#we have had four fire in this house in the last three days

[veone]

disrupting omid’s peaceful morning with a fire...we will be getting a new stove.

[longing-for-the-past-times]

The four times you fell asleep on Ghost and the one time Ghost fell asleep on you - two.

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

word count: 3,157 (got a bit carried away)

synopsis: after a mission, you and Ghost end up in a safe house, waiting for exfil. Both of you are exhausted after two days of being under the fire, but will any of you give in to exhaustion?

notes: I definitely did not expect so much support on the first part, so thank you very much, I really don't know what to say. I hope you enjoy this as much as the first part!

reader's callsign is Bambi (she/her)

find it on ao3 part one part two part three part four part five

masterlist

two.

You hadn't slept properly in two days, but at least the mission was a success. As successful as a mission can be when you have to spend the night in a deserted safe-house, in the middle of nowhere, waiting for exfil.

At least you were not alone, you reasoned, as you lay on the ragged couch and pulled out your sniper rifle. And perhaps you could get some shut-eye before dawn if your partner would assign you to the first watch.

There was a catch though. The person you ended up in the safe house with was none other than your Lieutenant, Ghost. And after the embarrassing scene where you fell asleep on him on base last week, you were mortified to be in his presence, especially when you were alone and there was no one there to fill the awkward silence that would settle in. He hadn't even teased you about it—only that one time, immediately after you groggily awoke on his shoulder.

The memory of the moment lingered in the back of your mind: the exaggerated way in which he rolled his shoulder, as if to emphasize your weight almost put his arm to sleep, and the glint in his eyes, perhaps delighted to catch you off-guard. If you hadn’t been so busy avoiding him for the following days, you would have noticed his slight shift in demeanour towards you. Whenever you were in the same room, his gaze would linger on you, his eyes visibly softening as if he was silently reliving the scene. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but after he had the time to fully process the interaction, he’d felt oddly satisfied with himself - he made you feel safe and protected, even if it was only for a fleeting moment.

So why wouldn’t you look him in the eye when he tried to speak with you?

“You can go rest, L.T., I’ll take the first watch!”

He definitely did not want to give you that look, not when it had been two days since you’d last exchanged any words with him. But he was stubborn, and you were also stubborn, and the last thing he wanted was to argue with you.

“There’s a bed in the other room. You can rest there till they get us out.”

So he chose his preferred tactic: deflect your words, plainly overlook them, as if they were merely a background noise in the conversation.

He did not miss the way your shoulders tensed up or that you’d stopped cleaning your sniper riffle. The fact that your breath stilled was not lost on him, but he kept pretending he was busy checking his own riffle as if it would determine you to listen to his words and get some well-deserved rest. And yes, he was stubborn. But you were more than stubborn. And you had also won several debate competitions in high school:

“I was only involved in surveillance, I believe I am rested enough to take at least the first watch!" “We are not having this conversation, Sergeant!”, Simon rolled his eyes in annoyance, all too aware that you were only beginning your argument. “You haven't slept in two days!” “Well, technically I was in a position that allowed me to rest more than you! I was literally resting on my belly for most of the time while you were out there, in the line of fire!” "We both know that's not how it works, Bambi!", he let out a frustrated groan that made you widen your eyes in his direction. It was the second time he expressed himself in such an uncharacteristic way, not even seeming to be bothered afterwards by the sudden display of emotion.

But that did not make you back down. Instead, you propped your sniper riffle on the small coffee table, purposefully ignoring him as you busied yourself making the necessary adjustments so that it pointed towards the middle of the wooden door. Anyone who would try to barge in without identifying themselves would be pierced by your bullets before realising what was actually going on. Ghost placed his skull mask on the same table and discarded most of his heavy gear, until he remained in the tactical vest, a basic black balaclava covering his face. As he got up from the couch to check on his ammo, you also started to get rid of the heavy layers of your sniper gear, most of which was covered in grass and dirt. You wouldn't even bother to clean it up when you got back to the base - the messier it was, the more realistic it looked on the field. As you were checking that all knives were in their sheaths, your gaze fell on the skull plate casually tossed next to your riffle. You were so used to it being plastered to Ghost’s face that seeing it carelessly thrown on the table seemed out of place, inexplicably domestic even. The more you thought of it, the more you realised that you’d never seen it anywhere but on his face - he must have kept it stowed away somewhere when you were stationed at the base.

If you were sane and did not have a death wish, you would have at least asked for permission before leaning in to touch it. No, scratch that, the thought of the action itself would not even cross your mind: no one touched L.T.'s mask, whether it was on his face or not. But you were exhausted, the two days of constantly being on the lookout, with little news of your team, starting to take a toll on you. And the sight of splattered blood across the cracked white surface was troubling enough to make you let your guard down and start scrubbing the mask vigorously with your sleeve, in a seemingly futile effort.

You were so concentrated on the task at hand, eyebrows etched into a deep frown, that you did not notice the creeping silhouette that was lingering in the doorway. The sight of a 6'2" man, coming to stand directly in front of you with his arms crossed in a suggestive stance was completely lost on you as you kept rubbing your palm against the red stains, huffing in annoyance when they did not seem to go away. He must have been involved in some form of close combat as the blood clearly wasn’t his and although you knew he was more than capable of taking care of himself, the thoughts of what could have been if he hadn’t paid enough attention, or if he’d been outnumbered plagued your mind. You were not supposed to worry about him like that. He was just your superior.

And also the person you fell asleep on once.

In the meantime, Simon was at a loss for words. He too was tired, having spent the last 48 hours being shot at and almost stabbed a couple of times. And perhaps, if he had to spend the night with someone like Soap, he might have gone to sleep for a couple of hours, letting the demolition expert keep watch. But he couldn’t allow himself such a liberty when you came into the equation- the need to protect you, to keep you from harm’s way was too intense, almost burning inside him. He could not fathom the thought of trying to rest with you having to spend the night in alert, on the lookout for any potential enemies. It was not that he did trust you with such a task, he was aware you were fully capable of it, but it just didn't sit well with him.

Yet there you were, your hands holding a piece of him. More than a couple of years have passed since he'd donned the persona of Ghost and the mask that you rubbed your knuckles against was an integral part of it. Never before had someone dared to touch his mask, he knew that everyone was too scared of it, of the persona he'd created through countless missions and stories. He was used to hearing people whispering behind his back, scrawny recruits sloppily pointing at the skull plate he'd spent an entire night stitching to a balaclava. He was also aware of the bets made on that topic and the gossip that claimed he must have been some kind of mutant, his physical features too grotesque to be displayed to the world.

There was a time when he himself did not know why he was wearing it, but the familiar weight on his face was a comforting sensation, a lover's embrace. That was the moment he knew he was becoming one with Ghost. That, and the fact that people couldn't tell his mood based on his facial expressions anymore. It was sort of liberating, not having to be judged based on what your face looked like at a certain moment.

He slightly tilted his head to the side, both amazed and alarmed that you hadn't noticed him yet. He hoped it was because you didn't think of him as a threat, not because your situational awareness was dimmed as your exhaustion increased. And he had to bite back a smile when he heard you mutter a string of curses under your breath when the crimson stains didn't seem to go away. Should he tell you only bleach does the job?

He decided to keep that secret to himself, loudly clearing his throat to get your attention. At that point, he was willing his eyes to stay inexpressive in spite of his lips twitching as your reaction to him was worthy of your callsign.

You couldn't help but flinch at the sudden intrusion, quickly placing the mask back on the table. You gave Ghost a tight-lipped smile, all too aware of the heat that was spreading across your face, your eyes resembling those of a deer caught in the headlights.

"I'm so sorry, Lieutenant, definitely did not mean to pry like that!', you profusely apologised, trying, but failing, to not look into his dark orbs.

Those damned eyelashes, why did they have to be so perfect?

But Ghost was too distracted by your doe eyes that he did not process your words properly. He wouldn't ask you to repeat whatever you'd just said, but he also did not want to ignore you, not when you spoke to him more than you did in a week, so he said the first thing that came to his mind: one of his army puns.

"Why did the mask go to therapy?"

You blinked back at him, not quite accepting that he'd simply brush it off like that. But his look was so expectant, almost willing you to answer what you knew was going to be one of his bad dad jokes, that you had no choice but to gesture him he could go on.

“It had too much 'bloody' emotional baggage.”

You cringed visibly at the reply, letting out a small sigh as you sat back on the couch, with him plopping next to you:

"Not gonna lie, but that was really bad, Ghost!"

He gave you his usual unimpressed look and you could see his balaclava shifting as he opened his mouth to answer, but a huge yawn interrupted him. A huge yawn that you tried to cover with both of your hands and that made you give him a sheepish look, that of a naughty child who pretends to be innocent.

"Wanna hear another?" "Oh God, spare me-" "Why did the tired operator try to stay awake during the mission?"

It was your turn to look unimpressed. He was definitely making it up on the go.

"Because she thought falling asleep on the job would be a 'mission impossible'."

His balaclava may have been on, but his eyes were sparkling again, a small glimpse of amusement in them. You wished you'd known a couple of one-liners just to be able to keep that glimmer as it was.

"You're really enjoying yourself, aren't you?" "All I'm trying to say is that you should get some rest, Bambi. I know you think I'm also tired, and believe me, I am, but you know what do two tired operators make?"

If you were taken aback by the amount of words he put into that sentence, you did not let it show. Instead, you caught on the quip and dutifully replied:

"Two dead ones." "You're a quick learner. So just get some sleep, even half an hour would do it. In the bed, on the couch, hell, even on the floor if that's what you want-" "Ok, ok, you got me, Ghost! But on one condition!" "Let's hear it." "When I wake up, it's your turn to rest. Two tired operators are dead operators, but one rested and one tired operator are just as much!"

The defeated mumble that you got as a response made you smirk, purposefully avoiding his determined gaze, currently set on you. Shaking your head in defeat, you trudged to the bedroom, took the weighted blanket from the bed and placed it on the couch, unaware that Ghost had scooted over to make you more space. It was not a complete success, he'd rather you took the bed that at least had a mattress more comfortable than the springs from the couch, but he would make the compromise. And you would be sleeping in his presence again, not that he had any feelings, good or bad, towards it. He would just relish in the vulnerability of the moment and his role as your protector.

"Alright, wake me up in 30!", you warned him as you got under the blanket, leaning on the arm of the couch, bracing your knees to your chest.

The deep hum you got as an answer sent a soothing sensation down your spine, and you couldn't help but smile as you cuddled up in the fetal position you chose. Deep down, a part of you felt selfish for giving in to the weariness, but the Lieutenant was right: fatigue led to mistakes which could lead to getting you killed.

Besides, you would also make sure he got some rest before morning. You were confident you could do it, you just didn't know how. Yet.

***

The mark of half an hour came and went, but Simon did not shift from his rigid position facing the entry of the safe house. He couldn't bring himself to wake you, not when the faint noises you occasionally let out were a testament to how much you needed the break. And it was not like he could have slept as peacefully as you did - now that he had time to think and reassess the mission, his mind was plagued by alternate scenarios and what-ifs. What if Laswell's intel pointed them to the second building in the compound instead of the first, and they would have been blown up to pieces as soon as they'd broken in? What if Soap hadn't warned him through comms of the two hostiles that were headed towards him, from his blind spot? What if someone had noticed that their men were falling even when no one in the building was shooting at them, and sent someone to look for the sniper positioned nearby?

His trail of thoughts was interrupted when he felt a familiar weight near his leg. He momentarily froze and had to make an effort to look down at the couch and see that your head was resting dangerously close to his leg, your hair gently brushing against his worn-down tactical pants. You must have somehow shifted in your sleep, as the weighted blanket you covered yourself with was forgotten on the floor, your left arm hanging limply on one side of the couch. You were lying on your back, soft snores leaving from your half-open mouth, and all Simon could think of was that your head was almost in his lap.

Why did he want it to be there? He recalled your embarrassment when you fell asleep on his shoulder, back at the base. You would be mortified if you woke up with your head in his lap, and tactically speaking, it would make it harder for him to react to an immediate threat. Then why was he craving the contact like he craved the feeling of the sun on his face on those first days he wore the mask?

**

Another hour passed and Ghost had no intent of waking you up. You truly must have been exhausted, he thought to himself, as he took in your soft snores and occasionally small sighs. The night was dark and silent, and the only source of light that trickled into the room was a dingy lamppost from across the road.

