#they knock it out of the park every goddamn time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

soullumii · 1 year

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stranded | joel miller x f!reader

pairing: joel miller x afab!fem!reader

summary: you get stranded in the middle of a blizzard. joel comes to your rescue. you share a bed for warmth. things escalate from there...

warnings/tags: 18+ content, MDNI!, smutttttt yurrrr (vaginal fingering, unprotected piv sex, dubious consent, lil bit of somnophilia, joel is packinggg), no outbreak!joel, modern au, implied age gap, soft!joel, pet names (peach, baby, darlin', sweet girl, sweetheart), lil bit of joel being jelly, cuddling to keep the cold at bay, fluff, NO USE OF Y/N

word count: 7.6k (idk what the fuck happened)

“Damn it!”

You press down hard on the gas pedal, grimacing when your engine revs but the car doesn’t move an inch.

Your tires skid uselessly over the snow and your headlights reflect into a white wall of nothing—the snowfall so thick you can’t see anything in front of or around you, as if you’re trapped in a snow globe. The road is practically gone from existence.

The only thing you can hear is the wind whistling and the staticky sound of Carrie Underwood’s ‘Jesus Take the Wheel’ going in and out on the radio.

Yeah, you wish he would right about now.

“Fuuuck,” you whine, eyes stinging with unshed tears. You hit your wheel in frustration, dropping your forehead onto the horn. It honks pityingly.

Of course, the one time you were actually going out, you had forgotten to check the weather.

You’re probably going to die out here on this back road through the woods. There’s no one around, not that you can tell, and you’re low on gas. You were going to fill up once you got out of the woods and back into civilization, but the blizzard had other plans.

Your stomach rumbles, crying out for the dinner you had skipped in hopes of having a hearty, post-sex meal with the hook-up you are—or were—on the way to see. Though, that’s certainly not happening, and the snacks you usually had stuffed into the glovebox are gone, your sister having stolen them last week after you dropped her off at school.

(Darn that growing goober!)

You don’t have anything that might prove useful in this situation besides the long, slim heels on your pumps (which could be used in defense), and the thin peacoat wrapped around your shoulders. You check your phone to see if you can call a towing company, but of course, it has zero bars.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you whimper, pressing the heel of your palm to your watering eyes.

“It’s gonna be fine,” you say to yourself, picking your head up and rubbing away the tears in your eyes. You take deep breaths and put the car into park. “You’ll be fine.”

The sudden sound of a knock on your window startles you so bad you yelp, jumping in place as ice cold terror rises up your spine.

You can hardly see who had knocked, only their gray silhouette in the white blizzard.

The stranger knocks again.

“You alright in there?” The shadow asks, a hint of a Texan accent curling their vowels. Shit. It’s a man.

You slowly grab your shoe from your foot, holding it so the heel faces the window, and snow blows into your face as you carefully roll it down an inch or two for precaution, because who knows if it’s a fucking cannibal-axe-murderer who preys on unsuspecting women stranded in the snow. Maybe he does this every year—maybe this is his prime harvesting place and time.

Your eyes are wide as you peer through the opening warily, heel at the ready.

He’s close enough now that you can make out a prominent scowl, hard brown eyes, salt and pepper hair…

…wait a minute. You’d recognize that glower anywhere.

“Joel?”

Your lungs suddenly remember how to work again, and you inhale on a shaky breath. The hand holding your shoe drops to your thigh in relief.

His brown eyes narrow. “Peach…? The hell are you doin’ out here?” He asks, and Jesus you forgot about that stupid nickname he gave you. It sends butterflies loose in your stomach. “It’s a goddamn blizzard.”

You scowl in exasperation, though, at his obvious observation. “Yeah, I think I know that, Joel. What are you doing here?”

“I heard a honk, figured someone needed help.” He looks you up and down, his gaze lingering on the circles of mascara around your eyes. “Guess I’m right.”

You straighten in your seat, the gratitude you feel at his presence is overshadowed by the need to look self sufficient and capable, because you are. You’re a grown ass woman! So…

“I don’t need your help,” you huff.

He arches a brow. “Really.” It’s not a question.

You glower. “Maybe.”

Joel leans an arm on the frame of your car, and taps your window once more. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

God, this is so embarrassing!

“Fine.” You roll up the window and turn off the car. Joel tugs the car door open as far as it can go and offers a gloved hand to help you out. You wobble a bit when you step out in your heels, grateful that Joel is there to steady you. Though, the feeling sours a bit when he huffs in disbelief at your shoes.

You send him a glare, “I had plans for tonight, okay?”

“In the middle of a blizzard?” He deadpans.

“It wasn’t that bad when I first started driving.”

“Riiiight,” he drawls, “Well, I’m sorry to say, peach, but you ain’t driving in this mess anymore. You can stay with me tonight.” He says, closing the car door behind you.

Stay? With him?

“Joel, I couldn’t bother you with—“

“I wouldn’t offer if it was a bother.”

Joel’s as stubborn as a bull, more so than Ellie. And she is stubborn. You don’t argue, because it’s fruitless to argue with a brick wall like him. And, faced with freezing to death out here or staying in a well-insulated building, choosing the latter is obviously the right thing to do.

“Okay,” you relent and point to your trunk. “I have a bag back there.”

He raises a brow. “Heels and a bag…What kind of plans were we talkin’ about here?”

A hook up, Joel, you mentally drawl. Because…that’s exactly why you were out.

Like hell you’ll tell Joel that, though, he’d disapprove. He’s always been the protective type. You’ve known him since your junior year in college, after your families practically merged. But you’ve never seen Joel as another dad. He’s always been…something else to you.

“A trip to Nunya.” You supply instead of the truth, crossing your arms over your chest to try and conserve some heat.

“Nunya?” Joel’s brows furrow.

“Yeah. Nunya business, Joel.” You give him a sardonic smile.

He shakes his head and sends you a look you’re quite familiar with, the one that makes you feel inches smaller. And ten degrees hotter.

Joel sighs in exasperation and wordlessly wrenches the trunk open. He slings your bag over his shoulder as if it weighs nothing.

(It weighs a lot. You’d know, you shoved five different erotica books in there, just in case your date failed to make you orgasm.)

(Though thinking about Joel probably would’ve been enough.)

You lock your vehicle with a bemused glance. “What are we gonna do about my car?”

“I’ll tow it out tomorrow,” Joel says. “Roads are a fuckin’ mess right now.”

You trudge behind Joel to his quaint cottage sleeping cozily between tall pine trees and chubby evergreens. The porch light is on, and the windows glow a comforting orange. Puffs of smoke drift up from the chimney. It looks warm and inviting, like straight out of a Christmas movie.

You’re impressed at how close you managed to strand yourself to his house. Maybe Jesus really did take the wheel.

Joel kicks the snow off his boots on his front porch, then opens the door, gesturing for you to enter first.

When you breach the doorway with Joel at your heels, warmth settles over your cold-bitten cheeks along with an alluring aroma of meat and tomato and spices that hits you in a wave. You’ve never seen Joel cook anything other than Chef Boyardee Beefaroni, or burgers on Tommy’s rusting grill before, so this is certainly a surprise. It could be Sarah or Ellie’s cooking, but last time you checked, Sarah could cook eggs and Ellie could cook, well, nothing.

“So did you hire a personal chef to make whatever smells so good?”

He sets your bag down in the foyer with a grunt and shrugs out of his coat. “I made it.”

You can’t help the disbelieving laugh that bursts out of you, and the slightly offended look on Joel’s face only makes it harder to stop. You cover your mouth with your hand, but you’re absolutely positive he can see the mirth lighting in your eyes.

Though he’s offended, there’s a twitch to his lip, as if he’s trying not to laugh. “I’m perfectly capable of cooking.”

“I’m sorry—I’m sorry,” you try to stamp down your giggles. “Yes, you’re capable but… is it edible?”

Your stomach decides in that moment to start rumbling, and he smirks.

“Guess you’ll have to find out.”

You take your coat off and follow Joel towards the kitchen. As you follow, you take in his aggressively Texan decor and furniture. Paintings of cowboys and horses and mountains are hung artfully on cozy, beige walls. The Eagles’ discography drifts merrily in the air from an old record player. There’s a guitar stationed in practically every corner. It’s all so very Joel, though the random space ornamentals and butterfly drawings sprinkled about are so very Ellie and Sarah. It makes you smile.

“Where are the girls?” You ask, because usually those little stinkers would be stationed at the dining room table, bickering over the answer to a ridiculously difficult math problem.

“At Dina’s,” he answers, taking off his gloves and dropping them on the table. “They wanted to play in the snow.”

Oh. So you’re here alone with him. Anxiety prickles at the edges of your mind, sinking in your stomach.

“I guess I was the only one that didn’t know about the blizzard, then.”

“You must be livin’ under a rock to not know about it.”

You grumble in protest, but your grievances disintegrate on your tongue as you enter the kitchen and near the simmering pot. You breathe in the aroma, the smell so powerful it's almost like you’re actually tasting it.

You look over your shoulder at him. “Is this chili?”

He nods. “Want some?”

“Absolutely.”

He comes up beside you to open a cabinet. “Go ‘head make yourself comfortable on the couch. I’ll bring it out to you.” Your mouth dries at the sliver of skin that peeks out beneath his flannel as he reaches up.

You force yourself to turn around. “Wow. Such a gentleman, didn’t realize you were capable,” you say, your saccharine sweet tone doing well to mask how flustered you feel. You can breathe easier the second you exit the kitchen and enter the living room.

His voice follows you. “A simple ‘thank you’ ‘stead'a this attitude would do you some good, y'know?"

"I know," you sing-song, grinning as you settle yourself down onto his couch, grabbing a blanket from a basket on the way. A fire crackles in the hearth and you study the flames with fascination as warmth spreads across your skin. You tug the blanket around you, pulling it up to your chin.

Joel emerges a minute later and your gaze darts from the fire to the bowl he holds out to you. “Here.”

“Thank you, Joel,” you say emphatically, accepting the bowl and cradling it in your hands.

He smiles, “There we go. Guess you do have some manners.”

You give him a half-bow. Joel just smiles in that familiar way, like you’re just so ridiculous he can’t believe it. It makes your stomach curl giddily.

Having rolled up the sleeves of his flannel to his elbows, Joel’s forearms are on display, muscles flexing as he tosses another log into the hearth, and you drop your gaze to your chili, as to not get caught staring. He sits down in the armchair adjacent to you with his own bowl.

You blow on the steaming chili before taking a bite, an involuntary moan releasing from you the moment it hits your tongue—paprika, peppers, tomato, cumin. It warms your stomach pleasantly. Who knew Joel could cook so well?

“This is so good,” you mumble around your bite.

He swallows his own chili down, pupils large as he watches you. “Edible enough for ya?”

You nod enthusiastically, “I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

“Mmhmm,” he hums, unconvinced, but he’s smiling at you again, and you can’t help but return it.

Comfortable silence lapses between the both of you as you eat your meals. Joel finishes first, of course, setting his bowl on the coffee table and leaning into his chair with a satisfied groan. He throws an arm over the back, spreading his legs. You watch him while he watches the fire, heat licking through you.

Eventually, after you slow down, you speak again.

“Thank you, Joel, seriously, for letting me stay.”

His eyes find yours and he nods. “‘Course, peach. Wouldn’t’ve let you freeze out there.”

You nod and glance around, taking in his cabin. A large, stone fireplace is set in the wall, a tree trunk coffee table stationed in the center of the living room, some handmade wood carvings of horses and other animals scattered about. There’s a drawing of himself sitting on the mantel, “To: Joel, From: Ellie” signed at the bottom. Your heart swells.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve been here,” you remark.

“I know,” Joel says. “You should come around more often. The girls miss you.”

Your smile turns shy and you feel a spike of bravery. “What about you? Do you miss me?”

He takes a moment to answer, a veiny hand coming up to rub at his beard as he leans on the arm of the chair. Onyx eyes drag down your figure. “‘Course I do, darlin’”

Heat pools hot and thick between your thighs at that look, and you’re about to press him about how much he really misses you when a buzzing in your pocket captures your attention. Your phone. Guess you have some bars now.

marcus: where r u?

Oh right, the hookup!

you: blizzard blocked the roads. won’t make it tonight.

marcus: ok.

You scoff at the lack of depth in his response. Not even a “stay safe out there”? Jesus. You settle into the couch with a frustrated sigh, head thumping against the cushions, eyes falling shut as exhaustion creeps into you.

Boys always thinking with their dicks. Why do you even bother?

“What’s that about?” Joel asks. You peek an eye open at him. Firelight dances across his tan skin. He gestures to your phone. “That gotta do with the real reason for your trip tonight?”

You rub your temple, “Yeah.”

He hums. "...Listen, I know it's none of my business but—“

"It was a hookup, Joel," you interrupt, already knowing where he was going with that. He tends to do that, beat around the bush so much until you’re desperate to just say it. More desperate than he was to know it. You’d rather just skip that whole process.

"Oh,” his brows furrow.

"Yeah," you repeat dumbly, fiddling with the blanket.

"There, uh, ain't no shame in that, darlin'."

You quirk a skeptical brow, "I know."

"Alright," he mumbles, avoiding eye contact with you. Awkwardness settles between you.

"Things are just a bit dry," you supply, though you have no idea why you're still talking, or why you described yourself and the state of your love-life like that because Joel doesn't need to know that. Nobody needs to know that

But it captures his attention, because he's looking at you again, though this time annoyance is written on his features, along with something else you can’t name, his eyes practically black. Damnit, you knew he’d disapprove, even if he claims there’s no shame in it.

“And you went to some random boy for that?"

You straighten on the couch. "Who else am I supposed to go to, Joel? You?” Sarcasm drips from your words.

What the hell is he implying?

His gaze jumps to the fire, the muscles in his jaw clenching, his fingers flexing on the arm of his chair. "Never mind I said anythin'."

Your arms cross defensively over your chest. "I don't need your judgment, Joel.”

"I ain't judgin'."

"Sure sounds like it."

He stands abruptly, running a hand through his peppered locks. "I'm not, I just—listen, it's gettin' late. You should sleep. I didn’t have time to get the girls’ room ready, do you want my bed?”

You shake your head, "Couch is perfectly fine, Joel. Thanks."

“You sure?”

“Yes, Joel. I’m a grown woman who can handle her decisions.”

"I know that.” Frustration laces his words. He sighs, hand coming up to rest on his belt. “Just... let me know if you need anythin'."

“You got it.”

He turns the living room light off on the way to his bedroom down the hall. You don’t watch him leave.

Once he's gone, you change into your pajamas and settle yourself on the couch beneath a blanket or two. The crackling of the fire and the howling wind outside lulls you to sleep faster than you expect.

-----

“Fuck.”

The aggressive shivers that wrack your body are what wake you up in the middle of the night.

Your blanket is wrapped tightly around you, but it’s a thin, furry thing. Nothing like the down comforter you have at home. The fire has also gone out in the hearth, low flames flickering in the ash.

You pull the blanket up to your chin, curling in on yourself as the cold permeates your skin.

Aside from the chattering of your teeth and the squall outside, it’s eerily silent in the house. You realize, now, that the whooshes from the heating system you had grown accustomed to before are gone

Shit.

You reach for the lamp on the side table, pulling down on the chain. It doesn’t turn on.

“Shit.”

You sit up, blanket wrapped around your waist. The power is out. The snow storm must’ve knocked out a power line. It’s too cold to stay out here with only your thin blanket and the clothes on your back. And Joel had said…

Let me know if you need anythin’.

You really don’t want to bother him, but the goose flesh rippling across your skin and the pathetic way your lips are quivering, along with the shudders that wrack your body as it attempts to maintain homeostasis are not something you can just sleep through.

You tightly wrap your blanket around your shoulders and tiptoe down the hall. You can see a warm light from Joel’s bedroom, the flicker of a flame on the cream walls.

You slowly push the door open but hesitate at the sight of Joel buried comfortably beneath his comforter. You don’t want to wake him… but his room is awfully toasty from the fire crackling away in his own hearth. And his bed looks absolutely heavenly.

You steel yourself and pad to the side he sleeps on.

“Joel?” You whisper. He doesn’t respond.

You lean over to gently push his shoulder. “Joel.”

“Mm—“ His brows furrow, and he scrunches further into the blankets, reminiscent of a cat curling its paws over its head when woken up.

You push his shoulder again, a bit harder this time. “Joel. Wake up.”

He swats at the air, as if your hand is a fly buzzing around his ear. “‘M awake,” he mumbles against the pillow.

“Joel—the power went out. I’m freezing.”

He’s silent for a moment, eyes still shut. He’s no doubt rolling the words around in his head, trying to make sense of them through a sleepy haze.

Then, when he does, he wordlessly scoots back and reaches for the comforter. He lifts it, offering the space next to him to you.

“C’mere.”

You splutter, taken off guard by the invitation. “What? Joel—“

“‘M not askin’, peach. C’mere.” The last word leaves his lips like a command, and you straighten reflexively, apprehension holding your limbs hostage as want curls dangerously low in your abdomen at his tone of voice. That should be enough warning to not climb into bed with him.

You debate telling him to get his ass up and give you another blanket along with a couple more logs in the hearth so you can avoid any kind of proximity between you (lest you feel those capital-f Feelings), but you can practically feel the heat radiating from the bed and his body beckoning you in.

Oh fuck it.

You let loose a shaky breath and hesitantly slip beneath the covers, facing away from him. You stay glued to the edge of the bed, careful not to let any part of you touch him. Your legs curl into your chest for extra measure. Immediately, it’s so much better. So warm. So comfortable.

And it smells like Joel.

You inhale the earthy and spicy scent of him that lingers on the linen as your head sinks into the soft pillow, but your inhale chokes off as Joel’s strong arm snakes around your waist beneath the comforter, his large hand burning like a brand when it settles hot over your stomach.

He pulls you into him, the sheets swishing as he tucks you into his body. Your back slots against his warm, broad naked chest. His bare legs intertwine with yours, his pelvis almost flush against your ass, only covered by a thin pair of briefs.

Holy shit.

You can feel everything.

“Joel?” You question, voice quivering at the sudden closeness. “What are you doing?”

“Keepin’ you warm,” he mumbles against the nape of your neck.

You do feel warmer, though it might not be entirely because he’s holding you, but rather because of how he’s holding you. He’s curled around you, like a koala around a tree, thighs bracketing yours.

You can feel his beard scraping at the nape of your neck, breaths puffing against your feverish skin.

His thumb is rubbing softly along the pudge of your tummy, palm branding your skin, his fingers dipping innocently beneath the hem of your shorts.

You can barely breathe, or even think, heartbeat stuttering as arousal pools liquid hot and heavy between your legs. Every unknowing twitch from Joel’s fingers makes it worse. Every touch of his calloused fingertips against your skin is pure agony. Every brush of your ass against his pelvis has you throbbing. You stare wide-eyed into the darkness, gaze roaming the pitch black, as if something out there could make you forget about the ever-growing desire you feel for Joel.

You can’t sleep like this.

It seems like Joel can though, appearing to already be deep in slumber. He hasn’t moved in a few minutes, his exhales even and slow against you.

