera felt like a punch to the gut. Her frustration mounted as the screens blinked out, leaving her staring at a grid of darkness.

"No, no, no," she muttered, fingers dancing over the keyboard in a desperate attempt to reestablish connection. But there was nothing else she could do.

The earpieces crackled with an ominous quiet before a sudden crash echoed through, the sharp sound of impact reverberating. A groan. A thud. A grunt. The team exchanged alarmed glances in their respective locations as the audio crackled with static, and their heart raced at the uncertainty hanging in the air.

Then, abruptly, there was nothing else but silence.

>> NEXT PART

taglist #1

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alienwithaguitar · 3 months

Text

Shelby said a lot during her stream, teetering from honorable to downright strange, and I want to address some of the issues. Before I say anything, I am still supportive of Shelby’s story, but this stream revealed a lot to me. I especially push Shelby supporters to read this, as this stream pushed MANY people I know to a neutral stance.

Shelby claimed having a depressive disorder just involved "feeling depressed", which is a harmful misconception that minimizes our struggles. Depression is more than feeling sad, and is categorized as being "different from regular mood changes and feelings about everyday life." It can involve constant hopelessness, angry outbursts, loss of motivation in most activities, and can lead to fluctuating weights, suicidal ideations, and self-sabotaging. To say "we all feel a little depressed sometimes" is to dismiss the lifelong struggles people with depression go through.

Shelby also implies that people with mental illness cannot change, and that recovery is not possible if your depression has hurt others. Not only is that an incredibly harmful idea to spread, it's blatantly incorrect. Just as habits and thoughts are trained throughout your life, they can also be untrained. There is genuine psychological basis in this, and to say that recovery is impossible is scientifically false. Personalities shift our entire lives, and changes in our physical and mental environments help us train new habits. This is part of the reason we try forming better schedules in new environments, and why a consistently stressful environment can bloom negative habits.

People don't chose to have mental illness, and if you're never taught to handle it, it can be extremely easy to hurt others. The most powerful tool to recovery is believing you can be better, and Shelby telling people to not even try is just enabling self-destructive people to hurt others for the rest of their lives. Change is a long process, but it's absolutely possible- Something as simple as a disruption in your life, a wake up call, and a drive to be a better person are the first steps to kickstarting change.

Shelby’s claims are very strange considering the rest of the stream. Earlier, she went on a rant about content creator’s influence on teenagers. She acknowledged teenagers are impressionable, and that it’s important to take care of those looking up to you. She recognized her fanbase was mainly teenagers, many of whom struggle from mental illness. It feels backwards to emphasize being a good role model before telling thousands of kids that their mental illness makes them a bad person. Her statement was about treating people with kindness no matter what, but she couldn’t keep that energy for people with depression.

Shelby herself was able to find help in therapy, so to deny that others should seek help feels selfish. She also confirmed on stream that she's seen the informative resources people sent her, and that she has ignored them. I can excuse the stereotyping if she's willing to be educated, but she's made it clear she believes she’s right. This is one thing I cannot defend, and I can't forgive her for slandering myself and thousands of struggling teens’ progress to their faces.

One final thing Shelby mentioned was that we should wait for evidence, and it's alright to feel doubtful. I want to revisit her statement with the current evidence we have, that I will take with a grain of salt by her own request. With the proof we have, nothing that Shelby claims comes across as abusive outside of the biting.

Shelby said she would get locked in his house at times. UK houses need a key to unlock the inside, and Wilbur likely only had one. While at his house, Shelby had access to her phone, and there were ways she could communicate with him or call for help if this was a problem. We have no evidence to claim that he trapped her. Shelby also stated her family never met Wilbur, because she had to travel to meet him. It wouldn't be unreasonable to stay in his house for an extended amount of time, and that was entirely her choice. She certainly might have felt neglected, but to claim that it was entrapment is baseless.

Wilbur was also busy with tours, absent nearly 200 days of the year. Feeling lonely makes sense, but raising that as abusive and holding it against him is ridiculous. As a famous musician, Wilbur has obligations that he legally can't drop. This was something she needed to be aware of when pursuing a relationship with him. She's allowed to wish things were different, but genuinely expecting him to abandon his lifelong passion is more than a little strange. This doesn't detract from her feelings, but to hold his legal obligations over his head when she should’ve known he'd be busy is unreasonable.

Shelby has also made a point of publicly shaming his hygiene. The inability to care for yourself and your space is a common symptom of depression. It was kind of her to clean, but her words imply she thinks he's just lazy. She explicitly notes that Wilbur didn’t expect her to clean, but that he waited for her to clean. This is weird to specify, as people with depression typically don't make plans to clean for long periods of time. She likely just assumed his inaction was a sign for her to do it, rather than something he struggled with and had no plans to do anyway. I don't think she was right for shaming his depressive habits, and I don't think he was right for dismissing her help. However, the comments he made about her cleaning very strongly imply that he never had plans to clean either way. This just reads as a choice to help out, not expectation or pressure.

Based on the evidence we have now, the points Shelby made just come across as her dating a mentally ill man and not being prepared for the challenges that come with that. Her family never met him, and he was very busy, so there wasn’t much outside opinion she could get. It's reasonable for her to feel neglected, but that doesn't necessarily mean it was intentional harm. It's important for both parties to get help, to communicate what happened and talk about their feelings. Wilbur stated he was committed to talking with her and addressing her concerns, while Shelby blocked him and refused to communicate, despite telling him she wanted to remain friends. All she's done since is reject his apology (even though he made a statement, not an apology, for legal reasons) and ignore his requests to speak. This avoidance to communicate is likely why the lines of consent and expectation were blurred in their relationship, as they've both expressed an inability to communicate.

This was not written to discredit Shelby's experience, I do believe she has trauma. However, you can absolutely be traumatized by relationships that weren't necessarily abusive. I've experienced years of PTSD from completely fabricated nightmares, and have trauma from repeated hallucinations of my ex. She’s not lying about her feelings- But between the contradictions, refusing to talk with Wilbur about an apology, and the insistence to "communicate” despite the fact that she blocked him, I can't support Shelby's actions.

I will always fight to uplift victims, and I am sympathetic of her story, but I can't defend someone who makes no effort to communicate or educate herself before speaking. Until either of them presents something that is beyond "he said, she said" I will remain neutral. I think they both deserve a chance to change and talk about this privately, and I will be waiting for a better response in the mean time. There was clearly miscommunication, and this was brought to us prematurely (shown by her contradicting statements.) I urge you all to look at the evidence and hopefully come to a similar conclusion. You can feel for someone's experiences and sympathize with their mental state without endorsing them. Stay safe, be kind, and don't jump to any conclusions. 🤍

#wilbur #wilbursoot #wilbur soot #not a wilbur defense post #but its still important to consider #shelby #shubble #shelby shubble #wilbur support squad #shubble support squad #shelby support squad

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ggsbooks123 · 7 months

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Memories — part two of memory garden

warning: gets pretty angsty here and character deaths 😓 mentions of suicide (jude bby is guilt ridden)

summary: you don’t know how much longer you can take it. The thoughts eating away at you telling you to kill someone in your heart you knew was pure good… but what happens when the voices turn on you?

a lil disclaimer yall i mixed cressidas name with cresta without thinking and realised half way through… i couldn’t be bothered to go back and fix it so i continued using it 😭 cresta is cressida!

— —

The next morning I woke up to Boggs shaking me and asked me to step outside, the sun was only just making its ascent.

I notice my restraint is off, Boggs must have taken them off before waking me up, I took a deep breath. I wasn’t sure why he had done it, I was in no right mind.

My eyes lifted at the doorway, Peeta was right there… No. I shook my head, following Boggs out the door.

He stood gazing over the destruction of the city, I tightened my fist when the echo of a voice tried to break through. Not now. This was the outcome of war and nothing I did to them now would prevent this. But the voices never agreed.

“Wanted to check how you were feeling after your first night” He explained once I joined him at his side, it was nice that he cared.

I shrug, glancing back over my shoulder “I don’t think it’s a good idea that i’m here, I was getting help back at the district… I don’t know why i’m here” I definitely didnt think it was a good idea, Coin had sent me here knowing i was far from recovery.

“Coin always has a reason” Boggs muttered like he’d been reading my thoughts “I think she has no use for Katniss and Peeta anymore-“ He eyes filled in the blanks his words didn’t…

“She sent me to kill them” I whisper back realisation smacking into, I was a weapon, again. But it wasn’t the capital this time, it was the rebellion.

When will i be free?

The voice sounds almost sad and I realise that it’s not a voice, it’s my own thoughts. My own depressing and given up thoughts.

“She can try and turn you into some psycho killer but the people in that room care about you, even if you don’t see it. So do I, the three of you kids have seen more hell than anyone deserves” Boggs explains, finally turning from the city to face me. “You’re just kids”

I frown, glancing down at my hands. Kids. We weren’t even eighteen years old, it was something that defined so much about someone and id forgotten.

“Thank you” I whisper, movement from inside alerts me and I reach for my gun, what if Peeta took this distraction as an opportunity but then Katniss stepped out, my heart didn’t slow but my hands dropped.

“What’re you doing out here so early?” Katniss asked stepping closer but keeping a respectful distance, my hand clenched.

She’s with Peeta, they will kill us all. The desire to kill Katniss was easier to push down but when it came to Peeta is was a thirst for blood like no other.

I shake my head, not hearing what Boggs responded with.

“How are things?” Boggs doesn’t respond to this question so I glance up and see they both have their attentions on me.

How are things? I wanted to scoff, but I knew that I was an accident waiting to happen, they didn’t know what would set me off. Apparently just saying how are things is one example. I shake my head and I notice the flash of concern.

“I can only get better right?” I spit, I don’t mean for it come out like that but she flinches and Boggs places his hand on her shoulder.

I feel it, my hand moving on its own before my right slapped down on it, instantly both their eyes slammed to me and without further explanation i declare, “We need to put my restraint back on”

And with that Katniss went inside and woke the others and Boggs cuffed me again.

Finnick was the first to step out, alongside a girl with a vines blooming flowers across the left half of her shaved head “Jude, I wanted you to meet Cresta, she’d one of the directors for this whole thing”

I smiled lightly at her, hoping to be polite since she no doubt had to stay up for an hour and watch me last night. “Nice to meet you, are you from the Capitol?”

She nods, “Do I give off that capitol ignorance?” She asked as a joke but in her eyes I could tell she was pleading I said no which made me smile slightly wider. I liked her.

“No, no. I was just asking didn’t mean to hit right on the money” I shrugged, “Maybe after this I could read palms?” I raise an eyebrow at Finnick who seems to just be smiling at me. “What?”

“Nothing, just glad you’re finally started talking about an after this” And with that Cresta and him left me, sending my mind reeling.

After…

— —

The next few days were especially hard, we had to travel a few streets at a time due to these devices called pods, the game makers had created them, no death should be boring apparently.