Eventually, Ghost let his eyes wander over your sleeping silhouette, hooded eyes hungrily lingering over the delicate details accentuated by the faint glow. And in that moment, you were as boundless as the sea and vast as the universe. You were lost in a world woven from your dreams, while he, awake and aware, found himself trapped in a dream of his own. And he was in deep that he did not realise when he let his arm rest above yours, leaning his head onto the back of the couch. The grip on his combat knife remained firm, ready to jump into action if needed, but his eyelids were heavy, too heavy for his liking and the soft cadence of your breathing was too inviting. He would only rest his eyes for a bit, not that he could fall asleep like this. He shouldn’t fall asleep like this, not when he is supposed to keep you safe.

**

The faint crackling of your communications could be heard across the room, mingling with the sunbeams that filtered through the heavy curtains. Grunting in annoyance, you rolled on your side, looking for the blanket you’d covered yourself in earlier. It took your mind a moment to register you were not in your bed, but on a couch, yet it was too late to prevent you from rolling into thin air, the heavy thud of you falling on the floor reverberating across the room.

Ghost opened his eyes in an instant, eyes promptly directed to where you had been sleeping. The absence of your body sent his half-asleep mind into a frenzy, hands scrambling for a weapon which he pointed to the floor. His cold gaze softened when he saw your bleary-eyed figure, a smile dancing on his lips as he took in the string of curses you kept muttering under your breath.

“Watcher 1 to Bravo 0-7, how copy? Exfil’s inbound your way. I say again, exfil’s inbound your way.”

Not taking his eyes off you, Ghost pressed the button on his comms, wishing he had Soap’s Polaroid at hand:

“Bravo 0-7 to Watcher 1, copy.”

taglist: @neoarchipelago

[deans-angel67]

Bruises and Surprises

Summary: When Eddie is acting off and then comes home late Evan and Y/N start to worry. But when they find out why he's been acting off, it causes some problems.

Pairing: Eddie Diaz x fem!reader x Evan Buckley

Wordcount: 2.5k

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing possibly, mentions of violence and injuries

A/N: This was inspired by @megalony Late Night Fights. I hope you guys enjoy this, thank you for the support.

____

The four of them sat at Eddie's kitchen table that morning. Both Evan and Y/N had the day off, Chris was going over to a friends house for a sleepover today. And Eddie decided to pick up an extra shift at the fire house.

"You know you didn't have to take that shift Eddie." Y/N says as he pours coffee into a turmos mug. It was rare that the three of them had a day off at the same time. So naturally she was a little disappointed when Eddie said he chose to do an extra 12 hours.

"I didn't realize you were off today, I'm sorry mi amour." He says dropping a kiss on the top of her head.

"You got all your stuff ready Chris?" Chris nods at Eddie's question and then gets up to go grab his things.

"You know there's no harm in taking a day off right. I mean you've been working a lot lately." Evan pitches in concern evident in his voice. As he puts his mug down on the table.

"You should be taking better care of yourself Eds." She said putting a hand on her stomach, masking a slight discomfort that made it's appearance.

"You two are blowing this way out of proportion." Eddie had been acting off lately. He was shorter tempered and he had been picking up a lot of extra hours. He was tired and overall frustrated often. They were both a little worried. Y/N hadn't seen him act this way for a long time. She was getting really worried.

The last time Eddie had acted this way she ended up getting a call say that he needed to be bailed out of jail. But she hadn't seen any bruises or marks on him, maybe she was over reacting.

"Why don't you call in sick?" Evan proposed, only to receive a scoff from Eddie.

"I said I'd be there, Buck. Come on, Chris!" Eddie gave them both a quick kiss before his son finally entered the room. Y/N and Evan said goodbye to Chris and just like that the house became quiet.

"He's acting strange right?" She asked Buck, her hands wrapped around the mug as she stared at the dark liquid before glancing at him.

"Yeah, he is." Evan confirmed.

~~~

Y/N stood in the kitchen cutting vegetables for supper. Two hands made their way to her waist and then her front. Buck leaned his chin on her shoulder as she hummed along to the song playing.

"Why don't you go sit?"

"Babe, I'm fine." She told him pausing to look up at him, kissing him on the cheeks.

"You were sick all morning." He presses. She put the knife down and turned in his arms so she was facing him. Her hands came up to cup his jaw.

"I promis, I feel fine. Good even." She spoke softly giving him her full attention. He let out a sigh searching for something unusual in her features only to find nothing.

"You promis? And if you start to feel even a little off you'll go sit?"

"Yes baby, I promise." She gave him a sweet smile and a kiss on the cheek.

"Well, then let me help. What can I do?" Evan asked going over to the sink to wash his hands.

"You can take over cutting while I get started on the sauce." She took a pot out and placed it beside the one with water. They didn't get to cook together often. It was often Buck or Y/N never Eddie. They were scared they wouldn't have a kitchen by the end of it, or taste buds.

By the time everything was ready it was 8pm. Late compared to 'normal' hours but their schedule was so weird that they got used to eating at odd hours.

"Shouldn't Eddie be home by now?" Y/N asked looking up at Evan with worry.

"His call must have run late. It happens all the time." He reassured her wrapping a hand around her waist and hugging her, his head going down to her neck.

"We should wait for him."

They ended up eating an hour and a half later. Without Eddie.

It was 11pm when Y/N wanted to go to bed but was to busy paissing their living room.

"This can't just be a call Evan."

"Sweetheart-"

"Theres no way he has been on a call for over 3 hours!" He was also getting worried, he just didn't want to show it. It wasn't impossible, but another unit would have gotten there and they would have been able to go back to the station, and back home.

"Baby stop, please." He gently grabbed her arms stopping her movements.

"How about you go to bed-" she shook her head and open her mouth to protest but Evan stopped her.

"How about you go to bed and try to sleep, and I'll go down to the station and see what's going on." She let out a sigh, hesitating.

"Your exhausted and you have work in the morning, Sweetheart. I wasn't really asking." Evan made himself more clear. Her hands went to his biceps and his to her waist.

"Fine."

~~~

It was dark in the house when he came home. Using his hands to make sure he didn't run into anything.  When he reached the kitchen he turned the light over the sink on. He grabbed the first aid kit from the top of the fridge groaning from the pain it caused.

He took his shirt off letting it fall to the ground, he looked down spotting the dark bruises painting the various parts of his body. He took out some rubbing alcohol and cream setting them on the counter.

"Eddie?"

He turned around to find Y/N standing in the doorway of the kitchen. She was just about to fall asleep when she heard the front door.

"Baby where have you been? Why didn't you answer your phone?" She rushed forward only for her to stop a few feet away from him. A small gasp left her when she actually took the time to look at him.

"A call ran late, I'm sorry." He explained. She approached him gently running her fingure tips over a bruise on his stomach to which he winced.

"Eddie..." His name was spoken so softly he barely caught it.

"It was a rough one. It looks worse than it is, mi amour." He said, he put a hand on her arm trying to comfort her. But then she caught sight of his bloody and bruised knuckles. She took in a sharp breath standing up straighter. It all clicked in her head.

"You've been fighting again, haven't you?" She looked at him disappointment flooding her eyes.

"What? No, of course not." The slight hesitant in his voice told her otherwise.

"Edmundo, do not lie to me." She said angerly, tears welling up in her eyes despite her attempts to stop them. He took a deep breath closing his eyes and tilting his head slightly up.

He wasn't planning to do it again but a few weeks back an old buddy from back when he did illegal fighting contacted him. Said then needed someone because some guy left last minute. It was supposed to be a one time thing. But one turned to two, and two to three until it got out of hand.

"Baby-"

"Why!? Why would you possibly do that again?!" She was livid, rightfully so. She took a step back until she hit the kitchen island.

"It's complicated." He said looking back at her. Letting out a sigh, he didn't want to explain.

"Complicated? How could it be Complicated? This was in the past, we left it there, with the lawsuit, and the heartache and- and jail. We talked about this." 

"It's not the same. I'm careful I know what I'm doing." He tries to explain, but it wasn't good enough.

"You also knew what you where doing when you broke that guys nose!" She yelled, not hearing the front door over their arguing.

"That's not fair."

"Look at yourself!" He swallowed hard. He was littered with cuts and bruises. He knew he shouldn't come home looking like this.

"Eddie?" Evan stood at the other end of the kitchen, his voice caused them both to look over at him.

Y/N kept a concern look on her face but a weight on her shoulders was lifted knowing that Buck was home and okay, it was one less thing to worry about. Eddie seemed surprised, he though Evan was sleeping.

"Thank God, your okay. I've been looking everywhere for you." Evan drops his keys on the counter and rushed to hug his boyfriend. Y/N letting out a sigh and ran a hand through her hair.

Eddie inhaled sharply as Buck hugged him and winced. He returned the affection and then pulled away a little.

"Buck." It was strained and said through gritted teeth because of the pain. When he finally pulled away he got a good look at Eddie.

"What the hell happened?" He said anger in his tone. When no one answered he turned to his girlfriend for help.

"You don't talk about fight club right?" She said sarcasticly causing Eddie to roll his eyes.

"What?" Bucks face filled with confusing looking between the two.

"He's fighting again." She explained moving to the other side of the island to create space between her and the boys.

"What!? Why?" He turns to Eddie brows furrowed, he wasn't there when he did the fights in the past. Y/N was. He had heard of some of them from her, like the one where he broke a guy's nose so bad he choked on a piece of cartilage.

"Can we please not have this conversation again." Eddie felt like they were going around in circles, and it didn't help when his girlfriend just pick up the conversation where they left off when Evan arrived.

"They know what there doing as much as you do. How do you know how it's going to end? Next time it could be you, and they won't stay to help you, they'll leave you there." She didn't want to fight with her boys tonight, not with all the stress that she was under. Today was supposed to be a good day, and it only seemed to take a turn for the worst.

"Y/N-"

"She's right, I thought you were donne with it Eddie." Evan cuts in, concern and confusion evident on his face and in his voice.

"Apparently not." She muttered her hand rubbing her temple

"Do you know how much you scared us tonight?" Evan tried to make him understand. Y/N started to feel a slight discomfort, but she was unsure from what.

"I'm sorry." He really did feel bad, he knew he was extremely late. The missed phone calls and texts were unlike him.

He fished his phone from his pocket and set it on the counter. The screen was shattered and the back metal panel was missing a few pieces falling out of the phone as he sets it down.

"Eddie you can't start doing this again, I wasn't there when you did it before but Y/N told me it got pretty brutal." Evan explained his concern about his past, scared that it might repeat.

"Look it's just a few fights, and they help. I come home and I'm not angry or impatient." Eddie tried to reassure them but it wasn't working. He ran a hand through his hair.

"No, you come home bloody and bruised. Like thats any better." Y/N pitched back in sarcasm lassed in her voice. A hand going to her stomach now understanding where the discomfort came from

"Eddie you can't keep doing this, not after tonight." Evan almost pleaded.

"You don't get it!" He argued back, getting more frustrated by the minute. Y/N winced gripping the counter with her free hand.

"Then explain." Evan continued to try and reason with him but nothing seemed to work.

"I can't!" Eddie shouted, the two boys to engrossed in their argument to see the clear pain their girl was in.

"This isn't healthy, I though you talked about it with your therapist." Buck continued to try and understand.

"Evan-" He was cut off by Y/N.

"Uhh! Will you two stop!" She was hunched over, one hand still on the counter for support the other on her stomach. A pained look on her face.

"Y/N?" Eddie turned to her and took a few steps in her direction.

"Baby, what's wrong?" Evan was extremely concerned. He rounded the island and stood beside her placing a hand on her hip.

"You two are stressing me."

"Mi amour, that can't be stress." Eddie gently rubs circles into her back.

"Since when does stress cause you pain?" Evan asked, she stood back up straight.

"Since I've been pregnant."

They both look at each other, wanting to have confirmation they heard the same thing.

"Pregnant?"

"Baby, are you sure?"

"I was hoping for a little more excitement boys." She remarked.

"Okay, how about we get you to the couch?" Eddie spoke looking at Evan.

Once she was seated on the couch the boys sat on either side of her.

"How long have you known?" She looked over at Buck and took a deep inhale.

"A week." She leaned back until her back hit the couch and looked between the boy. Trying to see both their reactions.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"I was going to, but you both have such a hectic work schedule that I was trying to find the right time. And then Eddie decided to work today so... This isn't how I wanted to tell you." She looked down at her hands in her lap.

She had spent so much time trying to plan the perfect moment. Tonight was gonna be it over some dinner the three of them. So they could figure out how to tell Chris together. But everything went wrong, it usually did with them. The execution was terrible, but the result was always good. Buck set a hand on her shoulder squeezing slightly to give her a little comfort.

"Where does it hurt?" Eddie asked concern painted on his face.

She looked over at him and set her hand on her lower stomach to show him. He reached over lifting her shirt a little and pressing a hand in different areas. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

"I'm sorry baby." He apologized glancing between her and Evan. He hated that he had cause this. The stress and pain. He never wanted this to happen.