You try to ignore the wetness between your legs, ignore the instinctual urge to roll your hips back against him. You should just go to sleep. But this ache you feel, pounding and deep and relentless…You have to do something about it, even with Joel holding you close.

He won’t mind…right?

But how are you supposed to touch yourself with Joel’s hand in the way?

You could just move it. That’s the right thing to do, but it feels too good, so hot and heavy on you that you just don’t want to, and as a result, an idea so absolutely fucked worms its way into your mind, lust and desperation destroying any last semblance of rational thought. You could…

No. No. You can’t do that. He’s a human fucking being, not a hand shaped vibrator.

But… you really want to, and he’s asleep so…he won’t even know…right?

You make up your mind and slowly curl your fingers around Joel’s deadweight palm, biting your lip in concentration and shame as you carefully urge his hand further into your shorts. After each nudge of his palm, you wait to see if Joel gives you any sign of him being awake. But he’s dead asleep. After a moment, you keep going.

This is so fucked, but you can’t bring yourself to care when you finally feel his thick fingers brush over your clothed folds.

“Shit,” you whisper, breathlessly, holding back a whimper. You manipulate his hand so that his palm is resting large and warm over your aching clit, while his index and middle finger are placed heavily above your heat.

And then, you really say fuck you to your morals.

You give an experimental thrust of your hips into his palm, shuddering at the contact against your clit. Then you wait to see if Joel reacts, your head tilting a bit to look over your shoulder. But Joel hasn’t moved, hasn’t said a word. Good.

Confident he won’t wake, you rock your hips again and again, holding onto his hand with your own, pressing it down with each thrust of your hips to get that sweet contact. The heel of his palm bumps your aching clit with each thrust, and you bite back moans and whimpers well enough, but you can’t hide the deepening of your breaths as you climb closer and closer to your climax.

Everything else fades away as you just focus on that one goal. On crawling over the edge. You hardly feel the growing smirk pressed to the back of your neck, or the way Joel’s cock is now hard against your ass as you grind against his palm.

“F-fuck,” you huff, eyes tightly shut as you ground yourself in his presence behind you, the beat of his heart thudding against your spine, the rise and fall of his chest, the light, unconscious brush of his lips on your neck. Closure is on the horizon as you imagine him lifting up on his arm and leaning over to actually get you off, his teeth biting down on your shoulder as he thrusts his fingers into your aching cunt.

“Joel—“ you quietly moan.

The moment his name slips from your lips, his hand suddenly pulls back, and you let out a frustrated groan (he can’t do that!), which quickly turns into a squeak of mortification (oh yes, he absolutely can!).

Because Joel is awake.

He. Is. Awake.

And he knows what you were doing, his chest rumbling against your spine as he—is he fucking laughing at you?

“Needy girl, aren’t you, peach?”

Mortification ignites in your cheeks, nausea pooling in your stomach. “Joel, oh my god, I’m so sorry—“

His hand gravitates to your thigh, curling around it. He pulls it up, inserting his knee in between your legs and he griiiinds it into your clothed cunt. Your desperate apology is cut off by a reflexive wanton moan, your back arching as pleasure reverberates inside you.

“‘S okay, baby, I understand. So fuckin’ desperate you had to use me while I was sleepin’, huh? Didn’t get what you wanted earlier so now you’re searchin’ for somethin’ else, hm?”

His large hand finds your waist again, sliding down your stomach to inch beneath both your shorts and your panties now. You gasp as his fingertips find your clit easily.

“I’m just a ‘lil offended I wasn’t your first choice,” he chides, fingers slipping through your soaking folds. “But I like this much better than you findin’ some boy to get you off. You need’a be fucked by a man, darlin’. Ain’t that right?”

His words send heat straight to your core, thighs clenching around his knee as he ruts it against you while simultaneously stimulating your clit with his fingers.

“Yes, Joel,” you moan. “Need you.”

His teeth scrape against your throat when he growls, “Goddamn right you do.”

You can’t believe this is happening.

Joel slides his hand further into your panties, his middle finger curling in to sink into your soaked cunt. You choke on a gasp.

“Who’s the guy?” He asks, randomly, while his finger rocks into you.

You can’t think as Joel inserts his ring finger alongside the other, stretching you so deliciously. “W-what?”

“The boy you were gonna see tonight. Who is he?”

Who was it? Mark? Matt? And why does he care? You don’t know, you don’t care, only thoughts of Joel Joel Joel consume your waking being.

“I—I don’t know, Joel. Please, oh my god.”

He hums pityingly. “Poor thing can't even remember his name.” His other hand comes up to slide through your hair, gripping the locks at the nape of your neck. He tugs, and you melt. “I’ll make sure you don’t forget mine.”

He doesn’t need to worry about that.

Joel moves his thumb to circle your clit as he thrusts his thick, long fingers up and into you, curling them to hit that spot that has your heartbeat dropping between your thighs, desperate and loud and begging for release.

“Hhhoh— Joel!”

“Tha’s right, baby. So goddamn wet. You’ve been dealin’ with this for awhile now, huh?”

You nod into the pillow on a broken moan as his fingers withdraw and sink into you at a steady pace, his thumb circling and circling and circling.

“Words, baby.”

You cry out, hands gripping the pillow. “Yes, yes. Joel. Been wanting this f’so long.”

“Should’a come to me first. Would’a helped you out a long time ago,” he drawls.

Yes you absolutely should have, based on how quickly you’re approaching your orgasm.

Your cries are so loud, but you don’t care, focusing only on your pleasure and the feel of Joel’s mouth on your throat.

You’re finally getting what you want. And fuck, is it amazing.

Your eyes roll back as it all builds up inside you, Joel’s hand unrelenting as he fucks you closer and closer to the edge.

You’re scorching, everything hot and intense, your stomach tightening, your legs stretching out as the pleasure builds and builds.

Fuck, you’re gonna cum—

It rips through you violently, eyes prickling with tears, your thighs clenching as your walls bare down repeatedly around Joel’s fingers, making him groan.

“Good girl,” Joel murmurs, hand eventually inching out of you and your shorts to squeeze your thigh appreciatively as aftershocks run through you, thighs quaking and clit throbbing. “That’s what you needed, huh? S’it feel good, cummin’ all over my fingers?”

His fucking voice!

“Mhmm,” you hum in agreement, sinking into the sheets, eyes drooping shut as pleasure lulls you to sleep.

He tsks, “Wake up, darlin’ I ain’t done with you yet.”

His beard scrapes against your neck as he moves to your ear.

“It’s my turn to use you.”

Your eyes shoot open. Fuck.

Joel pulls your panties down your legs as far as he can, and you squirm to wriggle them off of you.

He pulls away for a moment, but when he’s back, the bare, hot, thick length of him is pressed between your ass cheeks, and a full body shudder runs through you.

Holy shit, he’s big.

He grips your thigh again, but this time he throws it over his own. And then you feel it, the slick head of his cock as he guides it through your folds.

Oh fuck.

“You okay, peach?” He asks, laying a gentle kiss on your shoulder. Now you have tears in your eyes for an entirely different reason. His hand slides across your waist and up beneath the hem of your shirt, palming your breast. Your nipples tighten.

Your mouth feels dry and you swallow down a lump of lava. “Y-yes, Joel.”

“Good. Wanna give you all of me, how’s that sound, darlin’?”

You will take whatever, anything you can get from Joel.

“Good, Joel. Yes, please, oh my god.”

“There are those manners.”

A desperate whine slips from your lips as he directs the head of his cock into you, slowly and carefully, his hand running up and down your thigh in comforting strokes. God, he’s stretching you so much, hot and thick and pulsing inside you. It’s almost painful, but it’s a welcome pain.

“Jesus, Joel,” you moan when he stops to let you breathe, “You’re so big.”

“I ain’t even halfway in yet, darlin’.”

“W-what?” How is that even possible?

“You can take it.” He says, sliding in some more and fuck you don’t have much of a choice. but you can, and you will because he feels too fucking good, and you’re ready for him to make you feel it into next week.

“Is…is it all the way in yet?” You ask, thoroughly stretched and filled.

“Almost, sweet girl,” he breathes. “Goddamn, you’re tight.”

That makes you clench down even more, and he releases a pained groan behind you. “Relax, darlin’, c’mon.”

You do your best and let yourself sink into the bed, taking deep breaths and concentrating on the crackling of the fire.

And then, he thrusts fully into you, filling you up completely, and your mind is right back to him, a soft cry slipping from your lips into the pillow.

“There we go, tha’s it. Good job. Taking me so well,” he croons, stroking your side.

“F-fuck me, Joel, please move.”

He squeezes your ass in his large palm in retaliation to your command. “You use me, I use you, remember?”

But he listens anyway, likely desperate to move himself, because then he’s gripping your hip with a large hand and pulling back just to sheath himself fully into you once more, his cock head bumping against your cervix, and holy fucking shit.

“Joel!” You cry, and he leans over to kiss you, teeth biting at your plump lower lip as he thrusts into you again.

And again.

He rolls into you at a steady, bruising pace, and you’re practically boneless as you just take it. Cries and whimpers and moans spilling out of you like a gas leak as he mouths down your throat, sucking and biting and oh my god this is way better than just getting yourself off on his hand.

Then Joel shifts, pushing at your side to press your stomach into the mattress. You whine as he pulls out of you to situate himself behind you. He grabs your hips with both hands and pulls them up and backwards, easing himself back into you until your ass meets his skin, then he rolls his hips, driving his cock deep from a brand new angle.

All you can do is sob into the pillow.

He’s so fucking big, so fucking deep you can’t think of anything else besides him and his wonderful cock, or the filthy things he’s whispering into your shoulder blades.

His large hand plants itself on your spine, and your hands scramble for purchase on a pillow.

“Sweet girl, taking me so fuckin’ well,” he purrs. “You were desperate for this cock, huh? God, I wish you could see yourself. Split open on me like this. Your little boy toy wouldn’t be able to fuck you like this, ain’t that right?"

You shake your head. God, why did you even make that dick appointment in the first place?

You hadn’t even realized what being fucked by a “real man” meant until now.

Joel knows how to fucking deliver, you guess that’s why he’s so successful in his contracting business. He’s delivering you straight to that blessed release.

You clench around the girth of him, the filthy sounds of your arousal echoing in his room along with the cracks and snaps from the fire burning steadily in the hearth.

If you couldn’t sleep before, you definitely will be able to after this because you’re mindless as he fucks you into oblivion.

“Joel, fuck—mmph—!”

“Yeah, that’s right. Can’t say anythin’ but my name.”

His breathing has become more labored, desperate grunts escaping his lips as his cock twitches inside of you. He’s getting close, deep and gravely moans falling out of him as his thrusts become harder and more sporadic.

His hand sneaks around your front, spanning your entire stomach as he slides down to your soaking folds, his middle and ring finger finding that sensitive bundle of nerves and giving them a gentle tap before circling, using that same method from before that had you squirming.

You writhe on his length, legs falling out beneath you as your orgasm swells within you.

“Please Joel,” you whimper into the pillow.

“I’ve got you,” he promises.

It’s there, filling your body, building and cresting and searing white-hot through your limbs.

And then he thrusts a certain way, hitting that spot within you, and his fingers are circling and—

Yeah.

You fall boneless to the mattress as you come apart, your arousal coating Joel’s cock as he continues to fuck you through your release, stroking your spine. Pleasure floods through your body as the tension releases, and tears freely fall as you cry into the pillow.

Because goddamn it!

How can something feel so good?

And then Joel’s pulling out of you and letting loose a long, satisfied moan as he comes all over your back, hot stripes painting you.

He collapses next to you, groaning something about his back.

And you can’t help but laugh, delirious and soft, and Joel’s laughing too, brown eyes sparkling. His calloused hand comes up, runs his thumb along your jaw, and he’s smiling at you, soft and unlike anything you’ve ever seen before.

“You alright, peach?”

“Ohhh yeah,” you giggle, sighing with contentment.

You’re gonna be feeling this for days, just like you wanted.

Joel’s lips brush against your forehead gently, and you’re too tired to acknowledge it, slumber pulling you under far too quickly. You think you can feel the gentle swipe of a wet washcloth on your back before you pass out.

-----

“Fuck…”

The bed is empty when you wake, and a spike of anxiety shoots through you as you sit up. A fire still crackles in the hearth, a fresh log dropped in the ash. On the night stand is a note, beneath it, one of Joel’s t-shirts, your jeans, and a pair of your underwear.

Mortification climbs through you as you read:

Peach,

My bathroom’s on the left if you’d like to shower. I hope you don’t mind, I went through your bag to get you some panties underwear. Lot of books in there. You sure like to read.

Oh god, he found your erotica stack. The covers are not misleading, either, he definitely knows what kind of books they are. You force yourself to keep reading through the humiliation.

I’m out picking up Sarah and Ellie, I’ll be home soon. There’s pancakes on the counter. We’ll tow your car when I get back.

Also–about last night…we don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to. But, I want you to know that if you ever need something like that again, I’m here. And for anything else. I’m here. Always.

See you soon.

Warmth fills your body and you reread those last sentences over and over.

Always. Does he really mean that?

You check the alarm clock on his nightstand–it’s eleven fucking a.m. Holy shit, you haven’t slept that late in a long time.

When you stand, an ache radiates through you, and memories of last night flit in your mind and along with them, a fresh new wave of arousal. You scramble for the shower.

You emerge fresh and clean twenty minutes later, smelling like Joel, having only his body wash and shampoo to use. Each inhale is practically torture, and the ache between your legs is just another reminder. Seeing yourself in his shirt makes it worse. You try and push it away.

You descend the steps, halting when you hear the sound of Ellie’s voice from the kitchen.

“And I was like, pew pew! And I got both of them out!”

Sarah’s scoff of disbelief follows. “Nuh-uh! You didn’t even hit me!”

You creep down the steps, smiling a bit at Ellie’s outcry of “Yes I fucking did!”, and then you hear it–Joel’s low laugh, the Texan drawl.

“You kiddos are gonna drive me crazy. Just eat your damn pancakes.”

“Why’d you make these in the first place? You don’t even like pancakes,” Sarah teases.

“Uh…”

You decide you should probably help him out. “Hey girls.”

Three heads snap in your direction. The eyes of one skirting down your body, a blush creeping across his cheeks. The other two brighten in shock.

“What are you doing here!” Ellie gasps.

“We haven’t seen you in forever!” Sarah adds.

You enter the kitchen and come up behind them to pull them in for a hug, your arms hooking around their necks. You smush their cheeks against yours. Ellie grumbles, Sarah laughs.

“I know! I’ve missed you guys so much. I’m just super busy with being an adult and all that shit,” you say, letting them go so they can breathe. You round the island, grabbing a plate and stacking two pancakes on it.

“Well, stop being busy. We miss you,” Ellie says.

“If I could, I would.”

“Why are you wearing Dad’s shirt?” Sarah asks, eyes narrowing, a mischievous smile pulling at her lips.

“I–um–” the question catches you off guard, and you scramble for an excuse, eyes flicking to Joel desperately. He clears his throat and crosses his arms over his broad chest, now covered in yet another, dark flannel. How many does he own?

“Snowstorm stranded her here last night, and she didn’t have any clean clothes,” Joel says, definitively.

It’s not a lie at all, and yet, it feels like one.

Sarah and Ellie exchange a look that says, yeah fucking right. You shovel pancake into your mouth to try and cool down the blush in your cheeks.

“Speakin’ of,” he continues, “I’ve got the tow dolly all hooked up so when you’re done, we can tow your car out.”

“Great. Thank you, Joel.”

His brown eyes flick between yours, his hand coming up to rest large and warm on your shoulder. “‘Course, sweetheart.”

You finish your pancakes without any more embarrassing questions from the girls, thank God, and then you’re out in the snow wearing a pair of Joel’s boots stuffed with socks (they’re too big, but they’re better than heels) and bundled up in one of his coats, watching Joel tow your tiny car out of the snowbank.

It’s just as cold as yesterday, though the dreary sky has cleared into a baby blue, the sun bright and high above the clouds. The roads are clearer, the snow plows having come by not too long ago.

You grimace as you hear your car groan and creak as Joel pulls it out of the snow, big puffs of it falling off the roof in clumps. Eventually, it’s on solid ground once more, and he tows it back toward his cabin.

Back in the driveway, Joel hops out of his truck and double checks your car. He pats the roof of it when he deems it accetable. “All good to go, sweetheart.”

You sigh in relief, “Thank you so much Joel, seriously.”

He nods, though he looks…nervous for some reason. “‘Course, darlin’. Glad I could help.”

You don’t really want to leave, but you’ve bothered him long enough, so you stroll to the driver's side and go to open it, but suddenly Joel’s hand comes down to keep it closed. You look up at him confused.

His expression is hard, serious as he looks down at you. “Do you regret last night?”

Well. You were not expecting that. You thought that, maybe, it would just remain undiscussed. A blip. Something you both shared, but never spoke of again. You know your answer, though.

“No. I don’t.”

“Good,” he says, eyes dark, “me either.”

He opens the door for you, pauses for a second then shuts it, voice desperate. “I just need to say this, before you go.”

You nod, encouraging him to go on.

He takes a deep breath, rakes a hand through his graying locks. Pinches the bridge of his nose, and shuts his eyes tight. When he opens them again, there's a hard determination in them. Your pulse quickens, your legs turn to jelly.

“I like you, peach,” he says. “I understand if you don’t want to be with me because of the whole single father thing. And, also because I’m me. But I just thought I’d tell you how I felt, because,” he huffs out a laugh, shakes his head, “I’m thinkin’ you might like me, too.”

Your hands are shaking, and not because of the cold. Maybe you should buy a lottery ticket with how lucky you've been these past fifteen hours.

“I’ve liked you since the moment I met you, Joel," you confess.

“Oh,” he says, breathless, and a smile pulls at his lips.

“Yeah,” you breathe, your own grin forming to match his.

The breeze shakes the evergreens, drifting flakes of snow onto Joel’s graying hair. His nose is reddened by the biting cold, but his eyes are warm as he smiles down at you.

“Not gonna lie to you sweetheart, I’m kind of glad you got stranded here.”

"Yeah, me too," you laugh, and then you pull him down to you, pressing your lips against his, smiling into the kiss.

This kiss is the exact opposite of the one he gave you last night. It’s careful, sweet, tentative. He reveres your mouth, rather than ravishes it. You’re both bundled in multiple layers, standing in the freezing cold rather than lying naked in a warm bed.

And yet, it’s just as perfect, if not more.

Eventually Joel pulls back, hands heavy on your waist. He’s still grinning. His hands frame your face, his thumb running softly along your cheekbone.

“Peach,” he says. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #tlou #tlou fic #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #joel miller

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wynnyfryd · 6 months

Text

Trailer park Steve AU part 61

part 1 | part 60 | ao3

cw: mentions of canonical minor character death

Chapter 14

It's twilight by the time they make their way to Rick's place — gnat clouds swarming, sun dipped low, Lover's Lake an inky smudge beyond the blur of passing pines. Steve’s not totally sure how they got here, this dusty service road that's more pothole than pavement; one minute he's bitching about doomed love and double VHS, the next he’s taking the scenic route to a drug den.

