#sorry this is straight up chapter length

[januaryembrs]

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

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

Length. 15.2k

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

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

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

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

The one with the wedding

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bugsy- oh my god your arm,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was asleep before she could protest to it. 

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How is she?” He asked, lips pursed. 

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

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

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

Because it was Penny. And Penny always meant well. 

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The thought haunted him for the rest of the night.

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But she was okay. Broken bones and all. 

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

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

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

“I’m-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And they danced between chuckles for another half an hour. 

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She looked like a dream.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2. The one with Maeve

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

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

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

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

He was talking to Maeve. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh I’m so- Bugsy?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She couldn’t choke it down anymore.  

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

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

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

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

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

That wasn’t what just friends did. 

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

3. The one with their first date

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

JJ knew not to ask any more than that. 

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s exactly what he would say.

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

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

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

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

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

Bugsy looked like she’d seen a ghost. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nodded back, and they went silent. 

They’d found themselves back at that stalemate. 

--

TAGLIST:

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[cloudwhisper23]

I'm too lazy to format, so if you want proper formatting on this, I've posted it on Ao3! This is a continuation from the last art trade I did with @pixlokita about their Werebunny Jeremy AU (we've decided to call it Cut Right Through Me)

Below the cut is the link to the story on Ao3, and the full part that I just completed! Fair warning, this is a pretty decent length, roughly 9k words. Enjoy!

“You’re mean, you know that?” Jeremy said irritably as he dropped into the passenger seat.

“I don’t care. He’s dangerous, Jeremy.”

“Dangerous, yet you apparently have been calling him,” Jeremy muttered, slouching in the chair.

“To find you! Speaking of, where were you this week?”

“Around.”

“Not home.” Ramona shot him a glare as she backed out of the driveway. “Which by the way, I went to your house. It’s an absolute mess. And you know how to get bloodstains out of things-“

“I was going to get to it.” Don’t mention Percy, please don’t remind me. Jeremy wished he was back in Michael’s house, still being interrogated for being there. It was much better than the absolute grilling he was getting from his sister.

“You’re lucky I helped clean up,” Ramona sniffed. “And you owe me for Percy’s vet bills, by the way. I know you’re a disaster on a regular basis, but whatever crisis you had will not get you out of your responsibilities mister.”

“Vet bills?” Jeremy echoed, flinching slightly when she mentioned Percy.

“Yeah, I had to take Percy to the vet. Some animal must’ve broken into your house after you ran off or something because he was hiding in your room scared out of his wits and covered in dried blood. He’ll be fine, but honestly. What could’ve been so important that you ran off and left Percy to fend for himself?”

“I didn’t know Percy survived,” Jeremy answered quietly.

“Well, you should’ve checked,” Ramona replied grimly. “He’s only still alive because I went to find you.”

“Yeah…” Jeremy pulled his shirt up over his head to bury the way his eyes were swimming. Everything was just too much for him right now. “Can you just- Can we go back to your house? I don’t think I can go home right now.”

“That’s where we’re headed,” Ramona answered gently. “I’m sorry to yell at you, Jer. I really am. I was just worried.”

“I know…” Jeremy rubbed his face into the soft fabric of the shirt. He wished he could’ve had a chance to apologize or make some kind of effort to befriend Michael before they’d abruptly left. “If it helps, I hardly remember anything from the last few days.”

“I noticed.” Ramona’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. “Hey, maybe we could go visit Becky for a bit. I know it’s been a while since I’ve seen her. I’m guessing you haven’t seen her lately either.”

“I can’t,” Jeremy said softly. He didn’t know when he’d transform again, and he couldn’t bear to have it happen around his family, not when he knew that Becky would dig straight for the cause of it, probably making him have to go through it longer than he wanted anyway. He wanted to have something for his friend to work with when he shared the problem.

Or maybe he wanted to handle something himself for once.

“Jer, are you sure? Not to push you or anything, but I’m probably going to head there at the end of the week. I was already planning the trip before you vanished, and now that you’re back-“

“I wouldn’t want to stop you from going,” Jeremy interrupted firmly. “I need to finish up some loose ends around here before I’d go. But if you could take Percy with you, I’d appreciate it.”

Maybe it would be best to just disappear. To be hunted and killed like the monster he was while Ramona was out of town. While she was safe.

“If you’re sure,” Ramona said, sounding hesitant still. “I’ll take Percy with me. I’m sure Becky misses him as much as he probably misses her.”

“Well, he is the son of her old dog. I’d be surprised if she didn’t miss him,” Jeremy answered, finally peeking out of his shirt.

“You’re such a big baby sometimes, Jeremy,” Ramona said softly, shaking his shoulder. “We’ll get you sorted out. Maybe find you a man to help you relieve your stress. You certainly need that-“

“Stop, stop. We’re not having this conversation-“

“If you just tried to have a relationship-“

“I thought you were all about not having a man to rely on for everything,” Jeremy countered.

“Well, I have different biases.”

“You only agreed because Becky said it first,” Jeremy accused, elbowing his sister.

“Hey, no assaulting the driver. Besides, I never said you have to rely on him for everything. Just… some things.”

“I’m less shallow than you,” Jeremy replied, huffing as he returned his gaze to the window.

“Oh, I doubt that. I saw the way you were eying up Michael. You wanted him,” Ramona teased.

“Oh, come on, I’m allowed to think a guy is hot, Mona! And he’s-“

“Just your type. Except I don’t think his personality is right for you. He’s too bitter, too grouchy. Not good enough for my little ball of sunshine.”

“I have four inches on you,” Jeremy argued.

“Not where it counts,” Ramona hummed in reply. “But seriously. I’m going to emphasize this, so pay attention. Don’t you dare go pining after Michael Afton.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “I think you already burned that bridge too badly to rebuild.”

“Good. But if there’s still a silver of doubt in your mind, I’m going to update you on everything once we get home. That man has a bloody history.”

“So you’re calling him some kind of monster?” Jeremy scoffed. “Come on, he called you right away when he found me, didn’t he?”

“How do we know it was right away? Maybe he drugs people for kicks and-“

“Just because I don’t remember the last few days does not mean I don’t remember last night. And nothing happened! We didn’t have sex, I promise you.”

“Mhm,” Ramona sounded unconvinced. “If you say so.”

“I’m never going to get you to believe me on any of this stuff, am I?” Jeremy groaned hiding his face as it burned. He shouldn’t be thinking of Michael in that context, especially now. “You’re so mean to me.”

“I love you too, Jeremy.”

Jeremy went to take a nap when he got to his sister’s apartment, crashing immediately on the couch. He needed to fix his sleep for work later that night anyway.

Ramona dragged him away from his nap to give him a bunch of information about the background of Fazbear Entertainment, and the whole reason she was suspicious of Michael. Clearly, she wasn’t done with their earlier conversation. She really doesn’t believe that I’ll leave it alone, Jeremy thought to himself as she dropped a bunch of newspaper clippings into his lap.

“He killed his little brother, Jeremy.”

“Allegedly.” Jeremy’s eyebrows furrowed as he skimmed the newspaper.

“And his father killed a bunch of kids back in 1985. At the same location you’ve been working at.”

“They never proved that,” Jeremy argued. He shoved the paper away, avoiding looking at the image of Evan Afton. The kid gave him an uneasy feeling.

“You can’t deny the evidence. Just because they weren’t convicted of murder doesn’t mean they didn’t kill anyone.”

That’s exactly what that’s supposed to mean, actually. Jeremy’s mouth thinned. He gave the newspapers back to his sister. “Okay, fine. Whatever.”

“Jeremy-“

“Can I please just take a nap in peace?” Jeremy begged. “I don’t need this extra stuff.”

Jeremy was glad to be able to get away again later that day. He knew his sleep was skewed, and he’d probably be exhausted for work, but he didn’t care. That was one thing he could rely on to be consistent. They’d be fine so long as he clocked in on time and clocked out. And if the animatronics caught him off guard, so be it.

He’d missed enough shifts already, and even without his uniform, he’d be fine going into work. Who was going to see him anyway?

He clocked in early, fiddling with his flashlight as he started his patrol. It was considered dumb to do things like this, he knew, but he hadn’t had any issues with walking around during his shift yet. And even if he did, he doubted the animatronics could do much to him anyway, now that he remembered the incident with Toy Bonnie.

The only real question was whether or not that golden bear would come back to kick him out again, but since Jeremy had never seen the bear before that time, he guessed it was a very rare occurrence thing that only happened if an animatronic was hurt or damaged. Then why wouldn’t it be protecting Mangle?

Shaking the weird thought out of his head, Jeremy stepped into Parts and Service, hoping he’d see the glint of his keys somewhere on the floor. Fritz usually forgot to lock up, and Jeremy had taken up the habit of locking up behind him. Since he’d lost his keys the last time he’d been in for a shift, he figured they’d be around somewhere.

He found himself out of luck. Sighing, Jeremy checked that all the old animatronics were still on the floor. Bonnie was still around, and with a twinge of guilt, Jeremy spotted Toy Bonnie’s mangled remains tucked between Bonnie’s torso and his arm. Best not to think too hard about that, Jeremy told himself, turning the beam to the rest of the room.

The faintest rustling noise had Jeremy immediately back on his guard. He turned to see a locker door falling open, revealing a golden suit. His grip on his flashlight tightened as he stared at the golden rabbit costume. It didn’t seem to move much more.

Maybe it was something they used during the day shifts? They were short a Bonnie after all. Still, a golden variation seemed odd as it was on the complete opposite end of the color spectrum from the other two Bonnie models Jeremy had seen.

He was almost tempted to look closer it at, but he knew better than to mess with the animatronics. Especially after his run-in with Toy Bonnie. He did not want to stir up the crazy bear thing again, no thank you.

Shaking his head, Jeremy turned back toward the door. Then he hesitated. The red light on the security camera was blinking at him. Who was in the security office?

Deciding to forget the rest of his early patrol for now, Jeremy made his way back to the office to see a very grumpy Michael shining a flashlight down the hall at him, a small boy also looking at him from a perch on top of the desk.

“Uh… hi?” That’s not Scott, Jeremy’s mind supplied. The realization hit him a moment later as he recognized the boy from Ramona’s newspaper clippings. Evan Afton.

His eyes seemed almost hypnotizing as he glared at Jeremy. “Huh. So you did survive then. Fancy that.”

“I… thanks?” Jeremy finished making his way into the office, weary of the kid on the desk. “Do I know you?”

Evan snorted. “Don’t be stupid. No.”

“Oh. Okay?”

Michael made an impatient noise. “Jeremy, don’t just stand in the doorway like a lost animatronic. Sit down if you’re going to bother me.”

“Right. Sorry.” Jeremy hurriedly went to sit down in the rusty folding chair next to Michael. “How did you know I’d be here?”

“I didn’t. That chair has just been here every shift I’ve worked,” Michael answered, checking through the cameras. “I can’t believe you’re insane enough to do that though.”

“Do what?”

“Go into Parts and Service. Cassidy doesn’t like it when people come in there,” Evan supplied. “Nobody’s supposed to go in there at night.”

“It’s part of my patrol,” Jeremy said defensively.

“You’re insane for doing a patrol in the first place!” Michael exclaimed. “I thought you’d broken in or something, and I was going to handle it, but Evan said that’s Cassidy’s job. Which, you had to be testing her patience with how long you stuck around in there.”

“I feel like I should be worried.”

“You should be.” Evan assessed him as Michael went back to focusing on the cameras. “I thought the rabbit thing killed you, you know.”

“Should I know what you’re talking about?” Jeremy asked, uncomfortable as the ghost boy studied him. He made Jeremy exceedingly uneasy, and he couldn’t describe why.

A helpful thought decided to interject for a moment, thankfully making him feel a little bit safer. Michael couldn’t have killed his brother. Otherwise, why would they be working together like this?

“Yeah.” Evan tossed a crumpled hat into Jeremy’s lap. “This is yours, right?”

Startled, Jeremy scrambled to catch it, seeing the black stains spotting the rim and front of his hat. Because it was his hat, the one he’d been wearing the last time he transformed. Battered and covered in black oil and whatever that other fluid was, his hat was mostly still intact.

“Where did you get this?” Jeremy asked, smoothing it out to shove it back over his head.

Amused, Evan let out another scoff. “Do you even have a brain? I lost half mine, and I can still connect the dots.”

“His sister is much quicker than he is, that’s for sure,” Michael replied before Jeremy could sputter out a reply.

“You guys are mean.” Jeremy crossed his arms with a pout.

“If you’re going to be here, you can check the hallway and the left vent.” Michael tapped his flashlight, ignoring his words.

“Right, yeah okay.” Jeremy shone the beam of his flashlight down the hallway. “So, what? You’ve just been in the pizzeria the entire time?”

“Yeeep,” Evan answered, leaning across the desk to change the camera and wind the music box. “Most don’t usually live to see the sunrise after they’ve seen me though.”

“Lucky them,” Michael muttered, pulling the camera monitor out of his brother’s reach. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re a big grouch,” Evan retorted. He peered into the left vent. “Eugh, that stupid balloon kid is here. Scram!” His shout made whatever was in the vent squeal and scramble away.

Jeremy blinked. “So the animatronics are just scared of you?”

“Not all of them.” Evan answered with a meaningful look at the camera. “Just the insignificant ones.”

“Which translates to, all of them except the Puppet,” Michael added.

“I don’t scare Cassidy.”

“Cassidy’s not an animatronic, Evan.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Evan sighed. “She hates me.”

“I still doubt that.” Michael clicked to the Parts and Service camera, frowning. “You didn’t touch anything while you were back there, did you?”

“Not a thing. I was hoping to find my keys, but-“ Jeremy yelped as Evan tossed a set of keys at him. His flashlight crashed to the ground as he scrambled to catch them before they hit him. “Oh. Thanks, I guess?”

“You’re welcome.” Evan peered at the camera his brother was looking at. “You’re sure you didn’t touch anything?”

“I didn’t!” Jeremy protested, even as both brothers looked at him suspiciously. “I was tempted to touch the yellow rabbit guy when he fell out of that locker, but I didn’t, I promise.”

“Yellow rabbit?” Evan’s eyebrows scrunched. “I’ll be right back.”

Michael seemed worried too, his own mouth tightening into a thin line.

“What’s the deal with the… yellow rabbit?” Jeremy ventured to ask.

“Don’t worry about it I’m guessing you must not have seen him the night he was in here. Were you attacked by Toy Bonnie or something?”

“Uh, yeah.” Jeremy chuckled nervously, his spine prickling as he realized that they were probably talking about him. “But I can’t say I’ve seen any yellow rabbits before today.”

“Weird. Evan said he and Cassidy scared it off the last time.” Michael frowned deeper. “It crammed itself into a locker?”

“Well, I don’t know about that. But it was in a locker. I thought it was an animatronic though.”

“It is,” Michael supplied stiffly. “But it’s harmless. It shouldn’t be able to move at all.

“…” Jeremy opened his mouth to ask another question, but he didn’t know how to phrase it.

“Don’t worry about it, okay? Evan’s got it handled,” Michael replied sharply. “Just keep checking the vents.”

“Right, got it.” Jeremy retrieved his flashlight. “You seem to have a bad experience with it.”

“I guess you could say that,” Michael answered shortly. “And you really never saw it when Toy Bonnie attacked you?”

“Uh, nope. I remember working on my shift and then waking up naked in your house. That’s… about it…” Jeremy lied awkwardly.

“Hmm…” Michael didn’t seem too sure about that, but he let it go. “So you didn’t see the giant golden bunny in my house either?”

“Nope!” Jeremy scratched his neck nervously. “Do you think it was the same one Evan was worried about?”

“Can’t be,” Michael replied. “The one I saw was a literal rabbit. This one is animatronic. There’s no way those two are the same thing.”

“I suppose not.” Jeremy shrugged, regretting holding up this conversation. “You seem… less grouchy than earlier.”

Michael turned to Jeremy wearily. “I had a rough morning.”

“Yeah, no, I get that. I just… I wanted to apologize for my sister’s behavior this morning.” Jeremy cleared his throat. “And um. I was wondering if, like, there was a way to sort things out?”

“Oh, you mean about borrowing my clothes? Don’t even sweat it, I don’t need them back.” Michael returned his focus to his work.

“I know Ramona can be awful sometimes-“

“I don’t care about that, Jeremy.” Michael finally gave him proper eye contact, shooting a jolt up Jeremy’s spine. Damn, that was hot. “I don’t care that your sister thinks I’m a killer, or that she thinks my father is also a killer. I couldn’t care less, because she’s right.”

“Oh.” Jeremy shifted uncomfortably, surprised. “Who did you…?”

“Evan. My baby brother.” Michael turned away again, his voice leaving no room to continue the conversation. Jeremy struggled to find a way to resume it, but he couldn’t.

It was all too comforting when Evan reappeared to confirm that Jeremy hadn’t touched the suit.

“Cassidy can’t figure out why it would have moved,” Evan said, peering at the camera suspiciously. “Music box.”

“Stop telling me what to do,” Michael grumbled, but he wound the music box.

“Hey, so how did you die?” Jeremy asked, even though he knew the answer.

Evan raised a surprised eyebrow at him. “That’s such a brash question to ask a nine-year-old.”

“Yeah, but depending on how long you’ve been dead, technically you aren’t nine anymore.”

“Leave him alone,” Michael growled.

“You don’t need to coddle me, Mikey.” Evan rolled his eyes. “What year is it?”

“1987,” Jeremy supplied, pretending to be less afraid of the way Michael was glaring at him. He checked the hallway with his vent to try to divert attention. “It is November.”

“So I’ve been dead for like four years then. My dad killed me.”

“He did?” Jeremy raised an eyebrow at Michael, who scowled.

“He’s lying to you. I was the one who killed him.”

“The accident was an accident,” Evan argued. “You’re not a murderer, Mike.”

“I’m close enough to one,” he shot back.

“So wait, why would you say your father killed you?”

“Because he did.” Evan crossed his legs and peered at Jeremy. “I see why the others like you so much.”

“Uh, thanks?”

“You’re so…” Evan snapped his fingers, trying to think of the word. “Honest. Genuine. Something like that.”

“Candid, maybe?” Jeremy offered.

Michael made an irritated noise as Evan brightened. “That’s the word! Yeah, you’re just so candid and blunt about everything. It’s refreshing. No handholding or coddling.”

“I don’t coddle you more than you try to coddle me,” Michael grumbled.

“Anyway,” Evan shot a pointed look at his brother. “What actually happened was Mikey tried to play a prank on me regarding Fredbear. One of the animatronics of the original diner.” When Jeremy looked confused, Evan elaborated. “The first place wasn’t Freddy’s. Our father and Uncle Henry opened the business as Fredbear’s Family Diner. There were two original animatronics. Fredbear and Spring Bonnie.”

Michael made an impatient noise. “I stuck him in Fredbear’s mouth, and the bloody bear bit down on his head. It was my fault.”

“Your fault I was in the hospital, but not your fault I died,” Evan countered. “Michael was all about apologizing, promising to be a better brother if I just woke up. But when Father came to visit, he told me that this attention-seeking was ridiculous, that I should just open my eyes so the bad press would go away.”

Evan’s tone grew quieter, and even Michael paused, his expression softening. “He said that if I didn’t get up, I didn’t deserve to live. And then I was in the suit, with only Fredbear to keep me company.”

That’s the golden bear then, Jeremy thought. “So, your father is your killer?”

“Not just mine. All the missing kids too.” Evan shrugged. “We’d tear him to pieces if we could find him, but there’s only so many hours ghosts are awake.”

“Presumably only during this shift,” Michael added. “I don’t think Phil ever mentioned the haunted animatronics, and Ramona only mentioned rumors about them.”

Evan and Michael both didn’t seem very inclined to speak much after that. Michael did try to stop him when he went for his next patrol, but he didn’t care too much. The patrol was something he’d always done, and just because he was sharing a shift with someone in the office now didn’t mean he was going to stop doing it. It just gave him a longer time limit.

Maybe at some point he could ask about this mysterious ‘Cassidy’ that Evan kept mentioning. But for now, he checked corners and looked in the camera blind spots, knowing that most didn’t ever bother to check. Toy Freddy and Toy Chica didn’t seem too interested in leaving the stage tonight, which Jeremy was grateful for. The Puppet was sealed away, the music box wound tightly to keep the music playing.

And he remembered Evan’s words about Cassidy preferring to have people stay out of Parts and Service. Instead of entering the room, he just whispered at the door, “I’m trusting you to have everything handled in there Cassidy.”

A cold feeling enveloped him, and he shuddered as he walked away. It was weird to miss Mangle on a shift, but he supposed they wouldn’t come around while Evan was guarding the office. He checked the back door quickly to ensure it was locked and was glad to find that Michael had indeed locked it behind him.

“I wish I could complain about the job you’re doing here, but it seems to be fantastic,” Jeremy said with a sigh as he plopped back into his chair.

Michael raised an eyebrow at that, the constant frown relenting slightly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Got the door locked and everything. Better than Fritz does, anyway.”

“Door was already locked when I got here,” Michael said. “But I’ll take the compliment.”

Huh. Interesting. Jeremy was curious about Michael’s sense of humor though, so he poked a little more. “Of course, I can’t really give you all the credit, since it seems that Evan and Cassidy are the ones who are actually in charge around here. They just tolerate you.”

Evan snorted at that, covering his mouth as Michael’s expression returned to a scowl. “I don’t know that you can say you’ve been doing much either, Jeremy.”

“I’m not claiming to. But the animatronics like me, according to Evan, so I have a one-up on you.”

Michael shook his head, but he didn’t rise to the bait.

The rest of the night passed in somewhat stiff silence.

“See you tomorrow night, I guess. Fitzgerald.” Michael rose, offering a hand for Jeremy to shake.

“Same to you, dude.” Jeremy shook his hand cheerily, trying not to visibly wince as Michael crushed his hand in the shake. “Until next time, Afton-“

As soon as he started to say the last word, Michael shoved him back against the wall, covering his mouth. A thrill ran through Jeremy as pain shot up his back. He couldn’t help a startled whimper as Michael glared at him with icy blue eyes.

“Never call me that. Understand? Never.”

“I… I understand! Yep! Never going to call you that ever again, never ever!” Jeremy chirped back, knowing his enthusiasm was way more than the situation required.

“It’s Schmidt. Michael Schmidt.”

“Then… I’ll see you tonight, Schmidt.”

Michael rolled his eyes, pulling a stick of gum from his pocket to start chewing it before he walked out of the security office. Evan had disappeared somewhere around 5, so Jeremy remained to tidy up a tiny bit before walking out to his car.

Michael was still on the sidewalk, presumably going to walk home, and Jeremy did not accept that he was just going to be walking in the chilly air in only his work uniform. He drove alongside Michael, rolling down his window. “Need a ride home?”

“No.” Michael kept walking, not even glancing at the car. “I’m used to walking everywhere.”

“You could catch a cold!” Jeremy protested.

“Good thing I’m not the only one on shift then,” he shot back, blowing a bubble with his gum. “Go home, Fitzgerald.”

“Alright fine. But if you get sick, I’m going to say ‘I told you so.’”

“I’m so terrified of the threat,” Michael replied sarcastically. “Goodbye.”

Rude, Jeremy thought with mild annoyance. But this was progress from last time! Last time, Michael hadn’t had much to say except “fuck off,” so at least Jeremy got through it this time without that. And he’d also gotten information that Ramona hadn’t had, which meant she was wrong about Michael Afton.

“So ghosts are real?” Ramona pressed as Jeremy hung up the phone after receiving a call from his friend Sebastian.

He was so lucky Seb was willing to give him a discount, so lucky he was willing to do repairs without questioning things. Jeremy had already gotten rid of the couch and burned his old sheets. The last step to making the whole rabbit nightmare a forgotten memory was the torn flooring.

“Yeah. And Evan has a much better sense of humor than his brother.” Jeremy shot his sister a skeptical look. “You’re not surprised by anything else I said?”

“Like what? The kid forgiving his older brother? You said he was like nine?”

Jeremy didn’t know how to respond to that. She wasn’t wrong. But it didn’t feel like she was completely right either. “But-“

“Jer, you’re being dumb about all this. You need to think with your brain at least some of the time.”

“I am using my brain! I was asking all the questions I needed answers to.”

“Yeah? Then why are you still so blatantly defending Michael Afton?”

Because if he’s a monster, then so am I, Jeremy thought to himself, but he didn’t say it out loud. “Forget it.”

“Jeremy-“

“No, it’s not worth arguing about. But Evan gave me back my keys.” Jeremy stood up moodily. “It was nice talking with you, Ramona, but I gotta get some sleep before tonight’s shift.”

“Jer, what’s bothering you? You know you can tell me about it, right?” Ramona pressed.

“I know. I just don’t feel like getting into it right now. That’s all. Have a good day, Mona.”

“You too, Jer.” Ramona hesitated for another moment. “I’m here for you, if you need anything.”

“I know.”

Ramona shot him a worried look as she got through the door, careful to avoid catching her pants on the splintered wood that Sebastian was going to replace.

After his sister left, Jeremy stripped, unsure of what triggered him to turn into the rabbit. He didn’t want to ruin clothes that didn’t belong to him though, so he wasn’t taking chances as he went to rest properly for the first time in ages.

Michael let himself back into his house with a heavy sigh. That shift had been long. He undid his tie, ignoring the impatient meowing at his feet while he changed out of his work clothes. “Give me some time, Logan.”

Logan meowed again, pawing at his empty bowl.

“One second, Logan.” Michael pulled a new shirt over his head before giving the cat a scratch behind his ear. “I’ll get that bowl filled in no time.”

After feeding Logan, Michael was tempted to go out and look for the bunny again. Surely it couldn’t have gone far, right? Even if it had been gone for a day, maybe it was just hungry and hunting. Maybe it had tried to return while Michael was gone and couldn’t get back in. Maybe-

You’re overthinking this. God, you are such a freak Michael. Michael shook his head, walking toward the place where he’d last seen the rabbit. Maybe the dumpster was its home?

His hopefulness diminished as he approached the dumpster. He couldn’t see any sign of it anyway. Shoulders slumping, he prepared to walk back, so he could let Logan have his own walk.

A soft thumb behind him made him hesitate though. Michael turned, excitement growing as he saw the giant shape of the golden rabbit who’d appeared very suddenly. “There you are!” Michael exclaimed, beaming as he reached out for the bunny.

His new friend nuzzled into his hand immediately, rubbing its fluffy face against his hand. “I missed you buddy,” Michael whispered into the overwhelmingly soft fur.

A soft rumble in the bunny’s throat soothed him, making all the irritation and torment from the last day completely vanishing. “You can’t just disappear on me, you know,” Michael said, trying for a scolding tone.

The bunny thumped his back foot as a reply.

“What? Are you going to say you didn’t miss me? Because I think you’d be lying.”

The bunny nosed at his neck. A soft, wet feeling made Michael’s neck prickle in the cold.

“Is that a way of saying you did miss me?” Michael asked, scratching up behind the rabbit’s ear.

He stumbled a bit as the rabbit rocked forward, knocking him off-balance a little bit. The rabbit kept nuzzling him until he was completely knocked to the ground. Startled, he didn’t even attempt to get up before he was completely enveloped in soft, warm, golden fur.

“Hey, hang on a sec-“ Michael tried to protest before the bunny squished its head down over his, keeping him even more safely enveloped in warmth. “I need to let Logan out for a bit! You’re going to make it so a poor little kitty can’t stretch his legs, is that what you want?”

A grumbling noise resonated in the back of the bunny’s throat, but it let Michael get to his feet. “Thank you.”

Michael walked back, knowing that the bunny was going to follow him back this time. He didn’t even need to stress about it. Michael grabbed his mail from the box on his way back into the house, tossing the pile onto his table before shaking the harness to get Logan to come running.

“Time for your walk, you crazy cat,” Michael said, pretending to ignore the rabbit who’d opted to lurk on the front lawn instead of coming in this time. Maybe it likes to be free to roam, he thought to himself.

Logan was happy enough to take his walk, purring as they returned. Shortly after Michael walked through the door and started undoing Logan’s harness, the rabbit wriggled into the house, looming behind Michael.

After he’d shut the door, Michael let out a big yawn, rubbing his eyes briefly. Gotta check the mail first, he scolded himself as he yawned again.

Glancing at the top of the stack, Michael felt himself pale. It was another letter from his father, this time marked as urgent. He hadn’t even opened the last one, and now he was getting another? Michael was just grateful his father didn’t know his phone number, but then actual horror struck him. He could just come to my house.

Michael twitched, grabbing the letter so tightly the edges crinkled. With a solid grip, he ripped the envelope and the contents in half. The rabbit flinched, clearly not expecting such a violent action. Logan was unaffected, as usual.

He tossed the torn remains into his trash bin and stalked to his bedroom, trying so hard not to start trembling or crying. The bunny nudged the door open and sniffed at the edge of his bed. Michael patted the side of his bed, giving it permission to jump up. The bunny took the permission easily, pressing comforting warmth into Michael’s back as tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.

“Why can’t he just leave me alone?” Michael sobbed quietly. “It’s bad enough knowing that I did something monstrous, but he does it on purpose. I bet he’s out there doing it to some other poor kids now, and I’m just not strong enough to stand up to him.”

The bunny rumbled out a growl at the blame Michael placed on himself, but it still soothed his pain with soft fur. He rolled over and buried his face properly into the fur, his fingers tangling into the strands. So soft, he thought to himself, tears dampening the fur of the bunny’s chest.

Not that it seemed to mind, pulling Michael closer as he started drifting off to sleep. “I just don’t get it…” Michael trailed off, finally relaxing enough to let go of consciousness.

Jeremy woke up with his arms wrapped around a sleeping Michael. Why am I not surprised? he thought to himself, carefully untangling himself from his sleeping coworker. He’d kill me if he knew I was here.

Unease sank into Jeremy as he realized he was yet again left to try to sneak out without clothing. But at least he was in Michael’s room this time, and he could just grab clothes without getting caught.

His foot hit something soft and warm, and a disgruntled meow made Jeremy realize the cat was also here. Oh shit. Directing a glare at the cat, Jeremy climbed out of the bed without causing the cat or Michael to wake up completely. The black cat nestled back into his paws, purring loudly as Jeremy snuck a new pair of clothing out of Michael’s drawer.

He left quickly, pushing open a window and crawling out of it, ignoring the pain that shot through his feet as he landed on rocks. Jeremy glanced around before hurrying toward his house, memorizing the address as he left the place.

He felt bad for ditching, but he also knew he could not just stay after all that. Not after how upset Michael had seemed the first time. Until he could control when he turned into a rabbit and maybe stay as a rabbit when around Michael, then he wasn’t taking any chances.

Back home, Jeremy slipped socks onto his feet and glanced at the time. He had plenty of time to spare before work, but he still couldn’t help but feel a bit antsy. I’m not supposed to know where he lives, Jeremy thought glumly.

The phone ringing pulled Jeremy away from spiraling in his obsession. Maybe Ramona was right about all that stuff anyway. “Hello? Jeremy Fitzgerald here.”

“Jeremy! What a pleasant surprise to hear your voice. No offense, but we all thought you were dead!”

“Yeah, that’s what Michael told me,” Jeremy chuckled nervously, wondering why Lloyd was calling him.

“Hey, you’re not too opposed to just sharing that shift with him, right? I mean, I know you said you absolutely did not want to have to deal with kids, and I completely understand. Michael had the same qualms about the shift, but this is the only shift where no one is stuck hanging around children. But you’re all good with that? You’re fine sharing the workload? It's probably better anyway, having two people check on the place during those hours. Keeps the place safer- I mean, more secure!” Lloyd blabbed on, talking so fast Jeremy could barely keep up with what he was saying.

“I’m okay with it. Is he?” Jeremy leaned back against the wall, a finger hooked absently into the phone cord. An excuse to spend more time with Michael? No way was he turning that down.

“Oh! Yeah, uh, he actually seemed more than happy to have someone else there. I guess he doesn’t have the same familiarity you have with the job yet. He’s probably a bit jittery about the atmosphere. You know, he’s never had a nighttime security job before, actually.”

“Lloyd, is that all you needed from me, or is there something else?”

“Oh, that’s it. Uh, except one thing. We found a bunch of the torn remains of your uniform. Did you want a new one? I’m guessing that you’ve been using the spare, but you should really have more than one.”

“By that logic, I should have at least three,” Jeremy pointed out. “In case one is misplaced or ruined, or another incident like the other night happens.”

“Can I ask what happened?”

“Toy Bonnie came after me. I don’t really remember what happened after that,” Jeremy replied swiftly. “I don’t need to fill out an incident report or anything do I? I mean, as far as I’m aware, no one got hurt.”

“Nobody was hurt in the incident. We didn’t actually know that until just now actually.” Lloyd laughed nervously. “No, we don’t need anything from you, don’t worry! It just would’ve helped us if you’d remembered something about Toy Bonnie attacking, or maybe Fritz coming in-“

“I don’t know anything about that, sorry.” Jeremy cleared his throat awkwardly. “But I can be in in a couple minutes if you have extra uniforms ready.”

“Oh! Yeah, I can totally do that. Yeah, if you come in before 6, I can totally get you set up with some new uniforms.”

“Great, I’ll see you at 5 then.”

“Fantastic!”

Jeremy hung up the phone feeling more awkward than ever before. At least he’d have a uniform again.

When he saw Michael at the next shift, he set out by tipping his hat at the other man. No response. Evan seemed a bit distracted today as well, somewhat of a frown crossing his face.

Jeremy sat down awkwardly in his chair, remembering Lloyd’s words from earlier. If he had to guess, maybe Michael had been relieved to have an excuse to make sure Jeremy wasn’t in any danger after all the personal risks he took at work.

“I’m going to do a patrol,” he announced abruptly, picking up his flashlight.

“Don’t die,” Evan said, peering over Michael’s shoulder.

“Right…” Jeremy looked at Michael hopefully, but the other man gave him no indication that he was going to say anything in reply.

The night was somewhat quiet. It was weird having the toy animatronics remaining onstage every night, and Jeremy almost wished they’d move so he could at least know that Toy Bonnie hadn’t been a fluke. Even Mangle hadn’t sought him out since he’d turned, presumably too afraid of him now to approach.

It made sense, considering how Percy was taking the exact same approach with him, but it still stung to know that his dog and his favorite animatronic no longer seemed to see him as a safe person. Even Evan didn’t trust him in that form, if Jeremy’s memory served correctly.

Nobody saw him as more than a monster aside from Michael. Was that why he was so magnetized to the other man? Physical attributes aside, Michael seemed well-guarded, not trusting other people. But he seemed to have a secret affection for animals. Even with the amount he swore at his cat, he seemed to love the cat enough to care for it when he was not in the mood to care for the poor thing.

Sighing, Jeremy started to head back toward the cold atmosphere of the main office. He stopped upon hearing what sounded like sobbing coming from Parts and Service.

“Hey, everything okay in there?” Jeremy asked, hoping for a gentle tone.

“No!” The door flew open, nearly hitting Jeremy in the face, and he couldn’t help but flinch at the small girl glowering at him with thick black tear streaks running down her face. “He’s come back, and I can’t stop him!”

“Who came back?” Jeremy asked, crouching down to her level. “Sorry for asking, but I seem to be a bit out of the loop.”

“You take things more seriously than most,” she huffed. Then she blinked at him. “Wait, you’re that security guard guy. We all thought you died!”

“That seems to be the common consensus,” Jeremy sighed. “But who came back? Clearly he’s no one good if you are unhappy about it.”

“No. He killed me, and he’s gonna kill more kids.”

“Oh.” A prickle of fear made Jeremy tremble a bit at that. “When did he come back?”

“Not too long ago. We didn’t notice the changes in his suit, but-“ she glanced at the darkened area for a moment. “Here, I’ll just show you.”

Cold fingers wrapped around Jeremy’s wrist, and he was startled to discover that apparently ghosts could in fact touch people.

“So, originally, he was in that locker there, right?” the girl gestured at the locker Jeremy had originally spotted the animatronic at.

“Yeah…”

“Well, he’s not anymore. Now he’s on the floor over here,” Cassidy pointed directly at where the golden bunny suit was slumped next to the old Freddy model.

“Oh. And this suit’s not possessed right? Nobody should be moving it?”

“No one should be moving it. Employees can get fired for touching it, much less moving it. And I haven’t seen it move on its own.”

“Ghosts can only do things at this time of night…” Jeremy trailed off thoughtfully. “You think it’s the same guy who killed you?”

“I know it is. I had to ask a bunch of times to get anywhere with Evan. That kid is so tight-lipped, I swear.” The girl shook her head. “But apparently, this suit here can only be activated by a key. One person had that key.”

“Your killer.”

“William Afton,” she confirmed. “At least, that’s what Evan says, but he’s been wrong about so much lately, that I’m just worried he’s wrong about that too.”

“Did you try asking Michael?”

“Evan doesn’t think I should talk to the security guards.” The girl shrugged. “He thinks I’ll just kill you guys. But I’m not that murderous. I still have a brain, unlike some people.”