"It's just you two are constantly risking your life at work. I don't-"

"Hey, I get. I won't go to the fights anymore, I swear." Eddie stopped her to explain. He understood how much this meant to her to both of them. She gave him a small smile before it turned to a frown when she spotted Evan leaning down to be slightly above her stomach

"Now, you gotta stop giving trouble to your mom little guy." She let out a giggle running her hand in his hair only to lift his face and give him a kiss

"I don't think thats how it works Buck."

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

prompt #5 with conrad!! maybe reader and conrad are best friends but there's always been tension and one night they make out (maybe in the pool or on the dock?) but reader freaks out about it when she goes bed and decides the next day to act normal and pretend like it didn't happen so it doesn't make their relationship weird <3

This request is so old, I'm very sorry to the anon who sent it... I forgot to finish the ending and post

—

Ever since that silly spin the bottle game in Oliver’s basement when you were thirteen years old, you’ve been dying to kiss your best friend. You hadn’t realized what the fire of jealousy in your guts meant when you saw Penelope and Mariah kissing Conrad as a result of the game, but you did three years later when he told you about Aubrey. 

Their relationship didn’t last until summer. So, when the Fishers came back to Cousins, he was your Conrad again. 

That summer, you could write a full journal about the many almost-kisses, more-than-friends gestures and special attention between you and him.  

Unfortunately, nothing happened until two summers later. 

It was late, you and Conrad were sitting in his backyard, talking on the poolside with your feet dipping in the water. Sometimes you would have a night dip, but the moon was full above your heads, which added a chill to the night air.  

And then, it happened.

Conrad kissed you. The world around you blurred from the gentle way he was cupping your cheek as his lips pressed against yours, the chirp of the crickets fading into white noise, and for that brief moment, it was just the two of you. 

As you were sneaking back inside your house, you fought an urge to scream. It finally happened. Conrad had kissed you. Thirteen-years-old you would never believe it. You flopped down on your bed and squeezed your pillow, needing to exteriorize your excitement without waking your parents. 

You couldn't wait to see him again tomorrow. To greet him with a kiss and watch the look on your friends’ faces. 

What if that kiss was a mistake though? You both wanted it when it happened, but what if tomorrow Conrad regrets it? Or, what if you get together and then realize it’s not working and break up? No exes stay friends after breaking up. Your grin was immediately wiped from your face, the fear of losing Conrad settling in. 

You made sure to keep your distances the following day. You tried to not make it too obvious that Conrad would catch on, but just enough so he wouldn’t make another move on you. Even if you were yearning for another kiss. 

‘’Do you want to go on the boardwalk?’’ Conrad asked, leaning on the kitchen island as you were eating cherries from the fruit bowl. 

You nodded, swallowing before speaking. ‘’Sure. Who else is coming?’’ 

 ‘’Just me and you.’’ 

Suddenly, the boardwalk didn’t seem like a good idea. Being alone with Conrad didn’t seem like a good idea. 

‘’I don’t know…’’ you hesitated, glancing outside and seeing the bright sun. ‘’Isn’t it a bit hot to go on rides? I don’t want to get a heatstroke.’’ 

Conrad hummed. It wasn’t that hot, in his opinion, but he didn’t push. ‘’We could go in the pool? I think Steven and Jeremiah are already in there.’’

The four of you played volleyball for a bit. You usually teamed with Conrad, but you decided to switch and play with Jeremiah instead...which turned out to be a mistake. Your team wasn't doing great; Jeremiah was terrible at volleyball and you were much shorter than your opponents. You tried bringing up the unfair disadvantage, but Steven’s phone went off and he had to meet with Shayla. Jeremiah followed suit, seeing Belly was back from her debutante lesson. 

Which left you and Conrad alone. 

You felt him pass under the volleyball net and come up behind you, but you disappeared underwater and swam away. Unfortunately, your tactic must not have been as smooth as you thought because Conrad saw through your plan and called you out on it. 

‘’Is this what we do now? Making out and then never talking about it?’’ he questioned, sounding more disappointed than mad, which pinched your heart. 

You were caught off guard by his words, not expecting him to be so blunt. ‘’What do you want me to say?’’ you replied, your tone a pinch too defensive.

The pool's rippling water seemed to mirror the tension between you two. 

Conrad exhaled deeply. ‘’Why are you acting like nothing happened? Because last night you were pretty into it and now you’re pushing me away.’’ 

You closed your eyes, remembering his hand under your shirt as you were kissing by the poolside, groping and massaging your tits in a way that made your panties wet. You wanted to experience it again. 

‘’Last night was a mistake. We…we can’t.’’ You shook your head, stepping back as Conrad swam to you again. ‘’It’ll ruin our friendship and I don’t want to lose you as a friend—’’

‘’I don’t want us to be friends anymore. I want more.’’ He reached under the water to grab your hand. ‘’How many times do I have to say it until you get it?’’

—

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[apollyonsdarksecrets]

The Rescue

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven,

Summery: She’s reserved, emotionally cut off, and spiraling down a dark path; one she can’t get out of on her own. Aaron Hotchner may be her only help, but at what cost? When he shows up to her hotel room, contact in hand, she realizes it may be more than what she bargained for.

A/N: Guys this is a very long chapter with a lot going on please put on your seatbelts, settle in, because it gets wild.

Warning: 18+ Only MDNI SMUT. Language, BDSM, Dom Aaron, emotionally detached reader, typical CM violence, childhood trauma, abusive father figure, age gap (reader 25 Aaron 40) doesn’t line up with a specific time line, use of Y/n because story is set in 3rd person for the first half then switches POV, last name for reader is Smith,

Specific Chapter Warning: R explains the trauma she dealt with as a child, SMUT. Oral (F receiving), Fingering (F receiving), Praise, Dirty talk, partially protected sex (F on the shot) Aaron has a slight breeding kink, cream pie,

Present Day

David waves one final time before slipping into his car, the parking deck of the quantico office quiet and still in the late hours. It’s nearing 12am, you’re mentally taxed, your brain begging to shut down but you can’t stop fidgeting in the passenger seat beside Aaron.

Aaron’s face is hard set, his eyes gauging your every move. “What do you want to do?” His voice is soft, filling the quiet cab, “I can take you to your neighbor’s if that would make you feel better…” There’s another option he would like to give you, his own nerves firing in overtime, afraid to let you leave his sight.

You’re staring out the window at the concrete walls, you feel hallow, like something inside your body has shattered and you’ve lost all of the important pieces. “I…” you like your lips, trying to find your voice. “Anna said she was okay with Bruce, right?”

“Yes.” Aaron draws out the word, searching for your face in the darkened glass, barely able to make out your reflection. You look torn down, the strong woman he has known chipped away to reveal a scared little girl, running from whatever darkness haunts her past. “We can go wherever you need to.”

“I’d… I just…” you take a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut. There have only been a few hours between what happened and now, and each one has been filled with flourished activity. You haven’t had time to stop and process what has happened, your brain now catching up to your body. Your head throbs slightly, the few cuts in your palms sting when you close your fists, your eyes hurt from crying so much. But the worst of it all is the war raging in your mind, the struggle of keeping it all in or letting it all out a constant battle that you seem to be losing more and more control over.

“Why don’t we take a ride?” The suggestion breaks through your thoughts, making you turn towards Aaron. His face is so soft, an expression you’ve never seen before, and you aren’t sure if you want to hate it or long for it.

“Okay…”

And so he does just that. He drives into the city, the street lights zipping by, barely illuminating dark houses and empty streets. Aaron drives with no real destination in mind, taking random turns, navigating the roads as you sit in silence. Eventually one of his hands come to rest beside your thigh, the flash of light on his watch catching your attention.

It’s a reminder.

An offer.

Salvation.

An hour passes in stark silence before you take your first deep breath, the noise loud in the small space. “Thank you… for saving me.” You force your voice to steady out, grappling for the mask you so carefully constructed all those years ago to shield the rubble of your true form.

“Do not thank me.” Aaron responds, rolling to a stop at a traffic light. You’re unfamiliar with this part of town, but it looks like a nice area with large lawns and small houses. “I just want you to talk to me.”

Your lips press together, glancing down at his large hand. Slowly you let your own hand slip off of your lap, tentatively touching his pinky with yours.

“I… it’s hard… and messy.” You whisper, watching how his fingers twitch but he makes no move to take your hand.

“I understand… but please, let me help you.” The light above suddenly cascades the car in neon green, and Aaron’s drives on, his face stoney and a twinge of desperation in his voice.

You turn your gaze back to the window with a deep breath, the cracks in your soul widening as you speak.

“I… I had a fairly normal childhood when I was younger. Very typical suburban family, my mother stayed home with me while my father worked at a mechanic shop. Happy, picturesque family…” You swallow thickly, choking on the pressure building in your chest. “I was 8 when my mom died… she was hit by a drunk driver and my dad just… he couldn’t handle it. He loved her so much that when she died he snapped. He started drinking and I… he would drink so much that I would find him passed out for hours on end and I was still just a child…”

A dark bitter laugh leaves your lips, shaking your head as you lean back into the seat. “Then one day he seemed to wake up. Instead of being mad at the world and God, things that felt no retribution from his anger, he decided that he needed something that would. Me. The night she died she was on the way home from seeing her mother. It was so late but I missed her, she had been gone for two days. I begged her to come home.”

You can still see that night vividly when you closed your eyes, the old house filled with police officers, the broken sound of your father’s begging screams. The female officer who had taken you to your room to explain that your mother would not be coming home as she sat with you on the floor surrounded by coloring books and stuffed animals.

“He told me my emotions caused everything. That if I had just sucked it up and been strong she would still be with us. He made me believe it, and… I still do to this day. From that moment on he had decided to train me to be better.”

Your fingers inch farther across Aaron’s knuckles, and finally he flips his palm, lacing your fingers through his. The feeling of him squeezing your hand settles your rolling stomach.

“Our house was a fixer upper, the guest bathroom had never been completed so my dad… painted over the small window, put foam over the gaps to the door and threw me in. I…” Your grip tightens, your throat restricting. You look over at Aaron’s normally stoic face and see barely restrained rage. “Hours and hours I’d spend in that room…. As I grew older it grew worse. He’d keep me from school… have me do everything my mother used to do. Clean, make all the meals, laundry. By the time high school rolled around I had missed so much school CPS has been called. The case was dropped in an instance because my dad charmed the woman over, said I was a run away most of the time since my mother died.”

Aarons grip on the wheel is white knuckled, his lips pressed into a hard line as he focuses on the road ahead. “I was beat with a belt that night. It gave me the courage to leave though. From that moment on I worked my ass off to get here… I just… I didn’t want there to be another kid like me… I know what my father did was wrong but it’s so ingrained in my head that every emotion I let slip through could be my undoing, could be the reason the next bad thing happens to me or those I care for… I can’t… I can’t let that happen again.”

You glance over to Aaron, who’s silence is becoming unnerving as his thumb strokes over your own. Finally he pulls your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles for a long moment before he speaks.

“I’m sorry. I know those words do little for what you have been through… I also know you don’t want to be pitied, and I’m not going to do that. You are extremely strong, Y/n. You have over come something that most people would let consume their lives, steer them to destitution.” He licks his lips and glances your way briefly, noting the solemn look on your face. “You know my opinion on your emotions, and I think you’re wrong about believing they can only bring you harm or failure. You’ve done so much involving them already you just haven’t realized it yet.

You have accomplished things that others only dream of, you alone and no one else. Your father played no role in this, he didn’t train you to become the woman you are, that was there all along. And I know deep in my heart that your mother is watching you with pride.” Your heart, the damaged organ that it is, swells from the praise and the thought of your mother. Your eyes burn and you’re surprised you have anything left to let out. But then again it’s years of buildup all coming to a head.

“Is he the reason for these?” Aaron gestures to your thigh, and you nod slightly.

“He threw me into the bathroom once and some of the tiles were broken… I can’t really feel the area anymore but I have what I guess you would call a phantom pain every now and again.”

Aaron brings your hand back for another gentle kiss, the delicate action such a contrast to the gleam of fury in his dark eyes. “My brave girl.” And for whatever reason, those three words break you. Maybe it’s because Aaron is seeing you, and not a facade, maybe it’s the perception of the fact that you are brave, or maybe it’s the simple claim that indicates so much more than ownership.

Comfort.

Safety.

Someone to rely on when you need it the most.

You clamp your other hand over your mouth as you sob, leaning into his shoulder as you feel everything fall into you all at once. Letting another person hold the weight of your world for just a little bit.