There were some important moments in between, he’s pretty sure.

He’s also pretty sure he blacked out somewhere around the moment the morning news reported that an-unidentified-Hawkins-student-who-very-well-could-be-Eddie-Munson was found dead in his fucking trailer.

Kinda difficult to resurface from that one.

Feels like his soul’s got swimmer’s ear.

Even hours later — after Dustin and Max burst into Family Video talking a mile a minute about how Eddie was alive and they needed to use the phones; after Ernie stupidly gave a reporter Steve’s name, swearing up and down on the TV that his neighbor Steve Harrington was an upstanding young man who would never do something like this; after they spent an agonizingly long afternoon lying low and taking backroads to avoid the cops because the cops probably suspect Steve of murder now, oh god—

“It’s this next right up ahead,” Max says from the back seat. There's a map spread over the bench between her and Dustin, and Steve blinks himself awake; gives her a nod in the rearview.

Beside her, Dustin’s munching on Twizzlers he stole from the store — window down, easy slouch, just way too chipper for the situation at hand. "So Steve," he says conversationally, "now that you're a fugitive, does that mean—?"

Steve cuts Robin a pleading look.

Robin reaches back and smacks the little twerp upside the head.

"Ow!" Dustin whines.

"Shut up, please," Robin smiles.

Max makes a sound like she's trying not to laugh and checks the map again. "Right here," she says, pointing. "After that weird tree stump."

They turn onto another road that could be generously described as paved, once, several decades ago, and eventually, the winding path lets out onto a slightly nicer street. Aging but cared for, Holland Road is a crowded row of little lake houses, trailers and shacks with manicured shrubs and chipped fence paint, weeds growing through the sidewalks beneath pristine American flags. Steve pulls into the driveway of #2121.

It looks abandoned. Dark inside and out, a truck parked on the curb that's likely been there for a while, its tires sagging in a mulch of old wet leaves. There’s an autumn wreath on the front door.

“You sure this is the place?” he asks as they climb out of the car.

Max sasses him for questioning her navigation skills, Dustin unsuccessfully tries to land a revenge slap on Robin — a move that earns him a retaliation wedgie and a wrestling match he was never gonna win — and Steve pops the trunk and feels a hundred years old. Feels every bit the exhausted dad trying to keep the family road trip together as he grabs his nail bat and slings his duffel over his shoulder.

"You planning to spend the night?" Dustin teases from Robin's armpit, still bent double where she's got him in a headlock.

"No, just-" he drops the bag at their feet with a grunt, “doesn’t hurt to be prepared.”

Dustin’s eyes bug out. “Is that a can of goddamn bear mace?”

“Keep your voice down!” Steve hisses.

“You keep your voice down!”

"Should I just go ahead and choke him out?" Robin offers.

Steve considers it for a second: knock 'em all out, stuff 'em back inside the car. Go do this shit quietly by himself.

He rolls his eyes and puts his hands on his hips.

"You're no fun," she pouts, but she lets Dustin go.

Dustin grabs flashlights and walkies out of the bag, passes them around the circle. They take a moment to steel themselves — huddled together in the dark, shoulders tense, the creepy house looming ahead. Sharp shadows stretch toward them. Croaking sounds creeping from the edges of the lake.

Robin puts her flashlight under her chin like she's about to tell a scary story. "Alright, kiddos," she says in a deep, ominous voice. "Let's go rescue Steve's ex."

Stunned silence in the sudden vacuum her words create. Steve lets out a tired sigh. Dustin’s jaw is on the curb.

“His WHAT?” Dustin shouts.

Oh, my god. “He’s not my ex."

Robin rolls her eyes and says ‘sure’ under her breath, and Max turns to Dustin, laughing. “You didn’t know they were a thing?”

“We’re not—” Steve tries again.

“What were you trying to get them back together for then?”

She seems genuinely curious. Dustin seems three seconds from spontaneous combustion. “What was I WHAT?!” he yelps, limbs everywhere. Reminds Steve of Eddie so bad it hurts.

“Okay,” Steve interrupts, clapping them both on the shoulder; drops his voice to a harsh whisper. “In case you two forgot, we’re here to rescue Eddie.”

“Who you’re dating.”

Dustin’s voice is small, disconnected, his gaze far away. Like he’s shellshocked.

“Jesus Christ.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. “I— Yes. No. It’s complicated.”

Max snorts at his answer, Dustin makes a series of faces like he's gonna need seven years to process, and Robin interrupts his crisis by waving her flashlight like a traffic guard, walking backward up the hill as she directs them toward the house.

“Why don’t we just go find him first?” she suggests, making a rainbow with her hands, flinging light through the grimy windows. “And then Stevie here can answer alllll your big gay questions.”

Steve glares at Robin. Dustin glares at him, narrowed eyes for a full ten seconds like 'yeah, you fucking better,' and then he takes off up the driveway hollering Eddie's name.

—

part 62

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #max mayfield #dustin henderson #reefer rick #my writing #my fic

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obeymematches · 5 months

Text

MC acting oblivious!

since you're accepting hcs now, how about an mc whos a big tease/bully (aka mammons worst nightmare lol)? im quick to realize when someone has a crush on me and when i like them back i turn into the biggest tease on earth until the other person confesses. im good at acting oblivious so its always "wait, they cant possibly know i like them, right??" poor, poor souls lmao. so im wondering how the brothers+undateables would handle an mc like that! keep up the great work! 💕

Hi, good to see you again !!! <3

okay i love this so much lets go !

Lucifer:

Okay so in his case it’s mentioned several times that he is in love with the MC so this ain’t just some crush he’s being teased about but that’s one of the reasons why he loves you so much.

He is rather guarded emotianlly as his pride isn’t going to let him just fall for anyone. But once he does he is not going to deny it!

Lucifer is someone who will ask you out on a date without a warning. The only thing you might notice beforehead is that he spends suspiciously lots of his time with you. (by a lot in his case I mean something in between 30 and 60 mins every second day. he’s a busy man)

Him: My schedule is tight today but I would like to spend time with you, MC, would you care to join me at a confectionary? MC: sounds like you’re very busy, are you sure about that? 🥺 Him, slightly offended but still lovingly: Yes, MC. Let me express myself better... would you please have a date with me today? MC: oh....um-

Mammon:

● oh god, oh jesus, oh no

● We all know The Great Mammon has a hard time admitting his feelings out loud, with words, bluntly.

● So the way I see it, the situation is about to be Awkward As Hell.

● Mammon is clearly sweating, butterflies occupying his entire stomach, he fiddles with his nails.

● Him: So MC, I was thinking- I mean I'm thinking- wanna go skating with me tonight?

MC: Oh that's a very romantic idea- but I think friends don't just go skating, you know.

Him: Friends??! I don't wanna be just your friend MC-

You: Then? Then what?

Him: Goddamn I- I just want to be yours- Jesus ya are makin' it so difficult MC, it is not easy as is!!

Leviathan:

● ahh the frustrated face he makes through this conversation isn't just a facade. He really is stressing right now.

● Him: MC.... there is something I must tell you. And you only. Please listen and don't tell anyone!

MC: Don't worry Levi, I too hate people who gossip-

Him: No it's not like that. I have a desire in my heart that I must share with you as you are the most special person I ever met and I can only hope you feel the same way for me and- I feel so embarassed but I've been meaning to ask you this- would you be my partner? My player 2?

MC: well if you wanted me to play you could have just said so like you always do-

Levi: What?? Is that what you understood? No MC you don't get it! Ahhh I knew I shouldn't have asked you my chances with you are close to zero-

MC: Wait Levi I'm so sorry-

Satan:

● You could tell he was acting different these past couple of days. He was texting you more, he offered to spend more time with you- it was obvious he likes you.

● He knocked on your bedroom door and as you liked him just as much as he liked you, of course you let him in.

● I think you acting like you don't know what's going on turns him on? Like he know you ain't stupid. He knows you like him at least a little bit too, otherwise he wouldn't be here talking with you.

● Him: So MC, are you free now?

MC: Well, it depends on how you define "free" I think.

Him: Oh quit it please.

MC: I would if I knew what you were up to right now-

Him: Alright. You are going to make it more complicated, I see. In this case, meet me at 4PM at the common room. Please. I'd like to take you on a date if you're free.

MC: Inside the house? Weird if you ask me-

Him: ...... you are right actually. Let's meet at the park then. Don't be late.

Asmo:

● Again he would absolutely love you acting like you noticed nothing when he couldn't be more clear about what he wants.

● He knows this game though & he is quicker than you are.

● Him, cuddling you: So MC I have been thinking about us....what are we?

● MC: We are.... the best. Me, a human, and you, a demon.

Him: Nooooo, you know that's not what I meant!!!

MC: Well I don't know what you mean Asmo. Aren't we though?

Him: Aren't we what? A human and a demon?? Ahhhhg stop playing with me MC!

Beelzebub:

● Ohh babe is going to believe you actually don't know what' going on-

● I think he'd find it funny when he realizes you were just acting like such-

Him: MC. I like you.

MC: Okay, I like you too. That's why I'm your friend.

Him: Yes we are friends I know... but to me you are the first person I want to talk to if anything happens, good or bad... you are on my mind all the time, no matter what- I haven't felt like this in my entire life- you are the most special person to me, MC.

MC: Ohhh... I didn't realize-

Him: I only went out with Mammon yesterday because I thought... I was hoping you'd be there to, that you'd join... I just wanted to spend more time with you. But you weren't there. Let's go somewhere together today- I mean, if you want to-

Belphegor:

● MC you are about to annoy him to deatg to be fair.

● Depending on his mood he might join you though!!!

Him: So human- I mean MC. Let's hang out today.

MC: We already do.

Him: I meant as a date, stop playing stupid.

MC: I don't like being called stupid. Is this how you are asking me out on a date??

Him: See I knew you knew what I meant!

MC: Why would you ask me on a date though, aren't we just friends?

Him: .....

Him: We could change that- I want to be your one and only.

MC: Well if you are my one and only friend I might get lonely when you're too busy for me though-

Him: Stop it don't say another word. Are you coming today or not? MC? You listening?

MC: you just asked me to shut up-

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chxrryhxrt · 16 days

Text

To Mordor and back, part 2 - Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Read part 1 here!

Synopsis: You and Eddie’s anniversary is approaching, and you call upon Steve Harrington to assist you in planning it. However, when you’re seen spending too much time with him, how will Eddie deal with it?

Warnings: angst, swearing, emotionally constipated Eddie (but he gets over it) and fluff

Part two is finally done!!!!! Talk about a long wait (2 whole years 😭😭) I really hope you enjoy!

Eddie’s eyes flickered over the letter, his fingers still tightly grasping onto it. With each reread, understanding washed over him and he felt as if he was experiencing the five stages of goddamn idiocy in real time.

In this moment, thousands of thoughts were flying through his mind: ‘Have I ruined it? Is she okay? Will she ever forgive me?’ What stood out to him however, more than anything, was the faintly familiar feeling of paralysis. Feet melded with the ground and his eyebrows furrowed as he gripped onto the roots of his hair and tugged, willing his body to do something – anything.

He had not felt this way in a long time, not since he was seven, young and small, not yet wise to the give and take of the world. Now, as he stood there beside the mailbox, Eddie remembered. He remembered his father standing tall above him, with not so much as a frown on his face; he remembered wanting nothing more than to see his mum again.

He supposed it was strange, the way that new heartbreak can reignite old heartbreak, because in this moment all he wanted was to see his mum again, and he wanted her to be waiting by her side.

Finally, a coherent thought surfaced – he was going to fix this.

Legs broke free from their confines, and he found himself racing inside, paying no heed to the mess he had made last night in the depths of his misery. There was a metallic jingling as he scooped his keys off the kitchen counter, and a scratching as he wrote Wayne a note on the back of a receipt.

It read: ‘Be back soon. Super sorry about the mess, will clean later!’

His van pulled up outside your house, screeching loudly as it parked. Despite this, it still managed to be a less obnoxious arrival than usual, as no metal music erupted from the radio, the only sound being his laboured breaths as he clambered out of the driver’s seat and headed to your door.

In his frenzied state, he had forgone shoes and was yet to change out of the clothes he haphazardly threw on earlier this morning. Hence, rather than hurrying down the cobbled pathway, he found himself hobbling, his socked feet carrying him as fast as they could given the insistent jabbing sensation on his soles.

Eventually, having reached the front of your house with his feet still intact, he rang the doorbell.

He waited, admittedly rather impatiently, for a couple of minutes before deciding to ring again.

Having concluded that there was no movement within the house, Eddie wondered if perhaps the bell was broken, so he knocked, the hard sound of knuckles against wood echoing throughout the door.

This time, when no lights flicked on and no silhouettes moved behind the curtained windowpanes, he decided to scout around the sides of your house.

Had he not been so desperate to speak with you, he might have cared more about how creepy he looked, pushing the gate to your garden open and peering into every window he came across.

At one point, he contemplated pushing his head in through the cat flap, but quickly decided against it as visions of getting himself stuck flooded his imagination.

After the long night yesterday and the subsequent late wake up, Eddie found that it was already beginning to pass into evening. Having ascertained that nobody was at home, he thought it best to leave. Although he needed frantically to see you, he was in an enough improved headspace to know that if you came home to find him lurking in your backyard it would not help his case.

The drive back to the trailer park was even than the quieter than the ride to your house had been - just Eddie and his thoughts.

He was almost done with the journey, the tarmac laid out in front of him and the turning for his road on the right. He intended on trying his luck again tomorrow, his hopes of ever reconciling this stupid stupid miscommunication with you plummeting.

His palms sweated, loosening his grip on the steering wheel as he swerved indecisively, half a mind set on turning right to go home, the other half wanting to drive aimlessly for a little while longer.

Having now missed his opportunity to head back to the trailer, he set his sight firmly on street, watching as smaller roads peeled off and the tyres span on cars ahead of him. He saw a flock of birds dip down from the skyline, a backdrop of orange silhouetting them. Then, he noticed a sign ahead for Lover’s Lake.

He pulled onto the dirt path; bated breath exhaled, glad to have something to do – other than sitting and letting his worries brew into a storm.

Stones and pebbles crunched beneath the van as he parked up, pulled the keys out of ignition and hopped out of his seat. He began to round the vehicle, grimacing at the many scuffs littering the bodywork, hurriedly looking away and pretending he had not noticed them. This was his philosophy for most things – if he never acknowledged the damage, it did not need to be repaired. He simply lacked the cash to spend on these sorts of things.

He passed through the wall of trees lining the lake, taking in the view. It helped, being out in nature. At least until he noticed someone sitting by the shore.

Eddie had not really considered this. Lover’s Lake had been a frequent date spot for the two of you in the early days of your relationship, but he truly did not expect to see you there, toes dipped in the water.

Not quite sure what to do with himself, he shuffled over to you and clunkily sat himself down, in true, awkward Eddie style, frightening you in the process.

As your eyes looked up at him now, their normal colour was muddied by a sheen of tears, which in turn, made his own well up.

Today he had spent much time thinking, and there was one thing he could not help but realise. His behaviour last night had been undeniably reminiscent of his father - the man he swore to never become. Now, as he perched beside you, he realised something else. In this moment he had the chance to change that, to do something his father never had. Feel.

With that, Eddie tugged you into his arms and before you could tell him off, attempt to remind him that you were not currently on good terms, you felt tears soaking into your collarbone where he had nestled his head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, body shaking with each sob, “I’m so so sorry, you don’t understand.”

You brought your palm up to the back of his head and reciprocated the embrace.

“You didn’t do anything wrong Eddie, I shouldn’t have been sneaking around,” you reassured, voice matching his, soft in cadence.

“No-“ he pulled away from you now, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt- “you were just trying to do something nice, I should’ve trusted you.” He looked you in the eyes, before correcting himself. “I do trust you.”

Your mouth curved up as you smiled, “Do you think we could just call this whole thing over? Maybe?” Your pupils raked over him, overjoyed to see him again. “Like, just go back to how things were before this whole Steve thing?”

Eddie nodded, wild hair bouncing around. He sidled up to you, resting his head on your shoulder again, watching the lake glimmer under the sunset.

You let your own head drop down now, balanced atop of his own.

Your fingers interlaced and a sound broke the silence as you giggled, “Might I ask why you aren’t wearing shoes?”

Tags:

@ali-r3n @ziggeddie @halfburntout @wypascalis @wildaces @lokiscure @justforeddiemunson @korelily

some of you asked to be tagged in part two wayyyyy back when i posted part one in 2022, i wasn’t sure whether to tag you now or not but i just thought why not! i hope you all enjoyed it and thank you so much for supporting me!! 🩷🩷

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #chxrryhxrt writes #stranger things season 4

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fastcardotmp3 · 2 years

Text

thinking about Max and the Munson's living across the way from each other post s3 again, but maybe specifically Max living across the way from Wayne post s3.

Wayne Munson knows what a kid looks like when they hide behind well practiced and carefully crafted defense mechanisms, after all, and he recognizes a kid with too much responsibility on their shoulders.

He sees this teenage girl with the pigtails and the hard eyes who doesn't answer the door when her friends come to call even though Wayne saw her sitting on the porch twenty minutes ago; who is always the one bringing groceries home on foot even when her mom's car is there; whose bedroom light is too frequently on when Wayne gets home before the sun even has the chance to think about rising.

And he's not gonna overstep about it, he has no intention of making this girl uncomfortable because he is a stranger to her and he knows how both he and Eddie look on a first glance, wouldn't blame her for not being entirely trusting, but he keeps an eye out for her anyway.

Tells Eddie too-- "She's home alone a lot, you make sure no one tries takin' advantage, hear?"-- even if Eddie is mostly preoccupied with his own shit most of the time, because if Wayne can recognize a kid hiding, a kid carrying too much around on that skateboard of hers, then Eddie certainly can too.

"You adopting another stray, old man?" is Eddie's response, but he glances out through the blinds at the trailer across the way with a heaviness to his shoulders in understanding at the sight of that girl sitting on the porch with her headphones on and a school book in her lap that she's decidedly not paying any attention.

"Something like that," Wayne claps him on the shoulder, squeezes as he passes by, but he doesn't think anything will really come of it.

There's not much they can do except keep an eye out, carry the Mayfields' paper up to the porch on rainy days so it won't get soggy and unreadable, offer a wave and a kind word and a reminder that "if your Mama ain't home and you need something, you just give us a knock," despite the brush off he gets every time.

And then one night-- one morning really, before the sun is about to rise-- Wayne pulls up at home after his shift to find Eddie standing out in the snow, odd enough in and of itself made odder by the fact he isn't alone.

"--don't know what you think you're gonna accomplish here at four in the goddamned morning, Harrington, but--"

"I mean, that doesn't feel like any of your business."

"You're parked outside my home, yeah it's my business," Eddie gestures broadly at the unfamiliar BMW the two of them are standing next to as Wayne clambers out of his own truck on tired legs and overworked shoulders.

He needs a hot shower, a good, long sleep.

But Eddie is getting in this other kid's face and it's--

"I'm parked outside that home," Harrington, big coat and gloves but thin pajama pants poking out underneath it all, points at the Mayfield trailer with exhausted exasperation and something tinged with a bit more urgency too, "and I don't know you, man, nothing I do is any of your business--"

"Steve come in-- do you have visual yet, over?"