One of the pods had contained thousands upon thousands of snakes, luckily they seemed to stop at a certain point. Just like in the games except we could activate them from a distance.

Some of the other pods though, made it harder to remember where I was and who my friends are. Boggs had set off the last pod, four explosions had destroyed the road before them and each explosive made unbidden thoughts enter my head.

Now we were slowly making our way through the Capital streets, it seemed bizarre to think that it was once luxury.

“How’re you feeling?” His voice breaks through everything, and my neck snaps to him as I take a step back, bumping into Finnick who seems to have noticed why and is already guiding me to walk again.

Peeta frowns, turning away for a moment before looking back at me “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you” Maybe he was trying to be nice, because we both knew it hadn’t been the reason.

“It’s- It’s okay. Really. Just a lot going on, and I think I’m feeling better. The questions that i’m asking help” I respond, trying to stay calm and push the voices away, though they’re not really there at the moment.

He seems to perk at my words before shooting over his shoulder “Ask one now, can’t hurt” I blow a breath, rattling through my brain for anything and then it clicked.

We’re back in the 75th Hunger Games, it’s a couple days in and we look utterly spent, I don’t even look like i’m making my next five steps.

I try to remember when this was, must’ve been right before the arena been destroyed, Peeta and I had run into the Careers and I’d paid with three strikes to my chest, Peeta not much better off.

The thought of the wounds made me reach for my chest, but they were gone. Magically healed by the Capital just to be tortured mentally.

I watch myself trip slightly but Peetas there in an instant, arm looping around my waist, holding me for dear life.

It looked so natural. Right. Together, his eyes never leaving me, concern dripping with every blink.

I hear him whisper like he’s next to me “We’re almost at the beach alright, just a little further” I can feel the desperation in his words, he needed me to make it.

I remember the exhaustion now, the utter fatigue I felt. The thought to close my eyes was over bearing but I couldn’t let Peeta down… win, I couldn’t let him win!

I snap out of the memory, luckily Finnick has my arms in his hands because i’ve stopped again and Peeta is looking at me with concern over his shoulder every few seconds. “Jude?” Finnick whispers and I take deep breath.

“In the last Hunger Games,” I began, trying to sort out the memory, he was saving me or was he the reason I ended up at the Capitol? “You saved me after the Careers attacked us, real or not real”

He frowned at the question, was it concern or hurt in his eyes, I didn’t know because when he blinked it was gone but then he stopped turning to face me. This time Finnick doesn’t push me forwards. He didn’t save you, and now he knows that he can’t get away with his lies anymore. Kill him!

Before I could act on the voices that abruptly awokened he speaks up, “I got you to that beach, then the arena went out and the Capital got you. So yeah, I saved you from the Careers but I couldn’t save you from the Capital and it’ll kill me everyday that you had to go through that and this and I couldn’t do anything”

His voice grew more anguished and devastated with each word and I found tears falling down my own face as he took deep breaths in front of me. The old me would’ve known how much this was eating at him, would’ve helped him but how could I?

I didn’t know me anymore. Or what I could do before I snapped.

I didn’t know what to say so I said “Haymitch told me that I- I told them if it came down to it, to save you” His eyes sharpened on me somehow, “I don’t blame you for what happened in the Capital, I never will. I’m sorry”

The air hung still as Boggs turned to them finally, breaking the moment “Keep up! We haven’t got all day” Peeta sighed, glancing at Boggs before solely landing on me again.

“Real. I saved you from the Careers” I smiled lightly, kill him, I shoved it down not paying any attention to it.

“Thank you” Finally, we began to follow the others down and around another corner. Soon we were arriving at our next pod, this one had a large arch with completely and utterly destroyed walls surrounding it left to right.

More destruction passed as they continued, how long before it’s too much, until the city isn’t even salvageable. Boggs told us to hide behind the walls while he set it off the next pod and then checked for anymore. We did as told, I took position between Finnick and Katniss and two other guys i didn’t know, Peeta and Cresta, Jackson and Pollux on the other side.

I felt anticipation, the voice had free roam when the pods went off. Too much going on at once, I couldn’t control it.

The pod detonation sent my mind spiraling, as I assumed, this one, four guns emerged from the wall and rained bullets into the archway destroying bits of the wall they were behind.

If you killed them their symbol would be gone, who would push that hope and if not for Katniss and Peeta, it would die with them. The voice stronger than it’d been in days.

No! I crouched further agaisnt the wall we’d taken cover behind, I’d been given my blank gun back for the promo but this was all too much, I felt the butt of the gun against my temple as I curled into my self.

I bring my head up and smack it against the gun, get out of my head. Get out. Get out! “My favourite colour is purple, I can’t wear red bows. Peeta saved me. My favourite-“ I repeat the words, whispered and keep bringing the butt of my gun to my temple.

A hand on my shouldern brings me back, at first my eyes catch the utterly devastated ones across from me. Peeta. He looks like he’d burn the world… For me. I break the eye contact quickly and the look in Finnicks eyes said it all. He didn’t have to go through what I had to understand, I didn’t know if I’d be able to do this without him, or Peeta… No matter how much I wanted to kill him sometimes.

Suddenly an explosion going off catches us off guard, did they set off another pod? “Boggs!” Katniss screams break the air, Finnicks hands move under my shoulders and lifts me to my feet, hauling me around the corner.

We both freeze at the sight, easily three of our squad members had been hit by the bomb. But it’s Boggs who lays in Katniss’s arms that makes my stomach drop and I’m almost sure I would have crumbled if not for Finnick. Bogg’s legs were gone, nothing but two stumps and onrushing blood.

Oh god, oh god. I slam my eyes shut and a ringing breaks out in my head. This is my fault, it’s all my fault, I never should have trusted them, Boggs should have never trusted them. The thoughts come harsher than they have in weeks and I can’t break away from them.

Kill them before they kill us all. This one isn’t my voice and I snap my eyes open sure I’d see his old and drawn face in front of me, but he’s not there. Relief fills me, but the twitch in my hand isn’t as my eyes dart to Peeta.

He must’ve been hit by the backlash of the bomb, Jackson was helping him to his feet as Cresta was helping one of the twins, who’d I forgotten were even there amongst all the chaos. His blue eyes darted around until they met mine and then they drifted to my hands.

I was holding my gun… I didn’t remember grabbing it, and it was full of blanks but it could still be a weapon. Kill him, I shake my head taking a step back at the same time I hear a click from afar, my head shoot’s up and I look to see l the other twin had rushed to help the other and had set off another pod.

I flinched ready for another bomb but instead the walls to the archway we just entered and the three others all begin to close, Katniss now standing from Boggs and holding the device he had seems to catch sight before anyone of us and the look of horror on her face is enough “Run!”

An arm grabs me and yanks me forward but my hands tighten on my gun, it was his fault. I can’t shake away these thoughts anymore, not after Boggs.

“Jude, keep it together!” Finnick spoke from beside me but nothing could bring me back, not after everything, everything that he’d done.

I felt my mind unscrewing, going barbaric at the thought of Peeta being so close and safe, he would make it out of this courtyard. And I tried to fight every single part of me that wanted to change that.

I couldn’t… Not after Boggs. You’re just kids, Peeta was a kid that had been the reason of hundreds and thousands of people… He had to die.

The air thrums around us as we rush up the stairs and I take this moment to look over my shoulder, a wave of black liquid lurches towards us and with utmost certainty I don’t want to find out what happens if it reaches me but then my mind flicks.

No consequences, kill him and die knowing you saved innocents. I wanted to shake these thoughts away, Peeta rushing up behind me tells me that he’d probably only run when he realised I was safe but a larger part of me knew he had some hidden agenda to kill me and cause more harm than good.

I had time.

It was the last confirmation I needed, shoving Finnick off me and throwing myself at Peeta, I let one of hands release the gun as I grab for his shoulder but his foot catches something and I only manage to grab his shirt as we go rolling down a few of the steps as he tries to fight off my grip, I hoped I had timed it right.

“Jude! Don’t” He cried out, finally managing to grab my wrist so I raise the gun in the other, “You have to die” I whisper, unsure why I needed to say it before I bring down the gun and finally, finally-

I’m shoved, NO. Snow’s voice screams in my head and I let out a cry, the yell breaks my skull open and I feel every ounce of rage pouring from the word.

His anger becomes my own and fuels me as I jump up from the ground and grapple the man from our squad who had ruined ruined ruined everything.

I knew it was wrong, some part of me as my ears rang and my mind exploded, but I couldn’t stop stop stop. The liquid rushed behind the man in my arms now, we’d spun, had I done that? Before my foot lifted and connected with his middle and I sent him into the abyss of oil.

Then it was all gone, the ringing, the voices and my mind was clear. I just killed a man. Someone must have grabbed me because i’m moving but I don’t feel it and I don’t care I’d killed someone, killed killed killed.

I feel the tears now as a door slams shut behind me and I hauled up my stairs, these are wooden not stone. The voices come back but they are no longer on my side. And it’s my own voice.

You killed an innocent. You need to die, you’re a danger. And I agree, I scream and scream that I want nothing more than to be dead and I must’ve actually been screaming because soon all I see is the same abyss I had forsaken another to.

— —

An explosion wakes me up and proceeds to remind me of everything that had happened before I succumbed to the darkness, I took in my surrounding the only light coming from the curtained window that Katniss and Gale were peering out of.

Whatever had just happened outside had affected Katniss more than Gale, and as I shift my position to get a better look but it’s useless, Gale lets the blinds close.

I let my eyes dance around the room, there’s more people in our group than I had realised, two men sat together checking the other for injuries, another man I seen but still didn’t know the name of stood with Cresta while Finnick and Peeta sat watching the window that Katniss and Gale were at. Jackson was no where in sight, I didn’t want to see her anyways, the guilt would twist even further. The twins… gone.

I swallow the sickness I feel, I had been so crazed I hadn’t taken the time to even get to know them.

All of the squad was far from me, I realised I was placed on stairs and the rail along it is what my hands are cuffed to.

Now you can’t hurt anyone. That hadn’t changed, no longer would I fight the urge to kill Peeta, somehow my wish of not killing him had been granted. Now I had to try not to kill myself, though that statement was half hearted.

Suddenly the familiar ring of the Capitals announcement played and my veins grew cold until one of the squad members spoke up “All the tvs in Panem are connected to the announcements, if the powers on then the shows running”

I rolled my eyes, the power that they could flush into abandoned apartments was incredible when some districts could barely keep the lights on for an hour or half.

The anthem continued, causing me to close my eyes but that only let the voices free reign in the darkness.

You could’ve been helping them stop this instead you let the Capital control you. I grit my teeth together not being able to take in what was happening on screen from the inner battle I was having with my own thoughts. You nearly killed Peeta and you were proud of it.

I nearly threw up.

My skin was on fire, pure and unadultered disgust and shame with myself, how could I have not realised that killing Peeta was the worst possible thing I could do, I would be nothing. Nothing, there was no way to put into words what would happen if he died.