Aaron turns into a parking lot, into the first spot he can find before killing the engine and wrapping you in a tight hug. The consul is digging into your ribs, his hold is a little suffocating, but you bury your face into his chest anyways.

*~*~*~*~*~*

“Are you sure?”

Once you had finally calmed down Aaron offered you his guest room for the night. You were an hour away from home but only 20 minutes from his. After a long moment of hesitation you agreed, much to his visual relief. But now standing in front of his door you feel your reservations creeping back in.

“I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.” He pushes the door open and steps into a dark room. Your breath unintentionally hitches, your eyes scanning the deep darkness until light floods the area. “I have a security system installed. We will get you the same one for your home.”

The beeping of the alarm would have went completely unnoticed had Aaron not said anything as he fiddles with the control panel on the other wall. He turns once it goes silent, watching you as you linger in the doorway, doubt and fear waging in your eyes as you scan over his simply furnished apartment.

“It’s okay. I promise.”

He’s warm reassurance makes you feet ease into the room, the door shutting firmly behind you. You’re entire body is rigid, arms slung around your center like you’re holding yourself together with your own white knuckled grip. Aaron bites his lip slight before stepping closer, gesturing to the rooms behind him.

“What would you like to do? Are you hungry?”

You tug slightly at your necklace, opening your mouth only to find the words are stuck deep in your throat.

“Y/n?” He steps closer and your eyes snap to his.

“I… I don’t know what I want to do… my head is pounding and I just… I can’t figure it out, I can’t decide.” Your stare is helpless, eyes flickering back and forth between his brown ones. It’s your way of asking for his help without letting the words out because if you do you’re scared of what you will become after that.

Something in his face shifts, it’s ever so slight but you can see it in the way he shrugs out of his coat, tossing it on the back of the couch. You can see it in the way his shoulders roll back and the lines around his eyes soften. “I know baby.” He closes the distance between you, cupping your face between burning hands and you physically feel the tension draining from your jaw. “Let’s get you cleaned up okay? We will go from there.”

Aaron leads you through the apartment, flicking on the lights as he goes, he walks you into his bedroom, a space as simply furnished as the rest of his home; and towards his joint bathroom. “Why don’t you wash your hands and I’ll find you something to wear to bed?”

Even though he is phrasing everything as a question you know he’s giving you the guidance you need, not making you over think or pick what needs to be done first. You nod your head and he gives you a soft smile before ducking out of the restroom.

You glance at your hands, the nurses had cleaned your hands enough to remove the shards of glass but there is still blood caked between your fingers and under your nails. Turning on the water you test the temperature before easing your hands under the flow. A soft hiss leaves your lips at the sting but you find yourself leaning into it.

You don’t notice Aaron standing in the doorway, watching as your hands tremble under the steaming water. “Here.” You jump faintly at the sudden rasp of his voice, finding him in the mirror.

He steps by you, his hand skimming your waist and your attention zeros in on the touch. Aaron grabs a rag from the shelf over the toilet, gently pushing you from in front of the sink. He wets the rag and turns to you, reaching for your hands without another word and begins to wipe away the blood and grime.

His hands hold yours softly, and you never knew he could be so gentle. Your eyes can’t leave his face, the concentration making lines appear between his brow, his eyes squinting slightly.

Aaron glances up at the feeling of you watching him and your cheeks flush, having been caught but still unable to look away. Once finished with your hands he rinses the rag, cupping your face once more as he runs the rough material over your cheek, cleaning away the stains of makeup.

Your eyes flutter, something in your body thrumming to life with each swipe of the cloth. “Aaron…” You don’t even mean to say his name, the syllables just fall so easily from your lips and he stills, eyes boring into yours.

“Sweet girl.” He breathes back, and your insides twist sharply. The tension is undeniable, the feeling of him so close forcing your body to react. You inch closer, your eyes dropping to his lips, watching as a smile curves the corner of his mouth.

The rag falls to the counter, his hands pulling you in the rest of the way. You’re nearly on your tiptoe, your hands finding his arms to steady yourself. He brushes a soft kiss against your lips and you whimper, the sound high in your throat and he breaks, deepening the kiss with hunger.

Electricity shoots through your body, pinging off of every nerve, setting them all ablaze. His hands move to your waist, bunching up your shirt until his palms meet your warm skin, and you shudder at the feeling. Aaron moans, the sound deep in his chest and you whimper as it travels through your bones straight to your core.

Pressing you backwards, Aaron walks you out of the restroom, hands wandering the plains of your back. You stumble against him, letting him lead you to the bed where the backs of your knees brush the king sized mattress. Your heart pounds in your chest, but when Aaron breaks the kiss to look down at you, he finds no hesitation in the dewy set of your eyes.

“Can I?” His voice is husky as he tugs at your sweater and you offer a small nod. He kisses you again, knocking the air from your lungs as he helps you pull your arms free, backing away to slip the cotton over your head and throw it to the floor. You’re in nothing fashionable, a simple black t-shirt bra but the hunger in his gaze is undeniable. “You’re so beautiful.”

Your hands find his chest, going for the buttons of his white shirt only for Aaron to grab your wrists, pulling your hands to his lips to kiss your palms. “Aaron I…”

“Do you know how hard it was to work today? Knowing you’re just a few feet away from me?” You shake your head, swaying slightly on your feet. “All I was able to think about was you. How your lips taste, how you moan my name, the way you looked underneath me in the morning.”

All of those things felt like a lifetime ago, and as his teeth nipped your skin just over the pulse in your wrist, you realize you would do anything to relive it. “I need you.” Your voice is a desperate, soft plea; your eyes alight with need making his lips curl.

“Then let me take care of you.” He whispers, his grip tightening slightly. You lick your lips, his gaze darting down for a breath before snagging your eyes again, there’s so much lust and need swirling in the depths of his brown irises that you find yourself lost in them. “Let me show you how you deserve to be treated, princess.”

“Please.” It’s a soft breath of a word, but it’s all that’s needed.

Aaron kisses you so forcefully that you’re sure your lips will be bruised, but you don’t have time to care as he suddenly pushes you. The bed springs squeak under the sudden impact of your body, the air leaving your lungs in one big whoosh. Aaron’s fingers expertly pop the button of your jeans, and your blood buzzes with excitement as you lift your hips, helping him pull them down and off your legs, taking your shoes and socks with them.

There’s something about the way he is suddenly above you, still fully dress in his work clothes where as you’re laid out scarcely clad in your underwear set, with nothing to hide behind. It’s a display of dominance that sends a rush of wet heat to your center.

Aaron smiles down at you, his hands making their way up your thighs, spreading your legs for you to display the soaked gusset of your grey panties. The moan that rips from his throat makes your stomach clench, your teeth impaling the pink flesh of your lip.

“You are all I have been able to think about,” He whispers, his fingers curling into the band of your panties as he moves to his knees. “And now I finally get to have you.” Aaron pulls your panties down your trembling thighs, laying you bare before him as he slips one of your legs over his shoulder.

His warm breath fans over your soaked lips, your vision going hazy as you prop yourself on an elbow to see. He looks sinful between your thighs, dark eyes looking up at you through darker lashes, his hair tussled, jaw hanging open slightly. The anticipation makes your stomach swoop and the breath in your lungs freeze.

You’re given no warning before he ducks his head, his tongue licking a fat stripe from your entrance and catching on your clit. You gasp at the sensation, your head falling back against the bed. Aaron wraps his arm around your thigh, holding you still as he circles your clit with the tip of his tongue, your legs threatening to squeeze his skull.

“Oh fuck…” You moan, your hand finding his short hair and tugging almost painfully, back leaving the bed. Aaron smiles against you, his teeth nipping at your folds before he lazily fucks his tongue into your dripping hole. “Oh god, Aaron…”

“You taste so fucking sweet.” His arm tightens on your thigh, his other hand tracing patterns on the inner skin of the other. You squirm at the feeling, your eyes pinched shut as waves of arousal roll through your body. Aaron’s dark eyes travel up the expanse of your body, seeking your face but he can only see the way your chest rises and falls with each gasping breath, your head tossed back as noises of pleasure fill the room.

His cock pulses in the tight confines of his slacks, the need to feel your wet heat wrapped around his aching member nearly driving him insane.

“Fuck, please Aaron…” You aren’t sure what you are begging for as your orgasm begins to swell under your skin, pulling your muscles taught. A part of you wants to feel embarrassed at how easily he has been able to bring you to the brink, but the sounds of his moans between your legs quickly floods the thought out.

“Cum for me baby, make a mess on my face.” It’s dirty and mind reeling all at once, your jaw going slack as your hips grind up to meet his mouth. Aaron slips two fingers to your opening, gathering the combination of slick and spit before easing into you.

A soft whimper accompanies the sudden intrusion, your hips undulating to take more of his thick digits as your orgasm creeps ever closer. He sets a steady rhythm, slow and deep that leaves stars dancing around your vision and with one final swirl of his tongue as his fingers curl into that spongy spot deep in your walls you break.

Your orgasm rips through your body like a bolt of lightening. Your limbs lock and your back bows up, your lips form a perfect ‘O’ as waves of pleasure crash over you.

“That is, that’s my good girl.” Aaron praises, keeping his pace steady as you moan his name like a prayer. It’s a few more seconds until your body collapses back onto the bed, your fingers falling from his hair taking a strand or two with them. Aaron pulls away, standing back up licking your slick from his fingers with a grumbling groan.

Climbing back up your body he creates a trail of kisses that leave you feeling hot and desperate, a distinct emptiness between your legs as he settles over you. Aaron cups the back of your head, lifting you to meet his bruising kiss. The tangy taste of yourself is heavy on his tongue as he explores your mouth, your still trembling hands finding his back and pulling him closer.

The hard ridge in his slacks presses against your heated, slick core, grinding slowly. You whimper into his mouth, hands trialing up his back, scratching at his shirt. You break away with a gasp. “To… too many clothes.” Going for the small plastic buttons Aaron lets out a soft laugh as your fumble over them.

“Easy princess. All you had to do was ask.” He sits back on his heels, your legs draped over his thighs and you watch mesmerized as his fingers easily work the buttons free, revealing his chest full of dark hair. You manage to twist your arm behind your back, freeing the clasp of your bra and quickly throwing it somewhere in the floor to join the growing pile.

Aaron groans at the sight of you, his mouth watering as he thinks of every spot he wants to cover with bites and bruises. Starting with your breasts. He leans over you, snagging your wrists and pinning them to the bed.

You bite your cheek, surprised that you welcome the weight of him above you, that you like the feeling of him pinning you down, leaving you to his mercy. You find your mind slipping more, every worried thought falling into some unreachable place that can remain in the dark.

Clearing his throat lightly, Aaron licks his lips. “Maybe I should have asked this sooner but… when was the last time you were with someone.?”

An awkward but none the less important question to ask, even if he is seated between your trembling thighs, staring down at your naked body.

A new flush spreads over your cheeks and you shift against the bed, against the hold he has on your wrists. “I… I was in high school.”

A moment of shock steals his features before he can school his face back. “Do you take birth control?”

You squirm again, chewing the inside of your cheek as his thumbs rub over your galloping pulse. “I.. Every three months I go get a shot. It’s better than taking a pill every day that I might forget.” You explain weakly, searching his face.

Aaron nods, shifting his weight on his knees, his cold belt buckle pressing into your thigh. “I can always grab a condom if that makes you feel better.” One hand leaves your wrist but you don’t dare move as he places it on your lower tummy, spreading wide. “But I have to admit, the idea of fucking you full of me is very, very exciting.” Your breath catches, eyes widening and Aaron’s grin turns devilish. “You think so too.”

All you can do is nod slightly, a thrill working through your body that makes the hairs on your arms stand on end, gooseflesh cascading over your skin.

Sitting back, Aaron releases you completely to fiddle with his belt. The brown leather hisses through the belt loops and when he stands he takes his pants and boxers down in one swoop. Your eyes instantly fall to the hard member standing up between his legs and your thighs clench.

His cock is long and thick, the dark hairs at the base trimmed neatly like the rest of him. A few veins run along his shaft, the prominent one on the underside pulsing slightly. He takes himself in his hand, pumping once, twice, to relieve some of the ache, the mushroom head a light shade of pink.

You whimper at the sight of him, the need in your belly almost painful. “Aaron… I want you.” Your voice is sultry, your eyes glazed over when you finally look at his face. He smiles crookedly as he slinks back onto the bed, his eyebrow cocked.

“You can have me, princess. Every part of me is yours.” The words scorch through your chest right to the very center of your soul and you find your legs falling apart, your hands still gripping the sheets above your head. “Come here.” Instead of covering you with his body, Aaron lays down beside you, turning you so you lay on your side as well.