"Jesus Christ," Harrington reaches into the front seat of his car, yanks out a radio that has Wayne's eyebrows shooting up even as he approaches them, the impatient and anxious shift of Eddie's untied sneakers in the December slush. "Gimme a minute," he says into the walkie-talkie, "I told you I'd call when I did."

"Yeah, but it only takes you ten minutes to drive to her place and--"

Harrington shoves the antenna down and shuts the thing off, just as Wayne finally stops beside his nephew with a hand at his elbow.

"Everything alright here, boys?"

Wayne knows his kid, is the thing, so he knows the protective tension in the cross of those arms, the furrow of his brow, knows that Eddie is maybe seeing himself in Max Mayfield a little too fully on this night, dragged out of his bed by god only knows what to argue with a Harrington in the brisk wind of winter.

And Wayne knows his kid, so he recognizes the work of his jaw when he's about to burst out into a spiel to make himself the target instead of whoever he's put behind him this time around, but he doesn't get the chance to start before he's being interrupted.

"Steve, why are you harassing my neighbors."

Flat and unimpressed but shaky around the edges like she's not quite getting enough air, the orange glow of the light inside her trailer spilling out past her into the blue of night as Steve Harrington's legs all but give out with a breath of--

"Oh, thank god," he shuts the door to his car behind him as he takes a few steps closer to him, Eddie trailing like he's ready to literally put his body between them instead of just figuratively, "are you okay?"

"I'm not the one driving around town in the middle of the night, what are you doing here?" she crosses her arms, doesn't leave the cracked doorway at the top of the steps and Harrington doesn't try to climb them either.

And then it's a quick, well-punctuated punch of a conversation in which Wayne feels like he's missing about half the facts, standing by nonetheless.

"Lucas walkied."

"I told him I was fine."

"You called him at three A.M. and hung up on him without explanation," Steve points out surprisingly levelly.

"Yeah. After I told him I was fine."

"Max."

"I thought I wanted to talk about it and changed my mind."

"You know he'd listen."

"I can't-- you know I can't--"

"Yes you can."

"Not about him. Not to Lucas."

"To me, then," Steve throws his hands up in exasperation, and Wayne can feel something crackling in the air.

It's the same thing that had been there the first handful of times Eddie had picked a fight with Wayne after he first moved to Hawkins, looking for the line, looking for how far he could go before it all went to shit again.

Wayne knows this girl, even if he doesn't know her, because years ago he'd brought a boy with a buzzcut for a visit and he'd never left.

Which is maybe why he speaks up even though he knows how that boy would've reacted.

"If you need something, kiddo..."

"I need everyone to leave me alone," she snaps, striding out all the way onto the porch, only the bravado of it falters when the door slams shut behind her and she all but jumps out of her skin. "Fuck. God, shit, that door--"

She opens it again, yanks it nearly off its hinges just to slam it once more like she's trying to break the thing.

And now she's definitely not getting enough air. Now she's--

"Max, hey, alright--"

"Buddy, I dunno--"

"Back off, Munson, this is really not your business," Harrington shoves past Eddie and strides up the steps as Max slumps down onto the top one, arms wrapped around herself and Eddie looks ready to fight but Wayne just.

He doesn't know Steve Harrington, doesn't even really know his family beyond the way of small towns and knowing names and the neighborhoods in which they reside, but he knows a kid in distress leaning towards safety even if they don't believe they deserve it and Max Mayfield is leaning towards him.

Not Wayne, not Eddie, but this kid with the walkie-talkie and-- is he wearing two different shoes?

Wayne waits the compulsory moment to see Max really fall apart, right there into the fabric of Steve's coat as she keeps her hands tucked under her arms but catches her breath with that one point of contact-- forehead to shoulder-- as Steve speaks gently, words getting caught in the wind. As she stutters out rattling feelings right back.

"The door slammed when she left for work and I-- thought he was-- back again-- I thought-- and I shouldn't've-- not Lucas-- not for, for this--"

Wayne crosses the distance between him and Eddie, hand on his shoulder dragging him out of his own head, wherever it is he goes when his gaze goes glassy and tired like it does now in the gray glow of this place as the snow starts up again.

"You did good," Wayne murmurs, tugging Eddie back towards their own home, just across the way. "Good job, Ed, she's gonna be okay."

"She's..." Eddie clears his throat, looks so much younger than he is for a moment.

"Being looked after," Wayne says with a certainty he wouldn't have felt about the matter a day ago, Eddie following him listlessly back up the steps to the unlocked front door. "You did good."

"I didn't do anything," Eddie frowns, the pink of his cheeks and his nose practically glowing once they're inside.

"You showed her you've got her back," Wayne tells him without room for argument, pulling off his winter coat and moving to heat up water on the stove even as Eddie peeks through the curtains again, seemingly unable to accept that nothing bad is going to happen tonight.

Wayne can't be sure what put him in this state of mind, how he even got alerted to Harrington's arrival in the first place, but he knows he'll find his way back to solid ground soon enough.

Hot tea and warm clothes, when Wayne pulls Eddie away from the window, he catches sight of Steve speaking into the walkie with one hand and holding Max to rest against his shoulder with the other.

He'll make sure they get out of the cold before he goes to bed, but for now he has his own kid to sit with in the ghosts of past hauntings brought back to life for the night.

"We gotta keep an eye out for her," Eddie mutters as he accepts the mug Wayne hands him, feet tucked up under a blanket on the couch.

Wayne sits down next to him and props his tired feet up on the coffee table with a heavy breath.

"We will," he says, because he knows there's no discouraging Eddie now.

The kid learned his habit for picking up strays from somewhere, after all.

#dot post #dot fic #this was a three sentence thought that turned into 'oh wait I have feelings to share' so whoops #eddie munson #wayne munson #max mayfield #steve harrington #tw implied child abuse #I entered this fandom having feelings about max and eddie bonding and here I remain

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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year

Note

SPARKS FLY💜✨ - STEVE HARRINGTON PLEASE

sparks fly (steve's version)

warnings: mentions of issues at home for steve, talk of fear in the future

wc: 2k+

a/n: i need steve harrington to just show up to my house and kiss me please please please

Steve Harrington was tired of pretending.

He was tired of pretending his parents weren’t goddamn strangers on their worst days and roommates on their best ones, he was tired of pretending that it didn’t affect him that everyone seemed to believe he had peaked in high school of all times, he was tired of pretending like he wanted the picket fence life set out for him by the adults that had groomed him into their own vision since his youth. But most of all, he was tired of pretending he wasn’t head over heels in love with you.

It was a fight with his parents that triggered it. Another rejection letter had come through from another college, and his dad had resorted to only kicking him while he was down. The one time he had the misfortune of both parents being home, and it was only being used for them to express all their disappointment in him. His father’s tasteless yelling, his mother’s crocodile tears, everything he tried to say back being ignored – he couldn’t fucking take it. He’d left the house with no destination in mind, just jumping into his driver’s seat and knowing he needed to get as far from that godforsaken house as he could.

Distance. He needed distance. And apparently, in his mind, the one place that could take him farther from a house that would never be a home was you.

His tires had squealed during several of the turns taken until he was flying down your street. It’s storming, a nasty and unforgiving rain coming down in sheets. He should really be driving more carefully, but he can’t. His head and heart alike are racing, and every single nerve ending is just screaming for you.

You, with kind and nonjudgmental eyes, who had always supported him. You, who had never paid much mind to all that he once was when he bore the title of King Steve. You, who had somehow captivated him and had been filling this hole within his chest, one shovel-full at a time. With your laughter, with soft bumps of your shoulder when his mind took him too far from you, with patient ears during every single one of his raging rants about his parents.

He wasn’t parking in your driveway this late at night to trouble you with another rant.

His knuckles turn ghostly white from how hard he’s gripping the steering wheel. This is a bad idea. A terrible one, his worst one to date, but he can’t. He doesn’t have any choice in all the other pretending; he could never get through to his parents, to anyone who had these preconceived notions and expectations of him. Tonight had proven that much. But with you…. With you, a change was possible. He didn’t have to keep biting his tongue when it came to you. Every time he’d look at you when you two hung out during dusk and the golden hour painted your every feature the prettiest shades he’d ever been witness to, he didn’t have to choke back down that pathetic confession of adoration. Every time your hand brushed his while walking to the local diner, he didn’t have to pull it away rather than weave your fingers together. He didn’t have to keep denying himself all these simple pleasures – interrupting kisses he’d fantasized about and holding each other on stormy nights just like this one that he had only dreamt of.

But if he tells you, if he fucks it all up, he loses you. And Steve Harrington doesn’t know if he could handle that.

“Just do it,” he mumbles, trying to privately hype himself up, “Just get out of the car, just go knock on the front door, just-”

He’s nearly hyperventilating. There’s only two endings to his night. He either returns back to his house, crawls into bed and licks at the wounds left by your rejection, or he doesn’t. Either he kisses you, and you pull him in from the storm raging on or you don’t.

Two options. It’s only two options, two possible paths. The world doesn’t end, regardless of which one he’s forced to take tonight.

Were all of his longing glances not returned? Had he not caught you staring in his direction more times than he could count on one hand?

His fists drop from the wheel, landing on the door handle and throwing it open before he could freeze up again.

Had you not whispered to him how he was your best friend, your favorite person, even more times than he had caught you staring? Over phone lines, in private corners of busy parties, sitting on his bed and doing nothing more than enjoying each other’s presence while his parents were out of town.

The rain soaks him immediately. Down to the bone, he’s drenched, the unforgiving winds whipping around him only making him shiver. He can’t even feel the discomfort of his jeans turning to plaster as he takes the long strides up to your front door.

Had he imagined that time you’d kissed his cheek at the county fair? When he’d won you that obnoxiously large teddy bear, almost too big for you to carry and adorning the most ridiculous sailor’s outfit either of you had ever seen, and you’d so affectionately nicknamed it after Steve’s place of employment – Scoops the Bear, Captain of Flavor. And had you not called the sailor’s outfit cute the moment Steve made the comparison to his own uniform?

He knocks hard enough that his knuckles sting, and he doesn’t care. The sting doesn’t reach him, his mind only flashing over a reel of memories with you. All he can feel is that ghost of an ache that always haunts his cheeks when he’s around you, the way his chest feels just a little bit lighter and he feels a little more himself when in your presence. You bring out the best in him – you make him want to be a better man, all while never making him feel as if he isn’t good enough. All he ever feels around you is wanted.

Had your eyes not shined as you looked up at him, all the colorful carnival lights and stars reflected in them as Steve tried to (and failed) to hide his vibrant blush? Had you not smiled soft enough to send sparks flying through his chest, threatening to catch fire at any given moment?

He hadn’t imagined it all – he couldn’t have imagined it all. You’d looked at him like he was the only boy in the world. You’d looked at him as if you could have spent the rest of your night there, feet planted in the grass and a bear nicknamed after him being crushed in your arms. It had been as if you could have stood by his side for the rest of your days, the rest of the world continuing to move on and the two of you left there to decay hand in hand, and it would have been a life well wasted. For both of you.

“Steve?”

Your front door swings open, and there you are. Still looking adorable while dressed in your most comfortable pajamas for the night. Even beneath the confused and worried first glance, that look from the fair is still there. Your eyes still shine without the lights.

“What’s wron-”

You can’t finish your question – before either of you can process what’s happening, Steve’s lips are on yours. He’s overeager and nowhere near graceful with it, his nose nearly taking out your eye as he throws himself against you at full force. Everything from the night, the last few months, poured into that kiss. You nearly fall backwards from the force, and his hands are quick to catch onto your hips and tug you back into his orbit. But it only changes the trajectory of your stumble; both of you are suddenly outside your door, the rain now soaking you as well as Steve.

When he pulls back from the kiss, he can’t breathe. He did it. The taste of your lips are still burning his, and he can’t open his eyes to wager your reaction. He doesn’t think you kissed back, it wasn’t much of a kiss beyond him just needing his lips on yours right that second, but he’s not sure. He isn’t fucking sure. He can’t open his eyes – he can’t risk watching himself lose you in real time.

“Steve,” your palm is warm on his frigid cheek. He jumps at the sudden contact, eyes pinching shut harsher, “Please look at me.”

When you ask him in that soft voice, please with that gentle tone that wraps him up in such comfort, he can’t deny you.

He opens his eyes. He can’t read your face.

It’s surprised, surely. Mouth still slightly parted and drops of water running down your cheeks. Your lashes flutter as your eyes dart down to his lips, and he swears to every God that has ever existed that you are the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. Something so precious, so warm, so home.

“What-” you start, but Steve is on a roll of interrupting you tonight.

This time, it’s his voice and not his lips as he sputters out, “Everything’s wrong. Every fucking thing is just wrong – my parents, my life, my decisions. I have no fucking clue what I’m doing with myself. I’m lost, I-I’m so goddamn lost. Because everything is… wrong and bad and… and just… it’s wrong. Except you,” he takes his first big breath since the ramble began, eyes stinging and he tells himself it’s just from the rain leaking into them, “You are the only right thing in my life right now. You’re… Fuck. I’m in love with you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, because I know I’m fucking it all up right now. I’m finally letting the one right thing in my life go wrong, because I just can’t do it anymore. I am so fucking in love with you, and I’m tired of pretending I’m no-”

Your turn to interrupt. You surge forward, wrap your hands around the back of his neck and kiss him even more forcefully than he had you. The taste of the rain and your toothpaste mingle as your body collides with him. He almost forgets to react, so caught up in the fire finally erupting so freely in his chest.

And then you bite at his bottom lip, and he feels that beautiful smile, and he finally remembers to do something. His hands find purchase on your lower back and he tries not to laugh in glee as he hungrily kisses you back, lips moving in tangent and perfect synchronicity.

“We’re gonna drown out here,” you laugh against his lips, finally breaking off and resting your forehead against his.

“No, we’re not,” he insists with a cheesy grin, “I used to be a swimmer, remember?”

Another kiss and more laughter, and Steve can’t even hear the thunder in the distance anymore. It becomes clear which path he will be taking tonight.

“Let’s go inside and dry off, yeah?” you offer, taking a step back out of the torrential downpour, “I’m getting cold.”

He’s still starstruck as he looks down at you, nodding dumbly, still all consumed by those embers. “Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

You take his hands in yours, intertwining your fingers with his just as he has yearned for. You pull shyly, continuing to walk backwards until you step back into the threshold of your house before stopping. The rain no longer pelts down on Steve’s shoulders, the ones infinitely lighter now as your grin is directed at him and he knows he’s home.

“Oh, and Steve?” you question, and he hums, eager to hear whatever it is you have to say. He’ll always want to listen to you. For the rest of tonight, for the rest of the week, for the rest of his life, “In case it wasn’t obvious, I’m in love with you, you idiot.”

He can’t help it – he pulls you in for another kiss, kicking the front door shut behind him. Steve supposes he should have seen that one coming. He’s never really had to pretend with you, anyways.

"kiss me on the sidewalk, take away the pain."

#speak now (ghost's version)#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington blurb #stranger things

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fortheloveofwonderland · 1 year

Text

Somewhere to Belong | 3/3 | S.R

Part three of my Family Challenge fic.

Part 1 | Part 2

A/N - I am almost positive this is not how the adoption system works but hey, it’s fanfiction, I make my own rules.

Summary - You reveal your master plan to Spencer and the two of you begin on your journey together. Will you be able to help Spencer bring Wren home where she belongs? And when the time comes, will you have what it takes to walk away?

Pairing - Spencer Reid x BAU Fem! Reader

Warnings - confessed feelings, tears, mostly just domestic fluff, making out, allusions to sex but still SFW, crying child, swearing, happy ending.

WC - 9.4k

Part 3

The wheels of your plan had been slow turning, painfully so. You’d started to think you may never reach the end of this goddamn road.

But finally after months, all the pieces had fallen into place.

When you received the phone call you were already halfway out of the door before the person on the other end had even finished their sentence. It was the phone call you’d been waiting for, holding your breath every time the device rang.

And now it had happened, it was time to go and see him.

You drove out into the suburbs, a manilla folder full of paperwork in the passenger's seat. You parked next to the curb by the house with the canary yellow fence and green front door.

Before you could exit the car you saw the door open and Spencer let someone out the house. The women had a briefcase and wore a smart pants suit. Definitely a social worker.

You watched the woman head to her own car and once she was inside the vehicle and starting the engine you stepped out onto the street, bringing your folder with you.

As you headed for the yellow gate your phone buzzed in your pocket. Slowing your strides you retrieved it and read the text message on the screen.

📱 Spencer Reid: I think it’s over. There’s another couple who have shown interest in adopting Wren and I don’t think I can compete with that. I’m ok, I’m not craving or anything. I just wanted you to know.

You stuffed the device back in your pocket and looked up at the house, a single light coming from the downstairs window.

Since you’d accompanied him to Beltway, the two of you had been in touch more regularly. Spencer texted you nearly every day and you spoke on the phone fairly often.

You’d seen him a handful of times for coffee but you’d never been out to his home in Woodbridge. It was a really nice house, a family home just like the team had described to you. It was a complete one eighty from his old DC apartment.

You unhooked the gate and slid past it, hugging the folder to your chest as you made your way along the front path and up the steps.

Before you could talk yourself out of this, you knocked on the green front door.

Soon you heard it being unlocked and then it tentatively opened. Spencer’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion when he saw you.

“Y/N hi,” he opened the door slightly wider. “I just texted you.”

“I know, I was…in the neighbourhood?” You shrugged. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, of course.” He nodded, stepping aside to allow you entrance to his home.

You walked inside while he shut the door behind you and you glanced around the living room.

You recognised his leather couch and armchair from his old apartment as well as his record player and chess set. The coffee table was the same but other than that this was not the home you pictured Spencer Reid living in.

He waited for you to take it in and only spoke again once you looked back at him.

“Can I get you a drink or anything?”

“No, I’m good.” You nodded, feeling oddly nervous.

He motioned for the couch and the two of you crossed the room together and sat side by side. You laid the manilla folder in your lap and ran your fingers over it.

“Whatcha you got there?” He asked, nodding at the file.

“Uh, well you see…” you trailed off, unable to find the words to communicate what you wanted to say. “How about you have a look.”

You handed him the file. For a moment he just stared at it with a frown before he cautiously took it from your hand.

He opened it and started one by one going through the pieces of paper inside.

The first was an application with a large red stamp proclaiming APPROVED in the bottom right corner. There were several sheaths that documented personal information about you, health checks, financial records, questions and answers relating to your childhood.

There was a rental agreement renewal for the address in which you lived which had gone unsigned as though you were hesitant in continuing your lease.

Multiple pages he’d seen before, floor plans of his own home, summaries of home visits at this address.

One sheet was a letter signed off by BAU Unit Chief Emily Prentiss agreeing to a cut in field hours. Two more sighed letters followed, both dictating what an upstanding human being you were, one signed by SSA Luke Alvez and the other Doctor Tara Lewis.

He read through them quickly as you knew he would but it still somehow felt like a lifetime before he was neatly tucking the pages away and closing the file. He looked up at you, eyebrows furrowed heavily.