“So you must be Cassidy?”

“Yep.” Cassidy sighed. “I mean, I don’t want to complain because it makes sense that Evan wants to spend time with his brother, but I miss being able to roam the pizzeria freely. Ever since Toy Bonnie got dinged, I’ve been checking in here to make sure Spring Bonnie hasn’t been used. I think we scared him off pretty well though.”

“Spring Bonnie…?”

“The yellow rabbit suit,” Cassidy pointed, rolling her eyes. “Oh! One more thing. I know you’re like, nocturnal or whatever like we are. But you can actually wake up during the day. Could you like, keep an eye out for someone wearing the suit?”

“I mean, I suppose. Did Evan bring that up to Michael?”

“I doubt it. He hates the idea of getting you guys involved.” Cassidy wrinkled her nose. “Something about trying not to cause more deaths than necessary, but he’s not going to kill an adult out in the open like that. I think it’s fine.”

“Huh. Okay. I mean, I can try…”

“Whatever works.” Cassidy seemed satisfied, finally noticing the red light on in the camera. “Oh! Say cheese!”

“That’s a live feed, Cassidy. It’s not a picture camera.”

“You’re no fun.” Cassidy stuck her tongue out at him. “Bye bye for now. I’ll expect results later.”

“I hope I’ll have results for you.”

“That’s the spirit!” Cassidy said cheerfully before disappearing.

Resigning himself to the blinking light of the security camera, Jeremy went back to the office. If he hadn’t been sure before, Evan’s scowl told him plenty about what he needed to know.

“What were you thinking?” Evan hissed, his eyes so dark there was absolutely no color aside from the darkest of dark pits.

“Uhh…”

“She could’ve killed you!”

“She dragged me in there!” Jeremy said in protest.

“Did she now? Maybe she’s just lonely because she lost her best friend.” Michael shot a pointed look at his brother.

“Cassidy can’t stand me,” Evan scoffed, but he let up on Jeremy a little bit. “What did she want?”

“Help with her little investigation into Spring Bonnie.” Jeremy dropped into his chair and peered at the camera monitor in Michael’s hands. “Still no animatronic movement, huh? Almost like they were told to stay put.”

He raised an eyebrow at Evan. The kid rolled his eyes, the frown not relenting. “Toys aren’t our thing. We watch over the others.”

“So the toys not moving is also suspicious behavior?” Jeremy asked. “Hey, not to be dumb or anything, but how much did your dad work with the animatronics?”

“He helped create them, so a pretty significant amount,” Michael answered. “Evan, I just think you should make up with her.”

“There’s nothing to make up! She doesn’t want anything to do with me, and that’s fine. I’ll stay out of her space, and she can take care of the others!”

“She said you told her to stay in Parts and Service,” Jeremy said.

“You’re going to believe her over me? Mikey, you can’t believe this, surely!”

“I mean, I don’t know what to believe. I’ve never spoken to Cassidy before, and if its your word or Jeremy’s, then I’ll take your word for it. But I do still think you should try to resolve this conflict you have with her-“

“Think what you want then! I don’t care!” Evan’s eyes flashed before he abruptly vanished.

Jeremy sat in stunned silence as Michael just continued checking things. “Well that was…”

“He’s just pouting. We’ve had this argument before, don’t worry.” Michael didn’t glance over at Jeremy as he talked. “So, Cassidy let you off with a warning or something I’m guessing?”

“I already said she dragged me in. She wants me to go in during the day and look out for a guy in a rabbit costume.”

“That could only be one person, you know,” Michael said grimly, sitting back to start giving Jeremy his attention. “My father only made one key for that suit.”

“Cassidy said that. She also seems a bit weary of taking information from Evan since he seems a little…”

“Mixed up?” Michael shrugged. “Yeah, don’t put too much stock in what he says. I don’t think he fully knows where he’s at.”

“That’s fair, I guess…” Jeremy wasn’t fully appreciative of that response. “So, you still think your dad killed those kids?”

“Without a doubt. He was always a bit more bitter when he had to deal with them, and if the other kids say it was the golden bunny man, then who am I to say they’re wrong? It makes sense.” Michael shook his head. “I still don’t understand what kind of monster could willingly decide that kids couldn’t get to live their lives though.”

“A kind that’s actually a monster as opposed to someone who thinks of himself as one?” Jeremy offered.

Michael turned his gaze on Jeremy lazily. “I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Is it working?”

“Not more than Evan’s assurances. Listen, I made my peace with what I did a long time ago.”

“It doesn’t seem like it.” Jeremy laid a reassuring hand on Michael’s arm. “You didn’t mean it. There’s no way you and your dad are even remotely in the same league-“

“Yeah, but a monster is a monster, aren’t they? Killers are monsters, Jeremy. Simple as that.” Michael slipped his hand away and went back to the cameras. “It’s not like it’s possible to always spot a monster on the surface anyway. Maybe you’re just telling yourself I can’t be a monster because I don’t look like one.”

Jeremy stiffened at that. You don’t have to look like a monster to be a monster. Did that mean the opposite was true too? He wanted desperately to know the answer.

Michael tried to give him a smile. “Look, it’s no big deal, really. If you aren’t actively saying I’m following in my father’s footsteps, then I think things are okay, you know? Like, I may not really like you, but I don’t think you’re a complete twat.”

“Uh, thanks?” Jeremy didn’t know how to respond to that, instead shining his light into the vent to avoid the heat that rose to his face at what he was guessing was meant to be a compliment.

“Anytime.” Michael chuckled softly. “Looks like he’s going for a full night sulk tonight. Guess it’s just us now.”

“Think you’ll be able to handle the office once I go on my next patrol?” Jeremy asked teasingly.

Michael snorted. “With the animatronics the way they are? I’ll be more than fine.”

“Good to know.”

A few nights passed like this, Michael offering minimal conversation during the shift, Jeremy taking his time to do patrols and update Cassidy on what he saw during the days.

It wasn’t much more than he had during the night, but Cassidy seemed to appreciate it nonetheless. And if he showed up to work tired, then that was fine too. Michael would shake his head, and Evan was still pouting about his argument with Cassidy, so he didn’t care.

Still, he felt a little bit bad whenever he realized he’d nodded off, insisting that Michael wake him. And evidently, that was not happening every time it happened. It hadn’t hurt anything so far though, so Jeremy was willing to let it slide.

It had taken him ages, quietly arguing with Evan while Jeremy slumped in his chair, to convince his brother to try and work things out with Cassidy. Evan had been furious that Cassidy was putting Jeremy in harm’s way, but Michael thought he probably knew the risks of what he was getting into.

Why should Cassidy get the blame anyway? She wanted help, not to doom another man to die. And Evan had given plenty of warning, so Jeremy could’ve backed out whenever he wanted to, so it was fine. There was simply no need to keep blaming Cassidy.

Michael spared a glance away from his constant checking to look at the uncomfortable way Jeremy had passed out in his chair, drool leaking from the corner of his mouth, hat knocked askew. On impulse, he reached over and fixed Jeremy’s hat, before deciding to move him to the floor.

Jeremy’s head knocked into Michael’s chest, and he felt sure that the man would wake. Jeremy hardly stirred, so Michael continued to lay him down, removing Jeremy’s jacket to tuck it beneath his head like a pillow. There, Michael thought to himself, somewhat satisfied before he went back to flick through the cameras absently.

Unfortunately for Mike, however, he’d missed the sound of an animatronic crawling into the vent, too focused on making sure he didn’t wake up Jeremy to pay much attention to the world around him.

The loud static did eventually catch Michael’s attention, and he set the monitor down, forgetting to wind the music box as he glanced at the phone. It was in its cradle, and belatedly Michael realized that noise meant animatronic, and he turned to check the vent just as Mangle swung down to attack.

Michael yowled in pain as the impact knocked him from his chair and plastic teeth tore through his face. The edge of the desk caught the other side of his face, making his vision blurry as he faintly caught the sound of tearing fabric and an angry growl.

Something warm ran down his face as the animatronic screeched, hiding away from the giant shadow looming over Michael. Struggling to push himself upright, he found himself surrounded by golden fur. Oh. Michael blinked blood out of his eye, struggling to process the scene around him, only slightly frightened now that he knew his rabbit friend had somehow appeared to aid him. I hope it doesn’t step on my coworker. That’d be awkward to explain.

“Mikey!” Evan’s voice echoed in the quiet environment. “Michael?”

The bunny was growling, a low rumble vibrating through its body. Cool hands cupped both sides of Michael’s face as Evan’s face came into view.

“Oh my god,” Evan breathed, smudging the blood stream ever so slightly. “Where did Jeremy go? I thought you knew what you were doing!”

“Glad you’ve got your priorities in order,” Michael answered slowly, still struggling to focus on his brother’s face. “Your hands are cold.”

“Of course they are.” Evan huffed in exasperation. “Wait, you’re totally in shock. Mikey…”

“The music box…” Michael trailed off as he registered that a completely quiet room was not a good thing.

Evan’s eye widened. “Oh no.”

The sound of aggressive music echoed in the halls as the Puppet made its approach. Not that it was much of a problem, seeing as Michael’s bunny pinned the animatronic to the ground before it could do much.

“Wait, don’t do that,” Evan said hurriedly. “Uh, I need to-“

“Yeah, no, go ahead.” Michael’s eyelids fluttered shut as Evan went away to shout at the bunny who was currently having a very intense stare down with the Puppet.

Jeremy hadn’t known he’d fallen asleep on shift that night. Waking up tangled in bindings made of shimmery thread had not been the most reassuring thing. More startling than that, however, was the pooling blood around Michael’s head as Evan argued with an unfamiliar girl.

Cautiously he untangled himself and dug into the duffel bag he started to bring to every shift, grateful for his planning as the remains of his uniform remained littered across the floor. The bickering children didn’t notice as he slipped his uniform on quickly before pressing his jacket (which for some reason was folded on the floor) to the wound on Michael’s head. Jeremy managed to pull the man close so he could hold the fabric to the wound while still being able to dial for the hospital.

Jeremy didn’t know how Michael had been injured, but based on the teeth marks, he had a sinking feeling Mangle had done something to the poor man. He did look a bit too similar to his father for Jeremy’s liking. That had to be the real reason Michael was so vigilant and why Evan was so paranoid about him missing things in the cameras.

The children stopped arguing to look at him when he was explaining things to the emergency operator, seeming to realize that maybe there were more urgent things to deal with than whatever they’d been arguing about. Jeremy clutched the plastic tightly in one hand as he clutched to Michael’s injury with the other.

Evan was the first to approach Jeremy, looking more disheveled than Jeremy even knew ghosts could be. “You’re the rabbit thing.”

Jeremy nodded awkwardly. He knew they’d discovered him the minute he’d woken up and was tangled in that same shimmery stuff that he’d seen under his skin before he transformed the first time.

“Our conversation isn’t over, Evan,” the girl said, impatiently. “Sure, Mike takes priority, but the fact that you guys tried to lock me away is absolutely insane.”

“How about we skip the interrogation until we know that Michael’s okay,” Jeremy said weakly.

“I guess that’s a good way to put things.” The girl crouched at Michael’s side, brushing bloodied hair out of his face. “Although you and me need a talk at some point, Mr. Fitzgerald.”

“I’m long overdue for talks with a bunch of people now,” Jeremy muttered.

Please be okay.

[pls-hold-me-im-justa-weeb]

Torn Apart Pt. 2- The Surgery

I decided to name the fic about the reader losing her arms! Also I found out recently that Law has gold eyes in the manga AND WHY DID THEY CHANGE THAT HOLY FUCCCKKK

Also thank y'all so much for the overwhelming support for this fic!

This chapter is a little shorter than the previous one, but leaves off at a good place!

Just to recap tho...MAJOR WARNING: THIS WILL (probably) TRAUMATIZE YOU. Reader will have PTSD, ANXIETY ATTACKS, AND BE VERBALLY ABUSED. But becomes besties with Franky so ya know... up to you.

TW's: talk of surgery, Luffy being supportive in his own (lecturing) way, descriptions of pain, panic attack and PTSD flashback at the same time (trust me it's not fun), learning to walk again, needles (medical setting)

Golden eyes pierced your faux air of confidence you put on to face the Surgeon of Death. You looked away, almost cowed by his evaluating gaze.

“So? What’s first?” you asked Law. He grunted a little. 

“Lay down fully. Let me do a scan.” 

You eased yourself down, and Chopper lowered the bed so it was flat.  You heard his boots tap on the wood twice as he stepped closer. 

“Room” 

A blue spherical glow emanated from his palm, encompassing you, the bed and him at the same time, with your prone body in the middle. You swallowed hard, nervous. He unsheathed his sword. You knew from Zoro that all swords had a name, but you didn’t know the name of this one. Probably named it something edgy like “heart killer” or “death of hearts”, you thought to yourself. He hovered his hand down the length of the blade, covering it in a thin sheen of translucent blue before holding his sword above your body. Your eyes traced the metal of the blade, so long that you had to turn your head slightly to see the point reaching far past your shoulder. 

“Stay still”, he ordered quietly. You snapped your head back to the original position, looking straight up at the ceiling, taking comfort in the familiar shield and knots in the wood above you. 

“Sorry” you whispered. He didn’t say anything in response. 

“Scan.” 

The sword moved down your body steadily. He really did have the hands of a surgeon. His boots tapped as he shifted his body as his sword scanned yours. He reached your feet, finally lowering his sword, but didn’t release his Room. 

“Tra-o” luffy’s voice piped up from the corner where he had been sitting quietly. He was the only one besides Chopper allowed in the room while he worked. His voice was strangely serious, and you couldn’t help but look over at him. His usual smile was replaced with a concerned frown as he met the surgeon’s gaze. Law sighed tiredly before turning back to you. 

“You were hurt badly. It’s honestly a miracle you’re still alive.” 

You kept your eyes on Luffy, taking comfort from his confident presence. 

“I know,” you murmured. A brief silence followed, waiting for Law to continue. 

“And you’re still hurting, in your heart.” 

You flinched slightly at his words, sliding your shocked gaze to his. 

“You can’t possibly know that” you breathed. He met your eyes steadily, unidentified emotion in his eyes. 

“My abilities don’t lie,” he answered. You kept looking at him, silent and calculating. You took in his features properly, now seeing him in a relaxed environment and not pissed off at your captain for once. He stood with confidence, slightly slouched as he tucked his hand in the front pocket of his spotted jeans. His other hand held his sword, the blunt side of the blade now resting against his shoulder. His spotted hat was low on his forehead, but as he stood looking down at you, none of his features were shadowed. His sharp eyes were gold, ringed by dark circles and reddened by lack of sleep, but both of those oddly only added to his handsomeness. He had high, sharp cheekbones with sideburns by his double pierced ears and a defined jaw with a goatee. His expression was calm, instead of the usual scowl he wore around your captain. Your eyes traveled to his clothing, a relaxed long sleeve shirt with a low neck that allowed small peeks of his tattoos to show. Honestly, you didn’t know how you didn’t see it earlier. He was fucking hot. Heat rose to your cheeks and he smirked as if he knew exactly what you were thinking. He probably did, the bastard. 

“So did you see anything else? Can you do the surgery? Why is her heart hurting? Is it because of Zoro?” Luffy spoke, half demanding and half asking. Law's eyebrow twitched as he remembered your captain was in the room. Chopper was on Luffy’s shoulder, looking at him with wide eyes. At least those two were too innocent to know what happened between you and Law just then. Law turned to Luffy, his usual scowl returning to his face. Tension rose in his shoulders and the blue glow of his Room faded. 

“I can do the surgery. It’ll be long, but it’ll be better for everyone, and be better quality. Not that you’re a bad doctor, Chopper-ya.” He spoke mainly to his fellow doctor, and the reindeer nodded. 

“I’m less familiar with surgery than you. Let me know what you need!” 

Law nodded in approval. 

“If I’m doing the surgery, I’d like to do it in the operating room on my ship. I have my crew who are trained as a surgery team, my equipment, and I’ll need you and Franky-ya there too. You’re familiar with the patient and injuries and are able to tell me exactly what you did to treat it. Franky-ya can add his expertise on the machinery and his own body,” he said firmly. Chopper nodded seriously. It was adorable when he was in full doctor mode. Law turned to you. 

“That is, if you’ll let me do the surgery.” 

He looked at you expectantly, cocking his head as he waited for an answer. You suddenly realized even his voice was hot. You cleared your throat. 

“Sure. Got nothing else to lose” you shrugged the best you could, and heat flared to your face a second time, embarrassed at your failed movement. Law only grinned in excitement and was about to respond when Luffy cut him off. 

“No.” 

You and the two doctors looked at him, shocked. A pang went through your chest. Was he not allowing you? Why? Did you do something wrong? Were you not worth it anymore? 

“Mugiwara-ya-“ Law’s growl was cut off by Luffy speaking over him, his eyes meeting yours determinedly. 

“You’re not going to do the surgery because you have nothing else to lose. You have everything and everyone else to lose. You have your life, and if you still have that, then you’re still fighting. You’re still winning. You still have something to lose. You have us. Zoro was an asshole and you never have to forgive him for that, but don’t you ever discount our loyalty to you. We are your family, and you're ours. This is your home. Say it. Say you have everything to lose!” He started yelling, and you struggled to sit up. Pain lanced through your chest and shoulders, making you bite your lip to keep from crying out. 

“Luffy…” you said softly. He stalked forward, and Chopper jumped off his shoulder. A dominating aura was rolling off your captain. He crawled on your bed, and stopped with his face only inches away from yours. 

“Say it.” 

Fear and despair shot through your stomach. You were terrified of letting them down, that you already had. 

“How can I when I can’t shake on it? When I can’t even reach out to grab your hand when you need it?! I’ve let you down, Luffy. I’ve let you all down!” 

Luffy didn’t waver, on his hands and knees straddling over your legs so as to not hurt you. His eyes never left yours, even as he spoke to Law. 

“Tra-o. Give us a minute. You too Chopper.” Neither doctor answered, but the door opened and shut, leaving you in silence. You looked down at the blanket pooled on your lap. 

“You haven’t let us down, and no matter what Zoro or anyone says, you’re part of my crew. My family. You sacrificed yourself to save someone you love. If I ever needed a hand to grab onto, well, Robin can make more, right? And you’ll have yours back soon. So stop being depressed and say you’ll do the surgery because you want to get better and that you have everything to lose!” He shifted so he was kneeling over you, one hand settling on the back of your neck as he pushed your face into the crook of his neck. Tears welled in your eyes, falling onto his warm skin and wetting his red shirt. His other arm gently wrapped around your side and rested on your back, encompassing you in comfort. It’s the first hug you’ve had since the accident. 

“Luffy I’m scared it’ll hurt. I’ve been in so much pain. It hurts so much” you sobbed, unsure if you were talking about your arms or your heart. He shushed you. 

“I’ll kick Trao’s ass if he makes it worse, okay?” You nodded, trusting him with your life. You stayed like that for a while, until his shirt was stained with your tears and snot and your thoughts were mostly in order. 

“I’ll do it. I want to live. I still have everything to lose” you murmured. Luffy’s hand squeezed the back of your neck briefly in acknowledgement. He pulled back, looking at your face. 

“Your face has snot on it” he observed gleefully.  You rolled your eyes with a smile. 

“Yeah I know.” 

His smile died as he brought the blanket to your face to wipe it. He was rough, pulling your skin just a little too hard, but that was your captain, so you didn’t mind. 

“Promise me. Promise you want to live and that you’re doing the surgery because you have everything to lose.” 

You smiled weakly up at him, but he saw resolve in your eyes. 

“I promise.” 

He smiled broadly before bringing his forehead down to meet yours. He still kinda bonked his head against yours, and he had a hard head, but he at least tried to be gentle. You giggled. 

“This is how we promise now, okay? You and me. No hands or arms necessary.” He spoke quietly, uncharacteristic of his vibrant personality. The words shocked you with his wave of affection and love for you as a family member. You bit your lip to keep tears from welling up. 

“Promise” you confirmed. He pulled back, a wide grin on his face. 

“Great! I’ll go tell Trao to get ready to do the surgery!” 

He bounded off your bed, making you wince at the sudden movement that rocked your body. You sucked in air through your teeth, and Luffy paused, looking back at you guiltily with his big brown eyes. 

“Sorry” 

You smiled, forgiving him easily. 

“It’s okay. I’m due for my pain medication anyways. Can you tell Chopper?” You asked. Luffy nodded with a quick ‘yep!’ thrown over his shoulder as he sprinted out the door. You shook your head at the pure amount of energy that boy had. 

Chopper returned a few minutes later and pattered around his work area, making fresh medicine for you. 

“We have a good plan for the surgery now! We’re so lucky to have Law with us too! He’s so smart and good at medicine. His Devil Fruit ability is amazing to see in a medical setting!” He continued to blabber on about how excited he was, but you couldn’t shake the nervousness of going into surgery again for something so life-changing after experiencing trauma. A straw and some pills were shoved under your nose, and you opened your mouth to let the doctor pop in the medication and you sipped some water to swallow it. You laid back down, flinching at how sore you were. A groan escaped your lips as your body finally rested on the soft pillow and mattress, waiting for the meds to kick in as you drifted off to sleep. 

Your nap wasn’t long, an hour or two at most. A screech from the deck startled you awake as adrenaline pumped through your body. Your shoulders and ribs screamed in white hot agony at the sudden movement as you shot upright, making you groan loudly with pain. I need to cover him. I need to save him. He can’t cut it. He can’t cut an explosion I need to save him I need to save his dream my arms are gone it hurts it hurts it hurts-

The kitchen door opened quickly as you curled up painfully as you started gasping in ragged, quick breaths, barely exhaling before gasping again. 

“Hey, hey mon Cherie” Sanji’s deep voice made you alert to his presence, but didn’t distract you enough to snap you out of your panic attack. Hands settled gently on your back and you jerked away, not wanting to be touched by Marines. Not when they took so much from you already. 

“I’ll get Franky,” he said quickly. Footsteps disappeared quickly as he swung open the door and ran to find someone. You’d already forgotten who, and the open door was too open. You needed to hide but you couldn’t move. Your breaths were controlling you, burning pain making you whimper. You wanted to hide your head in your arms but they were gone. 

Too much it’s too much it hurts hurts hurts I can’t do it I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t do it gone gone they’re gone I can’t they’re gone. I can’t do it again I can’t do it again I can’t do it again. 

“Oi” a gravelly voice. You screamed a little as your head whipped around to the sound, fully expecting to be yelled at by Zoro again, maybe he’d hit you this time. Your wild eyes finally focused on Franky, and your tension eased a little, not seeing the swordsman standing above you. Franky blinked steadily at you. He’s safe. He’s good. Good. 

“F-f-f-rank-k-ky” you forced out through chattering teeth. 

“Hey sis” he replied. He moved his big hand, and you flinched, forcing another groan out of your aching chest. 

“I’m going to put an ice pack on the back of your neck, okay? It’ll be really cold but it’ll shock you. Ready?” 

At the explanation of his movement, you hesitated a second before nodding slightly once. He slowly moved his hand, which you now noticed contained an ice pack. He slid it against your sweaty neck and held it there. You whimpered at the cold, letting it send gasps through your lungs. He nodded in encouragement at the change in breathing. 

“You’re doing so good now. Focus on my voice, okay? I’m going to walk you through a breathing exercise. It’ll come back to you quickly.” 

You shook your head. You didn’t need to breathe, you needed to run. To leave. To hide. To be safe. 

“Not s-s-safe Frank-k-ky. Need to go. Need to go need to go need to go. Hide from it!” You wanted to grab his wrist, and started panicking when you remembered you couldn’t. 

“Hey hey. I’m going to pick you up, okay? Then we’re going to the corner. My metal body is strong and can handle it easily, " he said seriously. You nodded, and let him scoop you up and hold you close to his chest. He was warm, and you could hear an automatic whirring and beating in his chest. It was safer. He walked quickly over to the corner of the room, and knelt down, cradling you in his arms and lap. He curled over you slightly, letting his forehead rest on the wood behind you. You were enclosed and safe and warm. 

“See? All safe. All good” his gravely voice was soothing to your racing mind. 

Safe. Good. 

“He’s safe?” You murmured, blinking up at him. He nodded with a grin. 

“He’s perfectly healthy and safe, okay? Now breathe with me. I’m going to walk you through the square breathing. Remember that?” 

You felt small and raw, but you did. You remembered it. Franky smiled at your shaky nod. 

“Good. Are you ready? Breathe in with me for 1…2…3…4…and hold for 1…2…3…4… and out 1…2…3…4… and hold 1…2…3…4…” you followed his instructions numbly, trusting him completely. He repeated the commands and counting, and your hiccuping breaths eased slowly into smooth ones. 

“Relax your muscles. You’re safe. You’re good,” he said quietly. You let your head rest fully on his shoulder, relieving the strain on your injuries. You focused on your toes, relaxing those first before moving up to your ankles, calves, and thighs. You ended by relaxing your abs and back, letting Franky hold your entire weight. He let you rest for a few minutes before you blinked up at him, eyes clear now without your panic. 

“What was that?” You murmured into his shirt. Franky soothed a hand over your hair. 

“A flashback and panic episode at the same time” he answered quietly. You would’ve shuddered at his answer if you had the energy. 

“Am I going crazy?”  

“No. It’s a symptom of panic episodes. I’ve been doing research on them” he said gently. You hummed. You were tired of this room. 

“Can you take me out of here?” 

He stood with your body cradled against him easily. 

“Do you want quiet or sun?” 

You couldn’t make a decision right now. 

“Both” you said instead. 

He carried you out of the infirmary, and beelined immediately towards Robin’s flower garden. The smell of the sea and the feel of fresh air felt good, even if you were still emotionally numb. Robin was sitting there, calmly drinking tea as her eyes roamed over the pages of a book. To you, it never looked like she read the normal way, but rather took in parts of sentences all over the page and let them float together in her mind. You nuzzled into Franky’s shoulder, breathing in the fresh air deeply. The floral scent of flowers sweetened the air. Your shaking was stopping. 

“It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?” Robin greeted. You looked at her, a weak smile on your face. 

“It is, especially when you haven’t had fresh air for a while” you answered. 

“Mmm” She hummed in agreement. Franky sat you in a chair and took a seat in the one next to you. Sanji appeared and delivered a fresh pot of tea and extra cups before whirling away at Robin’s request for cookies. Franky poured you some tea and placed it in front of you. You sniffed the steam, breathing in a floral combination of chamomile, lavender, and mint, and a touch of cinnamon. 

“Ah, it looks like he brought you a different blend than mine. Do you mind if I have a taste?” Robin asked. You shook your head. 

“Go ahead.”

She poured a cup and brought it up to sniff before tasting it. 

“It seems that Cook-san used the lavender, chamomile, and mint I gave him from my garden” she said appreciatively. You looked down at the tea with new appreciation. 

“Shall I?” she said, an arm appearing from your armrest. You swallowed down the frustration at being helpless and nodded, leaning forward slightly. Robin’s arm picked up the teacup and brought it gently to your lips. You blew on it lightly and she tipped it the perfect amount for you to take a sip. The gentle flavors washed over your tongue, soothing your stress. It was sweetened slightly, just as an aftertaste. Sanji really was an amazing chef. You sighed, finally relaxing. Comfortable silence enveloped the three of you for a while, Franky taking a cola out of his stomach refrigerator and sipping on it. Robin seemed to have muscle memory from drinking so much tea that she hardly needed any focus to raise your cup to your lips and back down to the saucer. You reveled in the silence, because it was different from the silence of the infirmary. This silence was accompanied by the waves, footsteps, the breeze rustling the leaves of the garden and Nami’s orange trees. Voices of Nami, Chopper, and Usopp were all heard wafting back and forth, with the occasional annoyed grunt from Law. You looked back at your companions after soaking in the sun on your face for a minute. 

“Where’s Law’s crew?” you questioned. 

Robin answered cryptically first. 

“Maybe they were swallowed by a giant electric eel and Law is waiting for them to emerge from the other end before meeting up with them again” she said without looking up from her book. You blinked at her before breaking out into peals of giggles that were hurting your ribs. 

“Ow ow ow Robin stop making me laugh! It makes my ribs hurt!” 

Franky snorted at Robin’s answer. 

“He probably didn’t want them exposed to our ‘stupid mugiwara antics’” he imitated Law in the last bit, schooling his face into a stern scowl. You couldn’t help your giggles, and Robin laughed with you. The afternoon brought you joy and comfort, Sanji joining you briefly between his kitchen chores as he smoked. Usopp and Luffy joined before going off to fish and then coming back hours later to fetch Sanji, interrupting his dramatics towards you and Robin. It made you feel normal. 

Normal. 

You yawned, exhausted from being outside. You went to stand before an ache in your chest brought you back to reality. Franky saw your flinch and the clench of your jaw. 

“Wanna go take a nap?” he asked. You nodded. He went to pick you up, but you shook your head. 

“I want to try walking.” 

Franky smiled gently. 

“Just let me call Law up here. I think he mentioned something about wanting to see how walked earlier.” 

Franky called Law’s name, the shouted ‘Tra-o’ making the surgeon look over his shoulder from gazing at the waves with his signature scowl. Franky pointed to you and told him you wanted to try walking. Law’s expression eased slightly, becoming more clinical than pissed off. He quickly approached your little group, his sword slung casually over his shoulder. Luffy raced over at the announcement. 

You swallowed nervously at Law’s swagger towards you, looking away as your heart fluttered. His boots tapped on the wood planks until he stood in front of you, hip cocked to the side and free hand tucked in his pocket. He lowered his sword, placing it flat on the ground in the free space near the table. 

“I’ll use my abilities. If you start to fall, I’ll switch you with my sword, okay?” 

You nodded. Franky and Robin looked on curiously. Luffy hummed in understanding. 

“Good. Now start by standing. Brace your feet apart so you have more balance” the doctor instructed. You slid your feet apart by opening your knees, and a brief picture of spreading your legs in a different scenario with the doctor flashed in your mind. 

“Good.” 

Butterflies erupted in your stomach at the praise in his deep voice, before a spear of guilt at your infatuation killed them. You breathed deeply, clearing your mind of your thoughts. 

“Room.” 

The blue dome enveloped you and your group. You noticed it also reached the infirmary.  

“Why not just switch me to the bed if I start to fall?” you asked. Law blinked at you. 

“Figured you’d want to be outside longer but I can do that instead” he offered. You nodded, yawning. Law picked up his sword, and leaned it against his shoulder again. 

“Now try standing.” 

You shifted your weight slowly onto your feet, managing to rise to a standing position. Law hummed. 

“Walk.” 

You shuffled forward a little, adjusting to your shift in weight and balance. You stopped, looking at the doctor. He nodded once. You swallowed nervously at the thought of walking again, but slowly shifted your weight to one foot as the other took a full step forward. You pushed off your other foot, letting your weight shift onto the one you had just stepped forward with. Your back foot swung forward, and landed easily. You looked up with a smile, meeting Luffy’s excited grin. Eagerly, you pushed forward, but ended up pushing forward too quickly, and you couldn’t get your other foot under you in time. Your shoulders ached horribly as the healing muscles twitched at your instinct to use your arms for balance, and the pain swept your sense of balance away. 

“Shambles” 

Tears pricked your eyes in frustration and pain, your jaw clenched against the current of them both. Your chest wanted to rise as your body writhed with the pain, but doing so only made your cracked ribs scream at you. 

“Fuck!” you shouted instead. You were on the bed in the infirmary, alone. The door slammed open, revealing Law holding the blanket to your bed. You looked at him, tears blurring your eyes. He walked over quickly, dropping the blanket at your feet. You heard more footsteps come into the infirmary, and you grew mortified at your weakness.

“Everyone out!” He ordered. You looked at him, finally managing to gasp in some shaky breaths. You distantly heard footsteps retreat and the door close. His golden eyes looked down at you, concern raging behind his cold exterior. 

“Room. Scan” He wielded his powers with ease, his sword moving through the air over your chest and shoulders. You tried to stay still, but it was impossible as the pain lanced through you. The surgeon sucked his teeth and put his sword away. 

“Your wounds didn’t get worse. Let's get you some medication,” he said. He stepped to the door, and called for Chopper. The small reindeer trotted in, immediately going to his desk to mix up a strong pain medication. You whimpered, closing your eyes as your mind began to spiral. 

“Oi. Look at me,” Law demanded. You opened your eyes, bringing them up to look into his golden eyes. He wiped your years off your cheek, and placed his arm at the head of your bed, leaning his weight on it as he bent over you. 

“A broken body doesn’t mean you’re broken. You’ll heal, and I’m going to help you.”

You sniffled. 

“I’m scared. It hurts so much” you mumbled, keeping your gaze on his. 

“I know, I know. It’ll be okay soon though” he brought his forehead down to yours, bringing your focus to the point of contact. It was soothing. His other hand cradled your jaw, and he pulled back as he moved his hand on your head to stroke his thumb gently over your eyebrow repeatedly. It was oddly soothing, and you found your breath quickly returning. You closed your eyes as your body began to relax, starting to ease the pain.

“There, see? I know it’s scary, but you have everything to live for',' he murmured. Law slowly pulled back further, letting Chopper move forward with your medicine that he had dissolved in a cup of water. You scrunched your nose at the bitter smell, knowing it would taste awful. You looked at Law for a second, and he gave you a nod of encouragement. You sighed, and parted your lips so Chopper could angle the cup in your mouth. You groaned at the taste, hating the bitterness and saltiness of the medicine. It was different from what he had given you previously. You pulled back for a breath and gagged a little. 

“Just one more drink!” the tiny doctor encouraged. You groaned, and unwillingly parted your lips again. The final gulp was gritty and worse than before, and you pulled away with a gag, yelping as your aching shoulder fired with renewed burning as you tried to slap a hand over your mouth to stop the gag. A straw was shoved into your mouth, Chopper informing you it was water quickly before you spat it out. You sucked it down gratefully, coming back to yourself. You noticed a warm hand on your back, between your shoulder blades, propping you up. You hadn’t even noticed you moved. Once you drained the cup, you looked to your side, realizing it was Law holding you up with a disguised look of pity on his face.  

“Never give me that shit again Chopper or I’ll kick your ass” you moaned. You suddenly felt woozy. Was the world spinning? Were you floating? You blinked once, before your eyelids lowered slowly one more time. 

Apparently you slept all the way through the night, waking early the next morning before the sun rose. 

“Good morning!” Chopper greeted you with a smile. You smiled back at him before registering what he said. 

“Morning?” 

He gave you an affirmative nod. 

“Yep! You slept all the way through the night. It’s about 5am now,” he informed you. You groaned. You were hungry. 

“Can I get some food?” 

Chopper looked at you a little sheepishly. 

“N-no. See, with your surgery today, it's best if you don’t have food before the anesthesia.” 

A punch of anxiety speared through your gut, and you sighed shakily. 

“...right. So Law’s crew is here?” 

The reindeer nodded. You took a deep breath. 

“Okay. Let’s do this. I have everything to live for” you murmured. Footsteps echoed outside your door, coming closer. A quiet knock rapped three times before Law poked his head in the open door. Once he saw you were awake, he entered the room fully. 

“You’re awake.” 

You nodded, swallowing down your nervousness at his presence. Not only was he incredibly good looking, but he was also the one going to do your surgery. If he was here, the crew must almost be ready for you. 

“I came to transport you to my ship.” 

You nodded again. 

“Are you ready to do… it?” you asked, a wobble in your voice. The captain nodded with his arms crossed. He seemed more professional now, like he was in the mindset of a surgeon. He knew you were referring to the surgery, not the transportation part. 

“Almost. We’ve set up everything and we just need the patient to continue.” 

You looked over at Chopper nervously. He gave you a smile and what could be considered a thumbs up with his tiny hoof. It made you smile. 

“And you’ll be there too?” you asked the reindeer. He trotted up to your bed and pulled himself on the mattress with a little grunt. 

“Of course! And Franky will be there too!” he assured you with a pat on your knee. You breathed an anxious sigh, ready for this whole thing to be over. You looked at Law. 

“Luffy is going to kick your ass if you hurt or kill me” you threatened. It made you feel like at least something was in your control. The surgeon rolled his eyes. 

“One, I’ve heard that from everyone on this crew, and two, you have the best experts on the Grand Line doing your surgery. You have nothing to worry about. Now let’s go,” he held out his hand in preparation for his powers. 

“Room.” 

“Wait! What about Franky?” you said quickly. Chopper answered for the surgeon. 

“He’s already on the Polar Tang, and has been familiarizing Law’s crew with the bionic arms he made,” he said soothingly. You nodded, and squeezed your eyes shut. 

“Okay I’m ready.”

“Shambles.” 

You felt weightless for a second before suddenly laying on a hard, cold surface. You sucked in a breath as the cold touched the back of your neck. 

“You okay?” Chopper hovered over you cautiously. You nodded with a smile. 