“What?” He pulls your back flush to his chest, his hand slipping over your thigh and dragging your leg on top of his. You whimper when you feel the smooth heat of his cock glide through your wet folds, your back instinctively arching into him.

Aaron’s arm tucks under your head, his other hand free to roam your body as he rocks his hips, slipping his cock between your folds with ease, gathering your slick. “So wet baby, so ready for me aren’t you?” He breathes, pressing kisses along your shoulder and neck. You whine and press your head back into his shoulder, exposing your neck more. “That’s my girl. Are you going to let me mark you up? Show everyone just who you belong to?”

You nod without a thought in your head, “Y-yes… please Aaron.” He smiles against your skin before nipping the delicate area, turning the skin a deep shade of red as he closes his lips over the spot. You moan loudly, rocking your hips back against his, the steady glide of his cock bumping into your clit driving you wild.

“So fucking pretty.” He whispers and you force yourself to turn your head and look at him. When you do your heart jumps to your throat, his hooded eyes burn with lust but there’s something else swirling just below the surface, something that makes your head groggy and your body melt into his.

“You belong right here.” His voice is deep and rough and it makes your jaw slacken. Your chest squeezes, butterflies erupting in your stomach, beating at you with their wings as his hips draw back. The round head of his cock presses against your entrance, his hand tightening on your hip. “I’m going to enjoy every moment of watching you come undone for me.” He presses forward, stretching you around him and your nails dig into his forearm with a whine. Aaron’s gaze never wavers from yours, caught in the depths of your irises. “Then every moment of piecing you back together.”

Leisurely Aaron rocks his hips, slipping deeper and deeper into your wet heat. Every inch has your back arching, the ridges and bumps rubbing along your walls in the most perfect way. Your eyes slip nearly shut, your breath puffing across his pink lips and your only awareness is of Aaron. How his muscles bunch under your hand, how your body sticks to his from the heat radiating between you both, how his fingers dig into your flesh guiding your hips back to meet his as he sinks home.

Never have you felt this full, the stretch burns and it boarders on painful but you wouldn’t want it any other way. Ecstasy skirts down Aaron’s spine, making his own groan slip free and his cock twitch. You jump at the feeling, your breath wheezing in your lungs and he smiles, repeating the motion.

“Aaron… oh fuck.” It’s all you can manage, head falling back into the crevice of his shoulder, one arm wrapping up around his that pillows your head. His name is a soft, sweet beg and it has Aaron’s stoicism crumpling.

“Tell me what you need, princess. I’ll give you everything.” His breath is warm against your ear, your eyes starting to water for reasons you can’t explain the longer he stays seated inside you. His hand continuously strokes your side as you fight for your words, kisses littering your jaw as the seconds pass.

“I need… I need you to move, Aaron.”

There isn’t a chance in hell he would make you beg twice, slowly he pulls back, ensuring you feel every part of him before pushing back in. Your jaw drops, uninhibited moans falling past your lips at the steady rhythm he sets. Aaron slips his hand to your cheek, caressing you with his thumb in time to each deep thrust. “You take me so well, my cock was made just for you wasn’t it?”

It consumes your body like a wild fire, burning intense and bright, cracking through your skin which each grind of his hips. You cling to him where you can, your eyes rolling back into your skull, and he uses the opportunity to turn your face back to his. Aaron kisses you with no sense of urgency, no rush to throw you to the end, he claims your mouth the same way he claims your body; with a measure of patience and understanding that leaves you reeling.

You break away first, moaning his name and his hand travels down your neck, cupping your heavy breast as his lips find your neck. His long fingers toy with your pebbled nipple, sparks flying into your stomach with each pinch and roll. Your leg tightens around his thigh, your breath coming faster as your body arches into his touch.

“I’m… fuck I’m going to cum.” You breath into the warm air, your cunt fluttering around his cock rhythmically.

“Cum for me, take what you need and cum all over my cock.” Aaron’s rhythm doesnt falter in the slightest, the pump of his cock hard and slow hitting spots you’d never dreamt of finding. His hand leaves your breast, trailing down your stomach slowly circling your belly. You moan at the feeling, his lips pulling into a smile against your skin. “This little part right here, this part of your beautiful belly, drives me mad.” His hand presses down into your lower stomach slightly and you see stars at the sudden pressure, feeling his cock against rubbing against your muscles. “Imagining you heavy and round-.” Aaron groans as your cunt tightens, your breath uneven like the sudden stutter in your hips. “Pregnant with my baby.”

A guttural version of his name leaves your lips as you snap in two. The fire inside your body turning into an inferno, consuming you entirely as you cling helplessly to Aaron. Your head is flush with his shoulder, your foot hooked around his leg as your pussy spasms and coats his cock with cream. Aaron’s pace suddenly falters and he moans loudly, the feeling of your velvet walls clamping down around him nearly his undoing.

Slowly you drift back to yourself, gasping for air and shuddering as the aftershocks rock through you. You lick your lips, about to say anything when suddenly Aaron is pressing you forward, rolling you onto your front. He slips free of your pussy and you whimper, letting him adjust your pliant body to his needs. With your chest pressed to the bed and your ass thrust into the air Aaron groans at the sight of you. Your thighs tremble in effort to keep yourself up right, sweat gleams across your back and shoulders, flushing your skin a beautiful shade of pink. “You’re doing so good for me.” His hands graze over the globe of your ass, settling on your hips as he nudges your knees apart, adjusting your stance. You make a soft noise in your throat, fingers finding hold in the bedding. “I know baby, you’re being such a good girl though. I know you can take it, just relax for me.” Your brain hardly keeps up, picking out the important words in its state and your body melts into the mattress with a sigh. His cock aligns with your opening, teasing until you whimper, rocking back trying to impale yourself on him. Aaron smiles, sweeping your hair off of your neck and into his fist. He's gentle as he tugs at the strands, testing the waters and you moan, eyes rolling into the back of your head.

"That's it baby. Just like that." He draws out the words as he sinks into your heat. The angle is so much different than before, the head of his cock rubbing along the front wall of your cunt and you gape at the sensation. Your grip tightens on the bed as his hips become flush with your ass, giving you a moment to adjust.

"Oh fuck... Oh fuck." You mumble, electricity skimming up your spine as Aaron pulls back until only the tip is left.

"Beg for me." The words are a laced growl and you simper below him, the hold on your hair growing tighter.

"Please, please Aaron I want- I need you so bad. Please fuck me." You don't know where the words come from, somewhere deep and primal in your guts but they have never felt so right.

Aaron's hips snap forward, sinking into you at a punishing force and you cry into the air, the need and pleasure curling back into your stomach with a vengeance. To say Aaron is fucking you into the mattress is an understatement, the hold on your hip is bruising and the grip on your hair is punishing. The lewd sounds of sex fill the air, wet squelching as his cock sinks into you, the slap of skin against skin and the unmistakable moans of pleasure.

"Such a good. Fucking. Girl." He breathes, his body curving over your own, husky moans falling from his lips as he pounds into you. "Fuck baby, you're squeezing me so hard. Are you gonna cum for me? Gonna cum all over my cock?"

Your head tips back a smile curving your lips at his praise and you nod what little you can. "Yeees! Oh god yes Aaron.” You hold onto the sheets with white knuckled force, your moans and gasps mixing with his grunts making an intoxicating song. He growls low in his chest, his teeth bared, sweat gleaming on his shoulders and forehead.

“I’m gonna cum Y/n… I’m gonna make you mine. Again.” A harsh thrust makes you keen, your head tilting back making your neck strain. “And again.” Another one leaves you gasping, your mouth falling open. “And again.”

You snap simultaneously, his hips slamming into your ass as you cry his name. His cock switches, painting your walls with ropes of milky cum, your cunt squeezing every last drop free as you shudder and collapse. Lights dance behind your lids, your orgasm moving through your body with such force you are scarcely aware of the moans falling from Aaron’s kiss bitten lips.

“Mine. My good girl, my pretty little thing.”

It takes a few more moments before Aaron is able to roll onto his back beside you, grunting slightly at the burn in his hips as you let out a soft moan, stretching out your soar muscles. Aaron pulls you into his side easily, wrapping an arm around your waist as your head finds his shoulder.

You both lay like that for several minutes, basking in the afterglow of it all as you try to catch your breaths. Your brain hasn’t quite caught up to your sated body, letting the euphoria and calm take the lead for a while longer.

Aaron is the first to break the soft silence. “We need to get you cleaned up.” A soft noise of protest leaves your lips, your limbs too heavy to move. A smile in his voice makes your own lips curl, “I know. But we need to. There’s going to be a lot going on tomorrow.”

With that you can’t argue, so you allowed Aaron to slip from your grip, the sound of water running in the bathroom filling the quiet. Moments later he’s back, helping you into the restroom on unsteady legs where a warm shower awaits.

When he steps in behind you, you only have a moment to be surprised before he pulls you under the stream of water. The shower is small with just enough room for the both of you, but you find no protest on your lips as Aaron begins massaging his fingers through your hair.

You sigh blissfully, letting your weight rest against his chest as he works away the agony of today, but also a little off of the mountain that has weighed you down for so long.

“I don’t care about the contact.” His deep voice is sudden making you jump slightly.

“What?”

“I don’t care about the contract.” Aaron runs his hands down to your shoulders, turning you slightly so you can gauge his face as he speaks. “I care about you, the contract was… is a piece of paper to ensure neither of us got hurt. We don’t need it.”

You scan his face, his dark eyes reading so much more than he is saying. “What… what do we do then?” Your throat works as you swallow, butterflies eating once more at your belly as Aaron cups your check.

“Whatever you would like… but… I like the idea of you coming to me with your problems, of taking care of you, of you being mine.” He curls your necklace around one of his fingers, tugging softly and a new heat flairs at the bottom of your spine. Aaron’s dark eyes scan your face, trying to read your thoughts.

“I…” You swallow, the reality hitting you. These last few days had you thrown through the wringer, forced out of your comfort zone, and brought dark secrets to light. You’ve struggled and cried and raged all while finding comfort and passion and acceptance in ways you didn’t know existed before Aaron Hotchner knocked on your door one dark morning.

You nod your head slowly, licking your lips as you run your hands up his chest, the water spilling over his shoulder and the mist sprinkling your cheeks. You press in tighter and Aaron cups the back of your head, angling it ready to capture your lips at a moment’s notice.

“I can still call you ‘Sir’?”

A large smile breaks across his face, wrinkling the corners of his eyes as he cups your face, bringing you closer. "You can call me whatever you would like, little one..." His palm slips into your wet hair, tangling his fist into the strands and giving a soft tug. "As long as I get to call you mine." He laces the word with a growl and crashes his lips to yours with surprising force, need instantly flooding out the exhaustion from your system. You gasp against his lips, whimpering a soft yes as his tongue sweeps over your own.

"Good girl."

*~*~*~*~*~*

Thank you all so much, once again, for sticking with me through this story. This has been the most grueling, but rewarding thing I have written, and I am just astounded by the love it has received! I plan to make a few blurbs off of this story so fill free to check in ever now and again but if you would like to be tagged in future tidbits please feel free to leave a comment! 💜💜💜

*~*~*~*~*~*

Tag List: @kneelforloki @hmett20 @axionn @ncis0mrs0gibbs @morgthemagpie @zaddyhotch @little-miss-cherry-cola @fandomawesomness @heart-breaker8 @aad1993 @obsessed-oops @supercriminalbean @lex13cm @rosiehale23 @emptybagofchips77 @icarusgloom @imr0nni3 @cashtons-wife @mojo366 @mrsgweasley @hotchners-wifey @lelevs @normaltuesdaynight @tgskitten @char-jlhewitt @shinebrightlikeafanbase @emobabeyy @bunbunbl0gs @turtleshavesoulmates @mrs-ssa-hotch @balariie @eveyez-exe @nachofriess @aangell333 @wisdomcrys @sabage101 @prettymothgirl

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Tommy x wife reader: Charlie and Ruby are theirs (no grace or lizzie) and they have a few other children, in order of their ages: Charles (Charlie) James (Jamie) Edward (Teddie) Ruby (Ru)

And just after Ruby dies and Tommy finds out he’s dying, his wife finds out she is pregnant again and she is just traumatised by it as she’s lost her only daughter and her aunt-in-law and about to lose her husband too

But Tommy doesn’t die and they have a baby girl, who they name Rose Elizabeth, because Ruby loved roses and after Polly and they nickname her Posy as a portmanteau of Rosy and Polly

Hey Love,

Sorry it took forever. This one is pretty sad and I really enjoyed writing it. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Peaky Themes, Childbirth, Child death, grieving.

Not a single dull day had passed in Arrow House. It was always loud as the children ran around causing chaos. Today was so silent you could drop a tack in the kitchen and hear it in the attic. 