“I don’t…” he swallowed, his hands starting to shake. “I don’t understand.”

“Yes, you do.” You nodded. “You’re a genius aren’t you?”

“I…is this a joke?” His eyes flooded with unshed tears as he rolled his bottom lip between his teeth.

“It would be a pretty cruel thing to joke about.” You shrugged.

Spencer rubbed his eyes, trying to push away his tears before they could fall.

“Just to confirm,” he swallowed thickly, his eyebrows still knitted together in his confusion. “Because I don’t want to misunderstand what’s happening here…”

“Spencer,” you placed your hand on his knee and he noticed you were shaking too. “I would do anything for you. Anything. If this can help you bring that little girl home, then I’ll do it.”

“You…you’ve gotten approval from the adoption agency.” He croaked.

“Yes.”

“You’ve done the interviews, cut down your hours at the BAU, not renewed your lease and had Alvez and Lewis write you character references.”

“Yes.” You nodded. “I still don’t think I’m ready for a family, Spencer. But I can sign on as Wren’s adoptive mother on paper, just so you can get her home. Once she’s home and the paperwork is finalised they can’t take her away from you. We can figure out all the rest once you’ve got her home, I can terminate my rights or whatever. But by then it won’t matter.”

“W-why would you…” he trailed off again, swallowing. “Why would you do that for me? That’s…crazy. Why would you want to go through all this trouble just so I can have a better chance of adopting Wren?”

You inhaled really deeply, your chest heaving as you did so. Spencer blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear the new batch of tears from his eyes.

“I should have said it back.” You mumbled with a shake of your head. “Months ago, you told me you loved me and I should have said it back. But instead I walked away and let you believe I didn’t feel that way about you. But I do. Just because we aren’t together doesn’t make that any less true. And if I can help you bring Wren home I will. Because I love you.”

The room fell silent while Spencer worked to comprehend everything that was happening. His head spun as though he was drunk, making it harder for him to understand all of this.

This couldn’t have been some idea you’d just come up with, weeks if not months of work had gone into this. You were willing, on paper at least, to be Wren’s adoptive mother when you weren’t ready to have kids.

You’d told Emily, Luke and Tara at the minimum of your plans. You were willing to give up your apartment, cut back your hours at a job you adored to help him. Because you loved him. You loved him so much you were willing to put his happiness before your own.

“It’s too much.” He shook his head. “I can’t ask you to do all of this.”

“Good job you never once asked then.” You smiled at him. “It’s all temporary. Once Wren is home I can pick back up my regular case load, I spoke to my landlord about subletting my apartment for a few months so I can move back in once everything is settled.”

“You plan to live here?” He suddenly made the connection.

“Well I’ve got to live somewhere. And you know, us living in the same house gives the impression of a happy couple who want to adopt a child, don’t you think? It won’t be forever.”

“What am I supposed to say to my social worker? I forgot to tell her that I had a partner?” Of course he’d try and pick holes in this, it was what Spencer Reid did best.

“We say we were together but I didn’t think I was ready for a family. But now I am. We tell them I met Wren and fell in love with her and now we want to adopt her together. It’s pretty much what I wrote in my application.” You’d considered every outcome, every bump in the road.

“But you haven’t met Wren.” He shook his head.

“So I will.” You chuckled. “Spence, stop trying to put blockers in the way when there aren’t any. Let me do this for you, please? Let me help you bring your little girl home.”

Spencer stared at you silently, blinking frantically as he tried to understand what was happening. He didn’t want to get his hopes up only to have them dashed again but you seemed sincere.

He still didn’t understand how you would be willing to go to such lengths for him but he supposed it didn’t matter. What mattered was you were willing to and he could use all the help he could get.

Suddenly he threw himself forward, arms flying up to wrap around you. He pulled you close, holding you tightly as he started to loudly sob.

“T-thank you.” He cried into your shoulder as you returned his hug.

“You’re welcome, Spence. You’re so very welcome.”

You continued to hold him while he sobbed, stroking his back in an attempt to calm him. It was over a half hour later when he finally shed all of his tears, sniffed heavily and sat back to look at you.

“You really are my most favourite person.” He smiled shakily at you.

If you didn’t love him so much there was no way you would have even considered helping him adopt a child even if it was only on paper.

But love makes us do crazy things. And this might just be the craziest.

***

Two days later you anxiously sat in the passenger's seat of Spencer’s Volvo while he drove the two of you to Wren’s halfway home.

You played with your hands in your lap, barely speaking as you tried to comprehend meeting this little girl who had become Spencer’s whole world.

You’d agreed to tell Wren you were Spencer’s friend it was the truth and much less complicated than explaining everything to her. You would test the waters with her first, see how she felt about it before broaching it with the social worker.

Your legs wobbled a little as you got out of the car and Spencer was regarding you curiously.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked softly, his fingers brushing across your knuckles.

“Yeah.” You forced a smile. “She means so much to you, I’m just worried she won’t like me.”

“She’s going to love you. Trust me.”

The look he was giving you made your stomach coil into knots. Your knees buckled and your heart yearned for him.

It was such a cruel world that you could be so in love with someone yet not be destined to each other.

As you started towards the building he slipped his hand in yours and it was so easy to pretend this wasn’t all for show.

He led you inside, saying his hellos to some of the people working in the halfway home, clearly he’d been here a lot. He carried on through to a larger room filled with kids of all ages, your heart bled for them all.

As your eyes cast around the room, you were quickly snapped back around when you heard someone calling Spencer’s name.

“Spencer! Spencer!”

You looked back just in time to see a head of dark curls you remembered from when you’d seen her sleeping on Spencer’s lap at the BAU running right towards the two of you.

He let go of your hand so he could outstretch his arms for the girl who happily fell into them.

“Missed you.” She tucked herself in his arms.

“I missed you too, pumpkin.” He sighed in content as he hugged her.

You watched the way he seemed to light up the moment Wren was nearby, how all the weight he carried on his shoulders slipped away. As he cuddled the five year old, he seemed at peace.

And you knew you were doing the right thing.

Wren stepped back from his embrace and looked up at you, head tilted to the side in a curious fashion and little dark eyebrows furrowed.

“Who are you?” She asked, pouting a little.

“This is my friend, Y/N.” Spencer spoke for you. “Y/N, this is Wren.”

“Why is she here?” Wren looked back at Spencer in concern.

“I thought you’d like to meet her.” Spencer’s tone completely changed when he spoke to her, you’d never heard him like it before.

It was soft and sweet, obviously it relaxed the young girl. Usually. But it was clear by the concerned expression in her face it wasn’t working today.

“But I like spending time with you.” Her lip jutted out.

“I’m still here aren’t I?” Spencer chuckled, tucking a rogue strand of her hair back off of her rosy face.

“Hey Wren,” you crouched down so you were the same height as her, garnering her attention. “I heard you love Halloween?”

She looked between Spencer who was still standing at his full height and back to you before looking back at him again.

“It’s ok,” he encouraged her with a smile.

She looked back at you once more, a hint of scepticism in her bright eyes.

“Yes.” She nodded feverishly.

“And you love books too, right?”

“Yes.” She nodded again.

“Well that’s perfect because I just so happen to have a book all about Halloween!” You grinned at her whilst reaching into your purse.

Spencer frowned a little, you hadn’t mentioned this on the drive over. He watched as you pulled a book out of your bag, a brightly coloured hardback depicting cartoon pictures of ghosts, witches and monsters getting ready for a spooky party.

The title read The Night Before Halloween.

Neither of you could tell what Wren was thinking, for a five year old she was amazing at masking her expression even though she probably didn’t realise she was doing it.

She looked from the book to your eyes then to Spencer and around in the same loop a few times before settling on Spencer.

“Do you want me to read it to you?” He asked her, trying to prompt her to speak.

“No.” Wren shook her head and turned back to you.

You tried to hide your disappointment. This was your only play, your only way in with her and you’d blown it.

But then the little girl smiled at you.

“I want Y/N to read it to me.” She reached out her little hand for you and you pushed yourself back up to your full height and took it.

She led you over to the couch with Spencer following close behind. You glanced at him over your shoulder and he was smiling at you as he mouthed the words, good job.

***

Two more visits with Wren and she had warmed up to you the same way he had with Spencer. By the third visit she even hugged you.

And you saw exactly why Spencer loved her.

By the time September rolled around you’d moved into Spencer’s suburban home - in the spare room - and had multiple visits with Jenny who struggled to grasp what was happening at first.

Understandably she was sceptical about your sudden involvement but after more rigorous interviews she started to warm up the same way Wren had.

As you weren’t travelling with the team so much anymore and mostly working cases out of Quantico, you and Spencer spent a lot of time together.

He was always home before you, his classes at Marlborough never running past four pm. And as much as you hated to admit it, having someone to come home to everyday was delightful in its domesticity.

When you did travel with the team, usually around every one in four cases, Spencer would call you everyday and send you photographs of him and Wren when he visited her.

Spencer was learning to cook for Wren so the poor girl didn’t have to live off of cereal, coffee and ice cream, or as you always referred to it: The Doctor Reid Diet.

He tried out his new recipes on you and at least eighty percent of them were edible.

You’d been allowed to take Wren out on more day trips, with Jenny in tow of course. The two of you took her to museums and book stores and ice cream parlours; to the park, once to a carnival and anywhere else her little imagination could think to go.

It was midway into October when you arrived back from a case in Florida in which you’d been gone for six days. You knew Spencer had waited up for you as he’d called you to tell you he would.

When you let yourself in the green front door of the house that was feeling more like a home by the day, it wasn’t the messy haired genius who met you.

What did meet you certainly had messy hair, but its dopey expression told you it was no genius.

The creature trotted over to you, tongue hanging out of its slightly lopsided mouth and offered you a single bark whilst nuzzling against your shin.

You stared at the scruffy dog using your leg as a scratching post with wide eyes. Somewhere in the house you heard footsteps and you glanced up to see Spencer appearing from the kitchen.

“Hey, how was your day?” He smiled at you, completely ignoring the confusion on your face.

“Uh, it was perfectly normal until I came home and was greeted by this.” You pointed down at the mutt who was staring expectantly at you.

“He. Not this.” Spencer padded over and quickly scooped up the small, messy animal in his arms. “This is Rover.”

Rover licked Spencer’s cheek and much to your confusion, the germaphobe didn’t even bat an eyelid.

“Last I checked Rover was a stuffed animal. This creature seems to be very much alive.”

“Wren decided she wanted a dog. I said we could go to the pound and look, just look. But, uh, she kinda fell in love with this little guy and I can’t say no to her.” He shrugged, scratching Rover behind his ear.

“So you now have a dog.” You hung your bag up by the door.

“We have a dog.”

“Oh no.” You shook your head, walking past him towards the kitchen. “I’m outta here once Wren’s home. The dog is your problem.”

Spencer placed the creature, which you thought more resembled a gremlin than a dog, on the floor and followed you.

“He’ll grow on you.”

“He most certainly won’t. I’m a cat person. And last I checked you weren’t all that keen on dogs either.”

“But Wren is. So I guess I’m a dog person now.” He leant against the counter in the kitchen while you grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

You turned back to look at him as you uncapped it. You had a curious smile on your lips.

“What? What’s that look for?” He frowned a little.

“It’s just funny,” you took a sip. “Six months ago I would never have imagined either of us to be here.”

“Me either.” He agreed with a smile.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy before.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy before.” He started towards you. “You’re a big part of that, you know? I know this is all for show and we’re just doing this until Wren is home, but, uh…I like having you here.”

“It’s not all for show.” You placed the bottle on the counter behind you as you felt a little dizzy with the way Spencer was looking at you.

“No?” He reached you, stopping a few feet in front of you.

“I like being here too.” You confessed, your legs shaking a little due to the look he was currently giving you.

“I’m glad.” He swallowed and your eyes were drawn to his Adam’s apple and the way it bobbed deliciously beneath his flesh. “I’m, uh, I’m on the verge of doing something very dumb.”

“How do you know it’s dumb until you do it?” You had a pretty good idea of what he was talking about.

“Because I’m a genius and my brain is screaming how dumb it would be.” He chuckled, stepping even closer to you.

“Maybe for once, don’t listen to your brain, Spence.”

To encourage him, you reached for him, placing your hand on his shoulder. He swallowed again as he stepped nearer to you still.

Cautiously he raised his own hands and placed them on the sides of your face, eyes darting back and forth between your eyes and your lips.

“Don’t listen to my brain?” He whispered, wanting confirmation.

“Just this one time.” You offered him a smile and it was all he needed to close the space between you.

When his lips gently brushed against your own, your hand quickly moved from his shoulder to the back of his neck to keep him close.

You parted your lips and he replied in kind by deepening the kiss.

He pushed his body flush against you, pressing you into the counter. He held your face delicately but soon the kiss was growing frantic.

It wasn’t at all long before he was manoeuvring you away from the counter and towards the kitchen door, never tearing his lips from yours. Not at least until his back collided with the door.

He broke the kiss and started to laugh, you did the same. He reached behind him and opened the door, taking your hand pulling you along with him.

The two of you were giggling like a couple of teenagers as you ascended the stairs, neither of you paying much mind to the dog asleep in his bed.

He led you to his room and once inside he pushed you back against the wall and kissed you ardently again.

He rolled his hips against yours so you could feel the bulge in his slacks and you moaned into his mouth.

And then he was leading you to his bed as he helped you out of your clothes.

It was only then as you lay beneath you realised how much you’d missed him. And you knew when or if the time came for Wren to come home and this little domestic bubble popped, it was going to be hard to drag yourself away.

***

You fell asleep wrapped in Spencer’s arm after several hours and multiple orgasms. When you woke in the morning he was already awake, staring at you with a smile on his face.

“Hey,” he stroked your messy hair behind your ear.

“Hey yourself.” You smiled back, inching closer and placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Last night was…” he trailed off searching for the right word but finding none that did it justice.

“Amazing?” You laughed lightly.

“That’s certainly one word for it.” He agreed, hand cupping your cheek. “So I don’t wanna be the kind of person that asks this but, uh…did that mean something? Was it just sex or did it mean something? Because I would…uh…I’d really like it to have meant something.”

His nerves were tangled in his words and you could see in his eyes that he hated asking you this. You smiled and ran your fingertips lightly over his bicep.

“Well I guess that…” you were stopped by the sound of Spencer’s phone ringing and he pulled a face of frustration.

“Shoot,” he let go of your face. “To be continued?”

You nodded and watched him roll over, grabbing his cell phone off the nightstand and putting it to his ear while sitting up on the edge of the mattress.

“Doctor Reid,” he spoke and then was silent for a moment or two and his back straightened. “Seriously? You…I…seriously? Uh, yeah of course. Today? Gosh…yes. Ok. Ok. Thank you. Goodbye.”

His hand holding the phone fell to his lap limply but other than that he didn’t move. You rolled closer to him with a frown, wrapping an arm around his waist when you were close enough.

He slowly turned his head to look at you and you couldn’t read his expression.

“Spence?” You croaked. “Is everything ok?”

He exhaled through parted lips, his eyes widening a little before he slowly started to nod.

“Y-yeah,” his voice cracked. “Yeah everything’s great. That was Jenny. Apparently we’ve been approved for placement under supervision for Wren. It might not be permanent and Jenny will visit every week. But they wouldn’t let us bring her home if there wasn’t a strong possibility of us being able to adopt her. She’s coming home, Y/N. Our little girl is coming home.”

His tears overflowed when he reached the end of his speech and the smile that adorned his lips was brighter than the sun and all the stars in the sky combined.

You jumped up and threw yourself into his lap, wrapping your arms tightly around him.

“Oh gosh Spence, that’s great!” You felt your own tears well in your eyes as he held you.

And for some reason when he called her our little girl, it didn’t freak you out in the slightest,

***

Wren was an excitable blur of hand gestures and bounces in her seat as Spencer drove the three of you home later that afternoon.

She’d only ever seen photographs of the room Spencer had put together for her and she was buzzing to see it with her own eyes.

It was only once he got close to home driving through the neighbourhood she had lived with her parents whom she watched die, that she clammed up.

You sat in the back of the car with her and watched the way her eyes turned down at the corners as she looked out the window at the familiar houses.

You reached out to her, held her hand.

“It’s ok if you miss them, Wren.” You whispered and her head whipped around to face you.

She was gnawing on her bottom lip, perhaps trying to stop from pouting.

“But I don’t want to make you and Spencer sad.” She spoke in equally hushed tones.

“Hey now silly girl,” Spencer’s right hand appeared between the front seats, blindly reaching for her knee. “You could never make us sad. You have no idea how happy you make us, pumpkin.”

“But you will miss your mommy and daddy and we want you to be able to tell us when you do, ok?” You added, squeezing her hand.

“O-ok.” She nodded, turning back out of the window.

Soon enough Spencer pulled the car to a stop outside of the house with the canary yellow fence and green front door.

He exited the car and rushed around to open Wren’s door while you unbuckled her seatbelt. He lifted her in his arms, spun her around twice, and planted her on her feet on the sidewalk.

She instantly reached for you both, gripping Spencer’s hand in her left and yours in her right.

You and Spencer shared a smile over her head as you led her up to the front door.

The second the door was open a messy haired small mutt ran at full pelt towards the three of you, practically crashing straight into Wren.

She giggled and threw her arms around the dog.

“Rover!” She screeched, burying her face into his matted fur.

Spencer took her bag from her and unzipped it, pulling out the toy Rover and holding him out towards the girl and her dog.

“Rover meet Rover.” He spoke and Wren beamed brightly as she took the toy from him.

She held it in front of the real dog's face and he licked the toy feverishly, making Wren giggle again.

“I think they’re going to be friends!” She cheered happily.

“That’s a relief.” Spencer chuckled, hand naturally slipping in yours.

“Would the Rover’s like to see your new room, honey?” You asked Wren, entwining your fingers with Spencer’s.

“I think so!” She jumped up and down. “Come on big Rover, come on little Rover.”

You and Spencer shared another smile as you led the way, hand in hand, up the stairs and towards the room at the end of the hall.

One of the Rover’s was held by Wren around his neck while the other followed of his own accord. You both stepped aside and motioned for Wren to open the door.

She looked positively giddy with excitement as she reached for the handle. She pushed open the door and Spencer reached inside to flick the lights on.

Her eyes widened as a dozen strings of pumpkin fairy lights cast their glow across the warm autumnal walls, thick cream carpet and everything in between.

She took a few steps inside the room and the two of you watched her eyes flicker between the My Little Pony bed sheets, her name placard above the bed, the bookshelf stuffed full of books, another shelf packed with stuffed animals.

They moved between the dog bed meant for little Rover which big Rover was now already making his way to, to the dresser under the window with a little mirror and her very own chess set.

They made their way to the wardrobe which Spencer had stencilled with falling leaves and little brown birds of her namesake.

Her eyes danced from here to there, there to here and back again. When they finally came to a stop on you and Spencer, they were full of tears.

“This is…for me?” Her bottom lip pouted.

“I don’t know any other little girls called Wren.” Spencer smiled at her.

She suddenly dove at the two of you, one arm wrapping around each of you and nuzzling between you. You felt her small frame racking with sobs and it made your heart melt.