“Fuckin hell Law, do you keep these tables in a freezer or something?” A shiver went through you as the cold seeped past your thin pajamas. 

“You won’t feel the cold soon enough once you’re drugged up. Stop complaining,” He answered curtly, and you couldn’t help how he talked to you a little differently when he was in front of his crew. 

“Captain!” a high pitched voice admonished. You looked over and met the eyes of a talking polar bear, fully geared up with a mask, scrubs, and rubber gloves. You smiled, recognizing him as Bepo from Law’s brief mentions of his crew. He met your eyes, concerned. 

“I know the table is cold. Would you like a heated blanket?” he held up the blanket, and you nodded, shivering a little more. The bear tucked the blanket around you with the help of Chopper, who had transformed into his more human form. Two more of Law’s crew members stood at the foot of the table, with Franky’s smiling figure hulking above them. 

“Hey big bro” you greeted the cyborg. He grinned back. 

“Yo! Are ya ready to have my suuuuuperrrrrr Franky arms? We’ll be kinda matching!” 

His enthusiasm calmed you enough to make you giggle. Determination lit in your soul with his support. 

“I’m ready,” you answered. You relaxed down on the hard table, controlling your breath and turning your head so the doctors had access to your jugular vein for the IV. A gloved hand gently wiped down the area before Franky placed a hand on your cheek, reminding you of his presence and affection.

“Okay. Get ready for the poke” Chopper said. You nodded stiffly, feeling your body tense in preparation for the needle. Franky put a finger on your chin, and tilted your head to the opposite side, and you opened your eyes in confusion. Your body began to relax seeing his grinning face, and you felt the brief sting of the needle before it was taped into place. 

“I’ll give the medicine now. It’ll make you woozy and sleepy, but remember you're safe, okay?” Chopper’s voice came from the other side of the bed, and you looked over at him with a nervous smile. Law was standing behind him, his golden eyes meeting yours as a small smile twitched on his lips. 

“Remember what I said about Luffy,” I reminded him. Law scoffed. 

“As if I would ever harm a patient.” 

You nodded at Chopper, and he began pressing the plunger on the syringe. You tasted an odd, metallic taste in your mouth and you smacked your lips, looking at the doctor curiously. 

“Some people can taste it” Law answered for Chopper. As soon as he said it, you felt a wave of dizzy exhaustion crash over your body, and you grunted a little, blinking hard and trying to focus your eyes. 

“Relax, we got ya” Franky’s gravely voice was the last thing you heard before you let sleep overtake you again. 

To those who asked to be tagged: @blue-rae18, @perilous-pasta

[soapymansuds]

Eternity and Counting

Pt.3

(Pt1, Pt2)

(I am SOOOOOO sorry I didn't post on Tuesday. Full honestly, I forgot. But today's chapter is a touch longer than usual as an apology. And by just a touch, I mean almost double the length of both previous chapters<3)

Obey me! X Angel!MC (They/Them Pronouns)

TW: Suicide, depression, self-deprecation, death, big feelings, lots of sad.

MC just can't handle anything anymore and takes their own life. Imagine their dismay to find even death isn't the end for them.Keep reading

~/\~

Since that day, my life, or afterlife I suppose, has been relatively simple. When I'm not resting in the garden, I'm running small errands for Michael. It's easy enough to avoid recognition here, but for the sake of my peace of mind, I wear a cloaking spell whenever I'm out. Simeon agreed not to tell anybody about my presence, and in exchange, he asked that I let him join me on my errands, even if he doesn't recognize me. He claims I could have any face in all three realms, and my presence would still bring him comfort. Sometimes he brings me updates on how the others are doing. Usually, he talks about Luke and his growth. He often avoids talking about the Devildom, and whether that's because he doesn't want to upset me or because he simply can't face them knowing what he knows, I've yet to figure out. It's a nice thought, him trying not to remind me of the best part of my life. But it's not overly helpful, given that, even if physical representations of our bonds weren't burned into my skin, everything I do reminds me of them anyway. I know it's selfish of me to make him keep my secret. But to be fair, I decided nearly a year ago that I am an inherently selfish creature, and I've come to terms with it.

Now that I'm on my own, things are easier. Nobody relies on me for much more than fetching papers or goods, and any failures that occur are mine to handle alone. It's simple. It's lonely. But it's simple. And it's good.

I suppose all good things must come to an end though. As I follow my long-since memorized path through the Celestial Palace, I can't help but wonder why I've been summoned. Usually, if Michael has a task for me, he simply brings it to me. But today he asked I meet him in the throne room, so here I am.

I'm greeted as soon as I swing open the door. "MC! Thank you for coming so quickly."

I'm nearly caught off guard by the use of my real name in public. For the sake of secrecy, Michael and Simeon have taken to calling me a fake name for the duration of my stay here.

"How can I help?" I nod as I close the door behind me. I take notice of Simeon's presence and he looks nervous. Never a good sign.

"I have some paperwork I need run to the Devildom. Usually I'd send Simeon, but I need him for another task today and this is rather urgent." Michael grins at me, likely in an attempt to sweeten the plan he's certain I would protest if given the chance.

I'm nearly nauseous at the idea of it. "You're joking, right? I mean this so genuinely, have you lost it?"

There's a flash of amusement on his face before he responds, "I would never make light of your trauma, no I am not joking. You have your cloaking spell, and all you need to do is hand the papers over to Barbatos. Maybe if he's busy, you'll have to hand them to Lord Diavolo himself. But then you can just come straight back. Simple and easy."

I stare at him, dead eyed and confused. "Yeah, seems super simple." I groan, sarcasm laced in every letter. "There's no getting out of this, is there?" I glance desperately at Simeon who seems to have loosened some of the tension in his spine at my pseudo acceptance of the whole ordeal. He shakes his head.

"Fine." I sigh. "Open'r up." with a lazy wave of my arm.

Michael nods, same fatherly grin plastered on his face as always. I'm sure he's convinced he's won some sort of mental battle, and maybe he has. Either way, he summons the portal, and I steal my nerves to step through. "I'm getting two days off when I get back." I call, lunging through the portal.

On the other side, I take a quick moment to make sure my cloaking spell hasn't warn off before looking around. I'm right where I had assumed I'd be. The courtyard's grand arches and elegant gazebo bring a chilly feeling of recognition to the back of my mind. How many gallas and celebrations had I spent out here, in search of some form of peace from the hustle and bustle? How many times had I stumbled upon Levi, or him upon me, in search of the same thing? I think for a moment that I wouldn't mind him stumbling upon me now.

I shake the thought from my mind as quickly as it occurs. Just deliver the paperwork.

I begin the path to the castle without a thought. The trail ingrained into my very psyche. I almost laugh at the thought. I abandoned this place, yet it never left me. What is it Djo said about men and cities?

I never allowed myself to dwell on it from the comfort of Michael's garden, but God did I miss the sky here. Something about the ever present swirling of purples and blues splashed across the stars is purely... divine. Not to say that the Celestial realm wasn't stunning. But there was always this sense of perfectionism, even in the natural landscape. It never felt right to me. Not like this at least. This has always been chaotic, but in the way a toddler helping in the kitchen is chaotic. Sure, shit's a mess and you're near certain it's going to end poorly, but if you take just a moment to watch it unfold, there's beauty in it.

I wish I could have been reborn as a demon.

No. No I don't. Living out the rest of my days, infinite as they may be, facing them with my own selfishness. I'm sure it would kill me a second time.

I'm utterly lost in thought and the view of the sky as I follow the path. So much so, I nearly miss the tail swishing on the ground in front of me. Luckily for me, it bats my ankle gently before I manage to step on it. Double luck, the contact doesn't wake it's sleeping owner.

Belphegor snores softly in the grass next to the path, curled up with his back to me. Something in me instinctively wants to curl up with him, but I know I can't. So instead, I sit. Divine garb be damned, I'm sitting on the dirt, watching him sleep. I consider making a run for it, but the subtle pull he's always had keeps me calm and still. Even in his sleep, even with our pact burned away, his presence still lulls me like a child.

I shake my head as if I were actually dozing off. Was I? Regardless, I stand up, settling to move him out of the trail, just a little. For the sake of the hazard he poses to himself and others. He's as warm as I remember as I press him further into the grass, tucking his tail over his leg before quickly stepping away and back to my task.

A warm feeling I can just barely remember washes over me and stops me in my tracks. How could I, after over a year away, fall so quickly back into routine. Not only how could I, but how dare I? I made my decision, and I've got no right to just wander in here and return to my position, doting and fawning over them. I truly am a selfish creature.

I tried to explain it to them, time and time again. But they simply refused to believe me. I cared so much, not because of them, but because I needed to. I needed to care for them to feel useful. Asmodeus once told me that I was a "pleasure sub". I told him I was willing to rip my own heart out to please him, but mostly because i never much cared for it anyway.

(As always, thank you soooo much for reading. If you'd like to be tagged in future uploads, please comment to be added to the list!)

-Your Friend, The Author

*tags*

@spffldlbrnf

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part eleven

authors note: hi! i'm super sorry for the cliffhanger! i just have this thing where i need sections to be cohesive, and this chapter is much heavier than the previous, so i didn't wanna boggle ya'll down with all that angst!

i've also been thinking about the length of this story. currently, in terms of story timeline, we're at the very end of december 23', and i have ideas for up to may 24'. well, beyond that, but i don't want things to get stale, so i can end it around that time or keep it going? just curious because i don't want it to play out so long that it bores anyone. if that makes sense. just lmk.

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: angsttttt (parental neglect, abandonment, trauma) language, alcohol consumption, suggestive themes, some fluff

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

words: 6.2k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wanderingreigns

You knew as soon as he walked in that something was up.

In getting to know Joe, you’d also learned that he was, surprisingly, on the quiet side. He spoke with you, of course, but you learned he leaned more towards introverted than extroverted. It was kind of sweet and pretty surprising. But, you’d also learned there was a difference between him being his sometimes quiet self and when something was off, and something was definitely off.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong, or do I have to fuck it out of you?” He rolls his eyes, not even showing any excitement at the idea of fucking you. Yeah, something was definitely wrong. “Seriously, what’s up?”

He shrugs, playing it off clearly. “Just tired. Back to back matches.” 

That's when you realize what it is. “You’re hurt, aren’t you?” He shakes his head, dismissively, and you cross your arms. “Take your shirt off.”

“What?”

“Take it off, or I’ll climb your big ass and take it off myself.” Joe blows out a breath. He has to know you’re dead serious. So, wordlessly, he lifts his shirt over his head and turns around. 

You gasp almost immediately. “What the actual fuck?” Your hand reaches to touch him, but you stop yourself, knowing that his skin must be sensitive to the touch. His back is inflamed, red welts spread in different areas with a nasty bruise that looks like a borderline hematoma and other various cuts. 

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” Shaking your head, you point to your room. “Go sit and wait for me on the bed.” He opens his mouth, and you lift a finger. “I don’t want to hear it. Get in there now.”

Surprisingly, he follows suit, and you start to move about, gathering the necessary supplies. Along the way, you experience a plethora of emotions but mostly bounce back and forth between irritation and concern. 

You’re irritated that he didn’t just come out and say that he was hurt. You’re also concerned because he’s obviously in pain, and that bothers you. He doesn’t have to be, he didn’t have to be if he just said something. 

Stubborn asshole. 

With everything needed and placed in a cloth bag, you walk into your room and stretch your hand out to him. “Take this.”

Joe looks down at your open palm with a single pink pill. “What the hell is it?”

“Coke,” you answer with a straight face. Rolling your eyes, you answer, “Benadryl. It’ll help with the inflammation of the welts.”

“It’ll also knock me out.”

“We’ll we’re obviously not fucking with your back all messed up, so what else are you going to do?”

“Who said we can’t fuck?”

You sigh. “Joe, if you don’t just take this goddamn pill. With your size, you probably should take two, but I’m trying to be nice by only giving you one, so accept my kindness and swallow this damn pill or I’ll shove it down your throat.” 

He sucks his teeth but also takes the pill from you followed by the water bottle tucked under your arm. “You’re a terrible nurse.”

“And you’re an awful patient. At least we’re both on the same page.” You wait for him to swallow it before taking the bottle from him. “Good, now lay on your stomach.”

He lifts his brow, asking, “why?”

“Oh my god, you’re as bad as my students.” Men when they’re sick or not feeling well are a special kind of torture you’re not sure why exactly you’re subjecting yourself to right now. “Just do it, please. I’m trying to help you here.”

He just looks at you, as if he has something else to say, probably so. But, he surprises you by staying silent and following your instructions. 

Pleased, you climb on top of him, sitting on his ass to avoid irritating his already sensitive skin. “Okay, now this may hurt a little bit at first—”

He makes a sound underneath you. “Can’t hurt anymore than it already does.”

“If you had said something sooner, I could have helped you before now,” you scold, dropping the bag on the bed beside ya’ll. Men and their tendency to downplay pain will never cease to amaze you. The minute you start getting hit with cramps, you pop an ibuprofen.

“It’s not that big a deal.”

“You’re in pain. That’s always a big deal.” Pulling out the ointment, you dab enough to your hand and start carefully massaging it into the welts. He hisses at your touch and you murmur an apology but don’t stop. It’s short term discomfort for long term benefits. 

“What is this?” He asks.

“Calamine lotion,” you answer, adding on. “I have hydrocortisone too, but my grandma always said calamine works just as well without getting into your bloodstream. Don’t know how true it is, but it always worked for me, so it’ll work for you.”

He chuckles. “She sounded fun.”

Instantly, a smile is on your face as you continue to treat him. “Always. Summers with her were always the highlight of my year.”

He doesn’t say anything after that, and you continue to work the lotion into his skin. Once pleased with the application, you move on to the next part. “Alright, I’m gonna apply some cold compresses. You’ll probably be out in another 20 minutes, so just leave em’ on, and I’ll come change em’ out while you’re sleeping.”

When he doesn’t push back, you pull the compresses out of your bag and strategically place them on different areas of his back to maximize the comfort. Once finished, you climb off of him and go to close up the blinds and curtains. “Alright, get some rest.” 

You’re at the doorway when he says your name. “Yeah?”

A slight delay before he says, genuinely, “thank you.” 

There’s something meaningful beyond just the obvious, and it brings a small smile to your face. Not that he can see that. So you settle on, “of course. You’re no good to me if you can’t fuck me.”

He laughs, loudly. “Shut up.”

Smile widening, you close the door.  ________

Joe finds you a couple hours later in the kitchen, but it’s the state of you that gives him a pause and brings a smile to his face.

You’re dancing around, clad in one of his shirts and short shorts that your ass swallows up. Brief glimpses of your side profile reveal that you’re singing too, just in a low enough voice, probably not to disturb you. 

He doesn’t know the specific song, but the voice is familiar enough for him to know it’s Taylor Swift. That definitely surprises him, though it shouldn’t. You have a weird ass taste in music to where he’s found you in the shower listening to some random rock song, other times, it was throwback R&B.

You were just so….different from anyone he’s ever known. 

It’s one of the many reasons he’s so enamored with you.

Drop everything now

Meet me in the pouring rain

Kiss me on the sidewalk

Take away the pain

'Cause I see sparks fly, whenever you smile

It’s when you turn around, mid bite on a cookie that you finally notice his presence, smiling. “Hey. You’re up.”

“I am.” He nods, walking over to you. He gestures around the kitchen. “What is all this?” 

You finish chewing and swallow before directing Alexa to pause the music. “Well, I finished my lesson planning and was bored, so I decided to bake. But then I got hungry for actual food, so I ordered takeout.”

“And the music?”

You shrug, taking another bite of your cookie. “I like the song. Don’t worry, it’s the only Taylor Swift song allowed in this African American household.”

He laughs and moves past you when you take the chance to assess his back, immediately noticing how the swelling and redness have decreased. “How you feeling?”

“Better,” he answers, moving to the cartons, seeing that you made sure to order his favorites as well. “Thanks again.”

Smirking, you climb on the island, locking your ankles together. “Not so terrible nurse after all then, huh?”

“Your bedside manners still suck.” 

“Shut up.” You watch him fix his food and when he gets ready to sit down on a bar stool, you hop off the counter, prompting, “come with me.”

“Where?”

“All these damn questions….” Grabbing a couple of cookies and placing them in a bowl, you find your sandals and slide them on your feet. “Just come on.”

“Let me at least put a shirt on.”

“Absolutely not. You need to let your skin breathe,” you lecture, taking him in, all of him. “Trust me, no one’s gonna see us, and even if they did, who the hell would complain about you being shirtless?”

Snatching the keys off the table, you open the door, allowing him to walk out first. You start to leave your door unlocked but decide against it. It’s an extremely safe town, but there’s always a first time for everything. 

Locking it, you motion for him to follow you up the two sets of steps until reaching the heavy door that you turn the knob left and then right in order to open it. Joe’s immediately hit with a nice breeze and diminishing sunlight as the evening sets in.

“Come on,” you usher him to follow you to your favorite spot, sitting down and patting down on the ground next to you.

Joe chuckles, following suit. “Seriously?”

You ignore him, pushing on his shoulder as he brings his plate in front of him to eat. “I like to come out here sometimes to just get away. Especially if I need to clear my head. My grandma used to always say the closer you are to Heaven, the clearer you can hear God’s voice.”

He just watches you, the way the wind blows at your curls, making them splash at your face. Everything about you has always been stunning to him, but in this moment where you sit so relaxed and unbothered, he’s never thought you looked more beautiful. 

“Plus, you obviously need to clear your head to bounce back from that ass whooping,” you snort, taking another bite of your cookie. One look at Joe’s scowl makes you giggle. “On one hand, it’s crazy to me you put your body through so much, but I also recognize your passion and dedication. So, I get it. I was an athlete too. Love of the game type shit.”

You can’t say that you would have ever continued to cheer if it left you the way Joe would come to you sometimes, but as someone who’s been in a similar situation, you understand it. And it’s so much more than just a job to him. It’s a legacy, in his bloodline. All he knows.

All he wants.

So, you support him.

You’ll always support him.

________

There’s the initial chaos that ensues in the minutes after your departure. Callie’s confusion. Joe’s confusion. Bianca’s utter confusion. And as Callie is right there, Joe can’t go immediately after you. He can’t and won’t leave her, so he does the best he can, offering apologies to Bianca and Co. before taking Callie and finding your mom who was catching up with an old friend in another part of the show.

He has some level of difficulty explaining what happened, other than the fact that you’d run off and he needed to find you. It’s really all of the information that he has to go off of, and when he’s finally able to get back to the apartment where he thinks you probably went. He's disappointed to find it empty. There’s brief moment of panic. 

Just where the hell would you go?

He pulls out his phone to check again if you’ll pick up, but it goes straight to voicemail. He then starts to call your mom to ask her if she had any idea where you would be when he thinks about what happened. You were upset, very much so. 

You needed to clear your head.

He knows exactly where you are.

On that same roof he sat on with you years prior is where Joe finds you, but what he doesn’t expect is the bottle of Hennessy that’s not only open but already halfway empty and sitting beside you. 

He doesn’t try to hide his presence and is unsurprised when you ask, “How’d you find me?” 

“Wasn’t that hard,” he answers. It wasn’t. He remembers almost everything you’ve ever told him about yourself, including how this spot has always been your place to escape.

Just what were you escaping from is what has him stumped.

“Sit down.” You pat the space beside you much harder than what’s necessary. He sighs and asks for a minute, pulling out the phone and stepping away to make a call.

Your mom answers on the third ring. “Did you find her?”

“Yeah,” Joe runs his hand over his face. “I got her, but….can you take Callie back to your place?”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

He looks over again at the bottle. “She’s drunk.”

“Drunk?” It sounds like she’s holding back a chuckle, like his words are humorous because everyone knows you don’t drink, and she says as such. “What do you mean she’s drunk? My child doesn’t even drink.”

“She did tonight” Joe’s eyes fall back over to you to see you still sitting, swaying slightly as if listening to music. There is no music. “And Callie doesn’t need to see her like this.” He especially knows you wouldn’t want her to see you like this. 

Your mom sighs, heavily, on the other end. “You’ll stay with her, right?”

“Of course.” That’s not even a question. “And once I get her settled, if Callie is still up—”

“Oh, she’ll be up. She can’t fall asleep unless she talks to you or her mama.” It feels like an inappropriate response, but there’s a small part of Joe that finds joy in this. He remembers when you mentioned to him before that Callie needed to see and/or speak to you before she could fall asleep, a sign of how closely bonded you two were. To be added to that category means everything to him. “Thank you, Joseph.”

He sees no need in being thanked but acknowledges your mom’s appreciation anyway. “Of course.” The call ends, and he brings his focus back to you. The first thing he does is take away the bottle of Henny.

You see this and instantly scowl. “You’re no fun.” 

He sits next to you, asking in a quiet voice, “what happened tonight, Y/N?” Joe is still utterly confused at all of this, your zero to one hundred change in demeanor. But, the fact that you resulted to drinking shows him just how heavy whatever it was has impacted you. “Talk to me.” 

You laugh, but there isn’t an ounce of humor. “God, where do I start?” Your eyes light up, as if realizing something. “Oooh. I know where.” You lean into his shoulder, whispering, “I’m the product of an affair.”

This piece of information definitely takes him by surprise.

He's noticed you've never talked about your father, and he's never asked. Obviously, it was a sensitive topic, that much he could garner. But now, he knows just why it was sensitive.

“I don't—I don't know exactly what happened between them. She’s never really talked about it, but I do remember when I was younger, maybe—maybe a couple years older than Callie, he was—he was at the house.” You swallow, and Joe can see the distance in your eyes, like you’re no longer sitting here beside him. But someplace else. “She told me to go to my room, but I snooped at the top of the steps. Don’t….don’t really remember everything that was said except that she was literally begging this man to have some type of relationship with me, and he refused.” You laugh suddenly, and it’s so out of place, doesn't make sense given the nature of the conversation. But it does if he factors in the liquor coursing through your system. “He called me a m–mistake.”

Joe's heart aches at your words. “Baby—”

“When I was sixteen years old, I worked at a clothing store in town, and I saved up my money for this necklace…it was gold, and I thought—I thought it was so pretty. It made me feel fancy.” You chuckle, not as humorous this time, head tilting. “And once I finally got the necklace, I drove—I drove an hour away because…because after all those years, I still….I wanted to meet my father. I wanted…I wanted him to be in my life.” 

“He’s uh—or was, I’m not sure anymore—captain of police in his town, so I went to the precinct to meet him, wearing that necklace that I worked months to save up for because…because I wanted to look nice. I remember walking into his office, and I was nervous, but—but I also figured there was no way he could reject me then. I—I was head cheerleader. A straight A student. I—I had just gotten a near perfect score on both my SAT and ACT. I was…I was a good kid, Joe.”

Your jaw fixes, and he can see you’re trying to hold back tears. It kills him to see you this upset. He’s never seen you this vulnerable. “And I—I told him all that. I told him I wanted to see if he wanted a relationship with me, and do you know what he told me?” You suddenly stand up, clearly intending to mimic this interaction. “A relationship? Why would I want a relationship with you? You’re not even supposed to exist.” 

You giggle, eyes watering. Joe frowns. He can’t even begin to fathom how someone can say something like that to their own flesh and blood.

“Oh, but that’s not even the best part.” You’re doing one hell of a job playing this all off as something that isn’t impacting you, no doubt thanks to the alcohol. But, he knows you well enough to know and even see where this is headed. “He—” you hiccup, covering your mouth to hide your giggles. “He said again that I was a mistake that he paid my mom to take care of and—” It’s starting to crack, the alcohol induced facade that all of this is fine, that you don’t care. Your voice starts to catch. “---that the money he gave her for an abortion was the biggest waste of money he ever spent.”

“Y/N—”

“Minutes later, his wife walked in and then—and then his daughter walked in, and I—I ran. I couldn’t….I couldn’t—we looked the same age, Joe. He had a daughter already, he–he didn’t need me. He didn't—he didn’t want me.” You sniffle, wiping at your eyes. “And that’s fine, I—I didn’t care. I—I blocked that out after that day. I’d—I’d forgotten about him.” A beat. “Until tonight.”

“Because—because for the first time since I was sixteen years old, I was in front of all of them again. My—my—father, his wife, my—-”

Joe starts putting the pieces together. “Bianca….”

“She’s my sister,” you answer for him, having a hard time keeping it all in at this point. “She’s the one he’s proud of. She’s the one whose kid he claims as his grandchild. She’s the one he acknowledges. I’m just—I’m just the mistake he wishes was never born.” 

Joe stands up, gradually moving toward you. 

“I did everything right. I stayed out of trouble. I went to school. I got my degree. I did—-” He’s in front of you, gently pulling you into him as you finally break. “I don’t understand why he didn’t want me. I’m his daughter.” you finally shatter, crying into his chest. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Hey, hey—” Joe brings his hands to your face, making you look at him. “There is nothing wrong with you. You are an amazing, intelligent, beautiful woman, and I can’t even begin to describe how amazing of a mother you are.” He wipes away your tears as you clutch onto his shirt. “He doesn’t deserve you, baby. He doesn’t deserve to be in your life. He never did, and he never will. Fuck him. You don’t need shit from him. I’ve got you, okay? Always.” You allow him to hold you, to comfort you, because it’s just what you need in this moment. You tried to find it in solitude, tried to find it at the bottom of a liquor bottle, but it was all in vain. You just needed him.

Joe holds you as long as you allow him, letting you cry it out until he's eventually able to guide you into returning to your apartment.

But outside the door is when you hesitate.

He notices this, immediately asking, “what’s wrong?”

Your eyes start watering again. “Callie…I—I don’t want her to—”

He shakes his head, kissing the top of your head. “I asked your mom to take her back to her place. I’ll go check on her after I get you straight.”

This seems to settle some of your anxiety, and he continues to guide you into your bedroom. He helps you out of your clothes and into a simple t-shirt that he recognizes as one of his own.

Joe moves all of your decorative pillows, placing them on the chair in the corner of your room as you pull back the blankets. He turns around to find you reaching for his hand, tugging him towards the bed. “Just—just until I fall asleep.”

He doesn’t object. Joe planned to stay with you until then anyway.

He undresses enough to climb into bed with you, and you waste no time burying yourself into his chest, feeling an instant sense of peace when he wraps his strong arms around you. You’ve always felt so safe and protected in his embrace, and in this moment, it’s everything you need. 

“I realized something tonight,” you mumble into his skin. Joe’s hand is under your shirt, hand moving soothing circles on the small of your back. “I—I didn’t keep Callie from you because of your wife. That was part of the reason, but it wasn’t the main reason.” You lift your head, throat feeling pressured as you allow yourself to finally admit, “the truth is that I was terrified you would reject her the way my dad rejected me, and I never wanted her to feel that way. And I know now that you would never do that to her, but I—I didn’t know then, and I was so wrong, and I’m so sorry. I—”

“Hey—” He cuts you off, hand going to palm your cheek. “Don’t do that. I understand why you did it now, I do. You were trying to protect her. I can’t be upset with you for that. I’m not.” He studies your face, your eyes, always so beautiful to him. “I don’t think I could ever be mad at you for too long.”

It’s not a lie. Joe’s always thought he’s known you like the back of his hand, learned you so well, but tonight has shown him that he didn’t know everything. He’ll never get back the time he missed out on with Callie, and maybe on some level there will always be a slither of resentment. But, it’s not enough for him to notice and most definitely not enough for him to actually feel.

He’s not quite sure how he could find it in him to hold your decision against you. It didn’t come from a place of selfishness or vindictiveness but love and protectiveness. You just wanted to keep her from experiencing the pain and trauma you’d endured. 

There was no faulting that. 

And you accept his grace, so understanding and considerate. You feel slightly undeserving but immensely grateful that he can extend such empathy. 

You’re quiet after that, eyes shut as you work to turn off your brain and decompress what’s inarguably been one of the most difficult days of your life. You’re almost in the early stages of sleep when his voice invades the quietness. 

“I love you.” Joe doesn’t feel any sort of movement at his confession, doesn’t feel you tense or relax. He’s not even sure if you’re still awake, but still, he continues. “I’ve always loved you, and I don’t even know how much of this you’ll remember tomorrow, but that doesn’t matter because I’ve always imagined telling you under much different circumstances anyway.”

“I want to be with you,” he continues. “I’ve always wanted to be with you, and I’m sorry for not putting you first. You deserved better than that. I should have gotten divorced long before I even met you. And that’s….something we eventually need to talk about. I owe you that much.”

He wants to say more, so much more, but he also knows now is not the time given he’s almost certain you’re asleep. Hence why he finally slips out of bed, knowing he needs to check on Callie.

He doesn’t leave without caressing your cheek and kissing your temple, relieved that you’re finally getting some rest following what was inexplicably an emotionally draining day. 

But you’re not asleep, and you did hear it.

You heard it all.

________

“Who are you?”

Joe walked into your moms house, not expecting anyone other than your mom and Callie. Only one of those individuals are present, and the other is a man he’s never in his life seen before but automatically doesn’t like. Just his aura seems off. 

Joe especially hates that this man is in the same house as his little girl.

Your mom seems taken back by this side of him and explains, “Joe, this is Amir. He’s, uhh, an old friend of Y/N. He saw her run off and wanted to check in on her.”

The day's events are definitely a contributing factor as Joe feels exhausted, both mentally and physically, but hearing that this is the infamous Amir instantly angers him. What the hell is he doing here?

“You bold as hell coming here.” is all Joe says, redirecting his attention to your mom. “Y/N tell you that she found out he and Mariah been sleeping with each other?”

What he wants to say is that they’ve been fucking, but he wants to remain respectful. Even if it is hard as hell.

Your mom is looking, mouth ajar, between Joe and Amir. “Wh–what is he talking about, Amir?”

“So you’re the one that’s been feeding those lies into her.” Deflection. It’s a typical bitch move. “You talking a lot of shit for someone who abandoned his own kid and just came back on the scene like ain't nothing happened.”

If not for the fact that you’ve already explained to Joe that you’d never told Amir what really happened between you and him because it was none of his business, Joe would have been livid. He would never abandon you. And definitely never Callie. Ever.

He’d have been with you every fucking step of the way the minute you found out you were pregnant if he’d been given the chance.

But all of that is no business of this asshole’s. 

“You can say or think whatever the hell you want about me. It doesn’t matter. You’re irrelevant, regardless, so the same way you walked your ass in here is the same way you can walk your ass right on out.”

“Apparently not to Y/N.” He’s smug, and it takes a tremendous amount of willpower for Joe to not lay this man out right then and there. He doesn’t know why you would ever settle for the likes of this prick. “Not with how many times she ended up in my bed.” 

Joe partially forgot your mom was even in the same vicinity until she gasps loudly, clearly disgusted, “my Lord. Please, this is my daughter you’re speaking about.”

With a low chuckle, Joe tries his best to remain respectful yet still abundantly clear. “And how many times has she reached out to you since I’ve been back?” His silence is all the answer Joe needs, not that he really needs one at all. Joe knows you have eyes and desire for him and him alone. He just needs to prove a point to this motherfucker. “I’m not asking you. I’m telling you to stay the fuck away from my girlfriend and especially my daughter, cause the next time it won’t be no conversation.”

And before Amir can say or even, stupidly, do anything, a new smaller voice enters the scene.

“Daddy!”

Joe is unsure if he’ll ever get over the joy that fills him at being called that. Callie is at the top of the steps but proceeds to rush down when she sees him, Joe leaning down and catching her, picking her up.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He kisses her cheek, noticing almost immediately how tired she looks. Understandable, as it’s almost 11 o’ clock, far past her bedtime. Uncomfortable with this Amari or whatever the fuck his name is being so close to Callie, Joe starts leading her back up the stairs.

With a frown, she asks the question he was expecting. “Where’s mommy?” 

“She’s back at the apartment sleeping.” Joe is unsure just how to explain tonight’s events to Callie, not really knowing how to help her understand what occurred, if at all possible. “I’ll take you to see her tomorrow morning as soon as she wakes up.”

Joe walks her into her room at your mom’s place and seats her on the bed, sitting next to her. “What’s wrong with her?”

Such a simple question in wording and massively difficult in every other area, especially when one considers Callie’s young age. 

“Mommy saw someone who was very mean to her when she was little, and it made her sad, so….she just wanted to be alone.” It’s the best, simplest answer that’s not a lie he can come up with on the spot.

Callie’s frown deepens. “I don’t want mommy to be sad.”

“Neither do I, baby,” he murmurs. “But, I talked with her, and she should start feeling better soon, okay?”

Her frown diminishes slightly, and Joe can tell she’s in thought. She then asks, “are you gonna go stay with mommy tonight?”

“I was, but I can stay with you, if you want me to.” Joe knows you’ll probably sleep throughout the night because of the alcohol and more importantly, if Callie needs him, he’s there. No questions asked.

You would do the same. 

She suddenly shakes her head. “Mommy stays with me when I’m sad, so someone’s gotta stay with her while she’s sad.” Her face grows sullen again as she asks with a yawn, “do you still have to leave tomorrow morning?”

“No, I leave tomorrow night instead.”

In the midst of all of tonight’s chaos, he’d managed to switch flights, picking an evening one instead. Joe let Hunter know there was a family emergency, and that he’d be back later than initially expected. Hunter was understanding, and while he was grateful for that, it didn’t really make a difference.

You and Callie come first. 

She’s obviously partially pleased with this information and moves her body against his, laying her head on his arm. “I’m sleepy….”

Reaching to caress her cheek with his finger, he directs, “get some rest, Callie. I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.”

She doesn’t say anything, just closes her eyes. It doesn’t take long for sleep to overtake her, a mere matter of minutes really. He stays with her longer though, just to be sure, needing to know she’s okay.

He needs both of yall to be okay.

________

You wake up with an instant sense of unease and discomfort. Your head is throbbing, and your body feels heavy. Your chest feels pressured, like there’s some invisible weight on it.

But in a matter of seconds, it all comes rushing back to you. The fireworks. Bianca. Seeing your dad. Running. Drinking. 

"I love you."

Eyes shutting, you do your best to settle your brain because only one thing is at the front of your mind when you hear giggling coming from outside of your closed door.

Callie 

Just how in the hell did your brief mental breakdown affect your child? 

Pushing the blankets off, it’s then you notice the bottle of water and white pill sitting on your nightstand. Picking it up, you see it’s Advil.

“Joe…..” you whisper, realizing he must have left it here waiting for you once you woke up. Eyes watering at his thoughtfulness, you swallow it and head straight for the bathroom. You need to get cleaned up and get out there to see what kind of damage you’ve unintentionally inflicted on your child’s psyche.

You know how attached she is to you and don’t even allow yourself to think about how difficult it must have been to be so abruptly ripped away.

Especially when you’re the one who did the ripping.

The shower is kept to a minimum, and once your teeth are brushed and face clean, you don’t hesitate to step out of the room. Following the path of sound, in the kitchen is where you find Callie. With Joe. 

They’re sharing a quiet laugh, and you’re certain it’s quiet because he told her you needed your rest. Always looking out for you. 

However, it’s when Callie happens to glance your way that her eyes go big. 

“Mommy!”

She surprisingly climbs off the counter instead of outright jumping and runs over to you. You kneel down to meet her for her hug, so tight and welcoming. “Do you feel better?” 

“Oh baby, I’m always better when I get to see you.” Kissing her forehead, you add, gently, “mommy’s sorry for scaring you.” And it's true. You never meant to scare her or make her worry about you, and it's something you'll work as hard as necessary to make up to her.

But your sweet child surprises you with her authentic, mature reassurances. “It’s okay. Daddy said you were sad,” she explains and gasps. “I made you something to make you smile!”

Touched, you palm her cheek. She really is the light of your life. “I’d love to see it, baby.”

“Okay! I’ll be right back.” She rushes out of the kitchen, and you take the opportunity to talk to Joe. Wordlessly, you move over to hug him.

“Thank you.” There’s not enough thank yous to show him just how appreciative you are to have him in your life, to have him as Callie’s father. He took such control yesterday while you were busy drowning in your daddy issues. And now he’s still here when you’re almost certain that he was supposed to have flown out at the crack of dawn. “I’m really sorry about last night. That’s not—-I don’t get drunk. I would never leave Callie like that—“

“I don’t care about any of that,” he dismisses. You believe him, as he looks entirely uninterested in any explanation you want to provide him because he sees it as unnecessary. He takes the back of hand to feel your forehead. “How are you feeling? Did you take the Advil?”

Nodding, you try again, “seriously, Joe. You’ve changed your whole schedule around—“

“You needed me,” he answers. “There was nothing to think about.”

And the tears are brewing again, but for very different reasons. This man is everything you’ve always wanted and dreamed of, even better. And he loves you. He wants to be with you. Your daughter's father wants to establish a life with you, be a family. What logical reason do you have to continue to deny him? Deny yourself?

“Joe…..” Licking your lips, you place your hands on his chest. “I lo—”

“Here it is, mommy!”

Callie’s interruption is both perfect and imperfect timing. You want so badly to tell him that you love him too, that you also want to be with him. But maybe it’s not the best timing, maybe the setting should be different.