And by my own hand, I closed my eyes. No. Never again would I let them win, hurt him. Never. I’d kill myself before I ever did something like that again… If I was even given the chance of redemption after what I did.

I open my eyes as I hear my name mentioned and see that the Capital is replaying everything that’s been haunting me since i woke up.

I watch the black oil like substance hurtle it’s way towards us, and I see it clearly now, Peetas eyes are on me waiting until I’m safe and clear before he runs after me and in that split second decision i’ve made one aswell.

Watching it on the screen was horrifying, my arm reaching for his throat but finding his shirt instead, us rolling together and still the look of murder on my face, so twisted it doesn’t even look like me before Mitch yanked me off and I thanked him by kicking him into the pod trap.

His scream echoed through the screen and I flinched, I’d been so full of rage and out of it I hadn’t heard it or seen as a metal cage lined with spikes shot from the oil, encasing the now dead Mitch.

I close my eyes unable to watch the rest. Monster, monster, monster. My voice spits over and over again, these I can’t shut out. It’s simply my thoughts the more I push it triples.

“Well, what’s next?” Jackson asked out of sight, I glanced around the room yet none of them seemed to look at me. I understood why they wouldn’t, some of them knew Mitch.

I killed their friend. Yet no one responded.

Was it not obvious? “I- I killed him” I whispered, all of their heads snapped like my voice was the last they expected “You should either leave me here or put a bullet in my head so no one else dies”

In the corner of my eye I see a hint of blonde flinch at my words, but I’d nearly killed him if it wasn’t for Mitch… Now he was dead, I didn’t get to live. “It’s the only reasonable solution, you can’t tell me i’m wrong”

“You’re wrong” Peeta cut in before anyone else could agree or disagree, I couldn’t tell by their faces and yet none of them cut into Peeta “You are restrained and we have a watch on you, Mitch knew what he was signing up for, we all did”

I looked away from him. This wasn’t right, my thoughts were against me now but what happened when they turned on him again? Because they would.

“You saved me once, you’ll be saving me this time aswell if you just-“

“No”

My eyes met his and I knew I’d never seen the fire in his gaze that he’d held this moment, Peeta was not budging on this. I frowned, I was a liability why couldn’t he see that?

My mind flashed to solutions, none came to mind. “There has to be a way where if I know i’m going to snap that I can stop myself” My words break at the end as I gaze around the room, there’s only silence “Please… please”

Gale steps forward and I see Peeta take a step but Katniss stops him, and I’m grateful as the brunette boy crouches down and pulls something from a hidden pocket.

A small pill, it was hard to think it’d do what i asked, delicately Gale pushed the pill into my own hidden pocket and patted it “It’s Nightlock, no pain and instant. Only if you have to”

I nodded, hesitantly but promising “Only if I have to”

And with that they set out, planning a course of action. The pods were too often now, they would have to stop constantly.

It was time to go underground

—

- … sooo part three?!?

—

DONT SCREAM AT ME IK IM AN ASSHOLE IM SO SO SO SORRY FOR MAKING YALL WAIT MY GOODREADS GOAL WAS SLACKING HAD TO CATCH UP HOPE YALL LIKE THIS XXXX

taglist girlies💓: @yazminetrahan @solarbxby @abbersreads @antonietta18

#books #hunger games #peeta mellark #peeta supremacy #the hunger games #katniss everdeen #coriolanus snow #peetamellarkworks #peeta mellark works #peeta mellark x reader #peeta x reader #peeta mellark angst #peeta mellark imagine #romance #angst #angst imagine peeta

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runningfrom2am · 10 days

Text

requiem // part one

summary: according to coriolanus snow, his best friend had the most beautiful voice in all of panem. she had been training her whole life constantly to get where she was; being up for a residency at the most elite opera house in all of panem. singing was her passion. her true love; and when that got stripped from her in a second, his world became a whole lot quieter. he loathed every minute of it.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.5k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: opera singer!mentor!reader (blink and you'll miss it), she's kind of a prodigy!! p cool imo, mute!reader, bestfriend!coryo, friends to lovers trope ooo, mentions of graphic violence early on (particularly the prologue) but after that it's pretty safe, depictions of ptsd/trauma, mental illness and minor suicidal ideation but at least she's not entirely alone, descriptions of minor medical treatments and use of medication.

a/n: hi again! obligatory note to say sorry i didn't update a couple days ago i meant to but i got hit by a car and then i was working lmao (i'm fine but the ao3 curse did in fact find me)

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist // pinterest board

"Mister Snow." Coriolanus's head jerks up at his name from where it was resting against his palm, nearly having fallen asleep by the side of your bed. You were out cold and had been for close to a week now, but part of him hoped he would be there when you eventually stirred.

"We have to ask you to leave now, but you can come back tomorrow after seven," The nurse tells him, a sympathetic smile on her face. This was the sixth night in a row they'd had this exact conversation.

"Of course, thank you," he grumbles as he stands up, rubbing his eyes.

"How is your mentorship going?" she asks, just for the sake of making conversation. "It is very exciting. Congratulations, by the way."

"Thanks..." he hums, hand sliding over his jaw in slight discomfort. He had little to no interest in his tribute. It was clear Lucy Gray had no shot at winning, and he had an even smaller shot at the Plinth Prize thanks to her. Now, he could hardly even stomach looking at her. "The Songbird," as everyone called her.

In reality, his best friend had been forgotten the moment Lucy Gray Baird set foot on that stage in District Twelve and began to sing, and he loathed her for it. The way that all eyes turned to you next to him during the reaping as soon as his tribute's lips parted and began to sing made his stomach turn even now.

Coriolanus's eyes parted from the screen to look over at you, a small teasing smile on his face as he reached out to nudge you with his elbow when instead he was met with an expression of horror on your face. He could see the way your neck tensed as you swallowed hard, and he looks around to see almost everyone else's eyes on you as well for just a moment at a time, stealing glances in your direction.

Your jaw tightens while you grind your teeth together. She was good. But you were better at masking your discomfort with the whole situation, looking down to smooth out your black skirt where it lay across your lap and ignoring all the eyes that had fallen on you.

"It's going well," he lies in response.

"I'm glad to hear that. She's got a real talent, that girl," She smiles, and Coriolanus knows she's not trying to take a jab at the girl lying unconscious a few feet away, but he couldn't see it any other way. "Well, best of luck to her. And you, of course."

"Thanks. Have a good night," Coriolanus replies almost under his breath, taking a final glance at you fast asleep in the cold-looking hospital bed, neck bandaged down to your bruised shoulders before he leaves for the night.

It's sunny out when Coriolanus makes his daily trek to the Capitol Zoo to feed his tribute, and his academy uniform feels heavier on his shoulders than what he's used to.

His tribute smiles as she gets up and brushes off the front of her rainbow dress, making her way over to the bars to greet him. "Good afternoon, Coriolanus. Doin' well today?" she asks as he gets closer, already digging into his bag for the food he brought her.

"Fine," he mumbles in response, holding the folded napkin out to her that contains a cookie he took from the academy lunchroom.

"Thank you," Lucy Gray says as she takes it, unfolding the small cloth from around it and taking a bite. Chewing on it, she looks up at him again, taking note of the bags forming under his blue eyes. "I'm sorry about your friend."

His eyes flick from the cookie she was eating back up to hers, a slight glare behind them as he swallows stiffly. "Yes, well, she's alive," he tells her, looking back down as she breaks the cookie in half and holds it out to him.

"No, thank you," he shakes his head, pushing her hand away with his own.

"You should eat. You look like you need the energy," she says sympathetically.

He sighs because she's probably right. He takes it from her hand carefully, already breaking off a piece. "Thanks."

"No problem."

Lucy Gray knew their little routine by now. It was obvious when he brought her food the first time that he was going hungry. She had seen the signs enough back home to recognize it even here, hidden within what was supposed to be the endless opulence of the Capitol.

"Would you like to talk about it?" she asks as he begins to chew the tiny piece of the cookie, mindful of chewing and swallowing it slowly. He looks up at her again, confusion in his eyes. "Your friend, I mean." she explains.

"No." he answers quickly, shaking his head.

His semi-hostile response only leads Lucy Gray to believe that this girl she had seen get attacked meant something to him. Though, she already knew that when they walked into the zoo arm-in-arm like birds of a feather minutes before the girl was attacked, and her mentor had to be dragged away from her by Peacekeepers when a medical team finally arrived.

"Will you tell me about her?"

"About Y/N?" he asks, eyes softening just a bit.

Lucy Gray nods in confirmation, a small smile on her lips as she urges him on.

"She, uh..." Suddenly he doesn't know where to start with you. Your parents' names are what would traditionally come first in the Capitol, but he knew that would mean nothing to the girl in front of him. That you were his best and only real friend? That you were a singer, too, just like her, but you would likely never sing another note again? "She's a singer in training for the Opera House on Presidential Way. She is... she was very good."

Lucy Gray's eyes light up as he speaks. "She was a singer?"

Coriolanus nods, putting his focus back into eating.

"She must have been amazing," Lucy Gray says, trying to make comforting conversation.

"She is," he corrects her quickly, disguising it as agreement, despite having been the one to refer to your singing abilities in the past tense.

"Of course." She agrees, a sympathetic smile on her face. "I didn't mean..."

"They are making some changes to the Games." He cuts her off, wanting to move on to avoid having to think about the current state of his best friend. It makes his heart sink and the accompanying dread causes that awful burning sensation behind his eyes that makes him want to cry. "So... you need to sing again. Get people to like you. Then I'll be able to send you things in the arena to keep you alive."

Lucy Gray seems hesitant, letting out a huff with the slight shake of her head, looking around before locking her eyes back on him. "I don't sing when I'm told. I sing when I have something to say."

Coriolanus is jarred by her statement, tilting his head a bit and clenching his jaw at the notion and her ferocity behind it. He can't help it when the sudden, stark difference between Lucy Gray and his best friend hits him like a thunderstorm coming in quick on a sunny day.

She sang when she had something to say, you sang because you had to. This fact would keep him up at night for weeks.

The games had come and gone, and there had been no winner this year. Your tribute was shot dead the day she attacked you, and Dr. Gaul saw it as some kind of justice that after your assault, the bombing, and the deaths of your other classmates, the death of all those District kids would keep their home districts from rebelling. From seeing the Capitol as vulnerable, or something like that. You really couldn't care less. At least Felix and the twins were lucky enough to have succumbed to their injuries.

The hospital was cold and dark at almost all hours of the day. You couldn't do a thing besides sit there and wait. For what, you weren't even sure.

"She's not having a good day today," The nurse informs Coryo as he checks in to visit you. He comes by every day, sometimes multiple times a day to see you, and you have your good and bad days. He's well used to that by now.

"Has she eaten?" he asks, and the nurse shakes her head.