You lay on the floor of your youngest daughter's room. Your little girl. The grief clenched in your chest and you felt your heart miss a beat as your body twisted in on itself. You’d never felt such a loss in your life. 

Now you have a baby in your stomach, your husband is going to die leaving you with three boys. You knew you should be with him, enjoy his presence while you have him here amongst the living.

How could you worry about anything after watching your daughter slip from the world just a day ago? You remember holding her hand and singing to her. Thomas holding it together just until her eyes fluttered closed before falling apart in a way you didn't think him capable of. 

You sat there silently. Something deep inside you felt at peace. She was safe where she was. Polly was with her. Knowing something deep in your soul had never taken away from the way your brain and body worked. 

Your body hadn’t stopped shaking since it happened. Your limbs vibrating as you lay on her pink carpet. You felt discarded like all the stuffies and dolls that lay on the floor around you. Without her to come and breathe life into you, you would stay on the carpet like a doll. 

Teddie was the first person to find you. His small body came and curled up against your side. The warmth of him seeped into your icy body. 

A mother could only stop being a mother once she had no children left. And you had three. This moment of sadness and grief couldn't go on for the eternity you felt it needed. You had boys to wrangle. Little Ruby adored her brothers and you knew she wouldn't ever forgive you if you let them down. 

With the strength of a British Mum, you brushed the tears off your cheeks with the side of your hand. You sat up even though every selfish part of you screamed to lay back down on that carpet. To rot away to a place where you could hold her again. 

“Hey, Teddie.” You whispered running a hand down the small boy’s back. 

“Mum I’m hungry.” He mumbled.

“Teddie! Dad said we have to leave her alone.” Charlie was in the doorway, with his arms crossed. His tone was angry and you could swear he looked years older than the last time you saw him. 

“Darling, never leave me alone.” You said giving him a serious look. His face faltered slightly as he took in your words. “I’m still a mum. And mum’s make dinner, let’s go. Into the kitchen.” 

Teddie was happy and you picked him up even though he was far too big for that now. Walking down the hallway, Charlie surprised you when he opened Jamie’s door. 

You sat Teddie on his favorite spot on the counter and started getting out various pots and pans. 

“She’s up.” He said and your middle boy came into the hallway. Silently the four of you made it into the kitchen. Grief was creeping in all the shadows of the room as Charlie made a fire. 

“Ruby isn't coming home is she?” Teddie asked. Charlie let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose in the way only the eldest child could. 

“No, she’s with Aunt Polly now. They live in the sky.” Jamie answered softly. You gripped the edges of the pot tightly as you pushed down the intense feelings threatening to overflow again. 

The window opened and you could hear her voice on the wind that whipped around your face. 

Keep Going.  

That’s what you did. Death be dammed you’d made a deal with God to sacrifice and survive for these boys and that’s what you would do. 

With a cracking heart you closed the window and looked around the kitchen at the boy's stunned faces. 

“Please tell me you heard that as well right?” Charlie said with wide eyes. 

______________________________________________________________

One dinner down a lifetime left to go. 

The weeks turned into a month and the pain did not relent. You had no moments of peace only the love felt by shared grieving. Esme was always around now. All the kids lumped together in Arrow House like the days of the Changretta feud. She made sure your hair got brushed and your outfits matched. 

Arthur came around every day. He kept Tommy together while they worked out all this conflict. He feels a war is coming and you couldn't imagine it could be anything worse than the one raging in your mind. Alfie stops by and tells you things that confirm it will be much worse. 

Three boys, and a war. 

You put your make-up on so you have a reason not to cry during the day. 

You spend every evening with Tommy. You know what he is doing is important. It could change the outcome for the rest of the families on the planet. So you sacrifice your time with him and survive on the couch reading. When really you just stare into the fire wishing everything would burn up to be reborn as something new. 

Three boys and one more undetermined in your stomach. Your hand rested there often. You expected to lose the baby so you didn't really think about it. If they did come into this world you prayed it would be before Tommy passed. Grieving with a baby in your stomach would be easier than grieving with a newborn. But you wanted them to meet their father, even if it was for a fleeting moment. You would suffer and survive. 

Tommy finally got over himself and got a second opinion. He hated doctors and you expected him to be in a foul mood when he got back from a series of appointments in London. Alfie accompanied him back and you placed a plate of biscuits and cups of tea on the kitchen table. The kitchen was for family, but Alfie somehow managed to get an invitation out of Tommy. You were always happy to see him, but were wary of the news he often brought these days. You took a seat and he grabbed your hand and held it.  Your mind flashed back to the good old days when something so small would have sent Tommy after him in a rage. 

Alfie knew better than to ask how you were keeping. Tommy finally sat down at the head of the table, he looked pale. Too pale to drive, which explains why Alfie had come back with him. 

“I’m not sick.” His eyes closed and he leaned back against the chair. 

“What?” You whispered. 

“The f-uck-ing doctor was working for that stupid mustache piece of shit,” Alfie said his voice was venomous but his smile was unshakeable. 

“You're not going to die.” Your eyes moved to Tommy and he shook his head.  

“Going to have to wait a while longer to steal you away, love.” Alfie's voice was all humor now, but he knew it was time to let go of your hand when Tommy flashed him a look. The look of the old Tommy. 

“I’m pregnant.” You blurted out. 

“Looks like I dodged a bullet. Last thing I wanted to be raising up another little Shelby brat.” Alfie was laughing and Tommy smiled. A genuine smile. 

You were happy, and then the brutal deafening sadness crashed down on you. The sheer panic of having a child hits again and the nausea has you throwing your head back in the sink. Tommy is there pulling your hair up. 

“Like she would ever go for you,” Tommy said easily taking a sip of tea.

“Shit,” Alfie says from the counter near you. He gets a glass for Tommy to fill with water. 

____________________________________________________________

You told Esme and you both held on to each other as you cried. 

“I never thought I would say this but thank God Tommy will be alright.” She shook her head as the words strangled her. “You’ll never have to know what it’s like to raise em up with out their father.” 

You both cried on the kitchen floor for a long while. 

_________________________________________

The time came and you had high blood pressure meaning you had to do things in the hospital. Something that made everything a thousand times more painful. But that was your baby, and you would sacrifice and they would survive. 

They kept trying to medicate you and Esme kept throwing nurses out of the room screaming at them in Romani when English wasn't scary enough. In the thick of it you kept crying out for Polly. 

You didn't want these strangers to help you. They didn't care about you or your baby. They weren't family. Arthur came and spoke to Esme in the doorway for a moment. You expected news that Tommy wouldn't make it in time or that something worse had happened. 

Instead, Esme handed you one of Polly’s rosaries to hold. You gripped the cold crystal beads and felt yourself split apart over all the reasons you were crying. 

Tommy showed up and commanded the room with Esme. The window blew open letting cold air around the room and you could feel her love for you. 

You gave birth to a little girl. 

There were no pictures taken as you bawled. You got her latched on to your breast and cried and cried. The nurses kept pushing for sedation but Esme started at them and Tommy pointed towards the door. Arthur came in and read a passage from his bible for you. You're not sure why exactly but it helped. It felt like a blessing that this baby would be alright. 

_______________________________________________

You brought her home the same night, itching to get out of the hospital. You carried her in and watched all your boys get excited. You handed her off to Charlie first. 

“I love it when they look like grumpy old men,” Jamie said with a smile, Teddie let out a loud laugh. 

“She does look like an old man.” 

“What did you name her?” Charlie asked his finger tracing down the slope of her nose. 

“Rose Elizabeth,” Tommy said sitting next to him placing his arm around his eldest son. 

“Posy then,” Charlie said with a sense of finality. 

Charlie, Jamie, Teddie, and Posy. Your heart was happy and sad at the same time. 

Jamie came round and put his arm around you. 

“Love you mum.” He whispered and you wondered when he got old enough to kiss the top of your head. The boys were strong like their father, and you had no doubts they were strong enough to carry you and Posy.

_______________________________________________________________

This chunk of time was easier than it was with the other four kids. Tommy took time off. Churchill had other moves he wanted to play and for now, Tommy wasn’t involved. 

He’d sit while you breastfed in the night, he’d change nappies, and read stories. You watched him be a girl dad again and the pain was harsh and beautiful at the same time. 

Esme helped you take down Ruby’s room. The idea of moving one of the boys to a different floor or wing of the house made your skin itch. Ruby’s room needed to be emptied. 

You aired the room out and you knew that she would be happy about giving it to her sister. Esme assured you at every turn that she wouldn't be angry at you. 

_______________________

Eventually Arrow House moved on. Posy was very attached to the idea she had both an Aunt and a sister in the sky watching over her. 

The war came and what was left of the family did what they had to do. Thankfully Posy was there with you so you were never alone.

Thankfully when it was all over all your boys came home to you.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Already Gone || MV1 {6}

Pairing: Max Verstappen x spy!fem!reader Summary: The brief moment of quiet comes to an end when Ferrari go on the attack for retribution. Warnings: 18+ only, oral, smut, violence WC: 2.7k

F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven

You had fired the warning shot and there was nothing to be done but wait and see how Ferrari would respond to their stocks plummeting.

With no races for the next two weeks you had too much spare time that it left you itching to do something, anything. After years of living life on a whim, moving from place to place faster than Max with his DRS, all this time at home was taking some getting used to.

The house was tidy, the laundry was done, you even started to log into the dark web to see if there were any jobs waiting before realising that it wasn’t your job anymore. You were part of a small team that worked under the very loose term of security but reported directly to Christian. With Ferrari scrambling for sponsors to finance their team, it had been relatively quiet for you in recent weeks.

After pottering around in the kitchen you decided it was five o’clock somewhere in the world and broke out the blender. Armed with two cocktails, and nothing left to keep you busy while Max streamed, you made your way upstairs and decided to watch his race with the rest of the Redline team.

You saw his smile grow in the small box in the corner of his screen when he spotted you pass through the doorway behind him and he risked crashing as he steered with one hand so the other could pull you onto his lap.

“I wondered when you would get bored,” he commented as he continued leading the race. 

“It seemed the perfect excuse for some day drinking,” you said as you held his glass up to his lips so he could take a sip as he steered.

“Oh fuck, that’s strong,” he said with a cough before taking another drink anyway.

The chat box started to go crazy with the amount of comments coming through and you scanned over them until one caught your eye and you snorted a laugh.

user1: Max, I hacked your computer and have your sex tape. Pay me €1m or I’ll release it.

“No one can get past my firewalls, but nice try!” you said before you leant towards the camera and childishly poked your tongue out. 

“Babe, babe,” Max called as he shifted around trying to see the screen before his car crashed and he threw his hands in the air, nearly sending the drinks flying. “Ah, come on." His head dropped to your shoulder with a groan before he placed a quick kiss in the same spot. "Gianni says thanks.”

user2: Uh-oh! Someone’s in trouble now. user3: Y/N coming and ruining it for the rest of us.

“I was just giving the other guys a chance to win,” you said for the chat before turning to Max and kissing his cheek, “so your friends will still want to play with you.”

user4: such a mommy thing to say user5: Did everyone else miss the fact Y/N just confirmed they made a sex tape!

Since Max no longer needed his arms to drive, they curled around your waist as he read the comments with you, answering some questions along the way. 

“No, we haven't…well, not on purpose,” he said as he saw the last comment. “I forget how many security cameras she has set up around the house and there’s always new ones, so it just happens.”

user3: Sounds like Y/N is keeping Max in prison. Blink twice if you need help.

His laugh teased your skin as he rested his chin on your shoulder and unplugged his headphones so you could hear Gianni and Diogo teasing him.

“Alright,” he cut them off with a roll of his eyes when they took things too far as always happened. “That's enough internet for one day, I’m going to go and get drunk with my lovely warden.”

“That’s sarcasm, for those about to call the police,” you pointed out as you held his bored face up to the camera. “I know it’s hard to tell with this stoic, handsome face.”

Max chuckled as he closed the platform and you shifted on his lap to get more comfortable. “Are there any videos?”

“Oh, without a doubt,” you confirmed after finishing your drink while you thought of all the places in the house you had gotten carried away with each other. “I haven’t actually checked though, but now I just might. Maybe I can make a video for when you’re away.”

“For you or for me?” he asked as his hands ran up your thighs slowly.

“I might share with you if you ask me nicely.”

The sim chair went sliding back before Max stood up with you in his arms and he navigated the hall to cage you beneath him on the bed. You could taste the gin on his tongue before he trailed his lips down your neck and across your collarbone.

“Is this you asking?”

He hummed his answer against your skin and his fingers popped the button on your jeans. “Nicely.”