You want him to know you love him not just because of the aftershocks of vulnerability. That you’re in love with him and have been since you were 23 years old. 

Callie is at your legs, holding up a drawing she created of you surrounded by hearts. Her artwork has always been her favorite form of expression, and you’re so grateful for her pure, kind heart in this moment.

Holding it against your chest, you lean down to accept her hug. “Thank you so much, baby. I love it.” 

“Yay!” She rejoices and then looks up between the two of you. “Daddy and I made you breakfast!”  

Gasping, you ask, “really?” It’s only then you notice the kitchen, while cleaner than one would expect after preparing breakfast with a four-year-old, you see the counters that have food laid out on a variety of plates and tupperware. “Waffles?”

“Your favorite.” Joe reaches to kiss your temple, and lightly pats your hip. “Sit down, we’ll fix it for you.”

You open your mouth to protest when Callie takes your hand and guides you to the barstools and scampers back over to Joe who picks her up, holding her with one arm while the other fixes your breakfast for you. He allows her to point and dictate what goes on your plate and how it’s fixed.

And you sit there, allowing yourself to take in this moment. There’s so much you need to navigate and sort through. Bianca, your dad, Mariah, hell, even finally being honest with Joe about your feelings. But, all of that can wait. 

Because all that matters right now are the two people you love most in this world.

[aeaesabella-hyv]

(⁠ʘ⁠ᴗ⁠ʘ⁠✿⁠) C. 1

Act 1: 𝘐𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘦 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦!

The day finally clicked to a stop at the shop.

Thankfully, Y/N managed to get the refund the guy asked and went on her merry way to sleeping once again.

Grabbing her bag, she checked the staff room for any last bits she might have left.

Keys? in her hands. Phone? Holding it. Wallet? in her bag. Work clothes? hanged up on a hanger. Extra clothes? in a plastic bag in her bag.

Once she checked for any missing which she found was none, she closed the brakers and closed all the lights. Deeming the café to be closed.

Walking down the streets with a hum to accompany her, she felt surreal in this quiet place. Usually there would be a lot more noises of people talking and noises of cars but she didn't see any which made her a bit more peaceful.

With her head in the clouds, a accidental bump into someone and a dropping of items made her clouds disappear. She looked at them and immediately apologized. "Im so sorry!" she said, helping them pick their items up.

Although it wasnt your normal items. It was chips, no no, not the food. Gambling chips. Nevertheless she still helped the person pick them up one by one. "Im so so sorry! I didn't watch where I was going and–"

"Oh don't worry your pretty head about it. It's fine, it's fine~ Its no worries." the young man said.

A young man with sandy-blond, medium-length hair and magenta and cyan eyes with black slitted pupils.

"Still, I should be sorry for not paying attention. Have a nice night!" Y/N said, taking a short bow to him as anothee apology and sped walked straight. Being completely embarrassed by that situation.

The blonde looked back at her and found himself amused. Seeing how she reacted made him feel better than before.

He noticed a bear keychain hanging on her bag, it looked a lot like the mascot for the coffee shop nearby. Guessing she worked there, he already knew what type of person she was by such a short time.

Y/N's apartment.

After that encounter, she didn't have any thoughts for the rest of the walk. She only payed attention to the granite and the people around her. Trying to avoid another situation like earlier.

The loud clicks of her shoes made a significant echo in the stairwell as she climbed up. Making sure not to wake her neighbors up as she walked.

Reaching her floor, she grabbed her keys and opened the door which lead to her room. A smell of the small room hit her and immediately made her mind feel sleepy and tired.

Shaking her head, she removed her shoe and closed the door. Throwing the bag in a corner and got changed almost quickly. She checked the time and saw it was still ten o' seven so she still had about a few minutes before the lack of sleep hits her hard.

She thought about the day she had. To the opening of the store, hearing a complain from a the guy until the bumping into that man events. She usually didn't have this much things happening in her works days but she thought it might be a small warning of the most busiest days she will come.

At ten thirty, she was already knocked out on the bed. The blanket no longer covering her despite having it wrapped around her before the sleep striked.

—End of Chapter 1

Description: ✨

Teaser: ✨

[plzfeedmebread]

What Do I Tell My Friends Family? Pt. 7

word count: 4611

Pairing: Recom! Miles! Quaritch x Female! Sully! Na'vi! Reader Tags/Warnings: smut, light bondage, dirty talk, pregnancy sex, light degradation, p in v, family, fluff, feelings, crying, comfort, acceptance

Author's Note: Sorry this chapter took so long everyone! Hope you enjoy :)))

<previous chapter> | 7 |

The sound of rain pulls you from slumber. The air is thick and humid this morning. You breath deep, the salty air filling your lungs, wiping away the last dregs of sleep.

Your beloved is not beside you; ever the early morning riser that one. Neither are the twins nor Spider, you notice.

With a groan you slowly sit yourself up, having to exert more effort than usual. Once up, your hand moves to the swell of your belly. Shouldn’t be too long now before this one joins your ever-growing little family. You estimate you have about 2 months to go.

You open your home to allow the fresh air in. You reach out to gather some of the cool summer rainwater in your hands, splashing it on your face. You light a small fire in the pit, then set about preparing some meats to cook for breakfast. While those sizzle, you then prepare some fresh fruit that had been left outside your doorstep; the clan often leave you things as their way of helping, knowing you’re due almost any day now.

“Somethin’ smells good,” your ear perk up at the sound of Miles’ voice.

“Good morning, husband,” you greet but don’t turn around. You don’t have to, because before you finish speaking, his arms are already around you. His hot breath tickles the back of your neck as he leaves soft kisses there.

“How’re my best girls this morning?” his hands gently cup the swell of your belly, gently swaying the two of you to some unheard tune. He presses his chest to your bare back, the cool wet skin of his sends a delicious shiver down your spine.

“Oh? And how do you know we are not blessed with more sons?” You smile at him over your shoulder.

“Father’s intuition sweetheart,” He leans to the side presses a quick kiss to your lips. He pulls back, pressing the side of his face to yours as he peers over your shoulder as you continue preparing fruit.

You hum thoughtfully at his words. You wouldn’t mind having a daughter. Or two. Eywa have mercy if you have another set of twins. Speaking of your children…

“Where are the boys?”

“Spider took them swimming, they’re at the heated pools in the jungle.” You make a noncommittal noise in acknowledgement.

“You know…with the kids busy, we have a little time to ourselves right now…” his hands travel from your belly, slowly tracing the length of your arms, before his hands rest in the crook of your neck. He starts massaging the base of your head with his thumbs. Your eyes close at the pleasurable sensation, moaning unexpectedly.

“You’re insatiable, you know that?” You tease him with a side eyed look. He grins down at you, eyes glazed over with desire. His gaze alone sends a pleasurable throb straight down to your core.

“Can’t help it darlin’. Seeing you like this, all big, belly swollen, and knowin’ it’s cuz of me? It does somethin’ to a man,” he bites the tip of your ear, and you let out an involuntary whimper; he knows all of your erogenous zones, and they become far more sensitive during pregnancy.

“Show me then my love, show me what I do to you.”

---

He has you trapped between his legs. Your back pressed to his chest as you lean back, head resting on his shoulder as you gasp between moans.

Your legs are draped over his thighs, keeping you spread. One hand gently massages the flesh of your breast, fingers occasionally pinching your pert nipple.

His other hand is busy at your core, 3 fingers deftly working their way in an out of your warm centre, making filthy squelches with each thrust. Your arousal coats his fingers and your thighs in inviting wetness. You are more than ready for him. But he loves playing with you, especially when you are at his mercy.

He removes his middle finger, bringing it to your clit, rubbing the sensitive bud in your slick. His finger glides over with ease thanks to your gushing nectar.

“Oh fuck…Miles right there—YES!” Your voice is breathless as you beg him for release; the pleasure coursing through you burning hotter as you approach the precipice of desire.

He returns his fingers to your inviting warmth, your walls sucking him in greedily. His fingers meet no resistance with how wet you are. He fucks his fingers into you faster this time, the palm of hand slapping against your clit, sending you further into the throws of passion. The symphony of your pleasure comes crashing down on you; the orgasm hitting you with a resounding crescendo. A rough press to your clit has you squirting much to yours and his delight.

“That’s it baby, you always perform so well for me.” Miles whispers into your ear, nipping at the nape of your neck. The feeling of your inviting walls clenching around his fingers sends blood straight to his hardened aching cock.

This was always the ritual. Always would he bring you to glorious orgasm, before chasing his own pleasure. Even if the two of you had an argument, falling into something in line with hate sex, he made sure to prepare you well. No matter what, you were always at the forefront of his mind.

You rest your entire weight against him, chest heaving with each laboured breath. Your skin is sticky with sweat, pussy throbbing, your release leaking all over the floor. You feel Miles’ hardness press into your lower back. He presses a kiss to your shoulder.

“Do you need a minute?” He asks ever to tenderly.

“For you my love? Never.” You turn yourself as much as you can, arms reaching for him. He understands what you want, immediately turning you to him. He pulls your arms around his neck, securing his behind your back, then crashing his lips to yours.

The kiss is bruising. He sucks on your lips, pressing his tongue to yours, drinking you in greedily as though you were destined to fade. He swallows the moan you release into his mouth. His hand moves to the base of your queue and he pulls you back.

Your eyes are mystified, glazed over from residual pleasure, but alight once more at the promise you see in his own eyes. They are dark with want, pupils dilated with heady need. He licks his teeth as he studies your face, a smirk forming on his lips.

He stands up, pulling you with him. You watch him curiously as he moves elsewhere, searching; there is an amusing flick of the tail when he finds it. He holds the item triumphantly in the air before coming back to you.

Ah. Rope.

He always did love restraints.

“You trust me, sweetheart?” You scoff, almost offended he needs to ask you for umpteenth time.

“Since our first night in the Dream my love. Always and forever.” Your smile is matched by his own.

“Hold your hands up, behind your head.” You do as instructed. The rope this not too thick, black and woven with expertise only a machine could craft. It was something you brought with you all those years ago. You figured it would be most useful; nothing hand crafted had yet matched it in quality. What you hadn’t expected was for your mate to use it in such, creative ways. Not that you complain; you were of course more than delighted to engage in his fantasies.

He fastens your wrists together tightly. The length is then wound around your neck, dropping between your breasts before he loops it around your mounds. It lowers through your cleavage and around the back; always he keeps it away from your belly. He nudges your legs apart. The rope is then wrapped around each hip and thigh.

He moves behind you then, pulling your fastened hands behind his head. His hands roam over you in reverence, from the swell of your breasts, to the expanse of your thighs, not a single inch of skin is left unworshipped. He gives the rope a final tug to make sure all is secure.

He kisses the side of your temple, and you feel him take a hold of your queue, joining it with his own. The low guttural moan he makes sends a spark of pleasure down your spine, straight to your cunt. You feel yourself becoming slick once more, not that you need even more prepping in the first place.

He grabs the rest of the rope in his right hand, before wrapping it around your front, nestling his arm between your breasts. He lowers his left hand until it reaches the back of your knee. You know without having to be told, and lift your leg. He holds your leg up as far as you can stretch; you are thankful to be so pliable after all these years. The position has your now aching core wide open, glistening in the fire light as you leak down your own leg.

You let out a soft moan as you feel the hardness of his naked cock rub against your slit, coating himself in your prior release. He lines himself up with your entrance, his head just breaching the opening.

“I love you, [Y/N],” he whispers into your ear before he buries himself in you to the hilt with one hard thrust. The sudden stretch burns in a delightful way, you hope you never get used to his size. You can’t help the sudden yelp of moan.

“Fucking hell baby, you’re so wet. And it’s all for me. My perfect little mate, with her perfect little cunt.”

The filth of his words causes a whimper to fall from your lips, but your walls clentch the scorching member inside you. Miles lets out a shaking laugh laced with pleasure.

“Pretty little thing you are. Always. So. Fucking. Perfect!” Each word is punctured with a hard thrust in and out of you. His long cock caressing the soft spongy flesh of your walls, finding that special spot that drives you wild and beyond reason. Greedily your walls clamp around him, begging his release and your own.

“You like that, darling? You’re always such a needy bitch in heat. Like it when your mate talks to you like that, huh?” He pulls on the rope, tightening the restraints all around you. The skin under the rope becoming warmer and reddening. You let out a straggled cry, mouth agape, you let your head fall back onto his shoulder.

The pleasure mounting in you growing with every passing moment. Your hands find purchase on his braid, holding on tight. He groans into your ear, the sound somewhere between a moan and a growl. It reverberates through your bones, to know your mate is so in the throes of pleasure, stokes fire in your own belly; your arousal covering his own.

He grabs your other leg, and suddenly you are hoisted into the air. You yelp with surprise, but he holds you firm. His pace is relentless, still thrusting up into your welcoming heat. Such display of strength only spurs you on further. There comes a dull ache in your legs from the strain of being held up, but also the tightness of the rope cutting into your joints.

The pain and pleasure mix wonderfully, pulling you over the edge and into your waiting orgasm. You moan loudly, almost a scream, Miles’ name spills from your lips in high pitch mewls. He doesn’t stop, fucking you through your orgasm to another, causing your to squirt all over his cock.

Tears flow freely from your eyes at the overstimulation, but by the Great Mother does it feel heavenly. Your ecstasy assaults him through the bond, finally sending him over the edge. His mouth bites down hard into your shoulder as he cums, shooting his seed up into your inviting warmth. Your walls clench him greedily, milking him till he is spent. There is a falter in his legs, you can almost feel the strain in his arms as he tries to keep you up as his pleasure wracks him to the core.

Finally though, he gently lowers you to the ground, falling onto his knees once your feet are firmly planted. You use him as leverage, lowering yourself before him. He rests his head to your shoulder, hands immediately finding your belly, resting them there.

Time passes slowly, filled with the smell of your sex and the sound of your joint laboured breaths. Slowly, Miles starts removing the rope from your person, throwing it somewhere out of sight once done. You collapse into his embrace once more, turning to your side as you lean against him. He cradles you in his arms, pressing delicate kisses to your hair.

You feel hot and sticky, but thoroughly fucked. You couldn’t be happier, tail wrapping around you both.

“You okay?” He asks, always, after any session in which he ties you up. His hands find your wrists, gently massaging the bruised skin.

“Always my love. Just a little worn out.” You close your eyes and lean into him more, never wanting this feeling to end. This peace and tranquillity.

---

Your mind drifts to the day, nearly 5 years ago, when you first landed on the island.

The Olo'eyktan and Tsahik came to greet you, as well as many members of the clan. They were surprised to see forest people; some never having seen any before. They gawked and stared unashamedly. They were more surprised though, by Spider’s presence. A Sky People child, painted with stripes, dressed in forest garb? What a spectacle!

The Tsahik had hissed when she caught sight of him, demanding that you take the Demon Child back from where you found it.

With great restraint you held your tongue, explaining instead that you cannot and would not go back. You wanted no part in the war with the Sky People, and neither did your mate. All you wanted was uturu. Some place far away from conflict. You explained that the Human boy, was in fact your mate's son, just without an Avatar body.

She was taken aback then, but grabbed your hand, noting the four fingers. She declared you too were of Demon blood, not true Na’vi. None of you were. Why should they let you stay? You looked to the Olo'eyktan then, pleading with your eyes. You gestured to Spider, saying that if he could adapt to live amongst Forest Na’vi, then you could all adapt, that you will adapt.

The Tsahik scoffed, walked around you three to inspect your tails. She stopped abruptly behind your mate, staring at his back. Her hand came to rest on the space between his shoulders. You saw the tenseness in his shoulders, wrapping his tail around his leg, hands clenched. He sends you a worried look, but you shrug, unsure of what she was doing.

You see her brows furrow. She removes her hand then, like she has been burnt, before returning to her mate’s side. She speaks low to him.

“That one, has been touched by Eywa.” The Olo'eyktan’s head shoots up as he stares at Miles, then looks back down to his mate for clarity.

“Touched?” He asks in shocked whisper. She clicks her tongue, annoyed at the events unfolding before her.

“Yes. Touched. Whether literal or spiritual, I cannot say for sure. But it is there. I feel it.” She squints at Miles, wholly distrusting of his person.

‘By the stars themselves, what could the Great Mother possibly have seen in this one?’ she thinks to herself.

“What of the boy? How will he live amongst us, if he cannot breathe our air?” The Tsahik gestures to Spider, who has been standing beside you awkwardly. You put a comforting hand around his shoulder, pressing him closer into your side.

“You need not worry. This Sky People-made mask will keep him safe.” You tap the mask gently. You’re not sure how much these people know of Human technology, but you don’t explain further. You send a silent thank you to Norm, Max and all the other scientists back home.

Just before your departure, you had decided Spider could not come with, intent to leave him behind, no matter how much it broke your heart. There would be no feasible way to replenish his oxygen packs supply. But Eywa smiled upon you. The humans, the engineers they were called, came forth with a new designed mask. It did not need oxygen packs like the old ones, instead filtered the air itself for safe breathing. It worked underwater too. It was sturdier too, strong as Na’vi bones they boasted.

Her eyes roam over you, then Spider, than up to your mate. She questions then, what skills you Forest folk could possibly bring to their shores. Your mate steps forward then, proudly stating he is a warrior, willing to fight anyone to prove his worth. The Olo'eyktan holds up his hand, stating that it wasn’t necessary, at least not yet.

The Tsahik’s eyes rake over you again, making you feel self-conscious. You see her gaze linger on your chest and your hips.

“You…Your patterns are of Forest folk, but your body is not.” It is more so a statement than a question, but demands an answer all the same.

“You are correct, Tsahik. My mother was true born Na’vi, of the Omatikaya clan. My father is…like my mate. Born of the Sky People.” She makes a disgruntled noise, but says nothing else.

After a moment of silence, she looks back up at her mate, and gives him the faintest of nods.

The Olo'eyktan announces then, that you three are welcome and are to be treated like their brothers and sisters. He warns them to be gentle with the Human, try not to gawk at him too much as there was still a village to look after. You thank him profusely, tears threating to fall at corner of your eyes. His smile is warm and welcoming, and the relief you feel is near palpable.

---

You and Miles decide to pack the food into a basket and bring it to the children. As the two of you are making your way along the beach to the path that would lead into the jungle, you are greeted by the sight of your two young sons running at you, Spider taking up the rear in a slow jog.

“Mama! Papa!” They yell in unison, arms outstretched as they crash into your legs.

“Good morning my little starlights! And to you too Spider, thank you so much for taking such good care of them,” You pick up Rawm as Miles does Taxun. Spider smiles up at the both of you, out of breath from the run.

“It’s no trouble [Y/N]. I already know what it’s like to have younger brothers.” He takes note of the basket Miles is holding, helping himself to the fruit inside. Your smile becomes a little sad at the memory of your family. You don’t have time to dwell on it though, as the kids notice Spider eating and immediately demand to be fed.

And so the 5 of you sit on the nearby rocks in the shade, enjoying the meats and fruits. It doesn’t last long, as the twins eat far too fast for your liking, before they start pulling Spider toward the ocean, wanting to swim in the cool water now that the sun was out. He of course obliges without fuss, and you giggle as you watch them splash about in the water.

The sun hangs high in the sky now, midday you presume. You enjoy the cool breeze kissing your skin, and the soft caress of your husband as he traces the glowing freckles on your back.

You are quiet, but there is gentleness in your eyes, a soft smile on your lips.

“Whatcha lookin’ at sweetheart?” Miles asks you, and you keep your eyes forward, smile widening.

“Our future.” Your voice is soft as the sand between your toes.

He hums in agreement, and kisses your check.

“Yeah…me too.”

---

You’re not sure how much time passes, perhaps not even an hour, when you here your name being called. You look to see the Olo'eyktan’s daughter coming to you hastily.

Your heart skips a beat at her urgency.

“[Y/N]! You must come quick! Follow me!”

“What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“Did you not hear the horns?!” She asks as she speeds off, expecting you to follow. You look to your mate, both of you have a confused expression. Neither of you heard it, too engrossed in watching your family. The kids probably didn’t hear anything amongst their own yelling and playing.

Quaritch whistles to the kids, who all immediately cease their frivolity, and run back to you two. Miles wordlessly grabs both twins in his strong arms, and you hand Spider the now empty basket. You make your way back as fast as you can waddle, explaining to the kids along the way.

---

You see an unexpected amount of people gathered at the front beach, though you can’t quite make out what’s going on.

You hear the whispers and murmurs of the clan, strangers they say; visitors.

You and Miles share a concerned look as you make your way forward. A sound carries on the wind, a bellow of a creature; and you know that sound anywhere.

Ikran.

Your heart starts pounding in your chest, your mind running a mile a minute. You don’t even think as you start forcefully pushing your way through the crowed, flanked by Miles still holding the twins and Spider.

“What’s going on Papa?” Rawm asks, clutching onto his father tightly.

You don’t hear his response as you finally make your way out front, seeing the backs of your Olo'eyktan and Tsahik.

You vaguely note the 5 ikran poised on the sand, looking none too pleased.

And when you see the Na’vi visitors talking to your Olo'eyktan, tears well in your eyes, and you let out a straggled cry.

“Sanctuary for my—” The visiting man's voice cuts short when he hears your cry, immediately finding your gaze. His eyes widen at the sight of you, flicking to your swollen belly for a split second, before coming back to your face. He lets out a shaky laugh, a grin splitting his face.

The woman at his side looks at him confused, before following his line of sight. Your eyes meet, and she falls to her knees, covering her mouth as she cries, tears streaming down her face.

You approach them slowly, not caring for the stares of the clan, nor the poignant look Tsahik Ronal is sending you.

You stand before your parents.

“Hello mother. Hello father. Oel ngati kameie.”

Neytiri jumps to her feet, wrapping in her arms tightly. Her cries burn your ears but you don’t care. They are matched only by your own. You feel your fathers arms wrap around you two, and you swear by the Great Mother, that this was perhaps the first time you’ve ever heard him cry. Your four siblings rush at you too, scrambling to get you into an embrace of their own.

You hear the tell-tale sigh of your Tsahik, and the low chuckle of Olo'eyktan Tonowari.

“I guess you have a lot of catching up to do, no?” He turns to the clan and addresses them. “Treat Jake Sully and his family as our brothers and sisters, just as you did with those who came before.” He calls for his eldest son and daughter, instructing them to teach Jake and his family just as they had taught you.

Your family untangles from one another, though your parents still have their hands on your shoulders. You take each of their hands in your own.

“[Y/N], I—”

“Hush, mother. Before you say anything, you too father, there is someone, two actually, you should meet first…” You pull them towards Miles. You turn your head to your siblings, gesturing with your head for them to follow too. You feel them tense, and a falter in their step. You gently squeeze their hands, releasing a shaking breath when you feel them squeeze back.

“Oel ngati kameie, Jake and Neytiri.” Miles says with perfect annunciation. They don’t say anything, but gesture to him with their hands. They are far too in shock, eyes instead focused on the two boys in his arms.

“Mom, dad, siblings…I’d like you to meet my sons, Rawm and Taxun,” you gesture to your boys accordingly, letting go of your parents hands, nervously threading your own fingers together in front of you.

You hear your siblings greet them with little waves, introducing themselves as their aunts and uncles. The boys are shy, and barely greet them back with tiny voices. Kiri runs to Spider, pulling him into a wordless hug as she cries into his shoulder.

“Hey kiddos, it’s nice to meet you. I’m your grandpa, Jake,” You father smiles at them big and goofy, tail swaying with joy.

“Pa Jake?” Rawm asks, bringing tears to the edge of your fathers eyes. He lets out a shaky laugh and nods.

“Yeah, that’s right. I’m your mama’s papa. Just like this man, is your papa.” He pats Miles on the shoulder, and the two share a look. You can see so much unspoken words exchange between them, Miles lowering his ears submissively. But your father gives him a kind smile. You can see in your mates eyes, even as he returns the smile, there is a hint of guilt there.

Your son surprises you then, reaching for your father, who happily takes him into his arms, smile widening.

You look to your mother then; filled with trepidation at her reaction. All of your anxiety shatters when you see her smile your boys.

“Hello little ones. I am your grandmother Neytiri. Your mama’s mama…” She wipes away a stray tear, and happily takes Taxun when he reaches for her.

She gently rocks him, patting his back with practiced ease. Your heart swells at the sight of your parents holding their grandchildren.

Neytiri’s eyes lift from your son then, to meet your mate’s gaze head on. She stares at him, studying him, but he doesn’t break the eye contact. She closes her eyes, and takes a deep breath, exhaling through her mouth. She opens her eyes and fixes him with a determined look.

“Oel ngati kameie, Miles Quaritch.” She nods to him, hand gesturing towards him in the proper greeting. “Thank you…for taking care of my daughter.”

His eyes widen at her words, and she smiles up at him, though it is small, as she hugs your son to her a little more tightly.

“Oel ngati kameie, [Y/N], my daughter…I am so happy, to see you, alive and well.” She touches a hand to your belly briefly, before returning to pat your sons back. “You too Spider…I am, pleased, to see you are doing well.”

Spider gives her a shy smile and a nod. Your brothers flank him, poking his sides and remarking on his larger frame, toned by years of swimming.

“Oel ngati kameie, mother, father, siblings. Welcome to our family.”

Everyone comes together, embracing in one giant hug, with you and Miles at the centre.

“Wherever we go, our family is our Fortress.” You father says.

“Sullys stick together,” Neteyam adds.

“And now, Quaritches too.” Your mother says, and with that, the dam breaks.

You cry tears of joy, safely nestled in the embrace of your family.

You couldn’t be happier.

End

---

<previous chapter> | 7 |

Author's Note: And that's a wrap people! Originally this was gonna end with Quaritch's "yeah me too" on the beach. But then it occurred to me, people would probably want a reunion with the family, so here we are!

Thank you so much to everyone who's followed along with what was supposed to be a horny one-shot that then turned into a mini series XD I look forward to seeing ya'll in my future works, so stay tuned!

---

Tag List: @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @lvangel98, @rsclopez, @onlyreadz @manymaria111, @kristeen31xxx @mechformers @olivia-the-weirdo @essenceinpink @villirios @rededfoxy @brutecuteness @perseny @fandom-garbage @ttreader @hihhasotherfixations @angel-of-silver369 @royallaufeyson @saltedcoffeescotch @the-hufflebird-girl @ding-dong-big-schlong @netherklutz @moneyoverl0v3 @@episodic8peace @touchedflowers @sarcasticrandy @lov3rluna @totesnothere04 @ab-haya @me-on-pluto @ducks118 @grimistangel @lovekeeho @itsyoboysparkel

[sunlightmurdock]

My Future In You | 2.2 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

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Synopsis: Bradley’s twenty-two years old and not where he’s supposed to be. He’s supposed to be out of the academy by now. Instead, he’s retaking his senior year of college and praying to god that he gets into flight school. Mav’s gone, his mom’s gone. He’s mad at the world. Then, a hook up at a Halloween party changes his future even more than he could have imagined.

Warnings: accidental pregnancy, references to abortion in a few chapters, angst, will be fluff eventually, enemies to lovers kinda thing, requited love but they’re idiots your honour, smut, pinv, unprotected sex, mentions of pregnancy / birth complications

…

A little past 1am, legs stretched out ahead of you, draped across Bradley’s legs. Some old straight to TV movie playing, giggling like a couple of teenagers. Bradley loudly voices his complaint as he picks up a m&m that had been thrown at his forehead.

He’s in just a pair of shorts, his hair dry now and his curls a little shorter than normal. Navy regulations. You kind of miss the length that he used to have on the back and sides, but this look suits him too.

“I’m just saying, you’re the one who fucked my roommate.” You shrug, mock-nonchalantly, and pretend to focus back on the movie in front of you. It’s some dumb story of a small town cowboy.

In the mood for dramatics tonight, Bradley throws his head back and groans.

“Before I even met you!” He chides, sitting forwards and snatching the candy from you before you have opportunity to turn any more of them into projectiles.

“Then you texted her after you’d already knocked me up.” You remind him, playfully calm.

“Ah, ah — She texted me, it’s not like I would’ve fucked her again — and let’s not forget that you had a whole boyfriend until you were in your second trimester.” Bradley points out.

“And stop saying knocked up. Makes me feel weird.” Grumbling like a discontented teenager, Bradley nudges your leg with his so that you have to look at his face and see his little frown.

All of that seems so far away now. Ryan. Your roommates, who you’ll probably never see again. Christmas with your family. You’ve barely even thought about it all since you got here.

“I’m sorry, Bradley — how should I be phrasing it?” You tease.

His lips tug at the corners, threatening to disrupt his dramatic frown and disarm his little act. A small shrug of those broad, tanned shoulders.

“All those couples at the parenting class keep saying ‘when we found out we were expecting’. That works.”

“Mm, but when I found out I was expecting I cried for three days and when you found out you implied that I was a whore and offered me money. Our story doesn’t really sound like theirs’.” You remind him. He presses his lips together in a line. That feels so far away now too.

He remembers the anger he felt towards you back then, which is a complicated thing in itself. He remembers why, and how — and everything about that first week, actually. He remembers being so furious at you for making that choice without him. A complete stranger, complicating his future when he had just stepped out of his complicated past.

The anger still makes sense to him. He doesn’t feel it anymore, he isn’t proud of the way he acted, but he can look back now and know that it was all just fear.

Going from being a scared little boy and looking after a sick mother, to being an adult and having nothing to care for but himself, to then meeting you. It hadn’t felt fair to have that all stripped away before he had started it.

But now, when he thinks of this living room being empty, or that small room being an office instead of a nursery, it makes this all seem so much more bleak.

The movie credits roll, leaving you even more confused about what the plot was supposed to be. Bradley sits up and pushes himself onto his knees, then parts your legs for him to dip between. You’re sighing softly now, contented as he presses his lips to yours.

“I don’t think you’re a whore,” He mumbles against your mouth, making you chuckle softly against him. “And I’m glad that I knocked you up, for the record.”

Another soft chuckle. He presses his lips warmly to your skin. Cheeks, jaw. A gentle tour of your face.

“You are?”

“Yeah, you’re hot pregnant,” Bradley beams at you, earning himself another little laugh. “And — y’know, I’m excited for the kid too.”

Looking up at him, your fingers circle over his smooth, freckled shoulders. A few moments of silence pass between the two of you before a commercial comes on and disturbs the bliss.

“Time to put the baby to bed, don’t you think?” He asks. You glance down at your swollen stomach and back up at your new boyfriend. Smiling at him, you give a defiant shake of your head.

“We aren’t tired.” You decide.

A soft groan and he cups your belly in his hands, feeling soft fluttering kicks to unfortunately support your claims. Smile growing into an embarrassingly amused beam, you watch Bradley as he pushes your shirt up and peppers kisses across your stomach.

“Tell him to give his old man a break, some of us have to be up in a couple hours,” Bradley murmurs into your skin, earning himself an applause of his new favourite sound. He looks up grinning at your laughter. “What?”

“You, being somebody’s old man,” A quick scrunch of your nose and a shake of your head, laughter still bubbling through you. “Weird to think about.”

His cheeks redden like the tops of his ears, then he grins. Sitting back on his heels, his hands slide along your stomach to rest at the very bottom. Again, he feels a soft little kick against his palm.

“Y’know, I think he’s nocturnal. I barely felt him this morning and now he’s wide awake.” You explain.

Another shrug, smiling as he leans down and kisses your stomach once more. “Wanted to stay up and watch a movie with his folks.” Bradley muses, making you smile. Absentmindedly, you card your fingers through his fluffy, air-dried curls. His lips press warmly to the underside of your belly, “No harm in that.”

Fingers trailing from his auburn curls, down over the tanned muscles in his shoulders as he peppers kisses across your stomach.

“He’s got you wrapped around his finger already. Old man.” You tease, nudging at his leg with your foot. He chuckles softly, cool breath tickling your skin. Another kiss, then he looks up at you.

“Me? — Mama’s the one letting him stay up late.” Bradley prods, sitting up and bringing his mouth to yours once more. The kiss is slow, lazy, his hand cupping your hip. When he leans over you now, your stomach always bumps into his middle. He’s going to miss it when it isn’t there anymore.

Turning his head, he presses his face into your neck and nips softly at your skin. You hum, keening towards the feeling. It becomes growingly tender, lips replacing teeth, tongue soothing over the warm spots left behind.

Finally, he sits back up and kisses your lips chastely. “Will you come to bed with me?”

“You can go ahead, I won’t wake you up.” You promise.

“I know, but I like falling asleep with you.” He squeezes softly at your hips, remembering to be gentle with your sore joints these days. He sits forwards and kisses your mouth again, then again after that. It doesn’t take a genius to realize that he isn’t going to stop until you agree.

Pushing against his bare chest, he sits back on his heels and raises his eyebrows at you.

“Fine…” You huff, extending your arms for him. Slipping his hands into yours, he’s on his feat with an annoying level of ease that you can no longer manage. He tugs you up with him.

“I’ll lock up.” Ducking around you and kissing your neck, he leaves you with a gentle pat on the ass and then moves to make sure all of the doors and windows are locked and that the lights are off. You pad along the hallway to your shared bedroom and peel your shirt over your head.

Over the past month, you seem to have really popped. The kid is really making himself known in there. Enough so, that you’re well into the stage now of wearing exclusively maternity clothes or stretching out Bradley’s old gym clothes. Tonight, given the lingering heat, you opt for an old basketball shirt that Bradley hasn’t fit into since high school. Before he grew a foot and lost eighty pounds in his junior year.

It’s not huge on you at this stage of your pregnancy, but gives you the reprieve of a waistband pressing into your stomach.

Bradley’s chest hits your back before you even feel him approaching, turning his face into the crook of your neck, almost knocking you over with his weight.

His hands skim under the shirt and up over your stomach, making an all-too-familiar beeline for your breasts. He groans softly into your skin, growing half-hard against your back.

“Mm-mm,” You’re smiling and shaking your head at him all at once. “You need to go to bed, remember?”

“Fuck,” He breathes out, eyes closed, soft skin under his palms. If he pressed any harder into your back, he would knock you onto your front. “I do.”

Your palm slips between the two of you, reaching back to cup him over his shorts, stroking just loosely over the length of his hardening cock.

“Would be pretty difficult to sleep with that, though.”

“You’re such a tease.” He mumbles into your neck, kneading softly at your breasts. He rolls his hips forwards slightly, using your hand for friction on his increasingly hard cock.

“Are you flying tomorrow?” Your head falls back to rest against his shoulder, his lips sucking softly at the curve of your neck. His realization courses through him like relief, you can practically feel it.

His head shakes quickly. “In a classroom all day.”

Your palm squeezes softly around the tent in his shorts, a quiet hum, mock consideration, leaving your lips. His hands push at the shirt, slowly dragging it up your middle and tugging it over your head.

His eyes feel heavy on you, hands trailing featherlight along your sides. Bradley reached out slowly, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder as he takes hold of the band in your hair. He’s especially gentle as he takes it down and turns his face towards your hair.

Illuminated by the soft light of the bedside table, Bradley’s becoming increasingly gentle with you — each time that you’ve slept with him recently, you can feel that he’s being more careful than he would normally be. He knows that you’re sore and more tired than you would normally be, but he never once declines the opportunity to have you.

Today is no exception as he turns you towards him, palms skimming along your back, squeezing at your ass as he holds you against him. Laying you down slowly on your shared bed, he notices your lips quirk softly as he covers your body with his.

“What?”

“Nothing.” You give a small shake of your head and lift to kiss him, still smiling when you pull back. He squints at you, studying the amusement on your features. It just makes you want to smile, is all. Him being so wordlessly soft; knowingly gentle. It doesn’t take a conversation or a warning. He knows your limits.

He knows you so well these days. The kind of shampoo or deodorant to pick up. Exactly which spots to press his fingers harder into when he’s giving you a foot rub. Exactly how to make you scowl at him and melt into his arms moments later when he’s being annoying. Your chest heaves with a particularly deep breath.

Bradley’s lips are on your chest, his hands skimming along your thighs, kneading at the flesh.

“Tell me you want me.” It’s a pant, really, just breathless. He rocks himself against your core, sitting back on his knees and squeezing at your hips. He takes that plush, pink bottom lip between his teeth and just stares down at you with the prettiest mahogany coloured eyes you’ve ever seen.

Teasing at an almost smile, you bite the inside of your cheek to contain it. A soft shake of your head and he smiles back at you. You glance down, watching him palm over the tent in his shorts. Finally, you meet his gaze once more. “I don’t think your ego can handle being any bigger than it already is.”

“It can take a little more,” Bradley hums. He exhales, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he watches his ring and index fingers dip through your folds, gathering your excitement on the digits. “Tell me you want me.”

You do. So badly that it makes you hot. Makes your muscles go tense. Makes your chest tighten.

“I want you,” It’s an admission that you never would’ve given him months ago, weeks ago even. There’s a lot about you now isn’t the same as it was a few months ago. It’s right on the tip of your tongue. I love you. It’s insane — terrifying, actually. You swallow and stick to what you know, “I want you.”