"Refused to touch anything we brought her," She sighs, but she's fighting back a smile, which makes him raise an eyebrow at her. Why would she be smiling at that?

"She will be able to go home tomorrow," She smiles, hearing the question he never verbalized. "I thought you might like to tell her."

"Oh... I see," Coryo hums, looking down the hall toward the staircase he would soon take to get to you.

"You don't seem pleased," She states quizzically, her grin fading.

"Why is she going home?" He asks. "She still can't even speak."

The nurse looks down, pursing her lips. "As the doctor mentioned, there's no guarantee that she will ever get her voice back. I'm sorry, truly, but there's nothing more we can do for her here. It's better that she's home with her family recovering somewhere more comfortable."

"Right," He swallows, nodding curtly at her. "Thank you," He replies simply, brushing past the nurse's station to go down to your room.

He can always hear it before he sees it, the echo of opera music cycling through your favorite records time and time again, filling the quiet hall with something pleasant as soon as he opens the door from the stairwell.

"Y/N," You look up from where you're sitting in the corner, tilting your head at him. Coryo smiles as he walks in, and you wish you were in a better mood, to be a better host; as good of one as you could be when you were in the hospital and couldn't speak a single word to him. "How are you feeling?" He asks, already knowing the answer.

You shake your head, a pout forming on your lips. The flowers people had brought you in your first couple of weeks were wilting, and then they stopped bringing them. Your whole life you had been praised for your voice; since you were six years old, the Capitol had seemingly been buzzing with hope for your future. You would be the most beautiful, accomplished singer Panem had ever seen - no one doubted it, but within weeks you had been completely forgotten. Replaced by the image of the girl who had sung at the reaping and once in an interview. Your room was quite a sad reflection of this, and you spent every minute of every day forced to wallow in it.

"Bad day?" Coryo asks anyway, but you just shrug, looking out the window at your sad view of the city that had abandoned you.

"Well, I've got some good news," He says, which draws your attention. You tilt your head at him, gesturing in a circular motion with your hand for him to go on.

He laughs, putting his bag down on your empty and perfectly made bed. "One second, here. In case you have questions." He pulls the small chalkboard out from the drawer next to your bed, holding it out to you with a piece of white chalk. You scrunch up your nose and wave rapidly for him to put it back. He knew it would bug you, that's why he did it, recalling the day he brought it for you and you almost threw it at him.

"I HATE writing with chalk," You scribbled quickly on a napkin with a pen you stole from his pocket, throwing the napkin at him and crossing your arms.

"What? Why?" Coryo laughed, dropping the crumpled piece of soft paper on the table next to your bed.

You shook your head, pursed your lips, and looked up, trying to find a way to explain the awful sensation without saying it. He watched you patiently as you thought, until you pretended to hold a piece of the white substance in between your thumb and forefinger, dragging it down the air slowly and pretending to gag. You shook your head again in disgust, waving your hand at him.

"Oh, I didn't know you felt so passionately about this," He drags the chalk down over the board, and you cringe, covering your ears. Coryo couldn't help but think that was just about the cutest thing he had ever seen.

That had been one of your good days, even though at the time your scar was still so fresh it was bandaged, and you were littered with bruises down to your ribs. The room was littered with fallen flower petals by now, yes, but also with what must be hundreds of notes you had shown to Coryo to express yourself in the only way you still could.

That memory still makes you smile, even if you do absolutely hate chalkboards. You walk past him and grab your notebook off the same table, picking it and the pen up as dramatically as you possibly can before sitting down on the bed and looking up at him.

"What?" He asks, just to tease you, and you roll your eyes.

'Get on with it. Also, you're not funny, and I hate you,' You write, turning the page to face him so he could read it.

"Oh, do you?" He chuckles, sitting down next to you.

You smack his arm with the book, motioning again that he should just spit it out.

"Okay! Okay, fine," He sighs emphatically, placing his hands on his thighs and looking down at the floor, just for a few moments to drive you more up the wall before turning his gaze to you. "They told me that you're going home tomorrow."

You open your mouth to speak, suddenly forgetting that you can't. You quickly shut your jaw, furrowing your brow and shaking your head. 'Why?' You mouth to him, neglecting the pad of paper in your lap.

He reads your lips, frowning at your lack of excitement. He was hoping you would be looking forward to it, but he knew you wouldn't be. Not really. "They said there isn't anything more they can do for you here, that you need to heal at home."

You stand up abruptly, throwing the paper down on the ground and clutching the pen so tight that Coryo fears it might shatter.

What do they mean "nothing they can do"? They could fix you, they could operate again, they could pump you so full of drugs that you could finally forget the hell that you're living in, that's what they could do. You couldn't even say that - or scream out your frustrations.

You turn back to Coryo, and the hurt look on your face crushes him. You want to speak to him so badly. Your lips fall open, and you try anyway. 'They're going to leave me like this?' You ask, but not a sound comes out. Not even so much as a whisper. Your throat burns regardless.

"I'm sorry," he says honestly, standing up and reaching out for you. You shake your head, forcing yourself to look anywhere but at him. "Come here..." he says softly, already wrapping his arms around you as the tears brimming in your eyes begin to fall. You can't even hug him back, hands clutched to your chest as you shake under his hold.

"If I could take this from you, I would," He mumbles, shaking his head and resting his chin on your head as he rubs your back. "I'm sorry, Y/N/N."

What he wouldn't give to be able to hear your voice again.

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coryo snow #coryo x reader #tbosas fanfiction #the hunger games #thg fanfic #thg fic #thg tbosas #thg series #thg fanfiction #coriolanus imagine

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loveharlow · 20 days

Text

SEVEN [SEASON 2] - 003

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚[10.4k] A court hearing leaves the pogues scrambling for anything to get John B out of jail. And fast.

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, mentions of death, corrupt law enforcement, mentions of murder, mentions of suicide, graphic depictions of injuries,

NOW PLAYING‧₊˚

A/N‧₊˚ A lot of questions answered in this chapter and I think TR was such a girlboss here

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

THE FIVE OF YOU SAT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE COURTROOM, hidden perfectly in plain sight. John B was arrested yesterday, Shoupe and his men leaving you all distraught and soaked in the middle of the woods. They had to cuff John B’s unconscious body and basically load him into the back of the squad car.

You were sat at the end of the row, next to JJ who’d wiggled between you and Pope. You had on a hoodie and shorts, the hood pulled over your head as you slouched in the pew. You kept taking glances across the court room, Rose and Ward sitting on the other side, acting oblivious and innocent.

“This is such bullshit.” You scoffed, playing with the strings of the hoodie.

Suddenly, a bony hand grasped your shoulder, making you turn around, coming face to face with an old woman. She pointed in your face as she spoke. “You’re in public, young lady. You may want to watch your mouth.”

You made a face at the woman, turning further in your seat to look at her. “You may want to watch yours. Your dentures are segregating themselves from your gums, you old, senile-”

“She’s sorry about that.” JJ cut in, pushing your shoulder forward and shooting the woman tight lipped smile as her jaw dropped and she put a hand to her chest. Once you were facing forward, he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “We’re already down a person for a crime, let’s not add elderly abuse to the list.”

You waved him off, slouching in your seat again. Just then you heard Sarah sigh, the four you looking at her at the other end of the pew.

“When are they bringing him out? His hearing was supposed to start fifteen minutes ago…” She said, seemingly mainly to herself as her foot tapped against the floors.

Right on cue, the doors opened, one brawny officer guiding John B to stand next to his lawyer as a hush fell over the courtroom. The cuffs around his wrists jingled as he shuffled towards the court appointed lawyer he was given, standing next to the woman awkwardly.

The judge thanked the officer, peering over her glasses as she read the documents in front of her.

“John Booker Routledge, pursuant to the North Carolina statute section fourteen, you are charged with murder in the first degree with aggravated circumstances." The statement made you cringe. "If convicted, the maximum sentence would be…” The judge continued, elevating her gaze to look at John B directly.

“...the death penalty.”

…

What?

The entire courtroom broke out into hushed chatter, your hand curling into a fist in your lap. The death penalty? Was this some kind of joke? That didn’t even make any sense.

Without thinking, you stood from your seat, hands gripping the back of the pew in front of you. “He’s seventeen, you can’t do that!” You shouted, the courtroom falling into mild chaos as some people got up to leave and others stayed behind, voicing their opinions.

“Hey, c’mon…” Pope tried, a hand on your arm as he tried to escort you out of the courtroom along with the other people who were leaving.

“They’re trying to give him the death penalty, Pope. They’re going to try to kill him.” You said, trying to push the boys hand off of you. “He didn’t kill anybody!” You shouted over his shoulder, the boy using more force to guide you outside.

“John B, we’re gonna figure it out!” JJ pointed at John B who was looking back at the five of you with an expression somewhere in between pity and pure terror. The judge slammed her gavel down, demanding order in the court just as Sarah seemed to snap, pushing her way through the crowd calling for John B as the bailiff carried him away, Kiara escorting the blonde out of the court with the rest of you.

“Is this a joke? Are we in hell, or…?” Kie said, walking down the steps.

“...I should’ve never come home.” Sarah said, voice muffled from her crying.

Right then, Ward walked by you all, another couple trailing him and Rose. You made eye contact with the Cameron man for a brief second, sending him the meanest glare you could muster as the couple behind him talked. “I’m sorry that this is what you and your family have to go through. Thank God the system works…”

He couldn't be serious.

“Can you shut the fuck up?” You jumped in, stepping towards the man. “You think a minor being presented death penalty is the system 'working'? Of course you think the system worked because it was made to protect you and people like you. I mean, who shows up to a court hearing they aren’t apart of in a suit, just to kiss the ass of the only actual murderer here?” You spat, pointing directly at the man in question.

He simply adjusted his suit, tilting his chin to the sky. “Your friend will have his day in court. A jury will decide.”

“He doesn’t belong in court!” You objected, eyes drifting towards Ward. “The real people who should be up on that stand are Ward and his psychotic son!” You ranted, Shoupe and his deputies that were on standby rushing in between the five of you and the four of them.

“I know you’re upset. Okay? I understand.” Ward tried, Rose hanging onto his arm as he played victim in front of half the island. “He’s got you all fooled-”

“You don't understand shit. And the only people being fooled here are your kiss-ass neighbors.” You mocked incredulously, swiping the hood off of your head. “You wanna see upset, Ward?-” Was the last thing you said before swinging on the older man, your nails swiping against the skin of his cheek, but doing no damage, before Shoupe wedged his way fully in between, pushing you and your friends back.

“Show some respect!” Ward pointed, patting his cheek to make sure he was unharmed.

“You're going to hell!”

“Get off of her.” JJ lightly shoved Shoupe back, the officers hands falling away from you. “Why don’t you take down the Kooks for a change?” JJ suggested, almost intimidating the older man.

“You wanna get arrested?” The man asked, hand on his hip, right on top of his gun holster. “Go home. Now. All of you.”