“You certainly know how to get your way,” you praised, lifting your hips so he could drag them down your legs before you sat up just long enough to pull your shirt off.

“I learned from the best,” he teased with a wink before he tugged your body to the edge of the bed and fell to his knees between your spread legs. His breath was warm on your thighs and the short hairs that shadowed his cheeks left you writhing before his lips even made contact.

“Maxxxxx,” you whined as he kissed everywhere except where you needed it most.

“Yes?”

You pushed yourself up on your elbows so you could see the smirk on his lips. “This is not my definition of ‘nicely’.”

“Patience, liefje.”

“Patience was never my strongest virtue,” you warned before you used a move that was meant for close combat and ended with Max on his back on the carpet and you straddling his chest. “I want you.”

“I can see that,” he chuckled as his hands gripped your thighs and pulled you higher up his body, lining your centre with his lips. “Impatient little minx.”

You moaned as his tongue finally found your sweet spot after all the teasing and your hips rolled as you buried your hands in his hair and rode his face.

You had never had a lover like him, one that was more focused on your pleasure than his own. One orgasm wasn’t enough, he wanted you weak and overstimulated, your arousal running down his chin as he held your hips tightly so you couldn’t escape his tongue.

Your body was more than wet enough to take him when he kicked his shorts away and you sunk down his hard length. But your cunt was tight from the orgasms and the air left your lungs as he filled you so deeply it was almost to the point of pain.

“Need a moment?” he asked as his thumb reached between your legs and found your clit.

You did but, as he said, you were impatient and planted your palms on his chest as you slowly started to ease yourself up and down his cock. The sounds of your breathing changed as pleasure began to build and Max grinned as he gripped your hips knowing you were ready for more. He shifted beneath you, his knees bending so he could have the leverage he needed before he slammed up into you.

You cried his name out as your bodies slapped together and his strong hands bounced you in time to his thrusts. Every stroke dragged him along your walls that fluttered around him and you swore in ecstasy as his head hit your cervix.

Sweat beaded on your forehead, your legs trembled uncontrollably and you could barely open your eyes when his hold finally eased. There was no way you were going to be able to make it to the bed as you rolled off his body and collapsed to the carpet beside him

You were just about to open your mouth and ask him to drag the bedsheet down to the floor when your smartwatch lit up on your wrist. The alert was for the silent alarm that had been triggered on the perimeter of the property and all the oxytocin and dopamine released thanks to Max was replaced with adrenaline. Strength flooded back to you as you rose to your feet and grabbed a white shirt of Max’s that was close by.

“Lock the door behind me,” you ordered Max with a whisper as he noticed the change instantly. “And call Christian.”

“What’s going on?” he asked, pulling his shorts up as he made his way to the door too.

“Someone’s in the house.” You grabbed his shoulder as he went to step out of the room and pushed him aside. “Do not leave the room until I’m back. This is my job.”

“You’re my girlfriend, I’m not going to let you go alone.”

“Right now I’m your security,” you hissed quietly as you watched the camera feed in the small device, “and I will knock you out if it means keeping you safe.”

He held his palms up and took a step back into the room until you nodded in satisfaction. “Be safe.”

The worry in his tone brought a small smile to your face. “Always.” The door clicked shut behind you before the lock slid into place and the smile faded. It was time to go hunting.

You swiped across the device on your arm, flipping through all the cameras to determine there were three men in the house. They were still on the ground floor and making their way around each corner with the ease of a group that was used to working together.

Pulling Max’s shirt over your body, you wished you had time to at least put on a pair of panties. That was the last thought you spared before gripping the handrail of the stairs and shutting out everything but the task ahead of you. These men would not make it to the stairs, they would not make it to your bedroom, they would not make it to Max.

You timed it perfectly.

The billowing shirt caught the air as you leapt over the handrail and crashed feet first onto the man who had stepped into your path. He was lucky he didn’t look up because Max would have probably killed him for what be would have seen. Instead your heel connected with his head and he was a crumpled heap on the floor before you had even got back on your feet.

“She’s in here! You, find Verstappen and break his fucking hands.”

You dropped your hips low as you spun to face the voice behind you, tucking your head behind your forearms as a fist tried to kiss your cheek. The blow glanced off your arm but the crunch on knuckles on plastic rendered your smartwatch broken.

“Dick,” you growled as you lost the camera feed, and the position of the third asshole who had broken into your home. Angered even more so, you took the offensive and attacked.

The man was well trained as he dipped and dodged your 1-2 combo but he wasn’t expecting the furious headbutt you threw when he stepped in for a body shot. Light exploded behind your eyes as the man stumbled back with a groan before he stabilised himself with the wall.

“You’re a scrapper, aren’t you?” he laughed as he wiped the blood from his forehead before it ran into his eyes.

“Raised in the streets, sweetcheeks,” you smirked. If it wasn’t for the gin and adrenaline your head would probably be aching beyond belief but you couldn’t feel it just yet. “Who hired you?”

“I’m not going to tell you.”

“Worth a try,” you said with a shrug. “At least I know there’s no reason to leave any of you conscious.”

This time when the man attacked you didn’t try to stop him, you let him shove his weight into you and took him with you to the floor. Your knees caught his gut and when the momentum shifted, you pushed up with all your strength and sent him barreling into the solid oak front door. The wood cracked under the hit it took and you waited a moment to see if the man would rise.

A sound of annoyance rumbled from your throat as he tried to crawl on his knees and you shook your head. “You have one hard head, sweetcheeks.”

“Fuck. You,” he spat back, using the door handle to pull himself up.

“No, thanks,” you swung your knee up and knocked the air out of him, satisfied he wouldn’t be trying to get up again when he slumped to the floor. “I have taste.”

A shadow crossed the floor from the other end of the hall and you spun around to see the last assailant darting from the kitchen to the living room. Aiming to cut him off, you took the other archway into the large room and found him armed with a very expensive vase.

“We weren’t interrupting something, were we?” he asked as he eyed up the length of skin showing beneath Max’s shirt and you pulled the material back into place as you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Lucky for you we had just finished. If not, your friends would be dead.”

The vase was a gift from Max’s mother no less, and the man threw it at your head. You were torn between trying to catch it and self preservation but self preservation won as you slid out of the trajectory and it shattered across the living room floor. Shards went flying and Achilles hissed as he shot off the couch with the fright.

That’s when you saw red.

A sound akin to a warcry erupted from you as you ran and tackled the man around the waist, shoving your shoulder into his ribs as you both went down.

“You.” Your fist splattered blood across the carpet as it broke his nose. “Scared.” The skin on your knuckles split with a hard punch to the man’s side. “My.” Your nose wrinkled at the sound of his ribs cracking. “Cat!” You fell back on your heels panting as the man struggled to breathe.

The rapid thumping of feet running down the stairs had you rushing back to your feet thinking there was a fourth intruder but it was Max who skidded around the corner.

“You’re meant to wait for me,” you said as the fight left you exhausted and you swayed on your feet.

His arms were there to catch you and he scooped you off your feet and he kissed your sweaty forehead. “I heard you scream.”

“They scared Achilles,” you said with a wince at the touch and he pulled back, his eyes widening as he saw the swelling of the bruise beginning.

“You’re hurt.” The living room gave way to the kitchen and Max placed you on the countertop as he grabbed the first aid kit from under the bench.

“I might have a headache.”

“Stop being so tough,” he warned as he cracked the rapid ice pack open and placed it to your head. “Brett’s on his way, so is Christian.”

You bit your lip as he wiped your knuckles with disinfectant and the alcohol burned the cuts before he gently wrapped them with gauze.

“Does this mean we have to move?” he asked as he stepped between your legs and took over holding the ice pack in place. It was almost hard to imagine that on the other side of the wall there were three men unconscious when he stood in such an intimate position.

Your head snapped back to look him in the eyes. “No, this is my home. I’ll be damned if I let anyone take that away from me again.”

He swallowed before nodding in agreement. “Okay, then teach me to fight.”

Your eyebrows shot up your forehead and you winced as it sparked fresh pain. “What?”

“This is our home. I’m not going to let you defend it alone, again.” He pressed a quick kiss to your lips as the doorbell rang and Brett called out. “This is my fight too.”

“Your fight with Ferrari is out on the track.”

“Not anymore.”

Click here for chapter seven.

Tagging: @octaviareina @omgsuperstarg @mvclff1 @alwaysclassyeagle @icantcomeupwithamusicalname-blog @laneyspaulding19 @booknerd2004-blog @mimimarvelingmarvel @chonkybonky @vita-di-moda @formulas-bitch @untitled1279

[syndxlla]

best friends don’t look at each other the way we do

A low stakes, high rewards and self-indulgent Zelink fanfic. Canon-compliant, takes place between BOTW and TOTK

chapter three: She is beautiful, I am a mess

Read chapter two here

My masterlist

Song: Lights are On by Tom Rosenthal

Summary: Link processes his destiny while Zelda slowly recovers. Link meets with an old friend, and realizes how much he wants to Zelda in his life.

Warnings: PTSD, implied self-harm, illness, trauma

Word Count: 3.3k words

Authors note: The last line of this? Scrumptious. I ate that up. Also I’m going to start doing different pieces of art/gifs at the start of each chapter mostly so I can see the differences in the notifications! Thanks for all the support! Everyone has been so kind this is easily the most supportive fan base I’ve ever written for.

Link doesn’t leave her side the entire night, yet again. He sits on a stool pushed against the bed, and watches as she breathes in the sleep. He refuses to sleep, which means he’s gone about four days now with very little actual rest. This normally wouldn’t be a problem, but fighting Ganon on the second day of that no sleep schedule has really taken a toll on his physical health.

In his quiet contemplation as Zelda rested, the weight of what just happened set in. His heart rate rose as he remembered the sight of the Calamity, its spider-like body dripping with malice and disgust as it sneered at him. The stench is still pungent in his memory, his bad ear still beats with the blood that filled his body as he faced his destiny for a second time. He’s supposed to be courageous, unafraid and rarely daunted by his fate, but in reality he’s terrified.

Link doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the feeling in his bones as witnessed by the beast. How he felt paralyzed, how the night before he prayed to the Goddess that he wouldn’t wake up. Make someone else do it, please.

He could never admit this to anyone, and even struggles to admit it to himself. If he’s supposed to be the closest thing to the God of Bravery, why does he feel like such a pathetic coward most of the time? Maybe it was his reckless abandon that caused his status, or the fact that he’s so desensitized to the horrors of his knighthood. But those things do not equate to courage.

What even was courage, he asks himself.

He looks at Zelda. “She is beautiful”, he thinks “I am a mess”.

Link places a nervous thumb to her jaw with trepidation. He gently holds her face, soft enough that it wouldn’t wake her. Her skin is so soft, her eyelashes so gentle, her breathing even. Does she have any idea how beautiful she is when she sleeps?

When day finally breaks, Link realizes how cold it’s gotten in the house, and he takes the brave step of leaving the sleeping princess to build a fire in the hearth. He does so quickly, using a fire arrow. He pulls on a warm shirt, and quickly returns upstairs to Zelda.

She was awake, looking up at him.

“You should keep sleeping.” He whispers.

She groans, “Why did you leave?” She was aware enough to tell?

“I built a fire.” Link explains, "It's cold.”

“Oh.” Zelda whispers, “I am cold.”

Link crosses to his dresser and pulls out a woven blanket from the bottom drawer, draping it over her and the blanket she already had. She whispers thank you. ”Did you dream?” Link asks.

Zelda nods.

“It was me and my mom, we were eating and laughing together.” She describes and Link smiles. He places his hand against her forehead, and feels that she’s burning up. Of course she has a fever, that would cause her body to have the chills, that on top of a cold house wasn’t a good fit.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, vocalizing from a whisper for the first time.

Zelda thinks about it for a moment, she’s so snuggled up in the blankets all he can see is her face. “I’m not sick.” She states. Link is skeptical, but he nods.

“Go back to sleep.”

“Are you going to leave me again?” She asks.

“I might. I think I’ll go into town and get some things from the market, and I should probably send a message to Impa that we’re alive.” Link explains. Zelda frowns.

“I’m scared to be alone again.”

Link frowns, “You’ll be okay. But you need to sleep, your body is trying to recover from-“ He stops himself, he doesn't need to explain any further.

“You need sleep, too.” Zelda replies. She was right.

“I’ll be fine.” He shrugs it off. “But you need to promise me that you’ll be okay if I leave for a few hours, alright?”

Zelda groans, “You’ll come back, right?”

“Of course.”

It’s a few more hours before he leaves, he waits until Zelda falls back asleep, and it’s mid-morning when he finally does. He makes his way into Hateno Village, which is as lively as ever. He first stops in at the general store, buying a few essential items, and telling the store keeper about where he was last.