It would slip so effortlessly off of your tongue. When he’s buried into you, breathing hard into your ear, your face buried into the curve of his neck and god — he still smells exactly like him, now mixed with your body wash that he’s adamant he doesn’t steal. So natural, just another breathless, meaningless exhale in the middle of sex.

“You feel so good,” Bradley groans out, his thick fingers sliding along the nape of your neck and up into your hair. He curls them into your roots and flexes his fist just softly. Just the right amount of tug, a gentle pull that has you moaning against his jugular. “Fuck, baby… you…”

He turns his head, lips grazing your jaw and working lazily along to your lips. When he gets there, finally, it feels like your heart is going to explode out of your chest. He kisses you slowly, his tongue in your mouth and his hand in your hair. In your shared bed.

The mattress is softer here and he never wakes up with a sore neck because of the shitty pillows. Sometimes he wakes up with a sore neck because of how his body is wound around yours, but he doesn’t mind that as much. Moaning into his mouth as he fucks into you slowly.

“You’re so fucking hot.”

A breath catches in your throat and you aren’t sure whether it’ll turn into a laugh or a cry. Ultimately, it settles into a soft moan, your breath tickling his earlobe and making him shiver. Then, it becomes a laugh. He sits back on his knees to get a good look at that grin on your face.

Stretching out his shoulders, he guides your thighs over the tops of his. He gives them a soft squeeze and slows down a little, giving a breathless nod. “I mean it. You’re so fucking perfect, just like this.”

He wets his lips with his tongue, eyes trailing ever so slowly along your body, rocking his hips forwards tenderly. Briefly, you think that he’s going to say it. It doesn’t happen. Just more expletives, shallow breaths, eager grunts. More kisses, his hands on your skin.

After, when you’re settled into his old basketball shirt, under your sheets, and he is wrapped around your body from behind, his big palm sprawled out over your stomach — you’re okay with it. The silent knowledge that he must be on the same page.

The next morning, he has to be up before the sun is even halfway risen. He’s growing proficient at doing it without waking you. Showering silently and dressing in the bathroom, laying his clothes out the night before. It always makes you stir when he slips back into the room and leaves you with a chaste kiss on the lips, and a soft peck at the top of your rounded stomach. Still, you’re okay with that too.

You squirm a little, laying back against that perpetually uncomfortable plastic-leather mix exam chair. The gel is a lot more uncomfortable when you’re still hot from the mid-day Florida heat than it had been on those snowy mornings back in Virginia. Still, it’s all routine by this point. The cold jelly on your stomach, comfy pants that can easily be pushed down a little, warm sweater to combat the always high air conditioning.

You’re missing the part of your routine that has always made you comfiest: Jake sitting outside in the waiting room. He’s states away, Bradley’s stuck in work, you’re all on your own. It’s just a routine check up — just to check if he’s breach. You’ve been telling yourself that all morning. It hasn’t stopped you from sitting on the carpeted floor of his nursery and staring at his crib, still in the box.

Your heart swells at the idea of meeting him. You’ve been picturing him a lot recently. Your nose, Bradley’s lips. Soft morning cuddles, sleepless nights, constant diaper changes — it’s easy enough to tell yourself that you’re ready, it’s just more of a complicated thing to be certain that you are. Even if you’re not ready, he’ll be here in a few short weeks. You need to remind Bradley to pick up screws for his crib.

The doctor’s brows knit together, she adjusts her glasses and wiggles the wand a little bit, then looks back to you. “Hm, have you been experiencing reduced movement at all, Miss Seresin?”

The question throws you. Blinking at her, chilled from the whir of the air conditioning, you shake your head. Your throat squeezes. “No, not at all. He was kicking a lot last night.”

Both of you look back to the screen. He’s moving now. Little legs just kicking softly in that familiar black and white hue. A quick glance across, you stare at your sweater on the chair where Bradley should be sitting. It’s too cold in here. You’re not sure if you’re allowed to move to get the sweater.

“Hm,” She nods her head slowly. Her face is calm enough, her tone doesn’t give you any clues. The thought that crosses your mind hits you like a speeding semi. Blunt force, speeding — out of left field. Six and a half months of no contact and all of a sudden, sitting alone in this exam room, too cold, you want your Mom.

It’s clear that you’re panicking, and the doctor continues with as much caution as she can. She speaks to you like she’s trying to soothe a crying child, but it isn’t patronising. Her neatly groomed brows raise at you, “Any fatigue, bleeding, stomach pains?”

“I’ve been tired, I guess.” You squeak. She softens, reaching out and placing her hand into yours. Your throat tightens. “Is he okay?”

“Yes, he’s just looking a little bit smaller than we would have expected for this stage in the pregnancy,” Your heart sinks, and the side of the exam table suddenly feels especially empty without Bradley there. The doctor continues on as comfortingly as she can. “I’d just like to run a few tests while you’re here — just to make sure that we’re prepared to make the end of your pregnancy as safe and comfortable as possible.”

As she turns and leaves you trapped in that little grey room with the closed blinds, shutting out any semblance of sunlight, all that you can think about is the first appointment that Bradley ever came to with you. Everything going on back then and how badly you had wanted him to not even show up. How confusingly nice it had felt to have him holding your hand through it. Your head falls back against the exam chair and your eyes burn with tears.

You leave the office with a pamphlet on fetal growth restriction, potential causes and side-effects. It might not be that, she tells you, some babies are just smaller and that’s just fine. They just want to keep a close eye on you these last few weeks. Early delivery is a possibility.

You’re dialing the number out of pure instinct. Flowing tears, running to Mommy — there’s a natural link there. Some kind of hardwired impulse, probably. Chest heaving, blinking back searingly hot tears, you listen to it ring and ring. It’s just a Wednesday morning, maybe she’s at the office. It just keeps on ringing.

Bradley frowns as he listens to the busy dial tone, pulling back and checking his phone. You’d promised to call him when you got out of the appointment. He checks down at his watch. Maybe Jake got a couple of minutes to call you. He has to be back in class. He texts you that he’ll catch you at home and turns.

If his mind were clearer, he might have noticed the stare on him as he turned. The familiar blue eyes, blown wide open. Maverick pales at the sight of the boy at the end of the hallway. Familiar sandy brown curls, a brief look at Bradley’s face. The mustache he had been trying to grow when Mav saw him last has grown in now. Maverick swallows.

He hasn’t seen this kid in almost two years. Not a single phone call or text. He hadn’t even known where Bradley was living after he moved out of the house in Norfolk. And now he’s here, standing at the end of a hallway in a random Navy base that Mav wasn’t even supposed to be at this week. Dressed in his khakis, he’s a kind of familiar that makes Pete Mitchell’s stomach churn.

“Bradley?”

…

@chaoticweirdogeek @alanadetigy @itsmytimetoodream @oldnatgwenaccount @khaylin27 @bioodforbiood @luckyladycreator2 @mizzzpink @cherrycola27 @unordinare @shanimallina87 @marvel-f1-and-more @heli991113 @pauv-0414 @ghxst-heart @momc95 @asteria33 @lilyevanswhore @diamond-3 @galaxy-moon @jostyriggslover96 @forgiveliv @shawnsblue @little-wiseone @lovemesomevesey @alm334 @averyhotchner @diorrfairy @thedroneranger @batdanceq @wkndwlff @littlemissobsessedwitholdermen @sunflowerziva @cassiemitchell @himbos-on-ice @bradshawseresinbabe @damrlovq @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @slutfordw

[currentfications]

Ocean Eyes | Part 8

Pairing: Bada Lee x Producer!Reader

Synopsis: At team BEBE’s practice, the girls have a little gossip among themselves

Warning: None? But y/n is not in this chapter because I am not feeling well and just wanted to write a little something for funsies- sorry y’all ( ･᷄ὢ･᷅ )

AN: Am not good at writing conflict so the original part 8 is scraped hehe instead I’m procrastinating and decided to write a light hearted dribble with the girlies instead~ thanks for tuning in again ^_^

Previous | Next

Tatter smelled something suspicious in the air following Bada’s MIA status after their Performance Battle. Yes, the team did witness Bada landing on her chin during one of the routines- and it’s not that the BEBE member didn’t believe in said injury- it’s the fact that their team leader was oddly giddy after the fall. Like, straight up lowering-her-cap-by-the-rim-to-hide-her-smirk-lip-biting-giddy. ‘No one should be that cheerful after tearing a muscle’, Tatter had decided. ‘Therefore, Bada must be suspicious’, she further deduced.

“Look at her trying to play coy with us,” Tatter leaned over to their team’s sub-leader and muttered, frowning at the charm which the choreographer seemed to be exuding lately. Looking pointedly at their team leader, who’s currently snapping a selfie in the studio mirrors (presumably to post it on her instagram later), Tatter narrowed her eyes. Bada had always been a heartthrob to the camera and fans, but the blonde dancer had noticed a telltale spike these past weeks. “Look at all that swag, she must be overcompensating for something.”

Looking up from her stretches, Lusher followed Tatter’s gaze towards their team leader in an oversized hoodie and sweatpants, whose mood did seem to be extraordinarily pleasant as of late. “Oh- Oh damn. Sorry for calling you crazy last week, you were clearly onto something.” Lusher squinted at Bada’s obnoxiously preppy footsteps in the morning. “Prancing around on a Monday? Somebody got laid over the weekend.”

‘Who could it be?’ Tatter wondered to herself as she finished warming up for the day. ‘Bada’s reaction to the bouquet and the card- what an interesting reaction.’

“Whoever it is,” Lusher pressed her palms together dramatically and said a little prayer, “thank you for keeping her happy, and our lives easier.”

“Amen to that,” Minah chimed in. “You reckon it’s someone from the show?”

“Elaborate.”

As the duo bickered among themselves regarding the identity of Bada’s newest scandal, Tatter continued to ponder over the pieces of information she had accumulated. Her eyes lit up as she recalled Latrice’s request, and something involving a skirt.

“Lusher,” Tatter interjected a debate between Minah’s team-Redy and Lusher’s team-Audrey. “Do you remember that time Bada asked to borrow your skirt?”

Lusher snapped around with speed that almost warranted whiplash. “Latrice’s friend!” Her hand flew to her phone by the dance studio’s floor length mirror, flicking through her contact list. “Aha.”

Latrice was at the shops when her phone chimed. Reading the message popping up on the phone, she chuckled a little and clocked the noseyness instantly. Within a few moments, Latrice had sent through your best ‘this is her’ photos and social media profiles to the team BEBE’s subleader.

Tatter and Lusher hummed squinted their eyes at your picture, trying to pinpoint why’d you look familiar. A shockingly good candid photo of you attending an event was pulled up on Lusher’s phone. A gray suit sat on your shoulder, accompanied by a scowl as the photographer had caught you off guard (cr 📷: Latrice). “I think I’d remember if she’s been around,” Minah wondered aloud.

“Elevator, real tall.” The usually timid Sowoen piped in unexpectedly. “The one with mother Miranda vibes.”

Now that registered in Lusher’s mind. “Wait,” Lusher zoomed in on your picture, “does Latrice have more friends in town?”

“Mhmm- I dig the delinquency,” Tatter said, still staring at the phone. “Bada finally found her match huh.”

“I’m giving my number to her,” Sowoen announced. The youngest is filled with surprise today.

Tatter and Lusher glanced at each other before bursting out into a fit of giggles. “We are pretty sure Bada is linking up with her, what do you mean you’re giving her your number?”

“I called dibs!” The youngest of the group wailed, her teammates now laughing at her flushed red cheeks.

The noise attracted their team leader, who have finally decided to investigate the shenanigans that the girls have been up to.

“What’s the gripe? Who do we hate?” The tall choreographer butted between Sowoen and Minah, expecting another Selena-Hailey debate going on among the dancers, only to be shocked when Lusher turned her phone screen to her. “Woah! How’d we get this?”

Sowoen gently prodded a finger at Bada’s shoulder. “Bada-unnie,” she quietly, but firmly, requested for Bada’s attention. “They said you’ve been linking up with her. Respectfully, that’s not cool man, I called dibs.”

The group stared wide eyed at the baby of their team, who’d suddenly found her voice in the team- and immediately chose to use it to declare her utmost disappointment at their team leader’s disrespect.

“Wait. Pause. Rewind. how did the conversation get here in the first place?”

“I find you suspicious these days,” Tatter shrugged.

“Can you still pass my number along?”

“I have no idea what’s going on but I’m loving your energy,” Lusher and Minah egged on. A ‘go Sowoen’ was muttered by one of them.

Bada stares incredulously at her teammates, “y’all this is the toxic gossip train-”

“Nope,” Tatter cuts her short, not giving Bada a chance to finish her sentence. “That’s not how that saying is used.”

“We won’t gossip if you give us the tea,” Minah proposed an alternative.

“There’s no tea!” Bada shook her head at the girls, raising a hand in defense. “Look, it’s nothing serious, and I won't let it affect my work. Can we please get back to brainstorming some Rihanna songs?”

The group gasped, Sowoen looking over at Tatter for moral support. “So there is something going on?”

“Oh come on,” Bada sighed exasperatedly, sticking her tongue against the hollow of her cheeks. “We’ve been filming for months, do you know how hard it is to find someone who can work around my schedule?”

“You have a schedule… to fuck?” Minah side-eyed her team leader. Tatter swiftly placed her hands over Sowoen’s ears. “That changed my perception of you- Not sure what kind of change- but not for the better, I can assure you.”

“Jesus, that’s not what I mean,” Bada rolled her eyes at the girls, defending her image in Sowoen’s eyes. “As much as I love dancing, a woman has needs, alright? Hey- no, don’t boo me Lusher. I saw the way you acted around Chocol. You little sl- I said don’t boo me!”

“Eh,” Tatter shrugged her shoulders and pointed her chin at the phone screen, “lesbians? Give ‘em two weeks, three more dates, and they’ll be u-hauling.”

Bada gasped, “accusatory and stereotyping.”

“Hey wanna bet that bada is going to use winning the show to get laid?” Ignoring their leader, the girls giggled amongst themselves.

“If we win-”

Minah was cut off by Bada. “-when we win.”

Sowoen gasped and pointed a finger at the team BEBE leader. “So you are planning on doing that!”

The girls watched their team leader dumbly open and shut her mouth as she attempted to come up with a witty comeback. When she drew a blank, she huffed and retreated to the speakers across the room, fiddling with the Bluetooth settings as she tried to keep her hands busy.

“Bada-unnie,” Sowoen cleared her throat before throwing in one last jab, “if it’s just a fling you won’t mind me asking her out, right?”

Tatter learned two things that practice: 1, Bada, despite contrary beliefs, bottoms (frequency still unknown, but seemingly not zero). 2, Sowoen is a milf hunter.

‘What a week!’ Tatter thought to herself. ‘And it’s only Monday.’

Tag list: @bada-lee-ily @lil-elliesgf @rubywonu @wiselight @avocifera

[mangowafflesss]

HATRED FOR YOU | PART. 2

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Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!Writer!Reader

Summary: When you try spying on the man next door you end up hurting yourself in the process only for him to come running to your rescue. Its a shame he doesn't know who exactly he is helping.

[Part 1] [Part 3]

{Tags: @dontyouworrydaddy @chrrybl0ss0m @skulfan1 @lialacleaf @ghosts-cyphera @delaynew @arminarlertssword }

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

There were six chapters. 

Six chapters until your book is finished. 

That'll be it, then you can finally share it with the world. You knew exactly what you wanted to write but there was something hard about starting and ending your books. You get so excited but have to refrain from writing garbage which has happened a couple of times in your life. 

The last time you ever wrote anything was about two weeks ago. When you took a pit stop by Rocco’s and met your neighbour, the one you didn’t realise you had. 

You hadn’t seen him since but then again you haven’t really left your apartment other than the other week when you finally went grocery shopping. 

As you lay your head on your pillow you think in your head before sitting up and getting onto your knees. Your palms were pressed flat against the coolness of the wall while you lowered your head to place your ear against the wall also. If you are thinking correctly his room should be on the other side of here. 

This is entirely creepy but you are just bored and can’t sleep. 

You don’t know why you’re creeping on your neighbour, but you just wanted to hear any sort of sign of life. If his room is on the other side then you’ll be able to hear him sleep, Right? 

Your ear was touching the wall and you tried to hear something on the other side, whether it be a soft snore or movement of the bed sheets as he moves in his sleep. 

Or he isn’t asleep? 

The clock says it is currently one in the morning so perhaps he might… but then again you also don’t know this man and this is the weirdest thing you've ever done in your entire life.   

Backing away from the wall you sit back on your bed but manage to get the bed sheet wrapped around your foot and end up falling off the side of your bed straight down onto the hard floor below. 

You grimaced when you realise you have downstairs neighbours and whisper an apology into the floorboards while gripping your forehead. It throbbed loudly in your mind and you move to sit into an upright position. 

“You're an idiot” you say to the reflection of the floor length mirror that is currently facing you. Your matching pyjama set was askew and you crawled over to the mirror to get a closer look at your head. 

Your room was dark but there was enough light for you to be able to make out the red mark on your forehead. “Great, now I look like more of an idiot” you scoff before pushing off the floor into a standing position. 

You open your bedroom door and walk into the direction of your bathroom to get a closer look and to wash it just in case, but before you reach the door there is a knock on your door. 

It made your heart beat fast due to the unlikeliness of someone knocking on your door at this time but you most probably woke someone up with your fall. Well there goes your track record of not pissing off your neighbours. 

Walking to your door you didn’t even bother to look who it is and unlock and open your door. You were going to say something until you looked at the figure in front of you. Your neighbour was standing there, the one you were just trying to see was awake. 

“Hello.” you try to be polite in hopes he wasn’t here to tell you to ‘keep the noise down’.  

“Are you okay? I heard a bang and then nothing else so I came to check” oh, you weren't expecting that. Clearing your throat you point to your head and smile “I fell and hit my head, sorry for waking you. I'll be more careful” you laugh awkwardly in hopes he’ll go back to his home and leave you to cry in peace. 

“Are you alright with sorting that?” he pointed to your head and he seemed to be looking intensely at it. Raising your hand to your head you feel wetness trickling out, you look at your hand and see blood on the tips of your fingers. 

Your face pales and Ghost sees this and crosses over the threshold of your apartment to hold your arm to steady you. “I'm not very good with blood” you say with a thick voice as if you’re going to throw up. 

Ghost moves your hand away from view and walks you over to the sofa. “Don’t look at your hand, it’ll make you feel worse” he sets you down carefully and bends down to one knee to assess the small cut on your forehead. 

“How did you fall exactly?” his hand was under your chin and he felt the warmth of your body radiate off you. “I fell out of bed” your voice was quiet but it still sounded loud in the stillness of the early morning. 

His body expelled air in some weird laugh and you would’ve missed the smile forming on his face if you weren’t looking directly at him. You didn’t manage to catch what his face looked like in the elevator the other week but now you could see him completely. 

“I’ll go find something to clean it with” he says and quickly moves away from you and into the kitchen. You hear him clattering around and then realise that none of the lights are on. Getting up from the couch you walk over to the wall and flick the switch, the kitchen is now illuminated and you squint to get used to the light that invades your eyeballs. 

“Thought it would be useful but now my eyes are burning” you blink multiple times trying to get used to the light and then see a shadow appear in your vision. You can still see the light trying to penetrate from the sides of your closed eyes but you feel soothed by the shadow in front of you. 

Cold hands touch your face and you relax as they go near your forehead. One of those hands smooths away any hair in your face while the other gently dabs away any blood that's collected on your skin. 

“Why didn’t you take any shortbread?” you whisper and he pauses for a second before resuming the activity at hand “You seemed to be enjoying them and also who takes shortbread from strangers?” he whispers back and it felt as if you were two children trying to not get caught by your parents at a sleepover. 

“Says the stranger currently in my apartment” 

“Ah, you got me there” 

You giggle softly at the tone of his voice and open your eyes, he was focused on the cut on your head and you took in his face in a new light and smiled unconsciously. “Sooo stranger. Do you have a name or do I have to refer to you as either neighbour or man who doesn't take shortbread from strangers?” 

There was a moment of silence before he pulls away from your head and looks down at you “Simon will do just fine” 

You say his name and then tell him yours with a handshake. He shakes it back and you scream in success in your mind, the road to being best friends is a go. 

“I should probably go, if you feel worse than you do call for help” you nod your head and walk him to the front door straight past your coffee table where a bunch of illustrations for your book cover sit from where you were looking at them earlier. 

Unlucky for Simon he didn’t even notice or even catch a glimpse. 

“Thank you again, I owe you one”

“Don’t worry about it, get some rest. Goodnight” 

He leaves your apartment blissfully aware of the person he just helped. You're just some girl who falls out of bed and loves shortbread. 

Nothing more and nothing less. 

Poor unfortunate Simon.

[lazyjellyfish300]

DD Part 8

Fem reader x Miguel O'Hara

Commissioned art by @ejpuki on Instagram. Please support the artist 🖤

Synopsis- fem reader drinks too much and the bartender calls a random Uber for her which happens to be Miguel O'Hara himself. Her friends suck and ditch her. There's a lot of tension on the ride home...with a twist on the og Miguel O'Hara comic

Part 1 (contains all the links to previous chapters)

TW: MINORS DNI. SMUT(P IN V, FINGERING, ORAL M RECEIVING, CREAMPIE, BLOOD, DANGER, KIDNAPPING, ROBBERY AT GUN POINT), age gap (reader 26, Miguel is 34)

word count 4.3k, not very thoroughly proofread sorry lol

@mysteris-things

@averagefloydlover

@roserfz27

@latenightcravingz

-------

After maybe 3 rounds total last night when you and Miguel consummated your relationship, sleepiness got the best of you and it was now about 11:30 am. You were sleeping on your stomach, still naked with your head turned to the side, one of your knees resting a little higher on the bed than the other that remained straight down.

Miguel lay naked next to you, a strong arm locked around your bare midriff. His groggy eyes fluttered open, briefly forgetting where he was, then he sees you, his naked love, peacefully sleeping under him.

A wave of desire slowly begins to wake him up, wondering if you'd be opposed to a morning fuck. He sits up a little bit and positions himself over you, still half asleep.

His hand squeezes in between your upper arm and cups your left breast, running his thumb in circles around the nipple, his horniness shooting down to his cock. He plants a kiss into the side of your exposed neck, leading into it with his tongue leaving wetness behind on your skin. The feeling causes you to sleepily hump your bare ass against his growing cock, a silent confirmation that you want him inside you just as much as he does.

He pumps himself a few times then parts your legs a little more with his knees, and teases your entrance with the broad tip of his cock, drawing a circle to get you ready.

"Good morning..." he whispers in your ear, sliding his cock in your pussy. He rocks his hips forward with a gentle buck, driving it about a quarter of the way in.

You groan, still slightly half asleep but that pained feeling of his cock stretching against your walls immediately delivers you to that dizzying state of pleasure. You weren't all the way wet, causing you to clench your teeth a little from the pain. You push your ass out against his length, making a high pitched gasp as you feel yourself take him the rest of the way and hit that spot deep inside of you.

Miguel grunts in response, squeezing the fat of your ass with his hand, landing a sharp spank on it, causing you to release a dirty moan.

"Fffuck, so tight baby......" he groaned, sucking in air between his teeth. "Mmmm.....no need to move, baby, just lay there and rest while I fuck you...."

You let out a soft whine as you heard his words and took his advice, laying there on your belly biting your lip, resting your cheek on your cold pillow, closing your eyes and feeling the sensation of his dick pounding into your tired pussy, the filthy sound of his skin beating against yours filling your eardrums, the sound gradually getting more and more wet as your arousal began to allow him to slip in and out of you with greater ease. You grind against the bed, throwing your ass back against him to communicate you're absolutely loving the way he's using you right now.

Miguel leans down and gives the outer shell of your ear a lick, still gently pounding your pussy in a steady rhythm, running his thumbs in circles on your ass cheeks "Does that feel good, baby...?"

Your jaw falls open when he hits that deep spot again, a twinge of pain oddly laced with pure ecstasy, causing you to whimper. "Y-Yes....."

"Do you want me to keep going fast?" He whispers, increasing the pace, causing you to bury your face a little, his strokes overwhelming you.

Miguel takes notice of your reaction then slows down. "Do you want it slower..... like this......?" He asks gently.

He pulls his cock out of you slowly, the shaft nice and slick, covered in the arousal that was seeping out of you by now. He kisses your entrance again with his tip then drills his cock back in your pussy with a deep, delicious stroke, causing your toes to curl, and you to exhale sharply, lifting your head a little. "I...want it....just like that."

Miguel smiles and brings his hand against your throat, lifting your upper body more so you're resting against him, your bed head pressed against his chest, planting tender kisses on your cheek while he fucks you slow and deep from behind.

"You did so good for me last night, I had to reward you this morning..." his voice saturated with lust as his free hand moves its way down the front of your body, gently stroking your clit.

You involuntarily seize up, jerking at the dizzying sensation between his cock fucking you perfectly to him tickling the most sensitive part of you, making you feel like you were about to explode. You take several shallow breaths, panting and whining underneath him.

"Shh...baby, relájate...." he reminds you teasingly, still massaging your clit.

"Baby.... please....I think I'm gonna cum..." you pant desperately, your eyes half fluttering and half rolling around in your head.

Miguel groans in your ear again, kissing your neck. "Go ahead, baby... I'm close too."

Your whines become even more strained as you get closer and closer to the edge.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck....." You don't know if it's due to the haze of sleep you just came out of but you're extra sensitive this morning. Miguel holds you tight against his body, his dick still buried into you from behind, his fingers antagonizing your puffy clit faster and faster.

"Focus on the pleasure, baby...just relax and cum on my hand..." He murmurs in your ear, pressing a kiss into your temple.

You slow down your breathing as much as you can, trying not to fight the overwhelming sensation so much. You let out a deep sigh. Your body melting against the scorching hot pleasure he's sending throughout your whole body.

"Fuck...." You whisper, starting to buck your hips and grit your teeth. Momentum building in your core.

"Mmmm..." Miguel's jaw falls open a little bit as you leak more arousal in his hand. "You're dripping for me...God..." He licks your shoulder and adds a sharp thrust of his hips which draws out another high pitched moan from you.

"So beautiful....so good....all mine...." Miguel praises in your ear.

"Baby.....uhnnnnn....." Your face contorted in sheer ecstasy as you came on his hand, his breath catching in your ear as he came inside you also just seconds later, riding out the conclusion of the divine high you two just came off of. The sunshine of the diminishing morning causing the outlines of your bodies to cast darkened silhouettes on the walls of the room you two just made love in.

You both panted in the empty room for several moments, lost in your mutual pleasure. Miguel plants a wet kiss into your shoulder and eases himself out. You plopped back on the pillow, smiling as you purred with satisfaction. Miguel stood up and wiped himself off with a towel laying on the chair in your room. He walked back over to the bed, tilting his head to get a good look at you, sprawled out and bare, the night's passion evident in your tousled hair, the afterglow of all the love he poured into your body evident on your skin. You were a vision.

Miguel sits on the bed and traces along your spine. "How are you feeling, baby?"

You let out a little chuckle and plant your face into one of your pillows, then turn so just one cheek is resting on it. "I'm feeling pretty damn great this morning."

Miguel smiles, "I'm so glad."

"What about you, babe?"

Miguel leans over and kisses your tangled hair.

"I feel amazing. I could get used to waking up next to you."

Your heart races. "Me too..."

You sit up and stretch. "I think I should wash up. Wanna join me?"

The crimson in his eyes glistens as a stripe of sunlight hits them as he turns towards you. "I'd love to."

----

The stream of water thuds against the bottom of the shower bath, slowly steaming the small bathroom, causing the moisture to cake itself onto your mirror. Miguel holds your bare waist, drawing circles with his thumb against your soft flesh as you run one of your palms underneath the running water, gauging the temperature before you get in.

You nod and take his hand, giggling a little as he needs to duck to avoid hitting the shower curtain rod, his height well surpassing it.

"Ladies first." He smirks, backing you up into the water. You gasp a little as the hot water engulfs you taking you by surprise, but relax as your body adjusts.

Miguel's eyes widen a tiny bit when he feels the water for the first time also. "Geez...you like it hot don't you..?"

You smile as you lean your head back into the downpour. "Can't handle the heat?"

Miguel gives you a little scoff as he motions for you to turn around so he can begin washing your back. "Course I can, I just wasn't expecting you to make it that hot."

You feel his hands run the soap all across your shoulders and down your back, the slippery roughness of his hands mixed with the moisture from your back causes you to sigh and lean backwards into his chest. He stops, his work interrupted by you leaning on him, but welcomes you as he wraps his strong arms around your body, holding you as the water continues to cascade over you both.

After a few moments, you turn around and reach for the soap. "Your turn." You smile, switching spots with him so he's primarily under the stream. Miguel grins and leans his head back a little, letting the water soak him completely this time. He wags his head a little, his hair sticking to his forehead, the water dripping down his strong cheekbones. You started lathering his shoulders and pecs, looking up at him. Fuck, he looked so beautiful like this. You finished washing his arms and stomach when you decided to spoil him one more time.

Miguel's eyes were closed as he was letting the water soak the top of his head and all down his face. His breath caught in his throat when he felt your lips lock around the tip of his cock. "Baby...." He looked down and let out a little chuckle, his hands coming behind your head to move your wet mop of hair off your shoulders.

You closed your eyes and moaned into his cock, the sweet smell of soap filling your nose as you began bobbing your head against his soaked abdomen, letting him hear the chorus of your mouth being fucked by his cock.

Miguel's lips fell open and his breathing sped up. He leaned his head back, rocking his hips gently into your mouth as he continued letting you suck his dick in the steam filled shower.

"Fffuck me...." He panted, a large hand slamming on the tiled wall to steady himself.

His words and his reaction of being so aroused that he had to steady himself cause you to moan loudly in response, letting your lips close a little tighter around him, clenching his cock as you bob your head a little faster, tears prick the corners of your eyes as you dared to let him plunge a little further into the back of your throat. Riding the edge where you'd be gagging from the sheer size of him. You continued earnestly, letting your tongue skim and swirl all long the length, cupping his heavy balls in your other hand, caressing and massaging them, the weight of your affection coded in each flick of your tongue along his cock.

Miguel's whimpering now, looking down at you with his mouth still agape as he watches his cock disappear inside your mouth and throat, over and over again.

"I'm cumming baby..." He mutters, trying to pull your head away.

You lean your head forward in response, set on giving him the best part of your surprise blowjob which was just around the corner.

"Shit..... " Miguel clenches his teeth, conceding as the pleasure overtakes his body, his cum shooting into your mouth as he shudders in place, his talons now fully unsheathed from the makeshift bandages.

You slowly stand up, planting kisses on his stomach along the way as you swallow the love he spilt into you with a smile on your face. He's still panting but looks at you with love blown pupils and pulls you into another embrace as the water continues to douse you both.

-----

The rest of the afternoon, you're curled up on the couch next to him with your head on his lap, watching TV as he calls Gabi, Conchata, and Gabe, who made it safely to Boston.

You feel your heart melt as he talks lovingly to Gabi in their mother tongue on Facetime, and she shows him some drawings she did on the long car ride.

"Kiki is gonna tour Boston with me today!" She proudly holds up the teal frog Squishmallow to the camera. Miguel smiles warmly.

"Te extraño, mijita. Que lo pases bien. Pórtate bien con tu abuela y tu tio. ¿Vale?" (I miss you my little daughter, have a good time. Be good for your grandma and uncle, Right?)

"Sí, papá...Yo también te extraño..." (Yes, papa. I miss you too)

Miguel hangs up with a bittersweet sigh, his hands playing with your hair in his lap.

"I'm sorry you have to be away from Gabi..." you say, closing your eyes at the sensation of his fingers in your hair. "Will she be alright?"

Miguel nods. "Me too. I feel guilty being away from her as much as I am for work already. But she'll be okay. She adores my mom and Gabe. They'll keep her safe. It's only to make sure Tyler isn't still hunting me down...." Miguel's stomach tightens. The unknown threat of Tyler and his accomplices likely scouring the tristate area for Miguel and anyone who he might be with still hung in the air.

"I'm quite hungry." You say. "Can we get food?"

Miguel gives you a sympathetic look. "I think we should stay here, babe. I took you out last night but that was when it was dark out and I know Tyler can't come after us if we're swinging from buildings. I think it's too risky for us to leave during the day."

"Please, baby?" You ask, sitting up. "What if I stay here with the door locked, could you get us some food? I need groceries too."

Miguel nods. "Okay... I think that could work. I'll go out and get whatever you need. But stay here the whole time, okay?" He cups your face. "I don't mean to sound bossy or anything, I'm just trying to keep you safe. I don't know if Tyler would come here looking for me or not."

You nod. "I will, thank you baby."

You hand him your grocery list and give him your order for your favorite rice bowl for dinner.

"I'll be back, baby. Stay safe." He kisses your forehead and you watch him swing himself away from your balcony into the late afternoon.

You close your sliding door and activate the lock, walking back to your couch where you wind up passing out.

-----

Some time later, Miguel has two bags of groceries and dinner for you two carefully tied up into one of his webs he fashioned into some kind of sack that he strapped to his back to keep both arms free. It's starting to get dark, and Miguel is doing his best to swing in the shadows and evade the public gaze below.

He lands on top of a building and his advanced hearing calls what sounds like a distressed woman's voice to his attention. Miguel freezes, clad in his sweatshirt with the hood pulled over his eyes in an effort to conceal his identity.

He slowly turns around and walks to the edge of the building, peering down below at where the disturbance seems to be coming from. A short, older, stocky man is cornering a teenage girl.

"Please....I don't have anything I'm just a broke teenager, I swear to God...."

"Gimme your tablet! I won't ask again..." He sneers, backing her into a corner.

"It has all my artwork on it, please!" She sobs.

"Bitch!!!" He pulls a gun and she whimpers.

Miguel scrambles and begins climbing down the side of the building, using his talons to stabilize him, adrenaline and anger propelling him forward.

"H-Help! Help! Please!" The teen is crying and shaking and the man now has a hand around her throat with a gun pointed at her head in another.

"Let her go." Miguel says in a soft voice, rage seething underneath.

"Mind your fuckin business, pal!" The man turns and his voice stalls as he sees the size of his new opponent. His lips fall open at the crimson irises boring back into his. The man turns his gun from his victim and aims it at him, Miguel's chest in the direct line of fire.

Miguel reacts immediately, his red web yanking the gun from the robber's hand, the weapon discharging and nearly hitting the detained young woman, too close for comfort.

The robber throws a right hook, and Miguel ducks, head down, tackling the shorter man who smacks backwards on the pavement with yelp and a wheeze as all of Miguel's weight comes down on his comparatively smaller frame.

Miguel pins both of the robber's arms to the side of his head in a crucifix position and gives him a brutal punch, his head jerking violently to the side from the blow, a little blood spatter exiting his mouth and staining the pavement to his right.

The robber is in a daze, not realizing who he just fucked with. Miguel pants and turns his head slowly, still keeping the barely conscious robber pinned underneath him to look at the terrified girl.

"Are you alright....?" Miguel asks softly.

The teen girl has no words, just slowly nods her head as she breathes rapidly, an anxiety attack starting to emerge. Miguel goes to stand up but then notices red and blue flashing lights on the wall in front of him.

"FREEZE!"

He hears the sound of a handgun being cocked at the ready and his blood runs cold and his hands get clammy.

"HANDS UP WHERE I CAN SEE THEM."

Fuck me... Miguel curses inside his head. He should have just came straight home to you. Now he's got himself mixed up with law enforcement. This could go one of two ways. Either he's seconds away from taking his last breath, or he'll be thrown in jail, his face splattered all over the news, his new secret powers outed to everyone, and Tyler hot on his trail once again, free to harm him, you, his family, and anyone he associated with.

Miguel decides neither of those two things are acceptable. Miguel slowly gets on his feet, turning to one side, hands in the surrender position. His eyes lock onto an iron staircase several floors up in the adjacent apartment complex in his peripheral vision. That will be his ticket out.

"All the way around, son." The chief of police orders.

The chief doesn't have time to blink before the buzzing sound of a new web springs forth, and the mysterious suspect is slingshotting himself on top of an iron staircase with ease.

The chief of police gawks in disbelief for a millisecond, then he and his two other officers open fire on the fleeing mystery man.

Fuck... Miguel mutters as he dispatches another web, one of the bullets narrowly missing him and clanking against the metal stairs. He can hear the family inside the apartment shrieking at the sound of gunfire just outside their window, and the screeching voice of the teenage girl pleading Miguel's innocence to the group of officers.

Miguel keeps swinging until he comes to another dark alley, hanging in suspension for a minute to catch his breath. He glances over his shoulder and notices the carton of eggs in his web sack were punctured by the gunfire, most likely soaking and ruining all the produce, and your dinner. Shit... He groans. He should have just left your apartment like a normal fucking person. No Spider-Man, superhero shit. Spider-Man...wait... that kind of fits.