“...’s is bullshit.” Kiara mumbled, eyeing Ward and Rose as they walked away.

“No wonder his daughter’s walking with us...” You called out, the statement making Ward pause in his tracks to look back at you with deadliest look in his eyes. You looked the man up and down before turning around and walking away with your four friends.

“...I’M GONNA TESTIFY UNDER OATH.” Sarah announced with conviction, arms crossed as she paced the patio of The Chateau — rain pouring outside. “I was there. I just need to get ahold of my sister…”

The four of you surrounding her sighed, shifting in your seats. “Sister…” JJ muttered under his breath.

“Kie, do you have your phone?” Sarah asked the girl closest to her, taking the device from her hands when it was offered to her before turning to face JJ. “Wheezie is the only other person who knows that Rafe wasn’t home that day.”

“...Wheezie?” JJ reiterated unbelievably. It was the most serious, flat, annoyed tone you’d ever heard him speak in.

“I don’t know what else to do!” Sarah threw her hands out. “I got us into this mess. I’m gonna do my best to get us out...” She proclaimed sadly before entering the home and isolating herself from the four of you. The sky was a sad mix of dull grays and icy blues, the sounds of raindrops hitting the ground and thunder filled the silence until JJ spoke again.

“Wheezie…” He scoffed, crouching and leaning against the wall. “Yeah, that’ll work.”

“Well, she’s right about one thing. We gotta do something.” Pope said from his place in a lounge chair.

“John B is being held captive by the enemy right now.” JJ said, using his hands for emphasis, his face turning a dangerous shade of red as he ranted. “Our boy is sitting in a cell, being scheduled for execution. Are we really just gonna sit here?!-”

“Okay, well what’s the plan?!” Kiara stood up from her seat, taking steps closer to the two boys. “What? We kidnap Shoupe?”

“Maybe!” JJ retorted. “That’s not the worst idea-”

“That is actually the worst idea.” Pope piped up, still seated.

“It’s pretty bad…” Sarah added from inside the house — the window to Big John’s office was wide open, allowing the girl to pitch in on the conversation.

The three of them continued arguing back and forth about shitty ideas and previously failed plans and who was more to blame than the other. You just sat on the loveseat, playing with your fingers and biting the inside of your lip.

You and JJ’s conversation about the evidence was still fresh on your mind. You’d gone through everything about Big John’s case. The evidence was hard — an entire confession. But you still had yet to go through your father’s files. And knowing how Kildare’s Police Department operated, you’d have to play this smart. You needed more than a confession. More than anything, you needed to persuade Shoupe.

“I still have the tapes.” You interrupted, looking up at your three friends who had turned to you, Sarah peeking out of the window.

“...I’m sorry.” Kiara started. “What?”

“The tapes that I stole from my mom’s law office. I still have them.”

“...And you didn’t think to say anything? This whole time?”

“Of course I did.” You said bluntly. “But let’s not kid ourselves. We brought Shoupe an entire gun. The gun that was used to kill Peterkin and he did nothing.” You retorted matter of factly. “A couple of confessions won’t make a difference. Ward is Shoupe’s friend, he’ll just conjure up some deluded explanation in his head. We have to bring him undeniable proof, connect the dots for him.” You explained, sitting up straighter in your seat. “I went through Big John’s files but I still haven’t opened my father’s. If Ward had anything to do with what happened to my dad, that links him to at least four murders in the last year, right? That plus the tapes? That’s something Shoupe can’t deny-”

“Yeah, well, we don’t really have time for that anymore.” JJ cut you off harshly, snatching the hat off of his head. You stumbled for a response, eyes on the blonde.

“It was literally your idea.”

“That was before they put John B on the chopping block-”

“They aren’t gonna lethally inject him tomorrow, JJ-”

“You don’t fucking know that!” He shouted, the outburst sending a hush over the five of you. They’d never seen JJ yell at you before. Because he never had. You never knew what it felt like to be at the sharp end of his irrational anger. And although you knew this was far from the worst of it, it still formed a pit in your stomach. “You all can sit here and sort through papers ‘n shit. I’m gonna do somethin’, make somethin’ happen.” He said scoffing, standing up fully and walking towards the porch steps, his eyes on you and you only. “Even if I have to do it by myself.” He finished, swinging open the screen door and leaving towards his parked bike.

You looked out at nothing, semi-shocked at what happened while Kiara sighed. “Look, I’m gonna hit my parents, see if I can get money for a decent lawyer.” She said, grabbing her jacket as the sound of JJ’s bike pulling off echoed through the trees. You couldn’t help but look back, watching the blonde drive away with a sinking feeling in your chest.

“Right.” Pope nodded. “I’ll dig into anything I can find out about this key that Limbrey was talking about in case your plan doesn’t work out.” Pope said in your direction, you nodded in reply. Pope had explained that during his time with Limbrey, she was borderline interrogating him about key she thought he had in exchange for a tape she has that could exonerate John B.

All of your evidence pointed the finger at Ward, it didn’t necessarily prove John B didn’t do anything. Hopefully, you could change that by the end of the night.

THE OLD BOX STARED YOU BACK IN THE FACE WITH NO REMORSE. You were in the living room of The Chateau, planted on the sofa as your fingers drummed nervously against the skin of your thighs. Everyone else was out on some kind of side quest, aside from Sarah who took a stress walk down to the pier in the backyard, anxiously trying to get a hold of Wheezie, leaving you in the house alone.

Even taking the box down from the top of the fridge had your hands shaking — it was heavier than Big John’s box. Which meant you were in for a much longer ride.

Taking a shaky, deep breath, you edged closer to the coffee table, your bottom almost hanging off of the sofa. In one swift motion, you took the top off of the box, letting it clatter against the wooden table. Your eyes scanned over the items inside — another cassette tape, one small USB drive, and one manila file folder. Everything was inconspicuously labeled — the tape was labeled WCCT 2/2 and the folder was labeled OG Report, both in your mother's distinctive hand writing. It looked like there was more than just papers in the folder. And you weren’t too eager to open it up.

You didn’t know where to start or what order to go in. But something told you that this wasn’t as hard as you anticipating it to be. You figured it best to start with the tape, having experience with them. Picking up the blue tape player that you’d found all those weeks ago, the same player you used when you found out what happened to Big John, you picked up the tape.

You weren’t quick to let it play, giving yourself a moment of pause. You were seriously debating putting all of this shit back. But then you remembered what you were doing this for. Who you were doing this for. And you pressed play.

...

“...Are you ready?...Okay, then. Please, state your full name and why you’re here.” Your mother’s voice echoed in the living room. It’d been so long since you heard her voice. At all.

“Again?” Ward’s voice rang out. “Is that necessary?...*sigh*. My name is Ward Cameron and I’m here to confess to the murders of Big John Routledge and Owen Carter.”

“Okay. You can continue now. Tell me what happened to Owen, starting from after you disposed of Big John’s body.” You wondered how she could sound so calm collected while sitting across from a murder, asking him to detail how he killed her husband.

“...After I threw Big John overboard, Owen was hysterical. He wanted to call someone and I kept saying no, that we couldn’t. What was done was done. He called me a monster, said that I shouldn’t have done it. He was right and I knew that. I was getting frustrated because Owen wouldn’t stop yelling. I turned around and pinched my eyes shut, I don’t know for how long, I was just trying to drown him out when I heard something hit the water. I didn’t even realize he’d stopped ranting. I turned around and he’d taken the lifeboat and was already feet away, it didn’t help that the damn thing had a motor. I didn’t think before turning the boat around and going to follow him, but he was gaining speed and putting so much distance between us. We were already hours away from the island, I didn’t think there was any way he’d make it all the way there on that small boat…”

Your hands were shaking as you listened, your bottom lip held hostage between your teeth.

“...The sun was going down by the time I got back to Kildare. I’d lost sight of Owen hours ago and when I got back, his truck was already gone from the parking lot. Owen was a family man over everything, so I figured that if he was in danger, the first place he’d go was home to make sure that he could protect his family. I got in my truck and went to his house. By the time I got there, the street lights were on and it was dark and raining. The front door was wide open and I pulled up just in time to see Owen racing out of the house with two duffel bags in his hands, about to put them in the trunk. I couldn’t hesitate, I didn’t have the time. So, I jumped out of my truck with a gun in my hand and hit him in the side of the head from behind. He fell limp to the ground and I wanted to go back in time and fix everything. I didn’t want to hurt him-”

“Stay focused, Ward. I’m not here for your sob story.” Your mother reprimanded.

“…After that, I threw him in the backseat of my truck and drove off as fast as I could. But I didn’t know my way around The Cut and I had no idea where I was going or what the plan was. I ended up on the shore of the Marsh. It was an empty area, surrounded by sand hills and tall grass, a couple palm trees. I didn’t want anyone to see me. Owen must’ve woken up at some point during the drive because when I went to get him out of the backseat, he jumped up and punched me square in the jaw. We got into it for a minute and I knew that Owen was stronger than me so when I could, I grabbed the gun from my waistband and aimed it at him. He just seemed betrayed and hurt. Kept asking why I did it, why I was going to do it again. He even promised to not say anything…if I let him go so he could be with his daughter. I thought about it, even considered it. But Owen was too good. He had morals and beliefs and I knew that eventually he’d say something. So, I lied and said that I would let him walk. I thought maybe I wouldn’t feel as bad if I knew he died thinking he was going home to his child. So, when he turned around…I shot him.”

You couldn’t suppress your sobs. The worst part of it all was that your father didn’t beg for his life, he begged for you. The one thing on his mind in his last moments was going home to you. You thought that was enough to make you hate Ward Cameron for the rest of your life. He didn’t kill his friend. He killed your father.

And he killed a part of you, too.

“...I knew dumping his body so close to the island was risky, so when I realized that it didn’t look like he’d been shot in the head, I slit his wrists to make it look like he’d killed himself, then I pushed his body into the water and left him drift out. Everything from that point on, you already know.” Were the last words Ward’s voice detailed before the cassette stopped rolling, a deadly silence filling the living room as tears rolled down your cheeks and hit the floor, one after the other.

You’d never felt so angry in your entire life. Not when your father went missing, not when his body was found, not when the police told you he’d killed himself. This was real anger. Because if you could figure this out and get some kind of justice for you and John B’s father’s, then the authorities just had to have not cared enough or at all. Two men from the cut go missing and they have one common factor between them but no one bats an eye?

It was bullshit.

Complete and utter bullshit.

Sobs broke through your throat as you swiped glasses and other miscellaneous objects off of the coffee table — everything but the box of evidence. Glass shattered against the floors as you kicked the leg of the furniture and hurled something random at the wall, watching it break into shards as you clenched your jaw, teeth showing like a violent dog. You felt like you could barely breathe, fists curled so tightly that you were sure your nails were cutting into your palms. Falling back down on the couch, slumped against it as you tried to regain your composure.