“T-thank you.” She cried, squeezing you both as tightly as she could. “I love you.”

You looked at Spencer, you both had tears welling in your own eyes.

And god dammit if you didn’t love her too.

***

The three of you ate ice cream for dinner on the floor of her bedroom at Wren’s insistence.

You and Spencer played with her and her new collection of stuffed toys, as well as the real life Rover before you took turns reading to her until she finally fell asleep.

Rover was already curled up in the dog bed at the foot of Wren’s bed so you left him there and the two of you quietly crept from the room.

With the day's events you hadn’t had a chance to talk about what happened last night and now you were in the corridor, you weren’t sure what room to go to.

Clearly Spencer didn’t either.

He awkwardly scuffed the toe of his candy corn print sock on the carpet whilst rolling his lip between his teeth.

“Should we, uh…talk?” He shrugged.

“Most likely, yes.” You nodded and silently he led the two of you back downstairs to the living room.

You were both quiet, not meeting the others' gaze as you sat in the armchair and him on the couch. The air was thick with tension, and you didn’t even know where to begin with this conversation.

“I know you don’t want to be Wren’s mom.” He suddenly blurted out. “And I’d never ask you to. But I love you and last night was…it was perfect. I don’t want to choose between having you and Wren in my life. I know it wouldn’t be easy because if everything goes to plan I will have a child at the end of it. You think there’s any chance you’d want to date a single dad?”

He was talking so fast all of his words merged into one and it took you a few moments to ascertain what he was saying. But before you could really catch up, he was talking again.

“We get Wren home permanently, you can give up your rights just like you planned. You move out and you go back to your normal case load but maybe…maybe we can work things out? I know it won’t be easy but I don’t care.

You clearly mean a lot to Wren and I know she would love it if you were still a part of her life after all this, even if it’s not as her adoptive mother. And I hope that you can still be part of my life. As my partner, my one true love.

Wren will be my reasonability, I won’t expect anything from you in regards to her. But I don’t want to be without you, even if it means our life is separate from my life with Wren. I don’t think it’s entirely beyond the realms of possibility to think we could make it work. I just think-”

“Spencer,” you had to cut him off or he would spend the next hour rambling. “I don’t think it’s entirely beyond the realms of possibility either.”

“You…you don’t?” He inhaled sharply.

“It’s not going to be easy,” you pushed yourself up and moved slowly closer to him. When you reached him you lowered yourself so you were sitting in his lap. “It’s going to be hard in fact, really hard. But dating a single dad doesn’t sound like the worst idea in the world. Especially when that single dad is you.”

His hands glided across your back, settling on your shoulder blades and holding you firmly in place,

“We’ll make it work.” He smiled at you, inching closer.

“We’ll make it work.” You repeated just as his lips pressed against yours.

***

The day after Wren was placed with you and Spencer, he and the little girl started excitedly decorating the house for Halloween which was two weeks away.

The house was a menagerie of fake cobwebs which you kept walking into, strings of little ghosts hanging in every doorway. A newly carved pumpkin appeared on the porch every single day you returned home from work.

By the time Halloween rolled around the three of you had fallen into somewhat of a routine.

You had tried to distance yourself from parental activities, as soon as the paperwork was finalised you would be moving out and you didn’t want Wren to get too used to you being around.

The last thing you wanted to do was confuse a child who had already lost her biological parents.

Spencer dropped her at school on the way to Marlborough everyday and picked her up on his way home.

He cooked dinner which the two of them ate together and he saved leftovers for when you arrived home.

Nine times out of ten Wren was already in bed by the time you got home from Quantico which helped. It also gave you alone time with Spencer.

Usually you wouldn’t even be in the door more than ten minutes before he was leading you to the bedroom. You’d been sleeping in his room since Wren had come home, although there was usually little sleeping happening.

You’d both quickly learnt how to be quiet, not wanting to further traumatise the girl by having her hear the two of you having sex.

The routine seemed to work for the three of you, it allowed Spencer and Wren to grow closer whilst allowing you and Spencer to grow closer.

On Halloween night you got out of work slightly earlier but still expected Spencer and Wren to be out trick or treating.

He’d promised the little girl months ago to take her and she’d been so excited for tonight, talking about it non stop since she’d come home with you.

He wanted to make her a costume and you tried to teach Spencer how to sew but when that didn’t work you showed him how YouTube worked so he could learn that way.

He’d slaved over creating her a pumpkin costume which was a little lopsided and probably could have been neater but he was so proud of his creation.

Wren had insisted he dress up too so you arrived home to find Dracula in your living room.

“What happened to trick or treating?” You asked as you stepped in the door and hung your jacket up.

“Oh hey,” he smiled brightly as soon as he saw you, moving closer to you. He went to kiss you but then remembered the fake blood on his mouth and refrained. “We’re about to leave, Wren is just getting dressed.”

“Did she love her costume?”

“You have no idea. I’ve never heard a five year old scream before and I’m not sure it’s something I want to relive in a hurry.” He chuckled, straightening up his cape. “Now you’re home you can join us.”

“I don’t think so.” You shook your head.

“Oh come on, she’d love it if you came.” Spencer gave you his puppy dog eyes which you tried to ignore.

“You’re the parent.” You reminded him. “And besides, someone should stay home with Rover.”

“Rover is ten years old and sleeps all day.” Spencer rolled his eyes. “He’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know. I just-”

You were cut off by the sound of Wren running down the stairs. When she appeared in her pumpkin costume, complete with orange painted face, she was smiling from ear to ear.

“Y/N!” She jumped up and down excitedly. “I’m a pumpkin!”

“Oh wow, you look great!” You cheered.

She beamed, happily showing off her costume like a proud parent.

“Are you coming trick or treating with us?” She asked with expectant green eyes.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart.”

“Please! You have to come!” She jiggled, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet.

“Yeah Y/N,” Spencer smirked at you. “You have to.”

“I don’t have a costume.” You shrugged.

“Leave that to me.” Spencer stepped closer to you and took hold of your hand. “Wren give us five minutes and we’ll head out, ok?”

“Ok!” She nodded, moving aside so Spencer could lead you upstairs.

You let him lead you to the bedroom, which he’d done countless times before but you knew this wasn’t for the reasons you would like.

“I took the liberty of picking something up for you at the costume store when I was getting mine.” He let go of your hand so he could open the closet.

“Of course you did.” You sighed.

He pulled out an outfit in a costume bag and turned it to face you. Inside was sheathed all the makings of a witches costume.

A long, flowy purple crushed velvet dress with long, billowy sleeves. A black wig. A pointy hat.

You rolled your eyes as you took it from him, trying to ignore the stupid look on his face.

“Fine, I will wear it. But you are not painting my face.”

“Deal.” He grinned, in a smug way knowing he’d won.

***

Ten minutes later the three of you were out the door. Dracula, the witch and the pumpkin.

Wren was full of excitement as she skipped on just ahead of you, swinging her little bucket she hoped to fill with candy.

“She’s your problem when she won’t sleep tonight because she’s hopped up on sugar.” You spoke as Spencer slipped his hand in yours.

“Fair enough.” He chuckled, eyes never leaving the back of the curly haired pumpkin. “Thank you for coming.”

“Did I have a choice?” You joked.

Spencer briefly glanced at the side of your face before focusing back on Wren who was now making her way up a front porch of one of your neighbours houses. The two of you hung back by the gate.

“You don’t like spending time with her.” He looked back at you while Wren was busy getting her candy.

“That’s not true. I love spending time with her, she’s an amazing kid. But I don’t want her to get used to me being around all the time. She lost her mom and dad, I don’t want her to see me as a parental figure only to lose me too.”

Spencer’s hand slipped from yours and he quickly pocketed both of his hands. You frowned at him as he turned away from you.

“Right. Of course.” He watched Wren smile and thank Mrs Taylor for the candy.

“What? What’s that supposed to mean?” You glared at him.

“Nothing. I just forget sometimes what a hardship this is for you.”

“Spencer, I never said-”

“What did you get, pumpkin?” He cut you off as Wren came running back over, his tone lightening as he regarded her.

Wren showed off her haul and soon you were continuing on. Spencer walked with Wren now, holding her free hand while you hung back.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that this would get complicated. But why did it?

***

The night ended worse than it started. When your rounds of the neighbourhood took you past the old Briar house, the home where Wren watched her parents die, it came to an abrupt end with tears.

Spencer carried her home while she sobbed in his arms. He put her to bed and spent a long time coddling her while she cried for her parents.

He found you in the living room, your wig and hat on the coffee table. You stood from the couch when he entered the room.

“I don’t really feel like company tonight so maybe you should just stay in the guest room.” His jaw was clenched tightly as he spoke.

“Right, sure.” You nodded.

He turned away from you, started towards the stairs before quickly turned back around.

“You know what actually, maybe you should look into moving back into your apartment. This place is kinda crowded. You only need to be here when Jenny visits anyway, there’s no point in you being here all the time. And that way Wren won’t get attached to you and it’ll make it easier all round.” He turned again but before he could get too far you grabbed him by the wrist.

“Spencer, please don’t say that. We talked about this, we had a plan, we-”

“Stop it, please.” He cut you off. “I can’t do this right now, ok? I have a little girl upstairs who I had to rock to sleep because she couldn’t stop crying about her dead parents. I don’t have the mental capacity to deal with all this right now.”

“Fine.” You clenched your jaw to stop the tears falling. “But let me just say it isn’t fair for you to act this way when we had an agreement. You knew what my involvement was going to be in all of this and the plan was never for me to be her mother!”

“The plan?” He suddenly spat. “The goddamn plan? You make it sound so clinical!”

“I thought it was.” You rolled your eyes. “Did you expect that I was going to wake up one day and change my mind? Was that what you hoped for here? That I’d play happy families and realise this is what I wanted?”

“Yes,” he shrugged. “Yes, that's exactly what I hoped would happen. Excuse me for believing that two people who are as in love as I thought we were could raise a child together.”

“Maybe I should move out.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

“I’ll help you pack.” With that he turned again and this time you let him go.

You watched as he ascended the staircase, clearly wanting to make more noise about it but not wanting to wake Wren.

Once you heard his bedroom door shut you fell back to the couch and your tears unleashed.

What had possessed you into thinking this would be a good idea? You’d wanted to help Spencer and never once stopped to think of the ramifications.

Like it or not you and Wren had grown close, despite your best efforts. Your leaving would be hard on her. And it would be hard on you too.

You’d come to care for that little girl even though you’d tried so hard not to. You weren’t ready to be a mom, or so you thought, but Wren had wormed her way into your heart.

And now you were going to lose her and Spencer through your own stubbornness.

Well done, Y/N, you thought to yourself as you cried. You’ve really gone and fucked this up.

***

The following day Spencer dropped Wren off at school, thankfully in a much brighter mood than she had been the previous night.

You both had the day off work for Jenny’s weekly visit and if she noticed the awkwardness between the two of you she didn’t mention it.

Spencer was amazing at keeping his emotions in check when he needed to and even you believed he was happy.

You sat amicably and drank tea while Spencer filled the social worker in on your Halloween night, glossing over all the bad parts.

It struck you that Jenny wasn’t taking notes like usual, didn’t even have her notebook out. You weren’t sure if Spencer noticed or not or if he was too busy pretending he had the perfect family to notice.

When the tea dried up along with the conversation, Jenny pulled a manilla envelope out of her briefcase and proffered it forward.

Spencer took it with a frown, in the corner in black ink it read simply: Re: Wren Briar - Reid Y/L/N.

“Uh,” he ran his fingers over the envelope and looked up at Jenny with a frown. “What is this?”

Jenny smiled softly, a smile that reached all the way to her eyes.

“Congratulations,” she spoke sincerely. “That is your official adoption papers. Wren is now formally in the care of the two of you.”

You felt a flurry of emotions all at once and you didn’t know which one to focus on. But you were distracted from that when Spencer, out of nowhere, started sobbing.

“S-seriously?” He stuttered, tears streaming from his eyes.

“Seriously, Doctor Reid.” Jenny smiled. “I know it’s been a long and difficult process, but it’s over now.”

“Oh my god.” He grabbed your hand and squeezed it tightly. “Oh my god.”

Seeing the happiness on Spencer’s face made your own tears fall and you gripped him tightly.

“We did it, Spence. We did it.” You cried.

Jenny saw herself out as the two of you continued to cry. At some point Spencer wrapped you in his arms and sobbed into your shoulder while you did the same into his chest.

Eventually both your tears started letting up and he sat back and wiped the stains on your cheek. He was smiling shakily at you and you returned the gesture.

“Don’t leave.” He whispered, voice cracking with emotion. “Please don’t leave. I don’t want to do this without you. I know this wasn’t part of the plan but-”

“Screw the plan.” You cut him off. “Plans change. I can’t ignore the feeling of elation and relief I felt when Jenny told us. Goddamnit I love Wren, I love her so much. And I want to be her mother, Spencer, I really want that.”

“You…” he choked. “You do?”

“Yes. This wasn’t the life I envisioned for myself but life isn’t straightforward. Things happen, plans change. I found my family. And it’s you and Wren.” You smiled as your tears started up again.

Spencer was quick to tug you back into his arms and hold you tighter than you’d ever been held before. He nuzzled against your neck and placed soft kisses on your flesh.

“I love you so much.” He cried. “And I love our little found family.”

You stayed like this for some time, until you needed to pick Wren up from school. For the first time you and Spencer went together.

When you told her the news she jumped up and down and squeezed you both as tightly as her little arms would allow and it filled your heart to the brim.

There was no doubt in your mind that this was where you were supposed to be.

As she planted big sloppy kisses on yours and Spencer’s cheeks, you heard him whisper, welcome to the family little pumpkin.

***

Four Months Later

The noise from the backyard filtered in through the open door, little voices chattering, the occasional screech of excitement, giggle from tiny lungs and small feet pitter pattering in the grass.

You poured yourself a glass of water and sipped from it while you observed the chaos.

It was Wren’s sixth birthday and damn near every child in her school had descended on your home. The BAU team members and their kids were all in attendance and you wondered if your garden would ever be the same again.

There was a bounce house in one corner, a magician in the other - for which Spencer had begrudged paying for when he could have done it himself.

You’d insisted he wanted to be more present for the event, really enjoy the memories made today on her first birthday as your daughter.

Rover had long ago distanced himself from children pulling his matted fur and retired to his bed in Wren’s room. You couldn’t blame him, you’d half contemplated joining him.

You were exhausted from all the planning, from the demands of motherhood and still trying to hold down your job at the BAU, albeit only part time now.

You hadn’t even stopped to consider how tiring the party would actually be.

You felt a presence behind you and spun on your heels to find Spencer smiling at you as he sidled up to you. He moved in close and placed a chaste kiss on your lips.

“Are you as tired as I am?” He chuckled.

“I don’t think anyone is as tired as you, you’re the life and soul of this party.” You teased him. “I saw Wren dragging you on to the bounce house.”

“It’s been a long time since my old knee injury hurt this bad.” He grumbled a little. “But it’s worth it to see her happy.”

“I can’t believe she’s six already. The months are flying by.” You sighed wistfully.

“She’ll be eighteen and going off to college any day now.” He laughed.

“Bringing boys home.”

“Don’t you dare!” He gasped. “Do not put that idea in my head.”

“Sorry,” you smiled sweetly. “It’s a long way off.”

“It better be.” He shook his head.

“So, uh…I got you something.” You reached behind you and grabbed the small, neatly wrapped gift off of the kitchen counter.

Spencer frowned at it as he took it somewhat cautiously.

“You got me a gift? For our daughter's birthday?” He ran his fingertips over the wrapping paper curiously.

“Just open it and be grateful.” You rolled your eyes playfully.

Still with a frown on his face, Spencer tore the gift wrap, the same kind as you used to wrap the obscene amount of gifts you’d brought Wren.

You held your breath and waited, your nerves getting the better of you and you leaned back against the counter top as your legs shook a little.

Spencer’s deft fingers made quick work of the paper, tossing it aside like the excited six year old had with her own gifts.

Once opened he stared at the item in his hand. Approximately five inches long. Thin. Hard plastic.

You watched him stare at it as if it was a completely foreign object, patiently waiting for him to look up, to say something.

His hands started to tremble and when he finally did look up at you, tears swam in his eyes.

“Is this…for real?” His voice cracked with emotion as he spoke.

“It’s like the fifth one I took so I’m fairly certain.” You nodded, feeling your own eyes fill with tears. “Wren’s going to be a big sister.”

Pregnancy test still in hand, he suddenly threw his arms around you and squeezed you so tightly you felt the air leave your lungs.

“We’re having another child?” He whispered against your neck.

“This family just keeps growing.” You laughed as you wrapped him in your arms.

You wiped away your tears, not wanting to be seen crying at Wren’s birthday party. But soon your moment was over, and you were being forced away from each other.

“Mommy, daddy, is it time for cake?” Wren’s voice carried in from the garden.

You sprung apart and stared at each other, a new batch of tears in both of your eyes for completely different reasons.

“Did she just…” you breathed, voice slightly horse.

“I think so.” Spencer sniffed, a delighted smile on his face.

Thus far Wren had always called you both by your names which was entirely understandable. Spencer had always told her she could call you mom and dad if and when she felt it was right.

“As if this day wasn’t perfect enough.” He wiped his eyes, pocketing the pregnancy test after giving it one last look.

“We better go, daddy.” You winked at him and went to pass him but he grabbed you by the waist.

“Oh jeez, why is that so hot when you say it?” He growled, bowing his head and placing kisses on your neck, making you giggle.

“Really?” You smirked.

“Really.” He hissed, stepping back and nodding to his crotch where you can instantly see the bulge forming in his slacks.

“Hmm, I’ll bear that in mind daddy.” You chuckled and he let out a soft low moan.

But before he could reply, you were summoned again.

“Mommy, daddy!” Wren hollered from the yard.

“Ok, not so sexy anymore.” He shook his head, stepping further back. “I’ll get the cake.”

“I’ll get my phone so I can film you and your horrible singing.” You gently kissed his cheek before he walked away.

Spencer lit the six candles on the pumpkin shaped birthday cake and cautiously carried it through to the yard while he began singing happy birthday.

All the kids and adults joined in as Wren beamed from ear to ear as all eyes were on her. You held your cellphone steady, hovering by the back door where you filmed the chorus.

When the song was over everybody cheered and Wren sucked in a huge breath before blowing out the candles.

You watched on as Spencer placed a kiss in her messy dark hair and she smiled brightly at her dad in return.

You couldn’t take your eyes off the two of them, Wren bouncing excitedly in her chair while Spencer went about cutting the cake into slices for all the children.

Spencer handed her the first slice and she gorged on it, stuffing the cake in her mouth and leaving icing smudged around her lips.

It was crazy how much things had changed in such a short space of time. Six months ago you never would have pictured yourself here, a mother to a six year old and growing another child inside of you.

Life has a funny way of giving us exactly what we want at exactly the wrong time. But for you and Spencer and Wren, the world had worked its magic and done you all the biggest favour.

It had given the three of you the kind of love you all so sorely needed, it had offered a home to three people who were out in the cold. It had created a family, who in eight months time would have a new addition to it.