But what else was he supposed to do? Watch that man kill that young girl over a tablet? Her screams would have haunted him for the rest of his life. That girl was a person. She probably had a family. She probably had a group of friends who adored her. She was just a kid with her whole life ahead of her. He did the right thing.

But this was going to complicate his status as a fugitive on the run. Now, instead of just being hunted by Tyler and Alchemax, now NYPD has it out for him too. He might have had a case for himself against Tyler and Aaron, but now he's painted himself as a mystery vigilante who endangers regular citizens with his reckless acts of heroism. Suddenly, his whole body is overcome with a sense of dread as he makes haste back to your apartment, the sounds of sirens wailing in the distance.

------

Back at your apartment

Right after Miguel had left, you were taking a little cat nap when there was a quiet knock at your door. Your heart pounds a little bit, not expecting anyone and Miguel's instructions ringing in your memory.

You check your ring app, and the apartment owner, a short, older brown haired woman named Gloria's face is practically covering the entire camera.

"It's Gloria!" She chimes, her coral pink lipstick practically jumping through the lense. You figure you know her, so there's no harm done. You walk to the door and open it. She's standing on your doorstep and behind her is Tyler Stone. He looks to be in his mid fifties, quite tall with disheveled blonde hair and a wrinkled suit over a muscular physique. His face is still splotched purple, with a healing gash above his right eye and tiny scratches that have started to scab, a little less swollen than before. His icy blue eyes are on you through indigo eyelids like a cat fixated on an open can of tuna, and a cigar between his fingers.

"Sorry to bother, sweetie, this is Charles. He's expressed interest in buying this place. I needed to show him one of the units and I knew you'd be home. Do you mind?" Gloria asks.

"Um..." You hesitate. Miguel didn't give you a physical description of Tyler so you didn't know what to look out for, but something just seemed off about this interaction. Especially on a Sunday afternoon?

Gloria seems to decide for you, mindlessly pushing past you and leading Tyler into your living room.

"This is an example of the 1 bedroom units. There's also a full bathroom with a shower tub, sink, and toilet....."

Sweet Caroline starts to play through scratched phone speakers.

"Drat-there's my cell...I gotta go take this!" Gloria runs outside, leaving the door slightly ajar. Tyler is looking out your sliding door window, twiddling the cigar in his fingers. He turns and looks at you, a friendly smile painting his face.

"What's your name, Miss?" He asks. His voice is low and soothing. The kind that narrates audiobooks. The contrast of his voice to his haggard appearance took you by surprise. It would be attractive if not for your nagging gut feeling that there's something suspicious about this man.

You give your name to him and he repeats it. You cross your arms and lean against your wall defensively. This large man now left alone with you in your apartment. A serpent that slithered its way into the hen house.

He nods slowly as though he needs to digest this information.

"You live here alone?" His eyes size you up and he takes a couple steps closer to you.

"No." You answer rather quickly, hoping you said it firmly enough to get him off your back but also not too firm to piss him off. "My boyfriend lives with me."

"Boyfriend?" Tyler asks with a smile. "How nice..." He turns and starts to look at the photo booth pictures of you and your friends hanging on your fridge.

"Does your boyfriend have a name?" He asks, not taking his gaze off the photographs.

"Um..." you hesitate. "M-Marco...." You facepalm internally. WTF? That was the best name I could come up with?

Bingo, she's the one we're looking for.

Tyler turns and crosses his arms, looking you up and down as matter of fact. "Do you know a man by the name of Miguel O'Hara?"

Oh no...you get a sinking feeling in your gut. "N-No..." You try and lie but it's futile. You clear your throat and turn around to try and walk back to the front door.

"Excuse me…” But, your path is blocked by a large burly man with curly dark hair, his pasty face stoic as he towers over you.

"G-Gloria?!" You yell for her. You whip around, eyes filled with half panic and half disdain for the man in front of you. "What the fuck are you doing?!"

Tyler sighs but gives you a smirk. "Wasn't expecting you to be so feisty...." He gives a curt nod and the large burly man seizes you by your arms.

All of the self defense Tik Tok videos of what to do when you're getting kidnapped flash through your mind and you can't remember any of them. You scream and thrash in the strong man's grip, attempting to scratch his face, eyes, anything, throwing your knee into what you can only hope is his balls. "F-Fuck! Let me go!!! Gloria!!! Miguel!!! HELP!"

Tyler growls at someone else in the room and a balding, shorter man with green eyes and thick black rimmed glasses walks towards you writhing in the tall man's grasp.

Aaron claps a wet rag against your face and a faint sweet chemical smell forces itself into your nostrils and you only see black after that.

----

A/N: Soo according to my research, chloroform doesn't actually knock people out that quickly like it does in movies soo lol sorry, just pretend 😭 it made the most sense of how Tyler could kidnap us without getting caught in my brain lol. Part 9 coming soon 🖤

[fayes-fics]

It Had To Be You: Chapter 7 - A Thousand Flowers Could Bloom

Masterpost PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: It was inevitably going to happen...

artwork credit @colettebronte

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, mild dom/sub undertones, frottage, dirty talk, light hair pulling and biting, vaginal sex.

Word Count: 4.3k (longest chapter to date, haha, is anyone surprised..)

Authors Note: A multi-chapter modern rom-com retelling of When Harry Met Sally. In this chapter, passions between Benedict and reader finally boil over. Yup, yup, the movie fades to black on the sex scene... I am not lolol. Please skip this chapter if you want to keep your reading PG-13/12A rated. There is no real plot here. Sorry it has taken me so long to write this; I got so nervous. Still not sure I like this very much. Thanks to ColetteBronte for the read through. Anyway, I hope you enjoy <3

It's a blur as the kiss deepens; Benedict’s tongue glances yours, a tentative swipe before entwining. Something sweeps through your being, throwing you overboard, tossing you into a tsunami wave, your mind reeling as your hands stay limp by your side, still taken by surprise this is happening.

“Ben,” you stutter breathlessly when he withdraws fractionally.

“Don’t,” he growls, “don't you dare use that big brain of yours; just shut up.” His thumb is heavy on your cheek as he cups your jaw. “Just shut the fuck up for once in your bloody life.”

So, for once, you do just that. Letting your hands do the talking, looping around his neck to pull him back to you. That is the permission he needs, and suddenly, you are being spun around and pressed into your own hallway wall, him bearing the whole length of his being into you. You feel like you are drowning in him. He is all you can see, smell, and breathe. 

Then, he obliterates every thought you have. Hunching down mid-kiss, he insinuates a warm thigh between your knees. Then he stands up straight, the meat of his substantial quad muscle snagging the seam of your sleep shorts, your clit mashed into your public bone, throbbing.

You mumble a curse into his mouth as his fingers locate the tab on your hoodie. The only sound is the slow release of the zip as he tugs it down and your own shallow panting over his lips as he does so. He smiles dangerously as the material parts, dropping it off your shoulders to the floor so you stand in tiny shorts and a white vest. 

There is a noise in the back of his throat as his eyes sweep down briefly, lingering on your peaked nipples, then slender fingers wrap around the crest of your hipbones and flex, indicating he wants you to move. To ride the thigh that he has you dangling upon, up on your tiptoes.

“Use me,” he mutters like velvet. “Go ahead.”

“I….” You seem almost incapable of speech, too strung out on the tidal wave of chemicals racing around your body. “…need sex, please,” aware it sounds reedy.

He unwinds your hands from around his neck and pins them to the wall at shoulder height.

“Ride my leg, and then we will have sex,” he orders slowly, a knowing smirk on your cheekbone. “Come on; you don't think I can tell how much you need it?” He places a hot kiss on your skin. “You've been aching to come since you straddled me hours ago; don’t deny it.”

Fuckkkk…. 

This is what his ex, Gen, meant all those years ago. ‘Knees weak, pussy strong’ is how she paraphrased what he could do to her. You thought it was her exaggerating; now you realise it wasn’t. It’s like he’s a different person to the Ben that you know, but fuck if it isn't blisteringly hot.

So when he relinquishes your wrists, you wrap around him again, undulating on his leg, pressing your cheek into his, the friction of the layers of fabric adding to your arousal. It feels so good you speed up, grasping his neck.

“Yes, that’s it,” he pants approvingly in your ear, gripping your hips again in encouragement. With every stroke, you bump against a solid mass in his jeans, which makes you feel frantic and impatient for more. To come, to fuck, to do everything he will let you.

“Ben…” his name like honey, tumbling from your lips in your heightened state. You are too cowardly to lean back and look at him, see yourself reflected in his eyes; it feels too much like admitting this is real. Or perhaps you’re simply worried it will break this fevered spell, that he will put a stop to it, leaving you throbbing and bereft.

“Stop thinking,” he drawls, his breath hot on your temple, intuiting you are disappearing too much into your thoughts again, your pace slowing as you slide on him. He squeezes your hips roughly to the point you squeak. “Do you want me to order you to do it?” the voice lethally low. “Is that what you want?”

“I… I…” words fail. You have no idea. 

He pulls back to cradle your jaw again, tilting your face to look at him. His hazy blue eyes are dilated to inky black, and his lips are flushed dark pink. “Y/n,” slow, sensual, rumbling from his ribcage, his fingertips warm on your cheeks. “When I tell you to do something, I mean it. Do it.” His thumb swipes your bottom lip. “Right now.”

“Help me,” it’s a desperate uncensored whisper.

“What do you need?” He smiles predatorily, his eyes sparkling in the low light.

“Hold me down; be firm,” confessing your desires. “Control me a bit.” You’ve never divulged that proclivity to any past lover, the craving for something with a hint of roughness, a light tussle. And yet, with your best friend, you can’t help but let it tumble out of you.

And perfect, perfect Ben, god, he obliges. 

The hand on your hip digs in as the other slides around the globe of your bottom cheek, and you squeal as he spanks there with a harsh flick.

“I told you to ride my leg,” his directive clipped but somehow still laced with a laid-back bemusement, “so do it.”

It's so perfect you feel an urge to shake him and yell ‘yes’ and ‘this’. But instead, you bite your lip and do as bidden, riding the rough creases in his jeans, letting the texture catch your swollen clit in your thin cotton shorts. It feels so good you shudder, but still, you crave more.

“I want to ride your jeans naked.” Again, you cannot suppress your runaway tongue.

He makes a noise that is almost feral; a sizeable, warm hand slides up your spine underneath your vest, ruching the fabric until it snags on your breasts at the front. Without prompting, you release briefly to strip off the top, then immediately wind around him again like a vine. The soft cotton of his shirt snags delightfully on your nipples, and you can feel his body heat seeping through the thin material. Moaning your approval as his fingers splay wide, touching the sensitive skin of your lower back, right above your shorts.

“Take these off,” he runs a feathery touch above the waistband, the tone gruff and challenging.

He dips slightly and backs away a half pace, just enough to give you room to strip off the last of your clothing. He has not so much as undone a button, but the bulge in his jeans makes you swallow hard as you shimmy off your shorts. He probably wasn't expecting you to be without underwear, based on the noise he makes. You are grateful you have recently trimmed (for a failed date, as it turns out). 

As your shorts hit the floor, he dives in for another mindblowing kiss. And before you know it, you are hauled back onto his thigh, completely naked, the denim feeling so perfect against your aching clit.

“You are so close, aren’t you?” he groans as your heat and wetness seep through his jeans, engulfing his quad. 

All you can do in response is nod, mildly embarrassed, bury your face in his neck and move again in earnest, making faint noises into his skin. The drag of fabric on your engorged clit is so intoxicating you couldn't stop if you wanted to. He murmurs encouragements, touch searing your skin, just this side of painful; you will likely carry his fingermarks tomorrow.

“Come on, that's it,” he encourages, shifting his leg to increase your range of motion, pressing his erection into your hipbone as you crash into him.

Over and over, you ride, getting faster and faster, chasing the high that feels so tantalisingly close, your skin turning dewy with exertion, his body heat enveloping you. You need something to make you break, and he intuits it. One hand slides up your back to grasp the hair at the base of your skull.

“Give it to me,” he orders duskily, an untamed look in his eye, twisting his grip until your hair is taut against your scalp.

Then, the other hand leaves your hip and insinuates between your bodies, grabbing your breast and pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. The rush of sensation, a little rough, just as you requested, hurls you past the edge you were skating. Convulsing on his leg, he keeps his hold on your hair and nipple as you snap. Eyes rolling closed as you cry his name and curse, coming so hard the world goes fuzzy. Shuddering and shaking, him moving to brace your body upright with him as you writhe.

“That's it, yesssss,” his victorious hiss in your ear is breathy and impressed. 

There are a few moments of silence as you return to the room, so marvellously sated but somewhat mortified about what has just transpired.

“I…. I can't believe I did that,” you mutter into his skin, almost ashamed, even as your body still quivers from the best orgasm you can remember in many months.

“You were amazing,” he reassures into your ear.

“Don't ask me to look you in the eye,” you jest lightly, lips skimming his throat, unwilling indeed to meet his eye.

He chuckles, loosening his hold as he drops a kiss on your forehead.

“Are you honestly asking me to fuck you without looking at you?” he checks light-heartedly.

“I have an eye mask you can borrow,” you offer, giggling.

His responding laugh jiggles your whole body as he shifts to allow you back to your flat feet. Your leg muscles still twitching, still leaning into him for support.

“If you want to play with blindfolds, I am more than game,” he murmurs, cradling your face so you daren’t look away. This closeup and aroused he is a devastating sight, all cheekbones and blown pupils. And partnered with those words, in that hedonic tone, your insides are molten all over again. 

“Me too,” you whisper back.

Before you know it, he picks you up effortlessly and strides across the hallway toward your bedroom door. This is a seismic shift in your friendship, but as he lowers you gently onto your bed, all you feel is elation. Butterflies in your gut as he climbs on top of you, still fully clothed.

“Ben, what do I have to pay to get you naked?” you grumble good-naturedly, tugging at the shirt around his shoulders, your usual banter flaring despite this surprising development.

He laughs as his lips land on your neck, warm and plush, kissing a line down to your collarbone that is all at once too much and not enough. 

“I will get naked if you wear that blindfold you promised,” he jokes, your breath catching as you feel his chin stubble catch on the swell of your breast.

“Nuh-uh,” you shake your head, smiling as he pouts up at you, eyes sparkling. 

The fact that the playfulness is still there makes you feel light as air, floating on feathers, him holding your gaze and slipping lower so the tip of his nose brushes your nipple.

“I was right all those years ago,” he inhales almost lewdly. “You really do have a fantastic pair of tits.” He looks up at you from your chest through heavy lashes with that same deadly lopsided smile from years ago, the one he gave you on the train, and once again, it makes you flush from head to toe.

“Naked Bridgerton, now,” you riposte with faux scolding, raising an eyebrow. 

This would have been a very effective response had he not chosen that precise moment to envelope your nipple into his mouth and suck hard, instead making you call out, eyes fluttering closed as your spine curls up off the bed, the heat and suction perfect. Swirling his tongue around and using an edge of teeth, swapping to the other side to do the same before you open your eyes. Then he kisses his way back up, claiming another fiery kiss. As you go to weakly protest again about him being too clothed, he sits up and whips the shirt off over his head instead of undoing it, throwing it aside as your eyes fall open.

“What the fuck?!” It's an unbidden but honest response to the sight before you. 

In the low light cast by your bedside lamp, he is all defined, sculpted lines—a shape you didn't think real humans came in. He laughs slightly abashed as you keep staring, raising up onto your elbows to drink in the view. You know he is in shape from the feel of his body when you hug him, but just how buff momentarily stuns you. 

“You look like a bloody Michelangelo sculpture,” you declare, compounding his coyness.

“If you keep this up, I'm not taking off my jeans,” he warns demurely, in a voice that is both amused and humble.

You mime zipping your mouth shut and throwing away a key as he leans in laughing and busses a brief kiss on your lips. Your hands map his tapered torso, revelling in the supple, warm skin and contoured, lithe muscles and the catch in his throat as you do so. You pull him down on top of you; the weight and warmth of his naked chest meeting yours makes you hungry in a way you haven't felt for years. Eventually, you reach the waistband of his jeans, circling to the front and rapidly flicking open the button of his fly. He squeaks quietly into your passionate kiss, taken aback by your boldness.

“No going back now,” you warn as you carefully lower the zip of his fly over his straining cock.

“I think that ship sailed when I felt your orgasm on my thigh,” he replies drolly, as your eyes briefly fall to the damp patch you left there, cheeks flushing. 

His bravado falters when you push his jeans down his slim hips, delving inside the back of his underwear to grab the peachy solid mass of his bottom. He groans into your cheek, and his mouth finds yours again. There is a wave of body heat as you shimmy his underwear and jeans down his leg, unseen as you kiss almost artlessly. He takes over, squirming his way out of them until they are also flung off the bed. You don't see his cock, but he presses down onto you as soon as he is naked, and you feel it brand your thigh, sizeable and hot.

“Let me see,” you almost whine, petulant.

He huffs a laugh, grabs your wrist, and guides your hand between your bodies. There, nestled within a patch of lightly trimmed hair, you feel the steely warmth of his cock. 

“Ben,” you stumble out as you encircle the heated mass, feeling a trickle escape your body as you begin to pump him lightly, a thumb swiping the sticky precum at his head, loving the way it makes him stutter and moan into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he sounds winded, pulsing under your fingers.

“Are you okay?”

“Sorry, it's been… uhh… ages since someone else touched my cock,” he rushes out, sheepish.

The honesty makes something melt behind your ribs; this wonderful, handsome man, still recovering from heartbreak, has not had sex in so long that you want to give him - your best friend - everything, a need to please him burning bright. Not wishing to dwell on consequences, what any of this might mean after tonight.

“What do you want, Ben?” you query softly as you pump his cock in your fist.

“You,” he answers sweetly, plainly, breathily, “just you.” He tilts his head and sighs into your neck. “It's been so long since I had sex that I'm not certain I can satisfy you. It’s why I made you to come before; I couldn't bear to leave you in need.”

The vulnerable admission, a true friend confiding in another, makes you crave him, this, even more. The glibness of your recent casual hookups thrown into stark relief in this singular moment of intimate honesty. It's what has been missing from sex since your breakup with Tom. The shorthand that comes from knowing someone so well artifice crumbles; them able to see through all the layers you can hide behind with strangers.

“I bet you are better than you think,” the need to reassure seizing you. “The way you took control earlier was exactly what I needed. Then there is this…,” you squeeze his cock a little, “...now I understand why Gen said she would miss you so much,” you add unabashed, enjoying the feel of his unseen demure smile against your jaw. 

“So you liked when I took control?” he queries, shifting the subject.

“Oh god, yes,” you avow, a little frisson racing down your spine at the memory from moments earlier, your grip flexing around his cock as you do so.

“Do you want me to do it again?” his cadence lowers to something more decadent as he removes your hand and traps it on the pillow next to your head.

“Yes, please,” it’s almost too keen.

Again, the noise he makes is an elixir, elation coursing in your veins. His long fingers lacing with yours, holding you down firmly, his mass weightier as he bears you down onto the mattress. 

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he rumbles, teeth grazing the sensitive spot below your ear. Your reply in the affirmative is a shaky exhale, a skitter of excitement across your skin at the very idea. “What was that?” his tone suddenly brusque, pushing up to look down upon you, his eyes boring into yours as he surges his cock, branding your inner thigh.

“Yes,” you enunciate crisply, struggling against his control, even though it’s precisely where you want to be, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips as his fingers sink further between yours, stretching your knuckles wide apart. He claims you in a vehement kiss, leaving you whimpering around his invading tongue, the tip of his cock rocking against your clit.

“Tell me you want me,” he orders, breath hot on your face, his hands still pinning you under him.

“I want you,” you answer reflexively, as simple and true as breathing. 

He nuzzles your face, his cock sliding temptingly through your slick folds as you shudder, your pebbled nipples catching on the slab of his pectoral muscles, sighing shakily as he gently bites the shell of your ear. He surges his cock again, this time slipping lower, teasing your entrance, parting you with his tip. You inhale sharply at the warm mass, pressing insistently, not quite at the right angle to slip fully inside yet. 

“Do you still have your IUD?” he asks quietly, the domineering mask slipping momentarily, releasing your wrists. 

“Yes, just get inside me, please,” you respond, soft but fervent, raking fingertips down his back, loving the heated contours that flex as he moves to angle better.

Then, eleven years after you first idly thought of it on that drive down to London from Scotland, Benedict Bridgerton finally slides inside your body. 

A blunt warmth spearing you open in a way that feels so good it makes your throat catch, and your eyes roll back in your head. A curse falls from you as he keeps going, finding your hilt as he bottoms out. The perfect fit, just the right side of an ache as you stretch around him. He exhales raggedly into your cheek and stills.

“Move please,” you implore, greedy for more, grabbing his bottom impatiently.

“Give me a moment,” he appeals, breaking persona again, the heat of his body cloaking yours.

“Please,” you coax gently, “Benedict.” You add, almost as an afterthought, using his formal name as if to underline the seriousness of your request.

He makes a noise and lifts to look down at you. “Call me that again,” he commands gravelly, overwrought.

“Benedict,” you repeat as if a tasty morsel you can’t resist.

He makes a hungry noise and withdraws slightly, surging back into you in a way that has your whole body rolling under him with the force of it. You groan, hands flexing on his body, your tongue pressing into the back of your front teeth, quelling the urge to call out how good it already feels.

Your walls cling to him as he sets a languid but perfect rhythm. Breathing each other's air, exploring damp skin, lips meeting repeatedly in loose, open-mouthed kisses. Once again, he grabs your hands and manoeuvres them above your head, holding you down, stretching your arms so your body cants up, your nipples grazing his chest.

“You have no idea how many times I've fantasised of this moment for so many years,” he rasps, making your breath hitch with his words and a change of angle that catches a new spot inside. “And yet, this is better,” he continues, dropping a kiss in your hair.

“Same,” you confess succinctly.

A triumphant crooked smile claims his face, and then he thrusts forcefully, wringing a loud moan from your lungs, your head smashing into the pillow as your hips tilt up in a silent request for more. Yearning for him to fuck you so hard that you feel a physical reminder; for your body to carry a tangible memory of it. 

“You want more, don't you?” he intuits, pride colouring his tone.

“Yes,” you hiss, conscious he can read you effortlessly. 

He snaps his hips in response, and you feel a tug deep inside where he nudges your hilt. It feels so good you gasp and fight to release your hands from above your head, desperate to grab his bum cheeks again and haul him deeper into you.

“Nuh-uh,” he chides bemused, shooting you a pointed look, “you do as I say, remember?” 

You struggle underneath him, eyes blazing as you stare into his glassy pupils, telegraphing silently this is precisely what you want, making a show until you finally settle and curl your bottom lip under your teeth, nodding meekly as he restarts at a leisurely pace.

“Good girl.” He even winks.

Oh fucking hell.

Your pussy pulses around him, betraying how much you like that line. 

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” he smirks, the smug, cocky persona he can slip into so easily fitting him like a glove. The ghost of Benedict-past rearing - that troublesome young playboy you recall from years ago. 

He chuckles richly when you don’t give him the satisfaction of a verbal response, somehow the spectre of your younger, indignant self joining the party, too.

“Don’t forget: I can tell when you’re lying,” he murmurs into your jaw, still fucking you slow and thoroughly, sliding his lips down your neck, your collarbone, down to your nipple that he bites, making you cry out. “I know you of old…” he adds, pausing for you to catch the reference.

“Shakespeare…,” you stumble incredulously.

“Mmm hmm,” he confirms, tracing a teasing circle around your areola with the tip of his tongue.

“You quote Shakespeare while you fuck?!” your tone incredulous. “You don’t fight fair,”

He laughs again before silencing any retort you may have with another heated kiss, entwining your limbs, wrapping like a protective vine around you as he begins thrusting keenly. You move with him, uncaring how vocal you are, the need for more inexorable. You stare into each other's eyes as you move in perfect synchronism, faster and harder, grabbing flesh, whispered words and endless kisses. It’s never been quite like this before.

“Come for me again,” he pleads hotly, and you can see he is teetering close to the edge now, a little vein pulsing in his temple, his neck corded, a sheen over his body where his pace never wavers.

“So close,” you vow, needing just a little more friction to fall into that abyss again.

You groan as he grabs your hand and sucks your fingers into his hot mouth, swirling his tongue around them, then releases them with an obscene pop, guiding your wettened fingers between your bodies to the apex of your thighs, silently instructing you to touch yourself. Gasping and canting up into his body, your own slippery touch like a lightning rod on your clit.  He growls as your pussy tightens around him responsively, feeling so huge as he ploughs into you.

Only a few flicks of your fingers and you are hurtling towards mindless bliss, eyes closing and body going taut, then snapping like a string as you peak, every fibre of your body fracturing as you call his name and constrict tight around his cock, fingernails leaving crescent shapes on his back as you float somewhere outside your body, mind blanking out in sheer pleasure.

Distantly, you hear him following you over, his grip almost punishing as he takes a few last frantic pumps, then stills, emptying deep inside, chanting your name into your neck as his whole body shudders and collapses on top of you.

As you flop back onto the mattress, your body sated, your thoughts race. Probably the best sex of your damn life. Even as he slides next to you, pulling you into his arms, your mind whirls until your scattered thoughts coalesce into one singular truth that makes you chew on your lip and frettingly stare at the ceiling - it was too good, too tender, too raw and honest for a first time. But all you want to do is repeat it. Over and over and over. Just never let him out of your bedroom. Except this is your best friend, and you have no bloody idea where you stand now.

Well… fuckity fuck.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhelll @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @Mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheepp @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb

[justagalwhowrites]

Halcyon - Ch. 2: Just Didn’t Think You’d Remember

You and Joel reconnect. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through ch. 1, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 4.7K

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

There was a child staring at you. 

It took you half a second to process that fact, the alcohol from the night before making your head pound and stomach turn. It also didn’t help that you didn’t really know any children so you weren’t sure you’d ever woken up by one sitting just inches from your face, watching you intently. At least, not recently. It wasn’t exactly something you were expecting. 

“Hi!” she said brightly. 

“What the hell…” 

“I don’t think you’re allowed to say that in front of me,” she cut you off, still watching you intently, her curls bouncing as she cocked her head. “At least my dad tells my uncle that all the time when he says that. Why are you on my couch?” 

You lifted your head a little bit and dropped back on the pillow when it made your stomach turn. You were under a vaguely familiar crocheted blanket in a room you absolutely did not recognize and you had no idea where to even begin. 

“Well, kid…” 

“Sarah,” she cut you off, still smiling. There was a gap in her smile and her front teeth were still a bit too big for her face. 

“Sarah,” you repeated. “I don’t even know where I am so you might know better than me…” 

“My dad’s friends who sleep over usually stay in his room,” she said, sitting back from you a bit. She was perched on the edge of a dated coffee table, her skinny legs sticking out straight in front of her from a pair of bright blue shorts, a matching jersey with a soccer ball on the front of it on top. “He tries to act like I don’t know about them though. So it’s weird you’re out here, I don’t usually get to meet his friends.” 

“Right,” you said, propping yourself up on your elbow. Your head spun. You felt fully clothed under the blanket so you didn’t think you’d had sex with anyone. Which, since you didn’t remember fucking anyone, was a good thing. But that meant you’d wound up at some guy’s house - a guy who had a kid - and didn’t know how. Or why. Or who. “And… Who’s your dad?”

 “Hey, Baby Girl,” Joel rushed over, bending over to get on Sarah’s level. “Pretty sure told you to eat breakfast, not bother my friend…” 

“I’m not bothering her!” She protested, turning her big brown eyes to you. “Am I?” 

You were about to agree with her but Joel didn’t give you the chance. 

“Do you or do you not want braids for the tournament?” He asked. “Because I’m not gonna have time to braid all that hair of yours if you’re sittin’ in here, goofing off, instead of eating your cereal. So. Gotta pick. Goof off or braids. Which is it?” 

She sighed heavily. 

“Braids.” 

“OK then,” he said, straightening up to his full height. He somehow looked even more massive from your position on the couch as he stood next to a little girl. “That means you gotta get movin’.” 

She got up with a huff and tilted her head back to look at the ceiling as she stomped away. 

“Never let me do anything cool,” she muttered. Joel just shook his head and smiled a little, watching her for a moment before he turned his attention back to you. 

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he said. “Told her to let you sleep…” 

“No,” you shook your head a little and sat up, your stomach churning. You blinked for a second, the light from the windows still holding that soft, hazy quality the early morning sun had. “S’fine…” 

You started piecing together the night before, at the bar. Joel coming up to you, the two of you having drinks that devolved into doing shots and, at some point, you forgot your address. You didn’t remember ending up at his house, though. 

And you certainly didn’t remember him saying anything about a kid. 

“How you feeling?” He asked, his hands in the pockets of his cotton sleep pants and an amused smile on his face. “You seemed to be having a hell of a time last night.” 

“Been better,” you replied. “Jesus, I am not 17 anymore…”

Joel laughed. 

“Yeah, tell me about it.” 

“Hey Dad!” Sarah called from another room. You winced a little at the sound, your head pounding. 

Joel looked up, toward where her voice was coming from. 

“What’s up, Kiddo?”

“Do I have to eat the apple, too?” 

“Is it on your placemat?” He called back to her. 

She sighed, so loudly you could hear it. 

“Yes.” 

Joel shrugged, even though you were the only one who could see it. 

“Well, there’s your answer,” he said. “C’mon, you’re about to go run for hours, you need fuel. Eat at least half the apple, then I’ll braid your hair.” 

He looked back at you. 

“Coffee?” 

“Probably good,” you said, trying to find the will to get to your feet and looking down at the blanket that was now half on your lap and half on the couch. You realized why it was familiar now. You’d passed out under it many times, it had been the blanket that Mrs. Miller kept draped over the back of the furniture in the living room. It had just been a while. 

Joel held out a hand and you considered it for a moment. Joel was offering you a hand. To touch you. Though, you realized, you’d probably touched him at least some the night before. You were a cuddly drunk. But still. It was Joel. The guy you hadn’t even spoken to in more than a decade, the guy you’d spent just about all of high school in love with, the guy you lost your virginity to on prom night like some kind of inane cliche you’d tell one of your students to rethink if they turned it in as a piece of writing. Touching him felt monumental. 

You took his hand. 

He tugged you to your feet and you draped the blanket on the end of the couch before trailing behind him to the kitchen.

Sarah sat on one side of the table, intently reading the back of a cereal box, 2/3rds of an apple sitting on a paper towel next to her bowl. You sat across from her, hoping you didn’t look too haggard and ridiculous, and Joel went to the coffee pot on the counter, pouring two cups before adding milk and sugar to one. He stirred it and set it in front of you before sitting at the head of the table with a mug of his own. You just looked at him for a moment. He frowned. 

“What?” He asked. “Take it different now?” 

“No,” you said, picking it up and taking a sip of it. “Just didn’t think you’d remember.” 

He shrugged, taking a sip from his own cup before leaning over to look at Sarah’s bowl. 

“Need two more bites of apple and four more shredded wheat,” he said, checking his watch. “And we’ve got 20 minutes before Emily’s here to pick you up.” 

“She’s always late…” 

“Not countin’ on that,” he said. “Come on, kiddo.” 

She rolled her eyes but made a show of taking another bite of apple before going back to the cereal box. 

“What do they put on the back of cereal boxes now, anyway?” You asked. “When I was a kid there were puzzles and things.” 

“Stuff like that,” Sarah said. “But they’re stupid and easy. I’m trying to figure out if they just took a picture of one shredded wheat and used it over and over or if there are different ones.” 

You stifled a laugh and raised your eyebrows at Joel who just shrugged. Sarah took another bite of apple - an almost laughably small one - and looked away from the box to look at you. 

“So what’s your name, anyway? And why are you at my house? And…” 

“Eat your cereal,” Joel cut her off. She sighed but obeyed. “And this is Goldie. She’s a friend of mine from when I was a kid. We hung out last night but it was too late for her to drive home and be safe so she stayed here.” 

Sarah frowned and swallowed. 

“Goldie is a weird name.” 

“Sarah,” Joel scolded. 

“What!” She looked at him. “It is!” 

“That’s because it’s not actually my name,” you said. “It’s just what your dad and his family call me, like a nickname.” 

“Oh,” she said. “OK. How come I haven’t met you before?” 

You glanced at Joel who looked back at you, seemingly at as much of a loss as you were. 

“I’ll tell you if you eat two more shredded wheat,” you said. She scrunched her freckled nose for a second before obeying. You resisted the urge to laugh again. “I lived pretty far away until recently. I just moved back, so I haven’t seen your dad in a very long time.” 

She nodded slowly and swallowed before dropping her spoon in her bowl and tilting it toward Joel. 

“Have I met the dad requirement?” She asked, sass and sarcasm evident. 

“We’ll accept it because of the time crunch,” he said. “Run and brush your teeth - actually brush ‘em don’t just run the water - and grab me two hair ties, your brush, and the gel.” 

She shoved her chair back from the table and ran off, pounding up some unseen stairs and slamming a door behind her. 

“Jesus, need to bottle her energy…” Joel groaned, rubbing his eyes before taking a sip of coffee. You just stared at him. He frowned. “What?” 

“Oh, I don’t know, Joel,” you said, incredulous. “Maybe the entire child you have that you didn’t think to fucking mention?” 

He winced a little at that. 

“Yeah, sorry,” he said. “Kinda thought you’d sleep through gettin’ her out the door. You were pretty damn out of it…” 

“You said you weren’t married!” You hissed, going back over the conversation from the night before that you could remember. 

“I’m not,” he shrugged. “Don’t need to be married to have a kid.” 

“OK but where’s her mom?” You asked, keeping your voice low. 

“Your guess is as good as mine,” he shrugged again. “She left years ago. Been just me and Sarah since she was about four months old.”

“Joel,” you gaped at him. “You’re a dad. To a kid.” 

“Yeah,” he laughed a little. “Tends to happen when you have one…” 

Sarah came storming down the stairs and ran over to Joel, hairbrush and gel in hand. 

“Alright,” he said, standing up with a groan and taking the supplies from Sarah. “Couch, let’s go. We got maybe ten minutes, ain’t doin’ that zig-zag part you like…” 

“But Dad, they’re always late!” She groaned, heading for the living room. You picked up your coffee and followed, watching as she flopped on the couch where you’d spent the night. “There’s so much time!” 

“You are not making anybody any later,” he said, balancing the bottle of gel on the back of the couch before starting to separate her hair into two parts with the brush. “Hair tie.” 

He held out his hand and she slid one off her wrist and dropped it into his open palm. He took it and tied half of her curls off to one side before focusing on the other side. 

“You excited for your games?” He asked as he started near her forehead with a chunk of hair, his large, thick fingers moving with almost surprising deftness through her curls, adding more to each strand as he went. 

“I think so,” she said. “Coach keeps acting like we’re going to win but I dunno. We’re playing the Lightning for round two and they kicked our butt last time.” 

“That was a few months ago, right?” He asked, working his way down her head. “Y’all have gotten better.” 

“I guess,” she said. “But so have they, right?” 

“Maybe. Maybe not. Hair tie.” 

He held his hand out again, half of her hair now gathered in a French braid that reached the top of her shoulder. She pulled another hair tie off her wrist and handed it to him. He tied off the braid and moved on to the other side. 

“Gonna behave yourself today?” He asked. “Listen to your coach and Emily’s mom?” 

“Yes,” you could hear her eye roll from across the room. 

“Good,” he said. “Expect you to be on your best behavior…” 

“But I like my worst behavior.”

“Yeah, I bet you do,” he said, finishing the matching braid on the other side of her head. He squeezed gel into his hand and smoothed it over her hair. “Mean it, Kiddo. Be good. Watch that mouth of yours.” 

As if on cue, the doorbell rang and Sarah jumped up, running to answer it. There was a little blonde girl waiting on the other side of it and a woman who looked like a harried, older clone of her was standing at her back. 

“Hi Joel,” she smiled. “Hope we haven’t kept you waiting!” 

“Not at all,” he said. “Right on time. Sarah, got your stuff? Grabbed your lunch?” 

“Oh crap,” she darted past you, back toward the kitchen, and came running back with a lunch bag. Joel picked up her duffle bag from the entryway floor and put it over her shoulder. “OK, got it!” She smiled. 

“Good,” he kissed the crown of her head. “Alright, have fun, Baby Girl. Kick ass, play nice.” 

“Kick ass, play nice,” she repeated before leaning around him. “Bye, Goldie!” She looked back to Joel. “Bye, Dad!” 

The woman - Emily’s mom, apparently - looked you up and down and you smiled tightly at her. You just heard her turning to Sarah when Joel closed the door as the group headed to the car. 

“So who’s your dad’s friend?” 

You flinched as the door closed and Joel turned to look at you. 

“Breakfast?” He asked. “I do got shit besides shredded wheat. Looks like you might need some grease to soak up that liquor.” 