Once you felt okay enough to resume sleuthing, you sat up straight. You disgustedly pushed the tape player away from you, letting it rest in the corner of the table. Reaching into the box, you clutched the USB drive between your fingers. Luckily, you had your laptop on the coffee table from the night before, researching all the possible outcomes for John B, even though nothing indicated the outcome of today.

Opening the device and plugging in the drive, you let the files appear on the screen — a folder titled KCPD. Clicking on the file, it revealed two MP3 files to be listened to:

KCPD_Dispatcher276_1042pm.mp3

KCPD_Dispatcher276_1143am.mp3

Your brows furrowed in curiosity. Police files? Why would your mother need police calls to protect Ward? And more importantly, how did she get them?

Turning up the volume on the computer, you double clicked the first audio file, letting it play…

“Kildare County Police Department. This is Dispatcher 276, do you need police, fire, or ambulance?”

“What took someone so long to pick up?! My husband, he’s gone missing! I think he’s been taken, I don’t know-”

“Okay, ma’am, calm down for me, please. What’s your address?”

“Its…8702 Oak Valley Street.” If there was any doubt in your mind before, there wasn’t now — this was your mother calling in to the police department the night your father vanished. And that was your old address, on The Cut.

“Okay, I’m sending police out to you now. Can I ask your name?”

“It’s Rebecca. Rebecca Carter. My husband, his name is Owen, Owen Carter.” She sounded panicked, like she actually cared. You guessed this was the point in time when she did.

“Alright, Rebecca. I need you to answer some questions for me that will help police in locating your husband, okay?”

“Okay.”

“You said his name is Owen, right? What was Owen wearing, do you know?”

“Um, dammit…I think he had on a, um, yellow-ish button down? And a pair of, like, jean shorts and these shoes I’d just bought him, they’re just generic white sneakers, I can’t remember the brand.”

“Okay, that’s fine. And how old is Owen?”

“He just turned thirty-five yesterday. Oh, baby don’t cry. Everything’s gonna be fine, the police are gonna find him…” She was talking to you. You remembered that night so vividly, you were crying so hard with no idea as to what was going on.

“Is there someone else there with you Mrs.Carter?”

“Yes, sorry. It’s my sixteen-year old daughter.”

“Did she see anything? Can I ask her a couple of questions?”

“No. No, she didn’t see anything, she was asleep and she’s not okay to answer any questions.” She sounded appalled that the operator would even ask. “You can ask me.”

“Okay, I’m just trying to get as much information as possible.” The woman on the other end assured. “Did anything happen leading up to your husband’s disappearance?”

“No? I...He said he was going fishing with some of his buddies. He was gone from around noon until around ten tonight.”

“And do you know exactly who he went fishing with?”

“Not all of them. I know that Big John Routledge was there. They’re friends and he lives down the street, our kids are friends, too.”

“And have you tried contacting Mr.Routledge?”

“Yes. His phone went to voicemail both times. Oh my- Y/N, call John B, make sure he’s okay.” That was the worst night of your life. Especially having to call one of your best friends and find out that he hasn’t seen his dad either. You took the worst of night of your life and split the pain with John B.

He called his dad a million times that night.

Every single call went to voicemail and by the end of it, Big John’s voicemail box was full.

“Did your husband say anything before he disappeared? Was he acting strangely?”

“He was just rambling. He just kept saying we had to leave, something about it not being safe. He told me to wake up our daughter while he threw our stuff into bags, when my daughter and I came outside, he was gone and the bags were on the driveway then some truck sped away with it’s tail lights off.”

“Can you describe the truck? Were you able to catch the license plate?”

“No, it was too dark. I just know it was black and it looked almost like a pick-up truck.”

“Okay, we’re gonna do our best to find your husband, Mrs.Carter. I need you to stay on the line with me until the police arrive, alright?”

“Okay…I think I see them now, I can see lights down the streets…Okay, yes, it’s them, I see them. An officer is approaching me, now. Can I hang up?”

“Yes, that’s fine.”

Then the line died out. It was odd to hear that side of your mother again, it seemed so foreign to you now. But you were still left wondering why this had anything to do with your mother covering for Ward? It was just the 911 call. Nothing incriminated Ward himself or her. Maybe it conflicted with the suicide theory? Maybe it made your father’s death look like foul play.

It only made you more eager to listen to the next file, mouse already hovering over the audio. Clicking it twice, you let it play, the familiar static of a phone call sounding out once more before voices were heard.

“Kildare County Police Department. This is Dispatcher 276, do you need police, fire, or ambulance?” It was the same dispatcher from before, same line and everything. Was this the same call or a different one? A quick look at the label had you realizing that it was indeed the second file.

“...I need police.” It was your mother. Again. With the same dispatcher? Maybe the operator on the other end couldn’t say anything or mention the familiarity in her voice, but it was so distinct, there was no way she missed it.

Your father and Big John were the talk of the town for months during everything, I’m sure the operator remembered your mother’s original call.

“What’s your emergency?”

“I found a dead body.” Her voice was so flat.

“...O-okay…Where are you ma’am?”

“Near the Marsh. Behind Ollie’s, that abandoned surf shop off of Deerfield Drive.” That was where they found your dad.

“And are you sure the person is dead?”

“...I’m positive.”

“I’ll send an ambulance as well, just to be safe. What’s your name, miss?”

“I’d like to remain anonymous.”

“Okay…that is your right…” The operator sounded skeptical, but it wasn’t her job to dig any deeper. “Are you comfortable attempting CPR on the victim, miss?”

“...No.” She said firmly. She almost sounded annoyed. “Look, he’s dead. He’s gray and bloated, he’s barely recognizable. Half of his hair is even missing, he’s dead.”

“...Do you know the person in question?”

“What?” Your mother snapped, her voice biting even in the poorly recorded audio. “No, I don’t.”

“Right…well, I need you to stay on the line with me until the police arrive, ma’am. They’re having trouble finding the location.”

“No. No, I can’t do that. How far are they?” Now, she sounded worried. Why call the police in the first place? If she was covering for Ward, why not just push the body back out? Was this a way of controlling the situation?

“They’re not far. I really need you to stay on the line with me-”

“Look, his body’s on the sand. They’ll know it when they see it but I can’t stay on the phone or here. I’m sorry.”

“Ma’am-”

The dispatcher failed in getting your mother to stay connected, hearing the line go dead.

What did these calls have to do with anything and why did she need them? This second call had your head spinning. Why even call at all? Wouldn’t handling it herself be better for her deal with Ward?

It didn’t make much sense but you doubted you ever get the chance to get it from her directly.

There was really only one thing left in the box — the folder. You were hoping, praying, that this had something you could bring to Shoupe, something to bring your circle of evidence to a full close.

Picking up the folder, something rolled out in the bottom of the box.

A plastic bag with a bullet in it. You dropped the folder. Letting it slide to the floor, eyes wide as you pinched the top of the plastic bag between your fingers and held it up, letting it swing in front of your face. A small, bronze bullet sitting inside — spotted with dried blood.

You swiftly used your other hand to pick up the forgotten folder, letting the bullet bag fall back into the box, flipping the folder open, revealing just one thing inside — an autopsy report.

…But this couldn’t be the one the police had on file. This one completely went against what the department said was your father’s cause of death. It documented the gunshot wound to the back of his head, the apparent blunt force injury from when Ward hit him the first time, alongside the slits on his wrist that documented as ‘not consistent with self-inflicted injuries’, as well as noting that they were done post-mortem.

Everything on the paper in front of you pointed to your dad’s death being a homicide, even ruling out any kind of drowning theory considering it says there was no water found in his lungs.

But the best part of this was the fact that you had the bullet. You had the bullet and the report. This? This was evidence. A bullet that could be traced back to Ward’s gun, your father’s DNA on the bullet, and the original autopsy report to prove it all.

You could clear John B. And you could take down Ward.

This wasn’t something someone would be happy about. And considering everything you’d just learned, you should be curled up on the floor balling our eyes out. But you win some you lose some, right?

Knowing how your dad died dampened your heart, of course it did. But nothing could be done now. You could get him some kind of justice and let him rest while getting one of your best friends out of jail. And when it was all said and done, maybe you’d break down crying or throw something else at the wall. But for once, it felt like you were on the winning team.

As soon as you stood from the couch, ready to march down to the Sheriff’s Department, the front door swung open, an angry Kiara throwing her backpack down onto the floor as she paced with her hands atop her head.

“Kie?” You startled the girl. She whipped around with wide eyes, a hand on her chest in shock.

“Jesus…” She breathed, letting her hands fall against her sides. “I didn’t think you’d still be here.”

“I just finished looking through my mom’s things. You won’t believe what I found-”

“Not to be rude or anything, I just really can’t pretend to care right now. My... elitist parents just fucking kicked me out.” She interrupted, drawing her lips into a thin line and turning around as she walked towards the fridge, swinging it open and pulling out a beer. “I mean, they’re acting like I was gone for weeks. It was like two freaking days. Can’t they just be grateful that I’m even alive?” She ranted, taking a long swig of the drink, wincing as it went down.

Your eyes followed her as she walked to place herself on the far end of the couch.

“Like I’m sitting there telling them about John B and how he needs a lawyer and they start talking about how everything I do is for ‘those boys’ as if they aren’t my fucking friends. So, I told them I hate living there and all of sudden I’m homeless. My mom told me if I wanna be a pogue then I can go live like one. And you know what? That’s exactly what I’m gonna. She wants to kick me out so I can live like a pogue? I’ll show her a pogue. Next thing you know she’ll be pleading for me to come back home…” She shrugged, her monologue finally ending as she slumped into the couch.

You were gobsmacked at her words. She’ll show her a pogue?

“Wow…” You reacted, eyes impossibly wide as your jaw went slack. Kiara simply cocked an eyebrow at you, gulping before opening her lips to speak.

“What?” She asked, shaking her head as to say ‘spit it out’.

“Nothing, nothing…” You scoffed. “While you were off claiming your pogue card I actually found something that can clear John B, if you even care-”

“What do you mean claiming my pogue card? Am I not a pogue?-”

“Apparently only when it’s convenient for you to be one.” You cut her off. “You really think I, me, someone with nothing but a couple hundred dollars to my name and no family left but a dog. who by the way, got taken, wants to hear you complain about being kicked out of your single family home because you are choosing to be a pogue?” You told her, tone harsh. “And then you have the nerve to brag about living like a pogue solely to piss off your parents like you don’t have five friends going through hell right now.”

“...Just because I have money doesn’t make me any less of a pogue, I still go through shit just like the rest of you-”

“Why is that all you care about?!” You shouted, hands balling into fists at the sides of your head in frustration. “Pogue this, pogue that — you wanna be real for a minute, Kie? You aren’t a pogue, okay? And your obsession with proving that you are one is really starting to get old. By means of all the laws in the pogue handbook, you’re a kook. And you’re really starting to show it right now.” You explained, looking her up and down. “So, you can sit here and mope. I’m gonna find JJ so we can get our friend out of jail.” You spat, swinging the front door of The Chateau open and walking out, leaving a stunned Kiara behind.