Ultimately all we really strive for in life is to find somewhere to belong, and although it may have been unexpected, it was safe to say that you, Spencer and Wren had found that somewhere with each other.

@ultragirrl @wittlewowa @bxtchopolis @coldheartedmar

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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vivwritesfics · 3 months

Text

Shine A Light Into The Wreckage

Chapter Ten - Fired

Bob Floyd was many things. He was an instructor at Top Gun, a lover of Tolkien books and a huge fan of coffee. But Bob was also clumsy. That was how he bumped into the table, knocking her drink onto her notebook. He felt bad about it. Bad enough to come back time and time again, in the hopes that she would be there. And, every time, she is. Each time looking a little worse for wear. It doesn't take Bob long to realise he has to save her.

Series Warnings: Abusive relationship! Abusive hair pulling! Abusive choking! Forceful sex! Domestic abuse! Seriously don't read if you're affect by stuff like this! Talks of stalking (but in a non serious manner), talks of non consensual groping. she gets called a whore, choking, SA, 'missing' birth control, blood, pregnancy, hint at child abuse (not explicitly written)

Series Masterlist

Things weren't right, they both knew that. But they were pretending things were normal and, for the time being, pretending was good enough.

After a week of pretending, three weeks of her living in his home, Bob knew he had to address things. Not the baby, not until she was ready.

He sat beside her on the couch as she reached for her drink. Not coffee (something she was certainly missing). "Hey," he said, voice almost nervous as he looked at her face. But she wasn't nervous. No, she looked normal, and that was terrifying.

"Bob," she replied, holding her cup of water like it was a steaming mug on a cold day.

He sucked in a breath. "Do you want me to drive you into work? You know, talk to your boss so you can take time off and not get fired?"

She let a smile cross her face and put her cup down. "Thanks, Bobby," she said and stood. She went into the spare bedroom that had since become her own and got changed into the "grandpa sweater" Bob had brought home for her the other day.

She held it up to her nose and breathed in, but it didn't smell like him. It should have. That would have made her grandpa sweater perfect. But she didn't let it bother her as she left the room.

The moment she stepped out of the spare bedroom, Bob reached for his keys from the bowl.

She followed him out of the house. While he locked the front door, she climbed into the passenger seat of his truck. The entire time she was focusing on Bob, watching as he locked the front door of their house. No, his house. Not their house. It was his.

Her hand settled on her stomach. As soon as she realised she pulled it away as if she had been burnt, let it drop into her lap.

"You okay?" Bob asked as he climbed into the truck. He looked at her grandpa sweater and let himself smile. But his smile wasn't wide, it didn't meet his eyes.

She nodded and turned on the radio as Bob pulled out of the driveway. He hummed along to the radio and she turned it up just slightly, head against the window.

Moments like this with Bob had been few and far between since he'd gotten her out of the apartment. But she loved them, cherished them. Bob glanced at her for just a second, but she kept looking at him. She couldn't help it.

After Ken, she'd expected to be so fucking terrified. And she was, but not around Bob. Bob, Bobby, Robert. He was a man like no other. Every hand he had laid on her had been soft and gentle, to help her instead of harm her.

His fingers drummed against the steering wheel as she directed him towards her office. When they drove past the café where they'd met, past her old apartment, she couldn't look away from him.

Looking at Bob kept her panic at bay. She didn't know what it was about him, but he made her feel so goddamn safe.

He parked up outside of her office building and killed the engine. Sucking in a breath, he turned his attention towards her. "Want me to come with?" He asked, voice soft and sweet and gentle.

He was too good for her, that much was clear.

She shook her head. "I think I have to do this one on my own," she said as she climbed out of the truck. And then she turned and braced her arms on the seat. "Wait here for me?" She asked with a quirked brow.

"Of course!" He responded, usually deep voice squeaking slightly. And then he ever so quietly added, "wouldn't dream of going anywhere."

Maybe she should have stopped grinning by the time she walked into the office. Her bottom lip was pulled between her teeth as she knocked on her boss's door and thought about the man in the parking lot. The one with the glasses that he thought were ugly but she thought were so damn cute.

"Come in," her boss called. She let her lip fall from between her teeth and strode into his office.

His eyes widened as he looked at her. But then the surprise dropped from his face and he rolled his eyes. "If you've come to beg for your job back, don't bother," he spat and returned his eyes to his computer.

Her brows furrowed in confusion. "My job... what?" She asked and he rolled his eyes again. "Dave, have I been fired?"

Dave shrugged his shoulders. "You didn't come into work for weeks, what did you think was going to happen?" He spat back.

Helplessly, she turned and looked towards the office. Where her co-workers were. Well, ex co-workers, she supposed. "I'll pack my things," she said.

"No need," Dave said quickly. "Marjorie already packed your shit up."

She backed out of his office. As she walked around her co-workers desks, she couldn't meet their gaze, keeping her eyes fixed on the ground. It was a mix of embarrassment and hopelessness as she made her way back to the annex.

"Hey, love," Marjorie said gently. She grabbed a box and placed it on top of the desk. A box full of her things. It was real, she really had been fired. "You'll be fine. You'll get on your feet in no time."

Sniffling, she grabbed a hold of the box. "Thanks, Marge," she said and took her leave. There was nothing left to be said, no point pleading for her job back. It was a shitty job, anyway. A shitty job with a shitty boss, she tried to tell herself. But she still wiped at her tears as she travelled down in the elevator.

As she walked out of the building, Bob reached over and pushed open the passenger side door. "How did it go?" He asked as she approached. He hadn't yet noticed the box in her hands or the look on her face.

Not until she placed the box on her seat. "What's this?" He asked as he reached into the box and pulled out a frame picture. A framed picture of her and Ken at their graduation, looking sickeningly in love. He placed it back, face down.

She wiped at her eyes and grabbed the box again, shoving it into the back of the truck. "I've been fired," she spat and climbed into the passenger seat. But then her head dropped. "I... he was right. I haven't been in for weeks. I don't know what I expected, really," she mumbled and sat back.

Knocked up, jobless, homeless. Fuck, she was gonna throw up.

"Oh, God," Bob whispered, his hand coming to rest on her knee. "I'm so damn sorry, Doll," he whispered.

But she just shook her head and rested it against the window. "Wanna go and get some junk food?"

The nod she gave was only small, but Bob still caught it.

Bob took her through the drive thru. "I don't wanna go back to the house," she whispered as Bob paid for their food. They drove to the next window, collected their meals, and then Bob drove off.

He thought about it for a moment. He parked up in the car park as he debated where to take her. He knew she only meant to the time being, but the images that flashed in his mind had the tips of his ears turning pink.

Her in Montana, collecting eggs from the chicken coops with him. Wearing one of those dresses that showed just how round her bump was. Squeezing into his small bed with him and sitting with him on the porch as the two of them watched the sun set. Bob's grandmother would love her, and his sister would come to visit nearly every day.

The spot he parked up in overlooked the beach. It was busy, family's on picnic blankets, kids building sand castles and dad's stood in the water, talking about something or other. It was just them in the spot that overlooked it. Nobody came to disturb them, not midday dog walkers, nobody.

"Thank you," she whispered as she stared ahead, at the gentle movement of the ocean. She cradled her bump in a way he hadn't seen her do before. It was, quite frankly, concerning. "I-I genuinely don't know if I'd still be alive if it wasn't for you."

It was horrifying, terrifying to hear. But, mostly, Bob hated that he couldn't disagree with her. He let gaze travel to her bump, but didn't let it linger.

No, he sucked in a breath, gathered all the courage he had. "Do you want to get out of here?"

Her eyebrows raised as she wiped under her eye. "Out of here as in out of the car?"

"I'm trying to be serious," he said quickly, but he couldn't stop his own laugh. "Out of San Diego. Out of California."

A hum left her lips. "Out of California, huh?" She asked, turning her attention towards the sea. She loved it here, on her good days. Loved the freedom of going to the beach whenever she wanted, loved the café where she did her writing, loved the area she lived in.

California wasn't the problem. But getting out of there sounded real damn good.

"Where would we go?" She asked as she grabbed her drink.

Bob drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. "My family has a place in Montana," he said. "We've got a ranch with horses and chickens and stuff." He leaned forward against the steering wheel and turned himself towards her. "I think you'd like it. My grandpa put seating beneath the oak tree so my grandma could sit and knit while we took care of the cattle."

She grinned, straw between her lips. "Sounds amazing, Bobby," she mumbled as she reached across and touched his shoulder. "Are you sure you can get out of work?"

When her hand met his leg, he stared at it. It felt too intimate for the situation, but he didn't push her away. "I'll speak to Cyclone tomorrow," he said, hand touching hers.

As soon as they had eaten, Bob drove them back to his place. They didn't turn on the radio as they drove, but they still had something important to talk about. "If we're gonna go to Montana, I think you should make a decision about..."

"About the baby?" She finished, pulling her hand from his leg.

Bob swallowed, but he nodded his head. "Yeah, about the baby," he said as he turned into his street.

A sigh left her lips. "I know," she muttered. "Trust me, Bob, I know." Her hand settled on her stomach and a mournful smile crossed her face. "It would be nice, though, wouldn't it? A sweet little baby girl to spoil."

Pulling into the drive, Bob parked. "A baby girl, huh?" He said with a grin. He could see it, her little mini me, chasing the chickens in Montana. It was simply a dream. "You know I'd help you spoil the hell out of her."

Her eyes lit up. But she shook her head, though, and climbed out of the car, still sipping her drink. "You don't have to do that, Bob," she said, following him towards the front door. "I feel back enough that you're letting me crash."

The moment he pushed open the door and let her in, Frodo came running. He let out one long, loud, drawn out meow as he brushed his body against her legs. "Oh, buddy," she said, reaching down to stroke the top of his head.

She spied his empty food bowl, but Bob had her moving out of the way before filling it up himself. "I got it," he said, waving for her to go and sit herself down.

"Can we watch something?" She asked as she sat herself on the sofa.

"Of course we can," Bob replied, the sound of the dry food hitting the bottom of the bowl echoing through downstairs of his little house. "Put on anything you want."

As soon as Frodo had everything he needed, Bob joined her on the sofa as the movie began. Back To The Future, he noticed as he sat down beside her, his arm on the back of the sofa. Immediately, she moved closer to him, making herself comfortable against him. "This okay?" She asked, voice so quiet he almost missed it.

"More than okay," he whispered back, fingers brushing against the skin of her arm.

She fell asleep against him that night, drool falling from her lips and onto his shirt. But Bob didn't mind in the slightest. He halted the movement of his fingers, but didn't move his hand away from her arm.

Bob watched her, but he could never begin to imagine the horrors playing out in her head.

Taglist: @nurse-sainz

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@burningwitchprincess

@darksparklesficrecs

@primroseluna

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@els-marvelvsp

@daggersquadphantom

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familyvideostevie · 1 year

Text

october thirteenth

day thirteen: steve harrington the power goes out at family video | a little spooky, steve being a shit, fluff | 1.2k

Normally you’d be elated for a night like tonight. It’s raining steadily and you’ve got no plans apart from going home with your boyfriend and watching a scary movie and cuddling.

But Steve is taking forever to close up Family Video and the more you stare out the glass doors at the dark of the empty parking lot, the less elated you feel. It’s creepy. Maybe it’s the time of year or the loom of the trees or the fact you haven’t seen a single car drive past in like, thirty minutes, but you’re sufficiently spooked. You shiver in the stale air of the store.

“Steve,” you call. “Hurry up!” He’s in the back room doing some shit Keith makes the closers do and normally when you come to get him he’s quick about it. But tonight it just seems to be dragging.

“Almost done!” His voice is muffled until his head appears in the office doorway. His eyes quickly find you at your spot on the countertop, legs swinging back and forth. “You okay?”

“Yeah, but I’ll be better if you hurry up so we can go home.” You cross your arms and try to look put out but Steve isn’t swayed.

He flaps his hand at you and goes back in the office. “Yeah, yeah, I’m almost done. That new kid fucked up the books so I have to fix something.”

You sigh and go back to staring at the dark parking lot as if watching it will prove that there’s nothing out there.

Thunder cracks and you jump but only a little and manage to swallow your yelp. Okay, this staring isn’t doing you any good. You hop down from the counter and wander around the floor to look at some of the seasonal displays you know Robin is really proud of. Every regular genre section has a horror spotlight and some weird decoration that Robin got from that new Halloween store in Indianapolis. Romantic Horror has a bloody Queen of Hearts looking menacingly at you as you browse. Science Fiction Horror has a big green alien with a head that Steve says looks like someone’s ass. Comedy Horror has a skull with a bright red press me button.

You press it. The skull cackles.

And then all the lights go out.

You scream. The scull continues laughing.

“Steve? Steve!”

No answer. Lightning flashes and you whip around to face the glass doors. The trees whip back and forth in the wind and the rain. You feel alarmingly on the verge of frightened tears.

Should you go back into the office and try to find Steve? No, that’s a bad idea. Some of the doors in here lock automatically and you’re sure you’ll trip on something or go the wrong way and get trapped in a closet and die there.

“Steve, come on,” you say, the whine in your voice a bit shaky. “If you’re playing a prank on me I’m going to be so mad.”

No reply.

Okay. So your boyfriend maybe got murdered by something you’re sure is out there. You go behind the desk and wonder if you could hit someone hard enough with a video tape to knock them out.

Lightning flashes again and you realize the street lights are still on, though hardly visible through the rain. You try to remember what little you know about electricity and wonder if that means the lights here should come back soon. You take tentative steps towards the door, a stapler in your hand, just to confirm that you’re not imagining things. Another rumble of thunder. At least the stupid skull has stopped laughing.

Your nose is almost pressed to the glass when a shadow appears and a hand slaps on the glass door and you jump back, tripping over your own feet and screaming as you fall on your ass.

The door opens and there stands…

Steve. Your goddamned boyfriend.

“Oh my god,” he says, shutting the door and crouching next to you immedietly. Your heart is pounding so loud you hear it in your ears. He’s…soaking wet? “Are you okay?”

He reaches for your face and you smack his hand away. “You scared the shit out of me!” He takes in the stapler you dropped and the darkness of the room and his face scrunches up like he’s swallowing a laugh. “Did you do that on purpose?”

His smirk falls. “No, no, Christ,” he rushes out as he hauls you up. Your heart is calming but your hands are shaking. He looks sheepish and he grabs them in his. “Well, yeah, I scared you on purpose a little but I didn’t know you’d be right there! And I didn’t turn off the power!”

You pull away from him and wrap your arms around yourself. You believe him but…come on.

“Why were you outside then? You’re soaked, Steve.” He really is. He’s dripping all over the floor, his hair plastered to his head and his clothes drenched. You’re actually kind of worried he’s going to get a chill.

He slowly reaches for you again and you allow it, leaning into the way he cups your cheek and grabs your shaking hands in one of his. “The lights went out so I went to check the fusebox but I forgot my keys to the back room and had to walk around.” You’d like to hug him but then you’d get all wet.

“The lights didn’t come back on,” you whisper.

“Yeah, I can see that.”

You frown. “Fuck you.” There’s no heat to it. Steve suppresses another smile.

“Sorry, baby.” He does sound a bit sorry.

You lean your forehead on his damp shoulder. “That was so mean.” He rubs your back up and down. He probably thinks it’s funny because he’s a dumb boy but he won’t make fun of you for it since you’re genuinely a bit upset.

“Took it like a champ,” he says. You huff a laugh. “Don’t think the lights are going to come back on, though. Let me lock the front on our way out then we’re good to go.”

“You’re going to buy me whatever I want from the drive-thru,” you tell him.

“Sure am.”

“A milkshake. And fries. Large fries. And you don’t get any.”

“Mhm,” Steve says. He tugs you with him as he goes to get his keys.

“And a soda.”

“Yep.”

“And a burger.” He squeezes your hand.

“Whatever you want.”

He grabs his keyring and you head for the front door. Before you go out into the rain you pull him to a stop and point your finger in his face. He almost goes crosseyed looking at it.

“I’m going to get you back, Harrington.”

“Oh, are you?” His eyebrows arch and he looks amused. But this is no laughing matter.

“When you least expect it.” Your finger prods his chest. “When —” poke “—you—” poke “—least—” poke “—expect it.”

Steve rubs the spot you’ve poked. “Jesus, okay.”

“Don’t underestimate me, Steve.”

He smiles. He actually smiles. And then he kisses your cheek so quick you can’t stop him with your intimidating stance. “I wouldn’t dare.”

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here! promptober masterlist, find all fics under #fvspromptober23

#fvspromptober23 #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff

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iamleesi · 2 months

Text

THE HUNTERS & THE SOLDIER

Pairing: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x OC! Avenger Reader

Summary: Bucky’s being an idiot once again and you meet someone… quite interesting? Or creepy? You decide. Also a surprise in the end simply because I can.

Warnings: Alcohol, bit of angst (?), gun, annoying lady, allusion to s3x if you squint, mention of Hydra and being watched/ followed -> 18+!!

Other: Forgive me for eventual mistakes but I wrote this in 3 days and I changed my mind about 60 times

-> Masterlist

-> Part twelve ; part fourteen

-> Devil On Your Shoulder (13)

The ticking of the living room clock was the only sound filling the space around you, each second’s click made you lose your hope about Bucky’s return. Hours had passed since Cassandra had knocked at your door and Bucky had stormed out of the house. Sam and Dean had completely disappeared as well - not that you made any efforts in contacting those two, you anger towards them was still very much present - leaving you all alone with the girl.

You hadn’t spoken much to her due to the fear of stressing her out more than she already was; instead, you opted to let her rest in your bedroom for the night, saving the questions for tomorrow.

You had searched the whole neighborhood for Bucky, checking nearby parks or public places he could be at but there was no sign of him, not even his shadow. It was as if he had vanished. In moments like these, you hated to admit how worried sick you were for his safety, knowing Hydra had their eyes on him. If he were to fall into their hands once again because you couldn’t find him, you’d never forgive yourself.

Hours later, that fear consumed your thoughts. You hadn’t eaten anything all day - the scrambled eggs Bucky had made for breakfast were given to Cassandra since she needed it more than you. But you, honestly, weren’t hungry anyway, especially not when Bucky’s phone went straight to voicemail every time you called.

Your attention was caught by the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs, and you turned your head slightly around to see Cassandra coming your way. She was now dressed with some new, clean clothes you had given her, and she seemed to be feeling way better than before.

“Hey.” You tiredly said, as she sat beside you. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“Couldn’t find sleep.” She made a small smile your way, resting her feet on the couch to wrap her arms around her knees. “I’m sorry for earlier.” She mumbled. “I’m sure he’ll be back.”

You looked at her and shook your head at her apologetic tone of voice. “It’s okay, it’s a sensitive topic for him. It’s… I don’t know why he doesn’t pick up the phone.”

Your nervousness intensified once you spoke, voicing your thoughts was like confirming your worries. You began to play with the golden ring on your finger trying to get your mind off of it, but unlike other times it did nothing to ease the growing anxiety gnawing at you. He had specifically told you to call him once Cassie had calmed down, and you did, but he ignored you.