“I seem to recall that you’re the one who wanted to do shots,” you replied. “But yeah, I won’t argue with food.” Your stomach churned. “Or I think I won’t, anyway.” 

Joel jerked his head toward the kitchen and headed that way, you trailing behind him. He just nodded at the table and you sat down, holding your coffee cup in both hands. You watched as Joel got eggs and bacon out of the fridge and started cooking. It took effort to not look surprised. You weren’t sure Joel had even knew how to boil water when you knew him. Of course, that had been a while ago. And he apparently had a kid to look after so he had to have picked up a few things. 

“So,” you said after a few awkward minutes. “Last night…” 

He nodded and took a swig of coffee. 

“What about it?” 

“I don’t remember all of it,” you said slowly. “And I’m pretty sure we didn’t but… did… did we…” 

“You askin’ if we fucked?” He looked at you brows raised. Your face got hot and you nodded, resisting the urge just run away now and pretend you’d never met Joel Miller to begin with. He laughed once. “No, Goldie. We didn’t fuck. I tend to prefer my women aware enough to actually know what’s goin’ on, thank you very much. You weren’t exactly clearin’ that bar.” 

You relaxed a little. 

“Thank fuck for that much,” you took another sip of coffee and Joel put bagels in the toaster. “So… You’re a dad.” 

He laughed a little and cracked some eggs in a pan. 

“I’m a dad.” 

“How’d that happen?” 

He looked at you for a moment. 

“You telling me a fancy college professor doesn’t know about the birds and the bees?” He teased. “When two grown ups love each other very much…” 

“I will come dump coffee down your shirt.” 

He laughed and shook his head. 

“Just happened,” he said after a moment. “One of those things, I guess. Not like it was on purpose but…” 

“How old is she?” You asked. 

“Turned 11 in July,” he replied. 

You did a little math in your head and you laughed once, loud, before clamping your hand over your mouth. 

“What?” He frowned at you. 

“Oh that’s rich,” you shook your head, sitting back fully in your chair. 

“What?” He asked again, looking genuinely confused. 

“If she turned 11 in July, that means the last time I saw you, you had a knocked up girlfriend at home,” you tried to stifle your laughter and failed. “Oh man and you were on MY ass about my life choices…” 

“Hey, I was right though,” he pointed the spatula at you. “Fuck that guy.” 

The toaster popped and he pulled the bagels out, smearing cream cheese on them before putting an egg on each one, followed by some bacon and a slice of cheese. He finished it with salt and pepper and put a plate in front of you before sitting next to you. You just stared at the sandwich for a moment and he frowned. 

“What?” 

“How do you remember this shit?” You asked, looking back up at him. You remembered trying to convince him to even try a bagel sandwich with cream cheese when you were hung over teenagers on a Saturday morning and Joel reluctantly agreeing that it was delicious. 

He shrugged. 

“You had good taste in breakfast sandwiches.”

You took a bite and moaned a little in spite of yourself. Joel looked at you, brows raised and mouth full and you felt your cheeks get hot again. 

“Sorry,” you said. “Just been a while since I had one of these.” 

“What, fuckin’ Brad not much of a cook?” He asked. 

You laughed a little. 

“Not of things like this,” you said. “No.” 

He nodded slowly before setting his sandwich down. 

“Alright,” he said. “Two options. One, we get you an Uber so you can get on with whatever you famous fuckin’ authors do on random Saturdays.” 

You rolled your eyes and Joel ignored you. 

“Two, you wait until I can get my truck runnin’ and then I drive you home.” 

You frowned a little. 

“What’s wrong with your truck?” 

“Needs a new radiator,” he said. “S’why I’m not going to Sarah’s tournament today, just got the part delivered yesterday, haven’t had the chance to fix it. Can help, if you want.” 

You smiled a little. 

“Like old times.” 

He smiled back. 

“Yeah, something like that.” 

“Well, as it happens, famous authors don’t do much on Saturdays,” you said. “We pretty much sit at home and procrastinate on writing.” 

“Sounds like bullshit.” 

“It is. But it means I am free to hand you wrenches.” 

He smiled. 

“Then let’s go, grease monkey.” 

***

Well that hadn’t been how Joel thought the morning was going to go. 

You’d been dead to the world when he got Sarah up. You’d always been a heavy sleeper and he doubted that had changed much in the past 15 years. When you passed out on his couch in the afternoons as a kid, an atom bomb couldn’t wake you up. When the two of you would sneak out to go get drunk and star gaze at the park, you’d fall asleep curled against his side and he’d have to be the one to set alarms on his shitty flip phone to get you both up. You slept right through them. 

So when he’d found you talking with Sarah on the couch, he hadn’t been sure what to do. 

But you’d solved that problem for him, taking the fact that he had a child he hadn’t told you about in stride. At least until Sarah was out of earshot, anyway. 

And Joel wasn’t about to tell you that you’d done the math about her conception wrong. That, when it came down to it, you were the reason he had a daughter in the first place. 

It was surprising, how easy it was to fall into your friendship again. Like no time had passed, like the last time you’d spoken to him it hadn’t devolved into screaming and tears.

“Gimme the 3/4 inch wrench,” he held his hand out below the front of the truck and watched what little of you he could see as you rifled through the tool box on the ground and dropped the wrench into his waiting palm. “Thanks.” 

This felt like old times, too. His truck in high school had been a beater on a good day. The damn thing needed some kind of work every other day, it seemed. But you were always happy to be there for it, handing him tools on demand and reading him questions from his upcoming history exam in between. He got so good with cars that he worked on yours, too, when you finally got one. Your shitty sedan needed just as much work as his shitty pickup but he liked feeling like he was doing something that was keeping you safe. Like he was doing his job, making sure your car wasn’t going to break down on you. 

“So,” he said as he waited for the coolant to drain. “Divorced, huh?” 

You sighed. 

“Yup.” 

“What’s the appropriate thing to say?” He asked. “I’m sorry or congratulations?” 

You laughed dryly. 

“That’s a great question. I’ll let you know when I figure it out.” 

“Flathead.” 

You took the wrench from him. There was a clattering sound as you dug through the toolbox again and then you put the screwdriver in his waiting hand. 

“Can I ask what happened?”

You sighed again. 

“I’m still not sure I really know,” you said. “Things seemed fine. Great, actually. I’d just sold my book and was promoted to a tenure track role at the university and things just kind of… I don’t know, devolved? I almost wish it imploded so I could figure out what the breaking point was. It more just faded.” 

He wasn’t sure if he could say he was sorry without lying. He pulled the air intake duct and held the screwdriver out. 

“Pliers.” 

You traded out the tools and he went to work on the coolant hose. 

“I’m sorry you were hurt,” he said after a minute. “How are you doin’ now?” 

You were silent for a bit. 

“Divorce is a strange thing,” you said eventually. “I was married for 10 years. I know that he started Lipitor last year to keep his cholesterol under control and that he likes his french fries just this side of burnt and that he gets up like clockwork at 3:45 a.m. to pee. But I have no idea what state he’s even in right now. I know all these things about him but I don’t know him at all any more. It’s like he’s all that’s ever happened to me and like he was nothing to me at all. I’m not sure what to do with that.” 

Joel held out the pliers. 

“10 millimeter wrench.” 

You traded him tools again. 

“He why you’re in Austin?” He asked eventually. 

“Something like that,” you said. “I couldn’t stay teaching at the same school, not when… He’s getting married again. We haven’t even finalized the paperwork but he’s already replaced me and I couldn’t just sit there and watch it…” 

Joel slid out from below the truck to look at you for a moment. 

“He’s a fucking jackass,” he said bluntly. 

“Thanks,” you smiled a little. “Anyway, Anna’s here. She’s been needing some help for a while so I figured why not now, you know?” 

Joel slid back beneath the truck. 

“Sure,” he said, removing the fuse box. 

“Can I ask what happened with Sarah’s mom?” You asked after a moment. 

He held out the wrench. 

“Flathead again.” You traded the tools out, your fingers brushing his skin. He worked on the fan assembly. “And you can, just not that interestin’. We were seeing each other, pretty casually. Shit happened, she got pregnant, I panicked but she didn’t want an abortion so I tried to get my shit together. Then Sarah was born and… fuck, it’s like everything made sense, you know? She was perfect from the first damn second. Like everything I ever fucked up was supposed to get fucked up in just that way so she could be here. Her mom didn’t really feel that way, though. Think she thought it was gonna be easy for some reason and it wasn’t easy, not at all. 

“Scared the shit out of me when she left,” he continued. “Didn’t tell me where the fuck she was goin’ or what she was doin’, just vanished. Took me a few days to figure out she wasn’t dead but she basically told me she’d sign all her parental rights away. She didn’t want to be a mom and even if she did, she didn’t want to be a mom with me. So me n’Sarah moved on.” 

You were quiet for a moment. He held out the screwdriver. 

“Keep that close,” he said. “Need the 11 millimeter socket.”

You took the screwdriver and gave him the socket. 

“I’m sorry you went through that, Joel,” you said after a moment. “That must have been really hard…” 

“It took us a while to figure each other out,” he said. “But… I dunno. Worked out in the end. Think it was supposed to be just me and her. Works best that way. Now if I could get the rest of my life to go that damn smooth I’d be set. Flathead again.” 

You gave him the screwdriver and the two of you were quiet for a bit, the only sounds the sounds of Joel working on the truck. 

“What’d you think of Curtis & Viper 8?” You asked after a minute of not quite awkward silence. 

“Oh lord,” he laughed. “That training montage?” 

“Such bullshit, right?” You laughed back. “I know they weren’t really going for realism but there’s a limit, even for those…” 

“Should get drunk sometime when we’re not hung over,” he said. “Watch it again, I’d kill for your commentary on that shit…” 

“Oh you have to be drunk to watch that again,” you were still laughing. “But I’m in.” 

Joel smiled, even though you couldn’t see him. 

“Cool.” 

The time it took to replace the damn radiator flew by and, before too long, he had a working car again. But you were still at his house hours later, the two of you talking about nothing and everything at all. Eventually, you checked the time and sighed. 

“I should really get home,” you said. “Actually get changed, I probably smell.” 

“Nah,” Joel replied. “You forget that I played football with Josh Samuels, talk about smell…” 

You laughed at that and Joel relished the sound, the seemingly unbridled joy you had when you laughed like that, how he wanted to give you whatever you wanted just to make you laugh like that again. 

“I’ll drive you,” Joel said. “Assuming you can remember your damn address this time.” 

Joel drove you to a tree-filled area not far from the school, the neighborhood full of old builds and lots of reasons to keep the trees, your house a little bungalow in dark brick and ivy. He had the strange urge to go inside and check and make sure your electrical was run properly, that you had working heat for the coming winter, that you had some food on hand. 

“Thanks, for everything,” you smiled a little. “I had fun. A lot of fun.” 

“Me too,” he smiled back. “I’m glad I ran into you, Goldie.” 

You opened the door part way but froze with your hand on the handle. 

“Can…” you looked nervous. “Would it be OK if we did this again sometime? Maybe not the truck care part but the other parts. But I’d be fine with truck care, too.” 

“Sure, Goldie,” he smiled. “I’d like that.” 

You smiled. 

“Good,” you said. “It’s really good to see you, Joel.” 

“You too, Goldie.” 

He watched you walk up to your front door and let yourself in, staying outside until he knew that you were safely back at home.

Next Chapter

A/N: Y'all, I love having Joel dad. Him and Sarah are just two peas in their little pod and I'm in love with them.

I hope you liked this chapter! I'm really enjoying these characters and I'm so looking forward to exploring everything they mean to each other and everything they've been through both together and apart.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy the ride. Love you!

[dngrs-untld-hrshps-unnmbrd]

Sweet Little Killer

Ghoulcy | Cooper x Lucy | post S1 | touchstarved | hurt\comfort | angst | sometimes he's an asshole | there was only one bed | overprotective and jealous Ghoul | eventual smut

Those big eyes, Cooper thought, his anger rising. Those big eyes of hers were glistening with tears, and twice as pretty for it. He wondered if she knew the effect she had on men with those soulful eyes of hers. If she did, she was damn well making those tears brim on her dark lashes on purpose, trying to wrap his withered heart around her pretty little finger.

As Ghoul and Lucy journey across the wastes to New Vegas both of them learn a helluva lot more about each other, and circumstances and mutual attraction drive them into each other's arms.

Start with Chapter One

CHAPTER TWO

‘Just how big is a radscorpion?’ Lucy asked Cooper in a quavering voice.

They were marching across the sand, east into the rosy dawn. Dogmeat, full of energy and happy to be on the move, was running laps of them, her ears pricked forward and tongue lolling out. To Lucy’s disgust, Cooper had fed the dog a breakfast of ass jerky.   

‘Oh, all sizes,’ Cooper replied, sweeping the horizon for any sign of movement. He wanted today to pass without any Vault-Tec, Knights, Enclave, or other miscellaneous bastards getting in his way.

‘Will I see one before it sees me?’

‘I guess you’ll find out, sweetheart,’ he replied with a grin.

Lucy scowled at him. ‘You’re not making any of this easier.’

‘Was that my job? Sorry, I must have missed that in my contract when you paid me for my very expensive services.’

Lucy glowered at his broad back and kept walking. Was the man never not sarcastic?

She saw what looked like scuttle marks in the sand, the kind an eight-legged creature might leave. A creature that was as long as her arm.

Lucy swallowed hard. Oh, good golly.

They passed by a ruin that had collapsed sometime in recent months, and debris was scattered on the sand. Lucy lifted up a pipe about three feet long and the thickness of two thumbs. It felt good in her grip. Not too heavy that she couldn’t swing it, but it could do some damage.

The ghoul gazed at the pipe in her hand and then gave her a nod so slight that she almost missed it. Her heart lifted. He approved of something she’d done.  

‘First one’s yours, vaultie.’

Her heart sank.

They didn’t have to walk for long to find the radscorpion that was as long as her arm. In fact, Lucy suspected the ghoul had led them straight to it. 

He turned to her with a grin and folded his arms as the furious invertebrate scuttled toward them. ‘Have at it.’

Lucy licked her lips. ‘Any tips?’

‘Don’t get stung.’

‘Gee, you’re a real help.’

Ghoul stepped back to watch. A radscorpion could only stab with its stinger every few seconds. If the girl was smart, she’d dodge a strike and get in a few hits with the pipe. But he wasn’t convinced she was anything more than a book smart little do-gooder.

The radscorpion struck out three times before Lucy got over her fear enough to remember that she had a weapon. Wincing, she slammed it down onto the critter. It took a nasty hit, but struck out again. Lucy squealed and leapt back. Her surprise turned to determination, and she landed another hit. The radscorpion twitched, and then died.

‘Ha!’ Lucy exclaimed, breathing hard. 

Cooper smiled to himself. There she was, the little killer he’d seen for an instant as she’d ripped off his finger with her teeth. He liked that girl.

 ‘Here.’ He tugged a knife out of the holster on his belt and passed it to her, hilt first.

‘What’s this for?’ she asked, examining the enormous blade. It was the same length as her fingertips to her elbow. 

He dug in his saddle bag and pulled out a cloth, tossing it to her. ‘Get that stinger out of its tail. You can get twenty caps for a radscorpion stinger sac. Sometimes more.’

While he stood over her, Lucy cracked the tail open and cut out the sac and wrapped it in the cloth bag. She’d done this all by herself, and it felt oddly satisfying.  

When she looked up, the ghoul was chewing on some dried meat, and her smile vanished. He nodded at the radscorpion.

‘Don’t forget your breakfast, unless you’d like some ass jerky.’

Her stomach was rumbling. Anything was better than people. ‘Just think of it as cornmeal porridge,’ she muttered to herself as she cracked open a scorpion leg and ate the soft, clammy meat with her fingers. Thankfully it didn’t taste of much.

The day was a series of radscorpion kills. All hers. It seemed to Lucy like they were zigzagging back and forth across the desert, wasting time on these pointless kills. The lead pipe was heavy. The makeshift bag of stinger sacs on her shoulder was even heavier. She was exhausted, her arms were aching, and her vault suit was splattered with venom from strikes that she’d only just escaped. The ghoul hadn’t lifted a finger to help.

Lucy was in a low mood as they approached a settlement. It must be safe enough because the ghoul shouldered his way through groups of people into a marketplace.

He nodded at a stall. ‘Go sell your shit over there.’

The stinger sacs earned Lucy one hundred and eighteen caps. She stared at the quantity in surprise. The ghoul hadn’t been lying to her.

As she carried them back to him, she eyed him warily.  ‘I suppose you’ll want most of these.’

He was leaning against a wall with one foot propped up. Lazily, he drawled, ‘Me, sweetie? Why would I touch your caps?’

She blinked in surprise. ‘Really?’

‘I ain’t your keeper. Go buy what you need to cross the wastes without keeling over. And get rid of that fucking Vault-tec suit.’ 

With a ghost of a smile on his lips, he watched her moving through the tiny marketplace, picking through the clothes and other items. For a moment she disappeared behind a curtain, and when she emerged, his foot nearly slipped off the wall. She looked...better. Much better. 

Lucy was pleased with her finds. A pair of slim fitting pants with pockets down the side. A couple of tank tops and several pairs of underwear that might not be new, but at least they were clean. A backpack, a water canteen, several cans of cram and some of vegetables. Everything was scuffed, worn, or repaired, but it was hers, and she’d bought it herself with caps she’d earned.

The ghoul was taking in her new look with his head on one side. ‘Well, look at you. A proper surface-dweller now.’

There was a rare note of approval in his voice. Lucy felt her face flush and her heart beat a little faster, though she didn’t understand why.

‘C’mon, I’ll buy you a drink.’ He led the way into a saloon bar, and then turned to her and asked, ‘Would you like whiskey, or whiskey? Choices ain’t much around these parts.’

Her attention was snared by the sight of something behind him. A board of wanted posters with sketches of people and amounts for their capture.

‘Wait, is that you?’ Lucy seized his shoulders and turned him so that she could examine the board and his face at the same time.

Cooper felt a strange pressure in his chest as Lucy left her hands right there on his shoulders. His muscles were tingling beneath the weight of her hands. What was this weird sensation? He didn’t like it.

He didn’t move.

‘You’ve got the highest bounty on the board,’ she remarked as she finally stepped back and let go of him.

‘I should hope so,’ he said scornfully, moving toward the bar and ordering two whiskeys. They came in small glasses, and he nudged one toward her with his knuckle.

‘Drink. You’re a real bounty hunter now.’

‘Radscorpions count as bounties? I thought that was scavenging.’

‘Tomorrow we’ll call it scavenging. Today, you’re a bounty hunter.’ He clinked his glass against hers and knocked back his drink.

He hoped that his words would make her smile and he searched her face as he swallowed. It did. There was a glimmer of pleasure on her face as she took a tentative sip of her drink.

His stomach felt warm. It was probably the whiskey.  

‘What exactly are you wanted for?’ she asked.

There was interest in Lucy’s eyes as she gazed up at him. Cooper felt like he was standing in a bar in the beforetimes with an ice-cold martini in his hand and basking in the attention of a pretty woman.

Lucy took another sip of whiskey, and then licked an amber droplet of the alcohol that ran over her finger. The discoloured finger. The one he’d taken such pleasure in making her watch as he’d lovingly cut it from her hand.

Maybe he should feel guilty about that.  

He didn’t.

His little vaultie was starting to toughen up.

A smile slid over Cooper’s lips and he rubbed his jaw. ‘This and that.’

‘Colour me intrigued.’

He gave a modest shrug. ‘You can breathe in the wrong direction and you get on the bad side of the Enclave. They don’t like anyone who ain’t a government sycophant.’

‘But you did more than breathe in the wrong direction,’ she guessed.

No adoring movie fan and no martini ever felt and tasted as good as having Lucy’s undivided attention and interest. Truthfully, he had no idea why his face was up on that board, but it could be for any number of killings.

They were standing close together, both of them leaning on the bar. ‘What will you tell people when it’s your pretty face up on that board?’

‘Me? I’m not a wanted woman.’

She tucked her hair behind her ear, and he watched her do it. Just about every man in the place was watching her do it. Not a wanted woman? 

You sure about that, darlin’?

Cooper tapped the bar for another whiskey, and the bartender refilled his glass.

‘If you say so.’ Cooper knocked back his second drink, and then turned to face the room. Moving his duster aside to expose the gun at his hip, he glared from one staring man to the next until they all took the hint and turned their attention away from his vaultie.

Across the room, two working girls flashed him smiles and waves. Forced smiles. They knew bounty hunters usually had caps to spare and they were desperate enough to try and take them from a ghoul.

Lucy noticed the women paying him attention. ‘If you’re in the mood for some company, I can wait here.’

She really thought he wanted to leave her side for an awkward tumble? ‘No need.’

‘No need? Oh, do you mean you can’t? Sorry, I don’t know much about ghouls.’

Cooper’s head reared up. Outrage expanded in his chest. Lucy assumed that he couldn’t get it up? That as well as losing his life, his home, his daughter, and his looks, he’d lost that as well? ‘Hold up a second, sweetheart. Are you implying that I—’

‘Ghoul!’

Past Lucy’s shoulder a man was striding toward him with a big, stupid grin on his face. A man in his thirties with lanky blond hair and a bandolier of bullets across his chest.

Cooper’s hand clenched in a fist. For fuck’s sake. He stepped around Lucy, keeping her behind him. ‘Kody.’

Kody was another bounty hunter who liked to chew Cooper’s ear off every time they crossed paths.

‘Hey there. Who’s your friend?’ His eyes landed on Lucy. 

Lucy opened her mouth to give Kody her name, but Cooper spoke before she did. ‘She’s nobody. Let’s get a table, I’m tired of being on my feet.’

He felt twin pricks in the side of his neck as Lucy glared at him. He bought what was left of an open bottle of whiskey, about a third of its usual contents, and steered Lucy and Kody over to a quiet corner of the room. Kody wouldn’t leave him the hell alone until they’d had a drink together and he needed to keep an eye on Lucy in case someone tried to grab her.

‘What are you doing out this way?’ Cooper asked when the three of them were settled with Dogmeat under the table.

‘I’m headed over to Hasting’s place. He put word out there’s bounty work.’

‘Is that so.’

‘How about you?’

Cooper stared at the other man in silence, and then nodded at Lucy. ‘Mail order bride. Taking this one to some rich man who owns a ranch.’

Lucy narrowed her eyes at him. Her expression said, I will kill you.

Kody turned to Lucy with what he probably thought was a charming smile. ‘Oh, honey, you don’t need to do that. Ghoul can leave you with me and I’ll take care of you so good.’

Cooper felt the back of his neck bristle. He was pouring another round of whiskey and put the bottle down with a thud that made all their glasses jump. ‘Don’t look at my bounty, Kody.’

‘Ghoul’s sensitive today,’ Kody said to Lucy with a grin.

‘Is that what you call him? Ghoul?’

‘The Ghoul. This man’s infamous around these parts.’

Cooper threw back his whiskey, reached down to his belt and yanked out his knife. Kody’s hand was flat on the table as he continued to talk to Lucy with that stupid smile on his face. Cooper slammed the knife point-down into the table, right through Kody’s hand.

Kody screamed and stared at his bleeding, impaled hand, his fingers flexing. Lucy gasped. The whole bar stared.

Finally, people were looking at something that wasn’t his vaultie.

‘What the hell, man? Have you lost your mind?’ Kody cried.

‘Maybe I have,’ Cooper said through bared teeth, and twisted the knife. Bones cracked in Kody’s hand and he screamed again. Kody wanted to pull his hand away, but that would mean ripping it apart.

Lucy was breathing fast and shallow, her eyes huge. ‘Mr. Ghoul, please don’t—’

‘Why are you lying to me, Kody?’ Cooper asked, not taking his eyes off the other bounty hunter.

‘Shit. Shit. How am I meant to work if you destroy my gun hand? I ain’t lying about anything, Ghoul. I swear.’

‘You’re not going to Hastings’ place, because Hastings ain’t home. He’s a wanted man. Are you fried on chems, or are you just that fucking stupid that you didn’t notice his face on that board behind us?’

Kody glanced behind them at the wanted board, and his anger deflated. The man started to look scared. ‘Ghoul, I didn’t try to take her from you. I wasn’t going to. Just let me go.’

Deadly, cold anger swept through Cooper. ‘Oh, that’s all right then. You can go.’

Kody glanced at the knife sticking through his hand, waiting for Cooper to pull it out.  

Cooper didn’t move. ‘I said, go on.’

‘Don’t make me rip my hand open. Please, man,’ Kody begged.

When Cooper still didn’t answer, Kody started to whimper. ‘I can’t—I didn’t—ah fuck.’ He looked desperately at Lucy, sweat on his brow. ‘I’ll split the caps with you when we reach New Vegas. You don’t need to put up with this asshole.’

Kody was still looking at his vaultie. Someone had put a bounty on her, and it must be a lot of caps if Kody was willing to double-cross him. Dogmeat was out from beneath the table and barking frantically. Cooper viciously twisted the knife again.

Kody screamed, and then drew a gun. Cooper knocked Kody’s arm upwards so the bullet fired through the tin roof and the gun went tumbling from his hand. He was distracted for a moment as Lucy flinched and fell off her chair, giving Kody the chance to punch him in the guts. With the wind knocked out of him, Cooper yanked the knife out of the table and drove it through Kody’s throat.

Kody crumpled to the ground with a gurgle. Cooper braced his hand against the table, wheezing as he dragged air back into his spasming lungs. He stared at the dead man in disgust. Fucking prick, going after Lucy right in front of him.  

Lucy was sprawled on the floor. Cooper bent down to help her to her feet, checking her over for injuries. Blood was trickling from her grazed elbow. His vaultie was tender. That would leave a bruise. With a gentle swipe of his thumb, he wiped away the blood.

‘That must hurt.’

‘I’m okay,’ she said softly. Breathlessly. So close. ‘Thank you. For um, not letting him take me.’

Cooper went still. Lucy was pressed against his chest with her hands on his shoulders. He was holding her. It had been a long time since he’d held a woman. A lifetime. He’d been another man then. If he’d met Lucy before the bombs fell, he would have made it his business to coax a smile to those pretty lips of hers. Just one smile that he could store away in his heart. Too bad everything was different now, and the only reason she was clinging to him was because she was terrified.

‘Are you okay?’ she asked, genuine worry in her eyes.

Cooper frowned at her strange question. ‘Me?’

‘Yeah, he hit you.’ She gently placed her hand over his chest, feeling the ridges of his ribs and stomach muscles. Her fingers stroked him through his clothing, sending shivers through his body. What in the hell was happening to him?

How did he ask her never to stop without sounding like a crazy man?

Cooper forgot how to breathe for a moment, and then started again with a shudder.

Lucy heard it and lifted her eyes to his.

She smelled sweet and was soft in his arms. That curve of her waist that he’d been admiring all day as she’d beaten radscorpions was supple in his gloved hands. What was sweeter than the only woman on earth touching him like he was precious rather than the wreck he really was? The only woman that Ghoul had noticed on earth in two hundred years, anyway.

‘Oh, I’m fine, darlin’,’ he murmured, his gaze traveling along her jaw and down her throat.

Lucy’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You don’t sound sarcastic. Are you sure you’re all right?’

His gaze dropped to the corpse on the floor and reality came flooding back. If bounty hunters were coming after them, there was no place they were safe. Daddy MacLean must have put word out that he wanted his daughter. Every gunslinger around would be trying to take Lucy from him.  

No, he wasn’t fucking all right. Cooper seized both her wrists and gripped them tightly, growling into her pretty face, ‘You listen to me, sweetheart. Don’t think about wandering off for even a second unless you want to be delivered straight to your daddy wrapped in a bow. From now on, you’re going to do everything I say, and I ain’t letting you out of my sight.’

_

Cooper. COOPER. Lucy thinks you can't get it up. What are you gonna do about that??

Read Chapter Three

[rinbowaman]

ↀOUBLE IIROUBLE - CHAPTER SIX

Sorry for the slight delay, but here is chapter six. I had to cut it short bc i'm currently babysitting but i wanted to get it to you guys. but dont worry, next chapter will have all the parts that i didnt get to finish in this one plus.....it will be Heejeong's turn ;)

Warnings: Smut....this entire chapter is just pretty much....pure smut. it goes back and forth between consensual and non-con....and it's pretty descriptive. breeding kink, HS being dominant, relentless, and yeah....unprotected sex.....umm...i think thats it. aside the fact that its intercourse between step siblings.

“H-Heeseung! Ah!”

………………….

Restrained by the grasping hold Heeseung held onto, your wrists suffered the sharpened sensation of his fingers and palms pinning them against the wall. 

You had tried your best to struggle free, even getting as far as detaching yourself from him for a brief moment before he extended his reach and caught you once more. 

“Noooooo…..come here baby….you feel so soft….touching you like this is all that’s been on my mind…”

“Stop….Heeseung stop….this…this is wrong…we can’t!”

“Oh yes we can….watch me.”

“Heeseung!”

.................

Now here you were, backed up against the wall, and the width of his enlarged frame trapping you in.

Your own step-brother…..

..................

"Upon meeting the notorious Blackbeard, his face sly with a deceiving look…

His eyes grasped on to the maiden like a fisherman’s hook.

Yet all is said and done, the man has tricked mother, father, son, and friends.

His secret will be known, a closet that reveals his darkest trends…."

……………..

Sitting you on the edge of the thin console table, his chest pushes you back, causing your shoulder blades to meet with the cool wall.

The way he propped you on the table gave him the upperhand to focus more in melting into your body as he only needed to minimally support both your weight, which allowed him to focus on getting you to surrender... 

His tux became loose as his jacket slid off his shoulders, the buttons on his collard shirt came undone, and his bow tie unraveling; his hands loop under your thighs, making you further lean back against the surface of the wall, with only the table bearing the density of your weight.

Standing and leaned forward into you, he positions himself in between your legs, loving the fact that he had you falling apart for him. 

You turned your face away, as much as you felt shameful, knowing this whole ordeal was wrong….it felt so right….it felt so good. Yet you couldn't find yourself brave enough to face him straight on; he was, after all, your stepbrother.

“Ugh…Heeseeeeeeung.”

Sucking on your neck, the squeezing sound of his lips suckling onto your skin was his only response, up until he pulls away, releasing the suction of his mouth that latched on to your soft neck. 

“Yeah baby…..” gasping a deep groan against your ear, you felt his hand reach down, snaking itself into the opening of his trousers and feeding his length out. It was long, thick, and stiff…..it was exactly what you wanted at this moment since he had you emotionally and physically dislocated. 

He didn’t immediately penetrate you, in fact, he took great pleasure in toying with you first, his own manner of performing four play. 

With his tip, he drifts it along the lining of your slit and probed your opening, all the while he slowly…..sloooooooowly licked your neck from the base to the edge of your jawline. 

“Ugh! Please!!”

“Yeah….just like that baby…..get wet for me.” 

Noticing the heat and moisture rising in between your legs, he harshly taps his lengthy cock against your clit, slapping it repeatedly and enhancing the sensitivity of each tap. 

How could he do this to you? Going against your wishes to cause a stir of raging, euphoric turmoil to take place in your gut, only to tease you…

“Please…” you whimpered. You nearly were begging at this point as your words ended in broken gasps while you softly sobbed. It was so painful. 

The tingling numbness was too much, your hips were gyrating fiercely as your thighs shook with an uncontrollable urge to wrap around his waist. Your clit and opening was pulsating, you found yourself wanting it to be filled and stuffed with every inch of him. At this point, you needed it. 

Hyperventilating, your chest rises in an up and down motion as you tried to steady your breathing, yet it was nearly impossible. The numbness in the depths of your core became stronger, you could feel the heated moisture of your body’s lubricant oozing out as you clenched your opening, trying to prevent it all from gushing out. 

Grabbing onto your arms, he pins them to your side as he slightly lifts, and adjusts your position to where your rear practically hung off the edge of the table. The back of your head and your shoulder blades remain plastered on the wall, sliding downwards as you felt him pulling you to the edge, right up against his groin. 

With your legs held taut, he centers himself to your opening, poking you with his tip as he scoffs out a sly smirk while bearing teeth.

"A little sensitive, are we?” Biting down on his bottom lip, he admits a dark chuckle while he feels you slightly jump from the shocking sensation of his probing offense.

"Pl-please....." you whined out. Initially, you may have had wanted him to stop, yet now, all you yearned for was him to be inside you.

"Come here baby......" his hands loop around your thigh in an overhead position, pulling you towards him, causing you to further slide down as your rear hangs over the edge of the table completely, your hair decorating the wall as the strands lay sporadically against it.

Propping yourself, you rest against your palms as you flatten them on the surface of the table, forcing the weight of your body to remain on stilted foundation, shifting your weight back and forth between each hand.

His thumb rubs your clit in small, circular motions as he commits tiny hip thrusts, teasing your entry with his tip as it remains in contact, yet is refrained from fully entering.

"Please....what are you doing?......." you begged as you felt your head move upwards in a small, slightly pouncing manner upon feeling him pressing against you, only to be pulled back and snapping back against the center of your slit once more.

"Shhhh.....its okay baby relax......relaaaaaaaaax......relax for big brother Heeseung." he whispers, all the while he rests his forehead against yours as he focuses his sight down on to your exposed breasts, and your clit, which he continued to rub with the padding of his thumb.

Succumbing to the edge of his teasing notion, you felt your entire body shake with a vibration that was so intense, it was unlike anything you've ever experienced. Your breathing became uncontrolled, and the moment it hitched, thats when you felt the ooze of the sweet, warm, and gushing liquid exiting from your cavity, leaking in between the folds and meeting with his skin. Feeling it drip out with his tip, he releases a prolonged sigh upon sensing the warmth of the moisture that was releasing out, kissing his tip as he rubs it up and down in between your swollen lips.

"Uuuuuh huuuuh.....you ready for me?"

"Y-yes...."

"You sure?"

"Yes...." you pleaded. Your voice releases an airy crack as you found yourself sobbing yet again from the amount of relentless pressure, numbness, and the unbearable tingle that punched your gut as each second went by. You needed to be filled, you needed him.

"Uuuuugh....please.......please....do....do something....do everything.....i just....."

"Just what?" he demanded as he continued to rub your clit, all the while staring down with an aloof expression. The tone of his voice grew stern. Whispering with a firm and solid tone, he repeats once more. "Just what?...."

"I just......ugh......I need you....." you bit down on your tongue as you finally admitted defeat. You couldn't help it, it was all his fault for bringing you at the stage you were now in, although you sensed that he looked at it from a different perspective.

He blamed you. He felt it was your fault, for merely existing....for breathing....for being yourself.....for being so beautiful and always speaking in that seducing voice that was so feminine in nature. The way he saw it, everything was your fault and he loved it. You sensed it...you knew it deep down, now that it became obvious that he was yearning for you the entire time since meeting you.

"Awww....you need me baby? Hmm?"

"Y-yes......"

"Say it again, then."

"I....I need you...."

"Yeeeeeeeeaaah.....you do." he whispers into your ear, before he places a soft kiss right on your cheek, keeping his lips in place as he rubbed his thumb in soft, circular motions against your lower back. It was so tender and romantic, it nearly caught you off guard.....until you felt the stretch of his entry.

Jolting violently, you nearly jumped off the table had it not been his firm hold in keeping you steady. With one hand looping around your lower back, and the other plastered on your inner thigh, pushing it aside, forcing you to remain fully exposed and vulnerable, his stiff muscle needed no guidance as he begins to shove himself in.

"Ugh! Ah! H-Heeseung..." you began whimpering out, continuously jolting upwards, trying to evade his entry as the feeling of being opened felt more painful than pleasurable.

Naturally, since it had been quite a while since you last had intercourse, spending all your time in college focusing on your studies, merely using a simple vibrator to get by on your urges and needs, the last time you recalled having sex was well before you started attending your university, and was graduating high school.

Yet the feeling of being breached, from when you dated someone from a different school, or even back when you had your first, well before your senior year, when you had a steady boyfriend who shared the same class, the feeling felt nothing as it had right now, with Heeseung.

The way he was built, he was more bold, hard, and strong. Everything about him was ten times more intense than the average man, which would explain why you were feeling the immense sting. What propelled you to fear more, was the fact that he hadn't even fit himself in yet, not even the tip.

"It hurts! It hurts! Please! Please stop....." You winced your eyes shut and gasped out in deep breaths, feeling your breasts rise from the inhales and pressing up against his hard chest plate.

Again, you shifted your hips upwards and away, trying to avoid him entering, yet his hold on you kept you still, and you were in no position to remove any one of your hands from the table that supported your weight, unless you had planned on falling back completely.

Slowly, you felt the skin around your cavity conforming to the bulging tip as he slowly pressed in further, finally feeding the bulbous top of his shaft in, inch by inch. If the pain was so bad with just the very tip of his cock partially entered, how was it going to feel once he starts to slide the rest of his length in?