YOU BANGED ON THE PASSENGER SIDE DOOR OF THE AMBULANCE WHEN YOU RAN UP, A head of blonde hair visible through the window. JJ’s gaze whipped to the side, muttering under his breath as he pushed the door open for you. Hopping into the passenger seat, you shut the door behind you, pushing your hair out of your face.

“Finally decided to hop on the ‘get John B out of jail’ train, then?” He sassed, grimacing at the end of the sentence as he avoided your eyes.

“You must be at the wrong station because that train has already left.” You retorted, you saw his eyebrows pinch in on each other before he turned around — eyes going wide as he saw the plastic bag pinched between your fingers.

“...What is that?” He asked, eyes fleeting between the swinging bullet and the folder in your lap.

“This is the bullet the medical examiner pulled from my father’s head. Shot from Ward’s gun and coated in my father’s blood. And this?” You picked up the folder. “Is what I’m assuming is the original autopsy report that proves that my dad was killed.”

“...Why are you so happy about this?” He asked, face downturned into an expression of pity.

“Not sure.” You said, letting the items fall into your lap. “I think it’s either that it hasn’t kicked in yet or I just don’t have any real shock left in me after everything that’s happened. Either way, this is our ticket to getting John B out of the dog pound. So, whatever plan you’ve conjured up, abort it.”

Suddenly, JJ was sucking in air through his teeth. “No can do, princess.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m still mad at you.” You told him, deadpan expression on face.

“Which I still don’t get why-”

“Look, we can talk about it later. Don’t hold me to that because I still want to shove my entire foot up your ass-

"Wait, how did you find me?"

"...I have your location, JJ."

"How did you get here? I don't see your car-"

"I walked. Well, ran. My car didn't have gas-"

"You know I hate when you walk around at night by yourself-"

"Aw, boohoo, as if you actually care."

"Uh, as a matter of fact, I do. You know I do."

"Yeah, right." You scoffed.

"If you were planning on acting like this, why did you come find me?"

He had you there. "...To make sure you were okay. But that's not important, okay? You need to drop your plan and we need to get to the police station so I can give this to Shoupe-”

“Again, no can do. I already stole my cousin’s truck, I have to go through with Plan A.”

“Which is…?”

“...We break Bree out of jail, to put it mildly.” He shrugged, avoiding your gaze once again.

“...Weren’t you the one telling me that we’re already down a Pogue and not to add any more crimes to the list?”

“Well, I was left with no other choice.” He replied, throwing his hands up.

“Maybe if you weren’t such an impatient little shit-” You stopped talking when a police car pulled up next to the ambulance, the road empty aside for the two vehicles. The two of you fell into silence, immediately dropping the conversation and looking ahead of yourselves nonchalantly, or at least attempting to.

“...I hate when it’s slow like this, you know?” The officer in the squad car beside you started conversation. You and JJ both turned your heads in sync.

“Tell me ‘bout it, man.” JJ said cooly, resting his hands atop the steering wheel.

“Hey, what happened to Ricky?” The officer inquired, leaning further in his seat. Ricky was JJ’s cousin, the one he stole the van from. “He bang out?”

JJ exhaled, sticking his head out of the window to talk to him more clearly. “Somethin’ like that?”

Fortunately, a female voice broke through the radio inside of the ambulance. “One three Eddie. We got an unknown at KC Detention.”

JJ was quick to pick up the radio and respond. “Uh, yep, ten-four. We’ll be right there. Thank you so much. Over.” Slipping the radio back into its holder, JJ turned back to the officer in the squad car. “Duty calls.” He grimaced, sending the man a light-tipped smile. “I’ll see you later, Officer. You have a good night, though, okay?”

He shifted gears and prepared to drive off while you looked out the passenger side window, fist against your lips.

“Hold up…” The man demanded, your heart dropping to your ass. “I got nothing to do. I’ll pace you.” He smiled, shifting his own gear and driving off.

JJ whipped his gaze between you and the road, you threw a hand out in the direction of the windshield. “Well, don’t look at me. Follow him.”

ARRIVING AT THE DETENTION CENTER, The guard at the front gate inspected the inside of the ambulance quickly through the driver side window, simply shining a flashlight inside and waving it around before giving you both the green light to proceed into facility.

“I thought this was supposed to be the most advanced security system on the planet.” You muttered under your breath, joking mainly to yourself but you caught JJ smile smally to himself in the corner of your eye.

Reversing the vehicle into the loading dock, a woman approached the driver’s side with a clipboard in her hands, motioning for you and JJ to get out and follow her. You gave each other one last weary look before exiting the vehicle, the woman waiting on the both of you as you came to a stop in front of her.

Her brows pinched together, looking you both up and down. “Where’s Ricky?”

“Ricky?” JJ inquired back, eyebrows raising high as he swung the keys to the van around his fingers. “Food Poisoning.” He shrugged. “Y’know Ming Dynasty off of Highway Twenty-Five? Them egg rolls, dude…They’ll get you good.” He covered as the woman seemed to buy it, nodding her head.

“And where’s your uniform?” She was directing her question towards you.

“I’m…” You dragged out, hands in your back pockets as you searched for the right thing to say. “Training. Yeah, I’m...not certified, just his ride along for the day.” You said cooly, not trying to seem to eager.

The woman seemed to accept your answer as well, sighing and turning around with clipboard in her hand as she walked you further into the loading bay.

“Patient fell out. No LOC but he’s orthostatic.” She explained to the both of you. “Stage four lymphoma. He’s been in and out of chemo for the last three months.” At this, you and JJ exchanged glances. JJ had explained that his idiotic plan of the day was to break John B out of jail. Since when did John B grow a stage four lymphoma?

Your questions were answered when the jail door buzzed and an officer came out, rolling an inmate out in a wheelchair that had too many years under his belt to be John B. JJ’s key swinging stopped as he eyed the patient in the chair, clearly not who he was hoping for as you drew your lips into a thin line and shot the blonde the most disappointed look ever.

“Uhh, is that the only patient here tonight, ma’am?” He asked nervously, peering harshly into the small rectangular window in the door.

She just chuckled as she and the officer wheeled the man closer to the van doors. “Why? You wanna take more than one tonight?”

“I mean, I would if I had to.” He perked up, spinning around to face the woman. “I’m just saying, I was called in because my patient had appendicitis?” He tried to reason, taking the hat off of his head.

It was clear to see that the woman was now skeptical, cocking an eyebrow and crossing her arms. “...This is our only patient.” She said simply, eyeing the two of you back and forth. “Where did you say you work?”

“Kildare County.” You shot out while JJ was too busy stuttering. You shot the woman a lazy, welcoming smile.

“I worked over there. Never seen you.”

“Like I said, I’m new and not even certified yet. And my superior here, he just transferred from another facility, right? That’s what you told me, isn’t it?” You turned to JJ, trying to play into the whole power dynamic role here.

“Uh, yeah, that’s right.” He said, fitting the hat back onto his head and pulling out the keys. “Look, I would love to sit and chat but we gotta get our patient to the hospital-” He rambled, walking over to the double doors of the vehicle and attempting the first key.

“JJ…” The man in the wheelchair slurred. “Is that you?”

JJ simply looked to you and then the man in the chair before averting his eyes to the woman. “He’s delusional as shit.” No one seemed to see it as a red flag, allowing the blonde to continue trying to open the door to the vehicle. “We just got new rigs up at our facility, so…” He tried to avert any suspicion.

You don’t know how JJ didn’t know what key opened the door but luckily, you did. When you were younger, his cousin Ricky used to let you, JJ, and John B go for joyrides in the back. The key to open the van was the only silver key on the ring. But you didn’t want to raise suspicion.

“Hey, let me.” You told JJ, holding your palm out. “I broke the key ring the other day, remember? So, the keys are all out of whack, sorry about that.” You directed your apologies to the two people on standby. Isolating the silver key and entering it into the slot, the lock turned easily allowing you to open the doors.

“Alright, let’s get him on up there.”

JJ assisted the officer in loading the patient into the back of the van just as the phone on the wall began to ring. JJ’s eyes snapped to the phone and to the clock, obviously worried.

“Where’s your partner?” The woman asked JJ. His eyes went to you as he pointed in your direction. “No, she’s not a certified EMT. You need another certified EMT to look after your patient while you’re driving.”

“Can’t she drive?”

“No…” The woman said skeptically. “Again, only certified EMT’s can drive EMT Mandated Vehicles. Do you not know your own policies?”

“No, I do. I do, Uh, what about you officer? Can’t you drive?”

He simply shook his head. “No, he’s an inmate. I gotta be in the back.”

“Okay…Hold on, officer. “JJ started, clearly taking the high moral ground approach. “You’re saying that you’re gonna be responsible for me not taking care of my patient and not giving my ride-along her needed experience to get this oh-so important certification? Is that what you’re tellin’ me?” He continued, actually seeming to do a good job of convincing the two. “Look at him. He’s weak, feeble, and...pale and shit. And I gotta do medical stuff on him, and show my partner how to do medical stuff on him, or else we’re gonna lose him, okay?” He said, hopping into the back of the van as he tossed the officer the keys, holding out a hand to help you up as well.

You took it, using his assistance to get into the vehicle. “You don’t want that on your hands, do you?” He egged on the officer, the man looking back at the woman in charge.

“...This didn’t happen.” He told her, hesitantly rounding the car to get into the driver’s seat as JJ closed the doors while the woman went to answer the phone. The two of you stared out of the window in the back at her as she talked on the phone, her eyes whipping towards the vehicle you were in just as the officer started to drive off. Her eyes were as wide as golfballs.

As the van exited the loading bay and passed the entrance gates, you and JJ sat down in the van across from one another when a thought crossed your mind. Nudging JJ’s thigh with the tip of your sneakers, he looked at you.

“What?”

“The folder.” You whispered, jutting your head in the direction of the driver and passenger seat.

“What about it?”

You sighed, smacking your teeth and rolling your eyes. “It’s in the passenger seat, JJ. The folder is sitting in the passenger seat next to the officer.”

Then his own eyes were going wide. “Well, why did you leave it there?” He whispered back harshly.

“Maybe because I didn’t think a police officer would be driving the van while we camped out in the back playing paramedics!” You whisper-shouted back. Just then, a voice broke through the radio up front, it came from the officer’s personal radio.

“10-63 in progress. I repeat, 10-63 in progress. Do you copy?”

“...Copy.” He replied.

“Continue with the patient onto the hospital. We have backup on the way do you copy?” The woman on the radio copied back, you and JJ looked at each other, worry clear in both of your eyes.

“I read. Ten-four.” He said finally, his eyes peering at the two of you in the back through the rear view mirror.