And, to be completely honest here, being ignored was the best case scenario your brain could think of.

Cassandra’s voice brought you back to the present. “Do you want me to help search for him? I’m sure he’s not far away, and I know the city.” She offered kindly, worry evident in her tone. Her guilt over what she said was as clear as a day.

“No, no.” You waved her off gently. “You need to rest, so feel free to go to bed. I think I’ll go for a walk to clear my head.” The last thing you wanted was to drag her into your tunnel of worries - not just for Bucky, but for the entire situation. She was still a missing girl and she needed to stay inside in order for no one to find her, so letting her out of the house was out of the equation.

Also, she was the goddamn key to solve the case and she was sitting right beside you while three out of four people working on the case were men (as if that was unfortunate enough) that couldn’t set their priorities straight. There were people that needed to be found, like Fury and Maria, others who needed to be captured - and yet, there you were, all alone.

“Are you sure?” She pressed, her brow furrowing with worry. “I don’t mind staying up with you if it’s going to help. I mean… you’re here because of me. It’s the least I can do.”

You managed to give her a small, grateful smile. “I appreciate it, Cassie, but none of this is your fault. There’s no need for you to worry or stress over it. Get some rest, I’ll see you in the morning.” You hoped the assurance in your voice was convincing.

Cassandra hesitated for a moment, clearly torn between wanting to help and follow your advice. Eventually, much to your relief, she nodded. “Alright, but if you need anything don’t hesitate to wake me up.”

“I won’t.” You promised, knowing you’d never wake her up in any case. “Also the house is secure. No one can get in without a key, so you’ll be fine.” You reassured her, watching as she stood up, nodded at you, and headed back back towards the stairs.

Once she was out of sight, you finally let out a deep sigh and looked around the dimly lit room. You forced yourself to get up, knowing that sitting around doing nothing only worsened your mood. Especially seeing your phone screen remain dark without a single message back from Bucky added fuel to the fire.

Grabbing your coat from the armchair, your slipped it on and headed towards the door, locking it securely behind you as you stepped onto the street.

It was probably all the emotions you were feeling at the moment, but for some reason you couldn’t quite understand why the atmosphere felt different that night. It was as if the air stood still, and you sensed presences that weren’t even there.

The streets were empty so you must have had imagined it, the only sound being your footsteps on the wet crosswalk. You double checked behind you to ensure your were alone and, in fact, there was absolutely no soul around. Even the neighbor’s dog was oddly quiet since the animal seemed to be possessed at each hour of the fucking night, but the owners left the poor creature outside alone the whole time so it wasn’t really the dog’s fault.

However, feeling watched or not, you needed to have a proper walk and get your mind off of those three stupid ass men for one night. You could almost excuse Bucky’s behavior initially; seeing the hurt on his face was enough to understand what had come over him. Even if you weren’t close to him, living in the same building for so long meant you knew that being seen as a murder was a trigger for him. You didn’t want to hold him accountable for how he reacted to those accusations, it was his own way to deal with it.

What you couldn’t tolerate was that, if he was still out there somewhere, he hadn’t bothered to let you know he was okay or to check how things ended with Sam and Dean. Especially after hearing how they had kept Cassie locked up for a whole day.

Lost in thought, you almost collided with a stranger who stood directly in your path, making no effort to move even as you took a few steps back.

Your already sour mood darkened further, aggravated by his presence and the small, annoying grin on his face. He appeared to be in his late forties, dressed entirely in black. The streetlight above his head flickered intermittently, unlike the others that worked perfectly.

“I need to go that way.” You said, pointing to the street behind him, as he blocked your path.

He stared into your eyes for what seemed like an eternity before finally stepping aside, extending a hand in the direction you were headed. “Forgive me, kid, didn’t mean to startle you.”

His voice was smooth, but carried an unsettling undertone that you couldn’t ignore. You shot him a glare as you reluctantly walked past him, your eyes not leaving his for the slightest second - you didn’t like this man. He gave off weird vibes, way too familiar vibes, and you didn’t like that.

“You didn’t startle me.” You mumbled. “Maybe just don’t stand in the middle of the crosswalk.”

“I’ll make sure to follow your advice from now on.” The man answered with a sarcastic tone, giving you one last glance before turning around to walk away. “Have the sweetest night, kid.”

You stood there for a moment, watching his short figure disappear around a corner. The nickname he used left a bittersweet taste in your mouth, but you didn’t think much of it as you turned back around to continue your night walk.

You didn’t have a place in mind, the cold air hitting your skin was just a way to cool you off - it was a nice, relaxing feeling for you. Even with that, your mind immediately drifted back to Bucky, Sam and Dean; if you survived this, you’d fight to be paired up with women in the future missions because you had had enough. And it had barely been a week.

You tried to focus on the rhythm of your steps and the crisp night air, which gradually started to finally calm you down. You didn’t know how long you had been walking when, at some point, you arrived near the center of the city, which was far more crowded than the area where you lived. Deciding it was about time to get back, you turned around - or almost.

“I don’t think that’s the right direction.”

A voice made you stop dead in your tacks, and you looked ahead only to see the same man from earlier, throwing something heavy into a nearby dumpster. He smacked his hands together to remove some dirt before slipping them into his pockets, walking towards you with that same small grin you had seen before.

He stopped right in front of you, and all your efforts to dissolve the anger you had built up during the day vanished in a mere instant. Great.

Why this mad had such an effect on you, you didn’t know.

“Excuse me?” You raised an eyebrow, which only made his grin wider.

“I said, you were going in the wrong direction.” He repeated, his voice tinged with mockery. He pointed behind his shoulders, as he spoke again. “You need to go that way, he’s having fun over there. You don’t want him to blew the mission, do you?”

“I have dealt with crazy fuckers like you before, alright? Leave me alone.” You shoved him off, turning your back to head back home. Or, at least, that was your intention.

“I see your attitude hasn’t changed in these last ten years. I thought you’d get nicer with age, but I’m glad to know I was wrong.” He called after you, making your freeze for a second. “Has no one ever taught you that it’s best to be nice to strangers?”

You turned back around, studying his expression because he sure as hell got your attention with that. He seemed to be lucid and collected, making you reconsider in an instant your initial thoughts of him as just another street creep. After all, you had encountered way too many in your life.

“What did you just say?” You said, your voice laced with suspicion.

He took a step closer, still grinning. “Ten whole years. I must admit, I never thought you’d get paired up with the Winchesters. But they go wherever trouble is, so I had to see it coming at some point; my bad.” He raised his hands in surrender before continuing. “But as I was saying, I’m happy to see you haven’t changed. Still so quick to judge, so quick to dismiss and so, so slow when it comes to understand who you can trust and who you can’t. You even got a name now, don’t you, my dear Emma?”

Your mind started to race the second you heard your name fall from his mouth with such normalcy. You were transported back to ten years ago, back to the time you were still with Hydra, to try and remember who he was. But everything was blank, you were sure you had never seen this man before; and there he was, talking to you as if you were his long-lost something.

“How do you know my name?” You demanded, keeping your voice steady. You were an Avenger, sure, but due to your request your face was not allowed to be published - therefore, nobody outside of your friends or some of the people you worked with knew who you were.

He tilted his head, his grin widening. “Oh, I know a lot more about you than just your name, dear. I’ve been watching you for a long time, not that you could have known. It’s fascinating how you’ve grown, how you’ve changed… yet some things remained the same.”

“What do you want?”

“Me? Oh, nothing.” He shrugged. “Believe it or not, I’m on your side. All this… trying to solve creepy mysteries with your gang like some sort of Scooby Doo in real life is quite exciting, but I need you to solve this case quickly because I’m getting tired of you all dancing around it.”

“Do I even know you?!” You asked, as this man was making less sense each passing second.

“No, silly.” His tone was condescending. “So don’t strain your little brain.” He waved a hand in front of your face. “I never bothered to meet you personally, I had more important things to do like…” He trailer off, trying to find the words. “Nothing really, but I’ve been watching you. And let me tell you, that little stunt you pulled when you let that friend of yours escape… what was her name? You used to call her something like Naomi or something?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You lied, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Nonie.” He smirked, knowing he had your full attention. “Yes, that’s right, because she was anonymous. Brave of you, really, but also quite foolish. She stayed for you, you know? Even after you freed her; she stayed around in the woods and brought John Winchester straight to you, so that he could save you. And what did she get in the end? She was burned alive.”

Your breath caught in your lungs at his words, confirming that the man in front of you wasn’t just some crazy idiot on the streets harassing women. He knew about Nonie, a secret you always kept for yourself (one of the many) and that meant he knew far more than what you were comfortable with. And you still had no idea of who he was or where he came from.

The pain of his revelation hit you like a punch to the gut. Not that you had ever held out much hope for Nonie, considering she had been turned into a Wendigo, but you had convinced yourself to believe that perhaps, somehow, she found some form of peace. Hearing that she was dead, though, was like a knife to the heart. She had been your first and only friend, or the closest thing you had to one, for most of your life.

“What do you want from me?“

“Your loyalty.” He answered, the serious you had seen him all night.

You let out an honest chuckled at that, which only made him roll his eyes. “You want me to be loyal to you? I only just met you and, frankly, you’re not exactly making a great first impression.”

He smirked, unfazed by your sarcasm. “I don’t need to make a good impression, my dear, I just need you to understand that we can help each other. We can make a deal, right here and right now, and I’ll explain everything to you. Starting with the truth about Ella White.”

You hated to admit that you took a moment to consider his offer, truly, the second he mentioned that woman. He did seem to know a lot of things, but you didn’t know him and you didn’t trust him. “Listen, not trying to sound rude here, but get lost.” You finally said him, even if a part of you was burning to know what he was talking about. “You’ve been creepy this whole time saying that you watched me when I was younger and now you want to be buddies?” You raised a brow at his nonsense.

“Not buddies, partners. You know, work together, be a team.” He clarified. “You don’t even know how many things we can accomplish together, we’d have everyone at our feet - do you not want that? Imagine, just imagine, how it could be like to rule the living and the dead.” His green eyes were locked into you as he talked, getting close to you.

“You sound like a dictator. I hate dictators.” You answered. “And if you don’t leave me alone I’ll put a bullet right between your eyebrows.”

He laughed at what you said, and your crossed your arms under your chest quite offended. “You’re funny, girl, I’ll give you that. But if you want to kill me, I think a simple gun won’t do it. It’s not your lucky day.” He said, faking an apologetic tone.

“You haven’t told me your name yet.”

“It’s not important.” He replied dismissively. “I’ll give you time to think about my offer, kid.” With a casual shrug, he began to walk past you.

Your eyes refused to leave his figure, and you were conflicted whether to follow him or not. Not because you wanted to accept his weird offer, but because he was clearly involved somehow and letting him go didn’t seem like the smartest choice. But you had a feeling that your paths would cross again.

“I already said no.” You called after him, raising your voice slightly.

He paused, turning his head slightly to glance back at you. “Go ask Dean Winchester why he agreed to work on this case.” He said cryptically. “And then you might change your mind, I’ll make sure to be there when you do.”

You furrowed your brows, puzzled by his words - but even what he said earlier didn’t make more sense than that. What did Dean have anything to do with this? And why was this stranger so confident that you would eventually change your mind? Sure, Dean hadn’t been exactly the most cooperative person in the last couple of days, but he was making it look as if you couldn’t trust him.

“And before I forget,” He added suddenly. “You might want to go take a look at the bar down the road, see if you can find something interesting, take it as a little help from me.” With that, he turned and walked away. You swore that he vanished as soon as you blinked, but that was impossible… wasn’t it?

Your feet moved before your brain could properly process his words, and you started to head towards the place he told you to go to. It’s true you didn’t have positive vibes regarding that man whose name you didn’t know, but so far he only said things you knew were real, more or less, so you thought it wasn’t a bad idea to go see for yourself what he was referring to.

You hurried down the streets, the sounds of laughter and clicking glasses growing louder as you approached. Hesitating at the entrance, you took a deep breath before pushing the wooden door open, the little bell above it chiming softly. The noise went unnoticed by most of the people in there, except two men who glanced your way and left the second you entered.

The smell of alcohol and smoke was thick, but you ignored it as you scanned the room. No familiar faces met your gaze, and some doubts began to creep in. Perhaps the most logical reason was that the stranger had been toying with you all along. You shook your head, feeling foolish for trusting him even for a moment. Turning to leave, you prepared to step back into the street hoping to not meet any other idiot that was going to mess with your ideas.

Except that then, out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a familiar face sitting alone in the farthest corner of the room.

Bucky Barnes. He was hunched over a drink, his eyes low as he watched the liquid twirl before taking a sip of it. Relief washed over you upon seeing that he was unharmed, but it was quickly replaced by that very same anger you had for the whole day. He had left you worried this whole time while he was there, drinking his problems away - and he didn’t have the excuse of being drunk because you knew it was physically impossible for him to be.

You weaved your way through the crowded bar, your eyes firm on him. With each step closer he seemed to feel your presence, as he looked up from his glass his eyes found yours in no time. His posture visibly stiffened and a flicker of surprise crossed his face as you dropped into the chair across from him, not so kindly.

“Nice to see you too.” He muttered, barely glancing up.

“You left me worried sick.” You snapped, your voice low but intense in order not to have people overhear the conversation. “I called and texted thinking the worst had happened and you were here drinking? What the fuck is your problem?”

“I needed some time alone, alright?” He said dismissively, taking another sip.

“Time alone?” You scoffed. “You could have at least let me know you were okay, for fuck’s sake. Cassandra said some hurtful things while, mind you, she was scared for her life and you disappeared for hours? We have a damn case to solve, Bucky, people are counting on us.”

He shrugged, still not meeting your eyes. “Believe it or not, I have been working. Didn’t think it mattered whether you knew or not.”

“Didn’t think it-” You cut yourself off, pinching the bridge of your nose. “We’re a team, Bucky. When one of us bails, if affects everyone. We lost a day because apparently I’m paired up with people that run away when things aren’t convenient anymore.”

“How did you even find me?” He tilted his head, ignoring your outburst. “You have the worst sense of orientation I’ve ever seen. Didn’t know you knew the city.”

“I don’t, a man told me where you were.”

“A man?” He raised a brow, his skepticism evident. “You made new friends already? That’s great, honey. Socializing is good for you.”

You blinked a few times, taken aback at his nonchalance. You had just told him that a stranger had essentially been following him, and that was his reaction? His dismissive attitude left your dumbfounded to say the least.

“You’re getting on my nerves.” You said, your patience wearing thin. Not that it was great before.

“Do you know how to get back home?” He asked, not even being fazed by what you said.

“Yes.” You responded, barely masking your irritation.

“Then go.” He said, waving you off. “I’ll get back later.”

He glanced to his left, and your eyes followed his gaze. You immediately understood the reason behind his attitude, and you were not happy in the slightest about it. Dalia emerged from the bathroom, heading straight to your table.

Now that you looked down, you noticed two glasses of whiskey instead of one, and one of them had lipstick mark on it. Of course, that made sense.

“Harry.” She said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Didn’t know your wife was going to join us tonight.” Her fake smile grated on your nerves.

“She was just about to leave, actually.” Bucky said, giving you a look that clearly said, ‘do as I say.’ “Isn’t that right, honey?”

You felt a surge of anger at his blatant disregard, clenching your jaw at the way he was acting and at the way she was smirking. “Sure.” You replied sarcastically, standing up. “After all, I wouldn’t want to ruin the night.”

Dalia’s smirk widened as she slid into your seat not even a second after you moved, not hiding the fact she was happy you would leave. “So nice of you, Jade. You know, me and your husband have a lot in common, I might steal him from you.” She chuckled at her own words.

You narrowed your eyes at Dalia’s taunting remark, her words grating on your last nerve. “Ah, good luck with that.” You retorted, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m sure you’ll have a blast with his mood changes.”

Bucky shot you a glare, but you ignored it. “Sweetheart.” He said, the nickname anything but sweet. “Get home safe, I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, I promise I’ll be nice to him.” Dalia chimed in, leaning back on the chair. “Or not.” She added, winking at him.

You gritted your teeth, struggling to maintain your composure at her clearly flirting with your fake husband. “Have fun.” You simply muttered out, noticing how Bucky stopped meeting your gaze a while ago - instead, he was looking at his empty glass of whiskey.

“We will.” She said, waving at you with that annoying smile on her face.

You turned on your heel and headed towards the door, ignoring the tension in the air behind you. As you stepped out, into the cool night air, a mixture of frustration and hurt made their way in your stomach. You didn’t know why you were feeling so pissed at her being there with him, but you imagined it was because he had been doing God knows what all day with the neighbor’s daughter when you had a fucking case to solve.

Pushing aside your emotions, you finally walked back home hoping to remember the way to go there, walking quickly to put as much distance as you could between yourself and the scene inside the bar.

To think you were actually starting to like the guy now that your issues were kind of solved, but maybe Bucky wasn’t really the right person you wanted as a friend if he was willing to jeopardize the mission for a woman he met a few days ago.

You finally arrived home, the exhaustion weighing heavy on your shoulder as you shut close the door behind you. Tossing your coat onto the couch still completely in the dark, since you were too drained to bother with the lights, all you craved was a shower and some sleep due to the late hour and the events of the day. However, it seemed that fate had other plans.

As you made your way towards the stairs, the doorbell pierced the silence. With a scoff, you retraced your steps and swung the the door open, only to be met with the sight of the infuriating man in black, his grin widening at the sight of your irritation.

“I told you he was having fun.” He remarked, relishing in your obvious displeasure. “Did I not?”

“More than me for sure.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, well… men are weak. Give them a beautiful woman and they’ll forget about their duties. If you need help, real help with this case, I’m offering it. You just need to say yes.”

“No.” You said again, firmly.

“You’re as stubborn as your mother.”

Your heart stopped at that. “My- my what?”

“Mother.” He repeated casually as if dropping that bombshell on you was just another walk in the park for him. “What? Did you think you popped out of nowhere?” He grinned, using the knowledge he had about your past - past you didn’t even know - to manipulate you into joining him.

You struggled to find the right words to respond, but your brain couldn’t process anything concrete.

“Oh, I’ve got your attention for real now, don’t I? Little Emma wants to know about her mother more than you want help for this case. Selfish, I love it.”

You met his gaze with steely silence, refusing to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging he was right. He had been right the whole time, if we want to be honest, and in the back of your mind you kept thinking about his words as if there was a little devil on your shoulder that was telling you to listen to him. It was clear now that he knew how to find you, who you were and what you wanted… which wasn’t really great news.

You simply shut the door on his face, and you hoped for a moment of peace - but even that was short lived. The doorbell chimed once more, prompting you to hurry back, only this time you had your gun in hand, ready to get rid of the stranger once and for all.

As you opened the door again with your finger firmly on the trigger, you quickly realized that there was no need to use violence that time. Instead, you lowered your hand with clear surprise and relief on your face, your expression softening as you took the unexpected sight before you.

“Woah, calm down.” A familiar voice remarked, her eyebrows raised at your defensive stance. “A bit on edge, are we? Let me in and explain everything, I’m here to help.”

“Natasha.” You greeted, moving aside to let her in.

Finally someone who didn’t get on your nerves.

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