You couldn't bear the thought, taking the risk, you quickly shifted one of your palms and pressed it against his abdominal muscles, right on his pelvis, with your palm flat against him. Pushing, you gained just a slight bit of distance as you pushed yourself back, not at all having any effect to the stallion before you. Still, it didn't matter whose body needed to move, so long as you could create a gap between you two, which you did...just a few inches, until he tugged you by the grasp he had around your lower back, harshly pinning your thigh down even more as he digs his fingers into your supple skin.

"No......." you whispered desperately as he slowly continues to fit himself inside, which was hard as he found the friction to be the result of your preserved nature in abstaining from casual and constant sex.

"You were a good girl throughout college, weren't you?" He scoffs as he inhales deeply upon savoring the feeling of your warm skin, slowly surrounding his. "I"m gonna fuck you up so good." He smirks out.

Slowly.....painfully.....little by little, he continues to feed himself in, the very tip already opening you as he starts to enter.

"Stop! Please stop! Too much! It's too much!" you cry out, your palm pressing him again, yet it was no use.

Ignoring your pleas and constant whimpering, he merely relays a calm expression under half heavy lids, watching as his muscle continues to go inside you.

"I know....it wont hurt for long, I promise....just be a good girl and take it all in, I promise I'll make the pain go away. I'll make you feel really good...like a fucking queen.....and i'm going to love doing it." He gently tones out, leaning in and placing a kiss on your forehead. The moment he did so, while he bends inward, you felt a sudden sliding of his shaft expediting its entry as his body caves into you, causing you to push against him once more, only to find that it did nothing to aid you. Instead, it fueled him with an instinctive nature of dominance and aggressiveness, you saw it by the way. he bit down on his lip and smirk out a deep chuckle. If you hadn't known any better, the man looked animalistic, and you were the prey of the raging beast.

"Almost there.....fuck baby.....you feel soooooooo good......been wanting....to feel you......wanting to make you feel good......fucking love you." He stutters out, locking your lips with his own in the process.

"No! Stop! Please take it out!" you gasped out as he kept his tongue inside your mouth.

He continues to slide in, while he massages his tongue over and under yours, stroking and complimenting your canines.

Finally, the moment you felt the base of his groin making contact with your pelvis, you gasped in relief. He was finally all in, which you had wanted, up until you felt the pain. Now that he was nestled inside you, he allowed you to regain your breathing and even guided you into taking deep breaths.

"Breathe baby.....mmm...breathe....yeah....good girl. Breathe for me."

Forming a small circle with his lips, he looked as if he was going to whistle, instead, he merely blows on your forehead, a method to faintly cool you as you took in your breaths. You weren't sweating, not yet, nor were you feeling hot, but the second you felt his breath blowing against your skin, you felt a sense of relaxation coming back to you.

The lustful numbing and tingling was calming, like a raging storm calmed by the tranquility of the sunlight, the pulsating punches were toned down as he bellowed out and remained burrowed inside your soft muscles.

"Deep breaths baby." he issued, and immediately, he begins to move in and out.

Gasping and slamming both hands on his biceps, you relied on his strength and his broad frame as you held on for dear life. Since he was already inside, remaining on the stilt platform of your hands and trying to create distance was pointless, he was so close....and was going to remain close. Yet the stinging pain remained, and you were desperate in trying to appeal to him yet again....

"STOP...stop.....stop....pl-please...oh my God.....stop...." you breathed out each word in an airy gasp as you squeezed the material of his tux, digging your fingers into his arms.

"Shhh, breathe baby." was all he murmured as he continued to move, thrusting in and out at a moderate pace. His speed was neither fast nor slow, just deep and thick.

Tilting your head back, he watches as your throat shifts up and down as your body receives his penetrating act. Up and down...up....and down.....

"Theeeeere you go.......just like that......breathe baby.....breathe." he guides in a whisper, reaching up and cradling a gentle grasp on the side of your neck, his thumb stroking in an up and down motion on the center of your throat. "Just like that......fuck....breathe for me baby girl."

Just then, he starts picking up the pace. "Yeah, breathe....uh huh...just like that....fuck....fuck you're so damn pretty."

“P-please…..n-not so hard……I-I feel like I’m breaking….”

“Come on baby, keep fucking it.” 

Increasing speed, your body was now bouncing ferociously up and down, growing weak as the base of his groin muscles slam into you. The sting transitions into a burning sensation from being slightly torn open, yet the tingling and numbing sensation turned into something that was so very pleasant......so much in fact, that you began to release prolonged moans of erotic nature.

"Uuuuugh...."

"Oh fuck....good girl......keep going, i fucking love the way you sound and look right now."

"Uuuuuuuuuugh...mmmm.....mmmmmmmm.....uuuuugh..."

"Yeah....good girl. Fuck it...my good girl."

The sound of his skin kissing yours as he slaps his pelvis against you, thrusting his muscle in and out, twitching and flicking it up each time he rails deep within you. Shifting your weight up and down at his mercy, your body goes completely weak and limp from his insatiable hunger for lust.

"Uh...fuck baby.....you want more? Hmm?....Come here....Ill give you more..."

Shifting his hands to meeting and wrapping around the narrow part of your waist, beneath the slinky material of your dress, which had been rolled and coiled around your waistline, leaving your top and bottom half to be fully nude and exposed, he feeds his hands under the fabric. Feeling his rough hands pinch a grip on your sides, you felt him pulling and tugging you, lifting your entire weight up and down as he bounced you on his length at merciless speed.

Your feet dangle off in mid air as your legs remained spread wide open, with his frame centered in between, your rear still hangs off the edge of the table, yet your body sustains and remains upright thanks to his support as you latched your grip on to his arm, and wrapped your other arm around his neck.

"Oh my God....no!.....ugh!"

"Yes....."

"N-no....please...."

"Yes baby."

Going back and forth had created a sense of immense sexual tension between you both. Each time he responded, he went faster, deeper, and harder, and before you knew, it, you found yourself gushing out and splattering as he rammed himself inside you.

At this point, the burning and stinging had fully disappeared. All you could feel, was the punching pikes of pleasure that was hitting you inside and out, all from his unyielding performance and stamina. Hitting the right spot each and every single time, you moaned out his name, craving for more.

"Ugh.....oh......mmmm....Heeseung..."

"Talk to me baby....."

"Mmm...mmmmm...oh God....more! Please.....please....do..do more....."

"Yeah?" Leaning in once again, he places a delicate and passionate kiss on your lips, inserting his tongue and dragging the tip of it across the roof of your mouth. Clicking it back in, you felt the snap of his oral muscle as he flicks it inside, becoming addicted to the harsh 'click' sound that came with it.

Melting into him, you were fused with his body. Even so, at the moment, when you leaned a bit back to your original position, placing both palms flat on the surface to support your weight, it didn't matter that you were no longer wrapping your arms around his neck. The moment you were on the stilt position that founded your upper weight, it gave him leverage to not only go faster and harder, but to make you bounce relentlessly as you felt him pounding against your pelvic and rear muscles.

Now, you were squelching as the sound of moisture and skin rubbing, molding, and unifying was filling the room. Your moans became more drawn out and louder, while your hair flew all around as you felt yourself being levitated by his grasp. Everything felt amazing, it didn't matter that you were being fucked relentlessly....by your own step brother.

Tilting your head back, you pushed your hip up against him, lifting it slightly, allowing him to fuck you deeper.

"Awww fuck baby....you're going to make me cum."

Stuffed, thrusted, and bouncing on his thick muscle, you nearly screamed out as you felt the peak of that tingling sensation, building up and was near a point of massive explosion as the tip of his dick repeatedly taps against the soft spot, deep inside your stomach.

"Ugh!....mm!....Ugh!....Heeseung fuck me....please Heeseung fuck me...oh my God please....." you whimpered out, the pleasure was so great, the tears that streamed down your face was not of pain this time around, but from the intensity of his euphoric deliverance to your throbbing cunt.

Leaning in for the final time, he wraps his arms around you, lifting and settling your entire frame on the hilt of his lower abdomen, forcing your legs to wrap themselves and rest against the hilt of his hip. With added depth, the motions of your body bouncing up and down became much more steep as you felt his hand grab on to one of your rear cheeks. Squeezing it within his grasp, while using it as a leverage point to add momentum, he lifts and pushes it downward in sync with each thrust, adding a heightened boost in fucking his throbbing cock inside you.

"Fuck! I'm gonna cum..." he spurts out against your neck.

With your arms wrapped around his neck once more, you lean your head back and allow him to breathe, gasp, and scoff out pleasurable groans against your throat.

"Ugh! Please....ugh please....." you begged, coming close to climax.

"I know baby...I know.......we'll do it together.....fuck baby.....we'll cum....together..." He groans out, mouth parted open as he latches it on your skin, gasping out.

"Ugh! Heeseung!"

"Fuck, beautiful!"

The moment you gushed out, with the hot liquid seeping and coating his length, all from his vigor, Heeseung bursts out, and explodes inside as he releases.

Coating your walls and staining that soft spot that his raging tip was just beating on, his essence fills you to the brim. Despite already stopping at a clinic to pick up birth control pills upon settling things with Kurt, and dating again, you enjoyed the rush of Heeseung's ejaculation filling you, allowing the natural process of breeding to take place, even if you were taking preventative measures against getting pregnant. The delightful thought of his semen swimming inside, traveling deep inside your body and rushing into fertilize you was something that aid you to reach climax at such a profound state. You loved every single second of it.

Jutting his length deeper as it remained fully inside, Heeseung's face remains burrowed against our breast, suckling on your nipple as he thrusts a few more times, ensuring that he emptied himself entirely inside your body.

Once satisfied, he reaches down and holds himself at the base with two fingers, slowly pulling out. Each time you had felt as if he was close to fully exiting, you were reminded just how lengthy he was as he would continue to slowly slide, causing you to feel the rippling lining of the veins that decorated his cock.

"Mmm....Heeseung..." you whimpered out with furrowed brows of slight pain. The sensation of being stretched out and torn open was coming back now that you had rode out the high of your orgasm.

Listening onto the suckling sound of his mouth while it remains latched on to your areola like an infant child, he twirls his tongue around and flickers it against the tip of your nipple, distracting your mind away from the pain.

Finally, his lengthy muscle was all the way out, the bulging tip engorged and pulsating as it made it's exit, seeping out and leaving a trailed line of his children to decorate your walls and your clit.

Holding on to you, he embraces on your frame tightly and sits you back down on the console table, leaning you back while he adorns you with a series of kisses, starting with your breasts, then moving his way up to your collar bones, neck, throat, jawline, and then your lips.

Moaning deeply into your mouth, he strokes your neck again, ending the session with passionate and heated....love......

Love.....it wasn't lust....it wasn't just strictly desire....it was.....love.

The way he held, the way he moved, the way he would stroke your skin and lick it with his tongue. The way his eyes looked at you through a heavy gaze, with half shut lids and parted lips, gasping in shock each time he noted how your hair framed your face, your skin glistened against the dim light, or how your puckered, cherry stained lips would shine and look delectable for him to suck on.

It was undeniable, this man....your stepbrother.....was in love with you. It wasn't just his mannerisms or the way he looked at you either....

"I love you.....you're mine....you're all mine.....nothing is going to take you away from me.......I'm keeping you.....forever.....y/n."

He was right....he was keeping you forever. But it wasn't just him....soon, you'd find out that another pair of hands, eyes, and lips were going to take its turn....feasting on you as Heeseung had just done.....

CHAPTER 7

Taglist: @deobitifull; @solstramaii; @vampiregirl215; @nshmrarki; @enhypen14; @iamliacamila; @lisaaannna; @nikstrange; @jaehaki; @luv-enhy-skz33; @silcry@honeysjae; @crackedcameraa; @stinkmonkey ; @baekxo07@raishaii@yangjungwon33 @lhspeachie ; @differentchildwombat ; @prettykia ; @kimsseonu ; @stvrryhee ; @en-thralled ; @hoonzdzbl ; @yuppppp ; @jinniespuppy ; @browsehnnie @prettykia @lprww @they2luv1naia @ellixqz@mimimovv @stvrryhee @moonmoongi @seungjiseyo @csmicvrse @yohanabanana , @heeshees @yumii0828 , @lprww, @mariji , @silcry

[oddlykilledghosts]

I Want You To Like Me - Rafe Cameron x reader (Part Four)

Summary: You're a pogue by choice, kook from birth. The friendship that you have with the other pogues is undeniable, no one questions their loyalty for you or your loyalty to them. So when a certain King of the Kooks takes interest in you, it's only right to turn him down. Right?

author’s note: taking some love triangle action into account this chapter! More Rafe as well! I want to thank everyone who has liked this story so far. When I started this fic I was in a rut with writing and seeing everyone enjoy it helped me out of that rut so I love all of you!!

also I'm so sorry if this is bad

Word Count: 5.5k

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x reader, John B x Sarah Cameron, platonic!Pogues x reader

And suddenly you were in the bathroom, wearing Rafe’s t-shirt (not that you had done anything other than claw at each other some more), and were stressing about making a public appearance at the Island Club together. Your parents weren’t very close with the Cameron’s. At least not anymore. Not after Rafe’s behavior got more noticeable. Drinking, drunk driving, the not so discreet drugs. When Ward tried to play it off, your family decided that until Rafe straightened out his behavior that they should hang around more respectable people. Which had kind of worked out for you, as that was around the time you and Kie had split from Sarah. Your family and Kie’s found that as a reason to spend more time together, as they were amongst the few Kooks who tried not to be pulled into dramatics. But the split from the two families had caused a bigger rift than intended. Sarah had felt ages away afterward when usually you were only as close as a short arm length from each other; just enough to pull someone quickly into a hug. During this time, Rafe had escaped your mind. You had wanted to believe that you too didn’t put up with him, when deep down you wanted to.

Ward doesn’t like to be the one scorned, so he would be plainly political about his feelings. Softly concealed disapproval. But you could see your parents head straight for the fact that you would be even interested in someone they found so insufferable, the “'bad boy' of the island”. Not that you could do anything to help those feelings at this point.

But those thoughts were both enough to cause some anxiety. 

The Island Club was never a place you wanted to go to yourself either. It was always just family dinners or hauling your ass over there to bother JJ during his long shifts when you knew he would be losing his mind. When you had the pogues, it just never ended up being a safe place for you as it did for most of the Kook community. The Chateau, that was your safe place. With John B drooling and drunk on the hammock and Pope reading out by the dock. 

Rafe knocked once on the door. “Y/N?” 

You looked at yourself in the mirror. Your hair was tousled a little from being on the bed, but otherwise you still looked fine. Kiara’s borrowed chokers shone against your tan. Were you the type of girl people expected to see with Rafe Cameron? Did it matter? Being half pogue never felt right in those circles, as if someone was always staring at you. You took your fingers and started fiddling with your hair, putting back misplaced pieces. There was always an expectation in being a Kook, never one with being a pogue. 

You sighed, you wanted this to be easy. This was your first date with Rafe Cameron. But here there were ghosts of distances that used to not exist. It was odd that this rift was created in the first place, like a separation that didn’t need to be previously crossed. Not that long ago had you been a full fledged Kook. But it had been so easy to settle into the pogue lifestyle, surfing, working, the occasional bit of smoking that wafted from the Twinkie’s doors…it felt right. This was somehow so all unfamiliar and bits of hazy memories seemed to mix all into an unappetizing flavor. 

No.

It doesn’t matter. You’re doing this. Rafe, somehow in the middle of everything, felt right to you right now too. That’s what mattered. 

Rafe knocked again, and in a louder voice asked, “Y/N/N, are you okay in there?”

The fact of the matter was, just as it was getting a little too hot and heavy for a first time romantic reunion you had hit the brakes and told Rafe you had to go to the bathroom. Mood killer, yes. But it had given you enough time to decide that you actually did in fact want to go to the Island Club, but also enough to know that you were slightly ill prepared to do so, especially as you looked down at yourself in the reflective silver.

You opened the door back to Rafe’s room to see him waiting outside the door, still shirtless, a fist raised to knock again. He looked surprised at your reentrance, as if he had expected you to climb out of the window instead and climb the two stories down from his room. This was an image you could see versions of your previous self attempting in efforts to evade the boy; maybe in another universe.

You smiled slightly, a small smirk forming just so softly on your features at the sight of this boy that you had pined over at fourteen. 

“What?” Rafe’s eyebrows furrowed in that same familiar pattern at the sight of you. He was hiding a smile too behind his usual demeanor of harsh lines and toughness he had garnered because of his father. You wanted to smooth down his face, letting him just be free with you. His hand hanging in the air suddenly was against your cheek and Rafe was pulling you back into him again, as if he couldn’t hold on another second away from you. The tension in his shoulders lifted slightly when he was close enough to you, his mouth on yours. 

You kissed him back easily, as if so much had changed from the time that Kiara and John B had dropped you off. It was also easy to want to pull him back on top of you and continue where you left off, but it was also astute in your mind that you did not want to be a King Kook hookup and end up as just another ventured conquest in the little Kook black book of misadventures.

Pressing your hands against the boy’s bare chest you parted yourself from Rafe, just far enough to look him in the eyes. “Hey,” Was all you could get out. It was odd seeing him again like this, after a couple years of hating him along with the pogues. You thought back to those talks you had with Rafe. Even having to share a tent with him and Sarah on a camping trip. Or sneaking out to go on the balcony while Sarah was asleep to find some peace and ending up with Rafe outside and talking away the hours covered beneath the inky black sky. Snide remarks. Wandering eyes. Why hadn’t you seen this before? 

“Hey.” He replied.

You wanted to stay here, where it felt like you only had the two of you to deal with and not the judgment filled stares of kooks and pogues alike. But you also had more important matters, like your discarded clothes on the floor that were more appropriate to wear at the Island Club than just Rafe’s shirt, but still reeked of pogue affiliation. You leaned close to his face to tease him and whispered against his skin, “I need clothes.”

Rafe chuckled lightly and you felt his chest move with the small laugh, “I’d bet you look better with none at all but-”

You pulled away with a slight astonished smile and a playful gasp escaped your lips, “I meant for the Island Club.” You chided, squinting your eyes at him, already familiar with Rafe’s playboy tendencies.

Rafe rolled his eyes, “An offer to skip it and stay the day in here with the promise of not needing clothes is appearing-” At your look of disapproval he kept going with, “and now disappearing with the fact that we can most definitely get you clothes.”

_______________________

You got dressed back into your clothes from earlier, hesitant to give Rafe back his shirt but eventually caving as you watched him pull it over his head. The smallest little movement of his seemed to pull you into a heartbeat frenzy all of a sudden. And you liked seeing him wear the shirt that you had shared, like you knew it now belonged to you partially too. You had plans to steal it when you could at the next convenience.

His plan was to grab some clothes from Sarah’s room but you were quick to remind him of the fact that Sarah would hardly like an ex-friend to go through her things, let alone because said ex-friend was going on a date with her brother. He somehow disagreed, with a typical saying Sarah hated…that she “would never hurt a fly”. Sarah mostly hated it because it insinuated she also couldn’t fend for herself, though that must be because of deeper familial issues.

So it was decided that you’d head back to the Chateau. You had already checked with Kie that no one would be there, aimly the Pogues (but who else?), before getting yourself situated in Rafe’s car again.

When you got in, a wave of the past day had washed over you, refreshing somehow like a wave you dive under in the ocean when you just can't shake the heat. Ah, the location of the first kiss. Nothing about it had changed. It still smelled like Rafe’s cologne and the seats were still the same. But now you were not Pogue and Kook, you were Y/N and Rafe. This somehow was both safer and more dangerous. A road not yet taken. A road not yet known.

When you got to the Chateau, Rafe stayed in the car a few extra seconds, and somehow you knew he was nervous to get out. As if he too knew this was enemy territory as much as crashing a Tannyhill party had been for the Pogues and you. You turned to this new person in front of you and raised a white flag, “What? You scared?” You chided. 

Rafe grumbled something under his breath, something you couldn’t make out, and then said “No.” and got out of the vehicle.

It was so easy for you to exist at the Chateau that Rafe was blazed in an uncomfortable glaring hue. You weren’t sure he’d ever seen John B’s house this close. Closer than the driveway that is. Had he been here before the night he dropped you off? You didn’t know and didn’t inquire to ask as you figured an inquisition would trigger more alarm bells in Rafe’s head while being in the pogues domain.

“Rafe,” you coaxed, offering up a hand, “It’s a house. Relax. No one is here.”

Rafe let out a breath and followed you up to the porch.

You found the key easily, it was hidden in its usual place. JJ had actually hidden it and sworn the other Pogues to secrecy, so there was a hint of guilt as you let Rafe look over your shoulder as you found the spare. In the pogue’s world, everything was sacred. You didn’t have much but each other, and that’s what counted. You didn’t know how close Rafe was with his friends or if it was the same, but you’d doubt he would go against them for you. But then again, you doubted the fleeting remains of feelings you had thought were nothing over the boy you were with at the very moment…so who knows. But there was still just that pinprick in your mind that he wouldn’t give up Kook secrets so easily as you would with the pogues. Call it trusting easily, but you might get in trouble with your friends later for rocking between enemy lines. Actually, you already were in trouble for the most part.

“Home sweet home,” You said, pulling Rafe inside. “Don’t touch anything.”

Rafe looked at you pointedly, “it’s not like I won’t be able to pay to replace anything I break.” 

This was an absolute and obvious fact so you responded, “Oh I’m sure you could.” You gave him a smug look, “What about sentimental value?”

Rafe thought for a moment and you couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, “That I could not replace.” He pouted a bit and looked around the room, as if thinking of what could possibly be of sentimental value in the home. Your response, if he asked, would be everything. Every little thing. Especially with your stuff intermingled through the place, it just felt special all mangled together.

You let out a sigh, though you liked that Rafe was being honest for once. “That’s what I thought. Keep your Kook hands to yourself.” You took a step towards him, waving your finger accusingly.

“I thought we were past labels, darlin’.” Then there was that damn smile. Not one ounce of chivalry was inlaid in it, all of it was dark edges and misconceptions. It pulled you in more than you wanted to realize. With Rafe, there was an element of being bad. Of being with the bad guy. And somewhere in you, you liked that. Maybe deep down, you didn’t want to believe that, but it was there and it didn’t feel like hiding that much longer.

You rolled your eyes, suddenly realizing how close the two of you had found yourselves as you talked, and blushed. A habit that had been newly formed whenever Rafe got close to you like this. You pushed his chest away, walking back towards the guest room where all your belongings waited for you.

Rafe was already dressed. He smelled like sweet pine and musk, but also the ocean, and you wanted to sink into him. He wore a polo and some slacks, but it was nicer than any guy had tried in a long time. There was a part of you that hoped and figured it wasn’t going to be that fancy anyway. 

When you got to your room you thought you were going to panic, picking out outfits was never something you had quite delved into. Kie was always there to help. Only a FaceTime away if on Figure Eight, and usually right outside the door already if you were at the Chateau. Sarah was really the mastermind, she could pick things out in seconds that you would’ve never approved of yourself that looked amazing when on. And there was that ache when you thought of her, like a yearning you could never quite hold onto. It was nice seeing her with John B the other night, but also odd. You wondered if you’d ever get the chance to reconcile. Now with Rafe, well he complicates things.

But you put your mind together and thought about your best friends, ex or otherwise, and tried to put together a dress and some jewelry that complimented you. The real you. Not just as a pogue or a kook. 

So you took off Kiara’s chokers, a hard decision as they had been a part of your daily strength and it was hard to part with them, and you put on your pearl necklace you had gotten as a sweet sixteen present from your parents. It looked nice against your tan, and though you didn’t wear it often it was one of your favorite pieces you owned. Which was why you took it to the Chateau. Not one of your best decisions as most things get lost or misplaced in the pogue haven, but you wanted it close to you. It was like a part of your Kook heritage, like saying some part of you will always be a Kook. Not that you’d ever admit this out loud.

Then there was the dress. It wasn’t white, per say, but it matched the pearls. And it flowed around you perfectly. It was starting to feel like the day was already better than midsummers, which you and Kie usually dreaded (but sometimes enjoyed). This was intimate, private, and not some party. And also not an excuse for the Camerons to parade around. Though that was mostly left up to Ward and Rose.

When you walked out of the back guest room, Rafe’s back was turned and he was looking out the window, not having moved from his spot you had placed him in earlier. Creeping up from your toes, you felt a smile coming across your face as you grinned to yourself. Of course Rafe was trying his best. It’s not of use to think that you would find him snooping or setting up booby traps in the pogue home base. But at least to laugh at the thought wasn’t baseless.

“Hey,” you said, so normally like you had been saying it to him casually all your life. You had avoided Rafe like the plague on many occasions, but now you wanted to sound welcoming for once.

He turned, his eyes stopped at your face then trailed the length of your body quickly, finding your eyes again as if traveling back home. He smirked, which only brought you the thought that he would say something snarky but instead he said, “You clean up nice.”

You shrugged, joking a bit as you said, “You look okay.”

Instead of responding at first, Rafe pulled you close to him and kissed you. His lips tasted sweetly of lemonade and alcohol and you wondered when he had time to drink any, or if that was what he always tasted like. You either couldn’t remember or didn’t care. “Take a compliment, L/N.” Was what he said when you pulled away. His eyes were clear when you looked, this dark blue color you always loved. All at once you wanted nothing to break this night. Nothing but to handle it with care. You wanted Rafe and you to work.

_____________________

The Island Club always smelled of flowers when you walked in. Sweet, herbal, and somewhat pungent. It always reminded you of summer, even when the Island was experiencing the annual winter seasons. But in a familiar sense, you were glad that the doorway still had flowers to welcome you on either side, as if they wanted to renew your senses. So when you walked in this time, with Rafe, you took a big whiff of the air. Not only because you wanted to remember it, but because you wanted to have a fresh start. This was not you and Sarah’s brother. This was not you with a Kook. This was you with a boy you liked, going to eat dinner. 

When you sat down, at a table for two, it seemed too perfect.

Rafe started the conversation with a question you didn’t expect, “So what about being a pogue do you like?”

“Oh, um-” You took a sip of your water. “Is this a real question?” It didn’t feel forced, it just felt odd that he seemed to care. You couldn’t surmise that this had any devious connection to it, it just felt like Rafe wanted to know more about you. Which was new, and welcomed.

Rafe nodded, “Yes, Y/N. I may have not been friendly to the pogues-”

“More like devious, conniving, hateful.”

“But-” He took a deep breath, like what he was about to say was worth more than the words before. “I like you. That counts for something doesn’t it? Behind everything?”

A light fired in you, a spark of something, “You really want to know?”

Rafe nodded, let his shoulders relax, and let you continue. You told him all about how the pogues were a family. No man left behind, unless dire circumstances were involved. How you stood by each other. How JJ made you laugh, which made Rafe tense up as it seemed he was still not over the illusion of that relationship, when it was purely a friendship. How John B understood you. How Pope helped you. How Kiara was there for you. Through everything. They just made sense to you. Unlike the Kooks, it wasn’t some casual thing…this was family. 

When you were done, Rafe seemed to stir in his own feelings. You waited patiently for a response, one you were nervous for. “Kooks are like that too, you know.”

You pulled at the hem of your dress, a nervous tic you’d most like to get rid of, “It’s not the same.” You shook your head. There was nothing else like the pogues, you had looked.

“Wheezie is like that.” He paused to play with his napkin and then looked back up at you,  “She has a lot of loyalty in her blood.” 

“Oh, I believe that.” This was said with warmth. Wheezie, as you knew, was Rafe’s soft spot. You’d grown up beside her too and loved her for your quirks. When the other night you admitted to missing her, you weren’t lying. 

“You’re like that too.” It was like he was still holding something back, although unwilling to say so. It made you think, did he think Sarah was like that too? Was lumping Sarah and you together a line he didn’t want to cross with you? 

“Do you think you are?” You asked. You wanted to know the answer, truly. 

“I think I’ve had my doubts.”

“And what about those times you didn’t doubt?”

It was at this moment that Rafe cocked his head, looking slightly past you. His eyes trailed the dining area, and his brows furrowed together deeper than you had seen before, more in anger and annoyance than anything else. And those emotions had rarely been linked to you as a singular entity. “Maybank is here.” He said plainly, losing his focus on you. 

“He works- What? He’s here? Now?” You swiftly moved yourself in your seat, twisting your neck to view who Rafe was looking at. It was indeed JJ Maybank, looking very angry. He was also, indeed, in his work clothes, but you had deliberately picked a section of the club that JJ didn’t serve. It seemed like he had found you anyway. 

You stood up before JJ reached the table, the anger obvious and brewing on his face and put your hand up where his chest ended up, bumping into you slightly. “JJ, you were working today?” His eyes bore into you, lasers going through your skull and obliterating you in the process. 

“What is this?” He held his hat in his hands, all crumpled between his fingers. A sore sight to see as the hat was one of his prized possessions. His blond hair was full of flyaways and runaway strands, but even considering that it wasn’t normally perfect in its own right it was a mess right now. He looked so different than he had the other night, all outgoing and free flying.

“We’re on a date Maybank, if you’d excuse us-” You put a hand up to stop Rafe, only turning back to him for a second. Rafe’s voice had changed the demeanor of the blond boy, it was almost like you could feel the heat radiating off of him.

JJ looked back at Rafe once, but it only seemed to make him angrier, “A date! Wow okay. Nice going, Y/N. Real stand up guy.” His face was turning red, a shade you didn’t enjoy,  and he took a step closer to you as if to show you the anger buried in his face. The betrayal. Rafe stood up at this, with only you between the two boys. 

“Really, JJ, what is this about?” You said sternly, trying to angle your best friend away from Rafe. 

“What is this abo- Can we just talk in private, Y/N?” JJ seethed, letting out soft slow breaths you knew he needed when he got stressed out.

Rafe is suddenly at your side, but you push him away before he can talk and rush into any argument with JJ. You wanted to validate JJ’s feelings, you just didn’t know how to get there. “Rafe, it's fine.” You said to the boy behind you. Then to JJ, “Of course we can.”

Both were said through gritted teeth.

________________________

JJ knew the ins and the outs of the Island Club from working there since he was fourteen, and you knew it from being a Kook from such a young age so it was never hard for the two of you to find hiding spots around the grounds. On this particular day, it was in the downstairs lounge where you both knew no one would be during dining hours. At least not anyone important enough to spot you or kick you out. JJ, this time, was pulling you by the hand to get there and didn’t seem to notice enough to drop your hand when you had found what you were looking for. JJ’s love language had always been touch, and you knew he found comfort in you, so you let your hand stay in his. You found comfort in him too, as you two were usually two peas in a pod.

Now that you were alone, JJ seemed to calm down, to ease quicker into his usual self. One that was open with you, not angry.

“JJ just please tell me-”

“I’m in love with you.” JJ said the words fast, and you paused, your mind dusty with confusion just trying to scramble behind him. JJ loves you. JJ loves you. JJ loves you.

“What?” You said, you could hear a squeak in your voice and you were sure he could too. 

“I’m not supposed to say anything. No Pogue on Pogue macking, I know. Believe me, I know. But now you’re on a date with this utter asshole and I can’t let that happen. I can’t-”

“I thought this was about your hat.”

“What about my-? Oh, yeah, I’m not happy about hearing the story of you losing it with Rafe but that’s only part of why I’m here and literally so insignificant now. Are you hearing me? Y/N/N?”

You let go of his hand. "JJ I just- I don’t know what to say, okay? I’m sorry about the hat. But I’m not sorry about the date.”

“You can’t be serious, Y/N. It’s Rafe fucking Cameron. And we’re us. I know we’re us. We make sense.”

“What if I don’t want to make sense, JJ?” You took a breath after realizing you were also getting worked up. You hoped Rafe was upstairs minding his business, waiting for you to get back. Your head spun. Everything seemed so fast now. It just felt like your world was crumbling. And it was, at least pieces of it. JJ was a flirty boy, had you been stringing him along? What about all the times you were together, did you feel a spark too? All those jokes, all those looks.

“What if I want Rafe?” You finally asked, not really a question you wanted answered.

JJ took a step back, like that was the last thing he expected you to say. You didn’t know what he did expect, you to dive into his arms? Say that you were saved? “JJ,” You tried to close the gap between you, but JJ just stepped back again with confusion and anger bubbling on his face. You wanted this to be easy. There was no easy when breaking someone’s heart. Especially not with JJ, who hid his heart at every twist and turn. “We’re best friends. But we’re not…more.”

“So you just want to go back to your Kook roots? Everything with the pogues was what? Bullshit?” He spit. He ran his fingers through his hair, something he did when he was frustrated. 

“JJ-” 

“Just go.”

You couldn’t lose JJ, not this way. Not because he loves you. You grabbed at his arm and he shook you off, a little too hard. You fell back as Rafe came into the room. He knew the Island Club too. Had almost shown you and Sarah all the secret spots in the first place. Of course you had the two boys that knew this place like the back of their hands.  

Then they were on top of each other. You couldn’t tell who threw the first punch, but you couldn’t tell who you didn’t want it to be. JJ, for one, because you never wanted him hurt in your life. And Rafe, well, because you loved Rafe. You had to admit this now. Had Rafe not driven you home, was there some part of you that would’ve gone with JJ? Loved him back even?

You had to stop it. Frozen, you dazed into a different state. A state where none of this had happened. Where you were fine being strangers with Rafe. Fine not being with JJ either. A place where you weren’t a pogue. A Kook. Nothing. You were just you. 

And when you finally got out of that daze, you realized how stupid it was. You were a pogue. You were a Kook. And most importantly, those identities had caused this rift. This fight. It all mattered. 

“STOP!” You screamed, flailing toward the boys. Rafe was on top of JJ, punching him. JJ was still sitting up halfway and fighting back. Blood splattered on your dress. You didn’t care, not at all. Then suddenly you were on top of Rafe, trying to pull him away, tugging and pulling. But it wasn’t until the other waitstaff heard your screams that he finally got off the Maybank boy. 

Both boys were bloody, but JJ looked worse. A pit in your stomach formed, sitting in the back and swallowing you whole. It was your fault, you knew that. It was hard to see someone you loved like this, but it was also hard to come to terms with what had just happened. But he got up, not looking at you, and left to get cleaned up by his coworkers. 

He left his hat on the floor, where it lay crumpled as if his hand was still imprinted on it.

______________________

The good news was when you called, your parents said they would vouch for JJ as patrons of the Island Club so he wouldn’t be fired. You hadn’t told your parents that Rafe had been involved, or that the two of you had been on a date and you figured that fact could be a later lesson. And you also knew, as JJ wasn’t a fan of law enforcement, that he wouldn’t press charges against Rafe. Which his coworkers were most likely going to suggest. And Rafe was a Cameron. Untouchable. Ward would have to come home and clean it up, put a little more money into the club. But it was fixable. 

They still asked you to leave, which you understood. So you had Rafe take you to your empty house on Figure Eight. 

You got out the first aid kit and had Rafe sit on top of your kitchen’s island. Hoping to clean up the wounds, you dabbed antiseptic onto the cuts on his face and hands. “Does that hurt?” You asked quietly, pressing softly on Rafe’s features.

“Why are you taking care of me, Y/N?” Rafe’s voice was back to being rough edges and unsaid feelings. “Why aren’t you with JJ?” That was the first time that Rafe hadn’t called JJ by his last name, and it just slipped out. Rafe was only ever this soft with two people, and you were now one of them. You wanted to know why. You wanted to know everything. Admittedly though Rafe did have a point, one you had been trying to ignore. Your phone had blown up after the fight from the other pogues. Pope disagreed heavily on you not showing up to the Chateau. But out of all of them, Kie understood the most, and thought it was best you stayed away for a bit. At first hearing this, your heart sank into that little puddle in your gut, but you figured it was for the best. 

You ignored his question, “Why’d you get in the fight, Rafe?”

Rafe didn’t try to excuse his actions, or even imply that JJ threw the first punch, he just shrugged, “I don’t know.”

“What?” A freezing blow struck your heart at his answer, and you figured it was because maybe he didn’t care. But then-

“I want you to like me.” Rafe looked at you, breathing so evenly it was like no fight had occurred. He grabbed your hand and eased you to the gauze down on the counter next to him. “Not Maybank. Not the Heyward kid. Not John B. Me. Okay? You want no other kooks in your life? Fine, Y/N. Whatever. But have me. For fucks sake, you shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. But I saw him push you down and I just- I wanted you perfect and safe and away from anyone who could take you away from me. I heard what he said. And I don’t care about love. I don’t. I want you to just like me. And tonight, I showed you the real me and you're still here. So I'm just confused."

“Little mushy there, Cameron. Almost forgot it was you talking.”

“Y/N, please.”

Then you kissed him, and it was worth a mess of a life. Just for that moment, maybe. But it was worth it. Some answers don’t need words.

There was no concern about the parents or the friends or having shown up at the Island Club for all to see. There were just the two of you. Rafe, bloody from another fight and yet sober and clean and happy to be with you. And you, you had a lot of feelings. But for now, liking Rafe was enough.

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