JJ cleared his throat, leaning forward. “Officer, everything good up there?” The man didn’t respond, simply sliding the plastic cover shut that allowed the people within the different sections of the van to communicate, leaving you and JJ in silence. “...Officer?”

You took initiative and got up, pulling at the handle to see if it would open from the inside.

It wouldn’t.

Just then, blue lights and police sirens gathered your attention, looking up to see at least three police squad cars tailing the ambulance. “Shit…” You cursed, finally starting to let the panic kick in. “JJ.” You turned to the blonde behind you with his hands on his head.

“Get a hold of Pope or Kie or Sarah, tell them where we are, and to find out a way to stop the van. If I lose that folder, we lose everything.”

As JJ texted, you couldn’t take your eyes off of the police cars. It felt like everything was going wrong at once. You finally had what you needed to potentially end this nightmare and it was all going down the drain.

Were you all paying for the sins of the people in your lives that came before you or something? What could a couple of teenagers do to deserve a life like this?

Just then, you and JJ went flying forward as the van came to an abrupt stop. You landed on top of the blonde who landed on his back, your foreheads butting painfully.

“Go! Get out of the way!” The police officer yelled to whoever caused him to stop, you and JJ getting up simultaneously when Kiara’s faint voice filled the air, muffled.

“Sorry! I’m so sorry!” Without hesitation, you and JJ bumrushed the door, basically breaking it open and hopping out. You knew you couldn’t go anywhere without it, so in one swift motion you ran to the front of the vehicle, swung open the passenger seat and took the folder, the officer too busy yelling at Kie to even notice, even you carefully let the door shut on its own.

You eventually caught up to JJ, the two of you booking it into the woods without a single cop on your trail. Hopefully, Kiara would take the hint and meet the two of you on the other side.

And that she did.

Coming out of the trees, you spotted her SUV parked and waiting on a secluded street, you and JJ practically rolling inside.

“Go! Go!” JJ urged, slamming the door behind him as you both straightened in the back seat.

“Where?!” Kiara asked, pressing her foot on the petal.

“The police station.” You told her, folder in your lap as you made sure everything was still there. “Go to the police station.”

“AND YOU’RE SURE THIS’LL WORK?” Pope piped up from the passenger seat as Kiara pulled to a stop in front of the police station. You sighed, looking out of the window and up at the building.

“No.” You told them bluntly, looking at the three people in the car. “But what other choice do we have?” Those were the words you left your friends with as you exited the car and walked up the steps to the Kildare County Police Department.

Walking through the double doors, you spotted a female officer behind the desk, her eyes shooting up as you stood in front of the counter. She eyed the folder clutched to your chest, then looked at you once more.

“...Is there something you need?”

You swallowed harshly, holding the folder tighter against your chest. “I need to see Sheriff Shoupe and Pathologist Daniels.”

“LISTEN, KID. THIS BETTER BE IMPORTANT ‘CAUSE I GOT A WHOLE LOTTA OTHER SHIT I OUGHTA BE DOIN’ RIGHT NOW.” Shoupe warned as he settled into the wheelie chair behind his desk. A man, who you assumed was the pathologist you’d requested, stood on the right side of the man in charge. He looked too calm for your liking.

You were sat in the chair across from Shoupe, the man cocking an eyebrow as he settled into his seat and clasped his hands atop the desk. “C’mon, now. I ain’t got all day-”

“You’re the pathologist, right? M. Daniels?” You cut off Shoupe, eyeing the man behind him. You were calmer than you thought you’d be. He failed to respond but the answer was clear when Shoupe looked at the man to his left, who was staring at you.

He shifted his weight, shoving his hands in his pockets. He didn’t have on any kind of uniform or coat. He didn’t even look like he was on the clock. “...That would be me.”

“Okay.” You said, sitting up straighter in the chair. “Do you recall performing an autopsy on Owen Carter? The man who went missing along with Big John Routledge almost a year ago and was found dead?”

He scratched his head, looking to Shoupe for a brief second before looking away and gathering himself. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

“And what were the results of that autopsy?”

“Ah- I…don’t believe I’m allowed to disclose-”

“Just answer her question, Daniels.” Shoupe sighed, almost annoyed. “It’s his daughter.”

The pathologist’s eyes went wide, lips falling apart. He swallowed harshly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “To the best of my knowledge, it was concluded that your father’s injuries were consistent with suicide. There were two sizeable slits made to each wrist which severed several arteries and veins, which he bled out from.”

You nodded suspiciously, sitting up straighter in your seat. “Mhm. And what about the other two injuries?”

“...What?” The man’s faux obliviousness only made you feel better about your next move — flipping open the folder in your lap and placing the original document on the desk for Shoupe and his employee to examine.

Daniels looked like he was wrong move away from shitting bricks, a bead of sweat immediately forming on his hairline.

“The other two injuries.” You reiterated, pointing at the autopsy report on the table as you spoke. “You see, in this report, there are four injuries documented — the two slits on his wrists, which were concluded as not consistent with self-inflicted injuries, alongside the blunt force injury to his right temple and a gunshot wound to the back of his head with no exit point-”

“Now, hold on just a minute-”

“I’ll get to you in a second, Shoupe.” You snapped, piercing eyes gazing into the Sheriff’s before they drifted towards the pathologist once again. “In this report, signed with your signature, it’s concluded that my father’s cause of death was the gunshot wound, not the slits to his wrists that, in your own written words, were ‘made post-mortem’.”

“Alright, alright,” Shoupe cut in, leaning forward on the wooden tabletop. “You can’t just come in here with some unofficial documents claiming that, what exactly, he covered up your father’s death?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. The paper is right in front of you, Shoupe-”

“That paper don’t mean a damn thing. You could’ve printed this out at the local library for all I know.”

You simply scoffed. This man was truly unbelievable. Denial was one thing, blatant disregard was another. “You know what? You’re right. I could’ve have just printed this out and ran down here in hopes to accuse some random pathologist of covering up my father’s murder. But if that were the case…” You dragged out, lifting the plastic bag with the bullet inside up for the two men to see. “Where would I have gotten this, Shoupe?”

“The hell is that?...” Shoupe squinted, eyeing the swinging object as you sat it down the desk and pushed it towards him. The pathologist was visibly shaking at this point.

“The gunshot wound I mentioned? That’s the bullet that made the injury. The bullet that, Doctor Daniels here, extracted from his skull and basically pawned off. Along with the original autopsy report.”

Shoupe looked up at the man from his seat — Daniels face was a dangerous shade of red, sweat dripping down the sides of his face now. Then, he was turning back to you. “Pawned off to who exactly? Where’d you get all of this?”

“That’s the easiest question you’ve asked me all night.” You quipped. “I got all of this from my mother.”

“...Don’t play games with me, kid.”

“No one is playing games, Sheriff.” You assured. “Haven’t you noticed that she hasn’t been dragging me around Figure Eight for the last couple of weeks?" You pointed out. "I figured out she’d been working with the man who killed my father, taking payments from him periodically ever since my dad died in exchange for her legal services. I got all of this out of a locked drawer in her law office. Haven’t been home since.”

“Working with the man who killed your father? Now, why would she do that?”

“Beats me. My theory is the money. Or maybe because he’s too powerful of a man to take down alone. You actually know him quite well.” You told him. “Ward Cameron?”

Shoupe scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “...You’re trying to tell me that…that Ward, killed your father and then recruited your mother to help him cover it up?” He asked incredulously. “Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?”

“I’m aware of how it sounds.” You hissed, squinting your eyes meanly at the man. “But you cannot deny what’s in front of you, Shoupe. I know Ward is your friend and you want to trust him but we’ve been trying to open your eyes for weeks now. Just consider the facts.” You reprimanded, planting your hands on the desk. “The day Peterkin was murdered, Ward’s plane was the one leaving the tarmac. Gavin, the man me and my friends saw him kill? That was his pilot and he had the gun that Rafe used to kill Peterkin, the same gun we turned into you that he was blackmailing Ward with it. Big John and my dad? They were both out on the water with Ward that day and somehow, Ward was the only one who was still alive a day later." You explained, laying out the pieces. "Can’t you see, Shoupe? He’s playing you.”

“No...” He shook his head, standing from his seat as you followed. “This don’t make any sense…”

“It does. Just listen, for once. Even if I’m wrong, which I’m not, this connects Ward to at least four crimes within this year alone. That has to be enough to bring him in for questioning.”

“Questioning?” He laughed, hand on his forehead as he paced. “Question him about what? Some autopsy report you dug up and a…random bullet?"

“It’s not a random bullet.” You snapped, eyes on the pathologist who was frozen in place. “You didn’t immediately change the report, did you?” The man shook his head despondently, probably silently coming to terms with the fact that his career and life was over. “You changed it when my mother came to you, she wanted you to forge the report to say that my father killed himself and to give her the bullet. But you couldn’t, because you’d already sent it off to the officer on the case to be sent to ballistics, so all you could do was alter the autopsy report, right?” You theoreticized frantically. “Right.” You concluded when he nodded silently, eyes back on Shoupe.

“So, what does she do next?” You threw out, eyes following Shoupe’s frame as he walked slow circles around the room. “The only way she can get the bullet is to go to the officer in charge of the case. She pays them off and secures the bullet before it’s placed into evidence. Her only mistake? The ballistics report had already been processed.” This got Shoupe’s attention, his pacing ceasing as he made eye contact with you. “I read your departments policies online. This county’s police department doesn’t allow files to be deleted without authorization from their superior. They can be deleted from an officer’s personal desktop, but the file is ultimately sent to the trash bin within your computer to be deleted completely if you choose to do so. So, there’s a very good chance that, since you are now the superior following Peterkin’s death, the ballistics report that never made it back to her, is sitting on your computer right now.” You said all in one breath, motioning for the closed laptop on his desk.

Shoupe’s eyes went between you and the laptop before he seemed to cave, sighing heavily and basically slamming himself back down into his chair and opening the device. He typed and scrolled and clicked for a few moments before you saw a visible change in his demeanor. You were still standing, looming over the older man as he searched.

“...There’s a deleted ballistics report from the officer that was on your father’s case.” He sounded defeated. “The bullet examined was extracted from the body of Owen Carter and was concluded to be fired from a… Colt Rail gun, serial number 18J…Dammit, Ward.” He sighed, clearly realizing the truth. At least you knew he’d at least looked up the gun in the system when you all gave it to him. It was about damn time he did his job with integrity. “What the hell I’m supposed to do with all this, kid? Huh? You just made my job a whole lot harder…”

“I want you to drop the charges against John B.” You told him firmly. “If you need to run the bullet again, run it. If you need to analyze the autopsy report, do it. I don’t care. John B didn’t kill anyone and you know it. You have a minor sitting in jail right now with the death penalty hanging above his head. And I am telling you right now, Shoupe. If John B dies," You warned, walking towards the door

"...I will kill Ward Cameron my damn self and take your entire department down with me.”

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

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