“You’re telling me you got rid of that thing at Hyrule Castle?” He asks, skeptical. Link just nods and shrugs as he examines a swift carrot. Like it was no big deal. The man laughs behind the counter, “And you lived to tell the tale? I don’t believe it.” He scoffs.

Link sets his items on the table between them, digging out a handful of rupees. “Well, I lived to tell the tale of Naydra last year, you all witnessed that, didn’t you?”

“I suppose… but that thing at the castle is a legend, I never even saw it. Just got told ghost stories of it as a boy.” His voice was gruff.

Link smiles, “whatever you want to believe, you don’t have to believe me.” Link sets to rupees down.

“That’s more than the cost.” The man states.

“Keep it.” Link pushes it towards him before putting his items in his pouch. “Use it to fix your roof, I saw it was leaking.”

The man smiles, “you’re always so good to us, Link. This village owes you.”

“You don’t owe me anything, except maybe your trust. The story will spread and rumors will, too.” Link turns to leave, but stops just outside of the door, speaking over his shoulder. “It wasn’t a ghost either, it was a spider-like thing that hatched out of a cocoon with giant axes and swords.” Link opens his arms up to show the size, “Probably at least the size of three oxen!” The shopkeeper's face goes pale, “But that wasn’t even the hard part!” Link starts to smile mischievously, “Then we took the battle onto Hyrule Field, and he turned into a massive pig. As big as a house, or bigger.”

The owner was dumbfounded, unable to reply at first, but then he shook his head, “You have quite the imagination, Link!” He chuckles and waves him off. Link just grins as he exits the shop.

He makes his way up the mountain to Purah and Symin’s, making a stop at the farm to pet the cows and help the owner with a broken fence post in trade for some milk. It was about noon now, and he wasn’t expecting to take as long to get to the Tech Lab, but the fence was absolutely destroyed. The farmer didn’t know what caused it, but it certainly wasn’t a cow…

The light on the Hateno valley is warm and inviting. It will be the harvest soon. Link had missed his days here. Early on after he woke up, he spent weeks at a time in this little village. Mostly because he was still too poor to afford sleeping anywhere other than his home. It was a safe home base for him when he was freeing the divine beasts. It wasn’t until he had laid his friends' spirits to rest that he became the wild child of the forest he was now. The last year or so he stopped spending more than a few days anywhere, it was the anxiety of the upcoming battle he kept avoiding that caused him to become such a nomad. He learned that it was always free to sleep in trees.

He gets to the lab, and before he can even open the door, Purah is swinging the door open. “Linky! You’re alive!” She cheers, looking up at him.

”I am,” Link replies with a smile, “and Zelda is, too.”

Purah smiles wide, her eyes becoming fiery, “Incredible. Is she okay!” She opens the door for Link, he enters the messy-as-usual lab, setting his sack of goodies down on the table.

“I don’t know…” Link shakes his head, “She’s very tired all the time, and she passed out quite unexpectedly last night.” He sighs. “I’m actually rather worried about her.” He admits. “It took me a long time to wake her up after she passed out, too. Longer than it should have.” Purah walks over to the table before climbing on top of it to Link’s eye-level.

“But she’s alive! And I’m assuming her body has been preserved, no?”

“It has, she doesn’t look a day over seventeen. But her spirit and her mind has changed, she’s tired.”

“Aren’t we all…” Purah shakes her head, “But no one as much as her.” She shrugs, “I would love to run some tests on you two, it might help me figure out my age issue.”

“More tests? I thought you said you were done with me?” Link groans.

“Nope, now that Zelda is here I want to take a sample of her DNA, too, and see if I can reverse-engineer it to cross with my DNA and get me back to my preferred physical age. I’m sick of this.” She gestures to her child-like state.

“When she’s feeling better I’ll ask her. I’m sure she’ll say yes, considering her love of science and all.”

“Alright Linky, what are you here for, I know you didn’t come to just talk, you always need something from me.” She teases.

“Alright Purah… don’t be mad.” He says as he reaches into his pouch to pull out a smashed and destroyed sheikah slate: the same one that got him through his quest.

Purah’s face goes white. “You did not just do that to an ancient piece of indestructible tech.” She reaches for it, taking the device in her hand and cringing.

“Well it wasn’t that indestructible, now was it?” Link asks with an awkward laugh.

“How?” Purah asks, traumatized.

“It happened while I fought Ganon, it kind of… exploded, and then he trampled it as a giant hog in Hyrule field.”

“That is…” She chooses her words carefully, “Epic, Linky.”

“You’re not mad?”

“No! But you’re gonna be when you can warp to sheikah hotspots. You’ll just have to go on foot like the rest of us. Speaking of, did you see what happened to the shrine in the ocean?”

“What?” He obviously didn’t.

“It sunk back into the ground, completely gone! Symin watched it happen! I’m curious about that happening to the other sheikah tech…” She gets lost in thought, and Link realizes that they all might disappear just as fast as they were found. “No one is gonna be more heartbroken about this than the Princess.” Purah finishes her thoughts.

“I’m hiding it from her. She can’t take a heart break in this state.” Link groans, sitting down in one of the chairs by the table. “Purah… I need you to send a message to Impa. I would go myself in person and be back by dinner but I can’t because the slate is gone. I know you sheikah have weird ways of communicating through distance, especially you sisters.” Link sighs.

“Oh she’ll beat you if you don’t go in person. You know how she is.”

“Yes. Which is why I am absolutely sick over this. But I can’t leave Zelda, she’s not okay, and I don’t know how long it’s going to be until she is.” He explains. “Impa can be mad at me all she wants, but she deserves to know that we are both alive and safe, and Ganon is not.”

Purah squints, “Fine. But you owe me.”

“As if saving the world wasn’t enough.” Link scoffs playfully.

“Hey! Don’t get cocky, no one likes a cocky hero. Besides, it’s not like you did it on your first try.” Purah jumps down from the table and Link’s entire body seizes. She freezes in her tracks when she realizes she said that out loud. She slowly turns around to see Link tense and unhappy. “Linky… I’m sorry I didn’t mean-“

He says nothing at first, “Is that what you guys say about me?”

“Link, we've always pushed each other's buttons like that.”

“It’s fine.” He sighs, it wasn’t fine. He signs, “I’m leaving. I don’t need anyone else’s shit.” He always signed when his emotions were at risk of betraying his words. He didn’t want to upset someone with his words. Purah isn’t very good at signs, but she gets the gist.

It was rare to see Link genuinely mad, especially at someone he cared about and knows is good. But that was out of line.

“Link…”

“Will you just tell Impa that we’re okay. Both of us. The calamity is gone and we’ll come visit as soon as we get our strength back.” He grabs his belongings and heads out.

“Wait-“ Purah tries to stop him but he leaves too fast. He takes a deep breath when he gets outside, looking out towards the sea. He walks towards the edge of the cliff, staring out at the horizon, letting the salty sea air blow on his skin. He looks where the shrine that lived in the water once was, and nothing was there but the original mound of island sand it sat on.

Back at home, Zelda is still in bed, and Link frowns when he sees her. He sits on his stool next to her, placing his hand against her forehead again. Her fever hasn’t broken.

“I’m home.” He whispers, and she stirs awake, her green eyes looking up at him. She smiles.

“I had the most wonderful dream.” She sighs. “We were at the beach, you and I, and Impa and Urbosa… and my mother.” Link worries that she dreams about those who have passed, he brushes some of her golden hair out of her face. “We looked at the water and listened to the seagulls. My mother was so beautiful and healthy, not like how she was when I remembered her.”

Zelda was very young when her mother died, and she was quite ill for the years leading up to her passing. Link remembered that, he remembered many of the things Zelda opened up to him about in their final days before The Calamity. “Do you want some water?” Link asks, she nods. He stands up, making his way to the well outside and scooping a bucket of it before coming back in. He finds her sitting up in bed.

“Did you get up all by yourself?” He asks with a smile. She nods, her face still pale and expression lost. She was much worse today. Link scoops some water out with a cup, and hands it to her. She shakily holds it in both hands, bringing the wooden mug up to her lips and sipping lightly. Link sits beside her this time, but he feels petrified.

In the last two days they've already crossed so many boundaries. He feels as though he has to be the stoic Knight from before, never looking at her for too long, not speaking unless spoken to, and especially not touching without explicit permission. That was a whole lifetime ago, however, and he’s barely the same person he was when those were the rules.

But even so, he can’t help but follow those roles that he keeps breaking. He shouldn’t see her in such a state: shirt too loose, eyes droopy, sighs so gentle and alluring it could tame a lynel.

He knows no one is watching them, no one is there to judge them, but he cannot bring himself to hold her hand as she shakes, even though he desperately wants to. Placing his hand on her head to check for temperature and burns in her hair from her face was already a serious breach of protocol, and yet when he did it, he felt so comfortable, so safe. He felt more like himself.

Maybe what’s holding him back is the knowledge that she didn’t lose her memories. To her, he is supposed to be that obedient servant.

He knows they got very close towards the end. Based on the memories he’s recollected, he knows they broke those rules far more than they should have. But it was always by Zelda’s instigation. She wanted him to place his hand on the small of her back as they walked, she asked him to lace up her goddess dress, she initiated the gentle touches and hugs of despair.

Now, he’s terrified of taking advantage of her in her sickly state, but he wants so badly to lie with her. To finally get some rest of his own, in his own bed, holding the girl he worked so tirelessly to rescue.

He wishes he could rest as a reward.

He reminds himself that her presence, safety and life is reward enough.

And goddess, is that a wonderful reward. Her weight sinking down the bed, her intoxicating smell, their shoulders just barely brushing. She was incredible, completing a feat that no one had ever come close to accomplishing, and here she was, in his home, in his bed, wearing his clothes.

Link's stomach flips, and he immediately forces himself to relax. Realizing how immature his though process was. This was a princess, not a girl in the Gerduo Brothel. He was confused.

“What are you thinking about?” She asks him, pulling him out of his rampant thoughts. He snaps back to reality.

“What?” He turns to see her looking up at him with her shiny eyes. “Oh…” He desperately wants to tell her, tell her that he’s thinking of her and only her. For three years he spent sleepless nights staring at the heavens and thinking about her. How he hungrily searched for every memory just to hear her voice, and how he took her diary out of the castle to read every page, even the ones that were scribbled with doodles and blacked-out poetry. He wanted to tell her that he fell for her the moment she told him to open-his-eyes, and when he finally remembered what she looked like, she was even prettier than what he imagined.

“…Horses.” He says, dumbfounded and foolish. She smiles.

“I’ve always admired how you loved them. You were the best rider in all of the guard, I fully believe it’s because of how gentle you were with them. They trusted you, which made them listen to you.”

The way she spoke was so thoughtful, so intelligent. Link catches himself accidentally looking at her lips, but yanks his eyes away.

“W-What were you thinking about?” He asks.

She looks off, swallowing thickly. Zelda then lifts her hand, holding it palm up, staring at it. Nothing happens.

“My gift isn’t working anymore.” She states. “I tried while you were getting the water, and look, nothing.” Zelda explains. Link looks at her hand, not knowing what he’s supposed to see.

Her hand is so soft, her fingers long and slender, her nails clean and rounded to perfection.

Her wrists are littered with old scars.

Link wants to take her hand. She sets it down in her lap, “I suppose that’s alright. I don’t need them anymore.”

“What was it like?” Link asks. “In that castle.” Zelda shudders. “You don’t have to say.” Link states.

Zelda carefully constructs her words, “Cold. All the time I was cold. I wasn’t conscious usually, but I wasn’t… unconscious either. I know it makes no sense. I was in a sort of trance. Time seemed to move at a rapid pace while also simultaneously standing still.” She looks at him, rotating her body to face him, he mirrors her.

“Did he ever… say anything?” Link asked.

Zelda nodded, “In the beginning he would whisper constantly, but it was an ancient language I didn’t understand. The longer time went on, the more tired he got, but the wiser I became. He spoke less, and I was able to pick up on certain words and phrases. He didn’t expect me to last as long as I did, that’s for certain.”

Link listens intently, “How did you do it, last so long?” He asks.

Zelda’s big, green eyes meet his. She takes his hand with hers.

“Because I knew one day you would wake up.”

—

Read Chapter four here

[cherryslyce]

Second Son (IX) | Regulus Black

Series Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.

— Chapter Synopsis: Professor Slughorn extends his invitations to the friend group. Harry and Y/N have an enlightening conversation that leads to unanticipated trouble.

Part VIII / Part X / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader

Notes: Oh boy, it's been a long time coming for this plot point. Blaise's characterization and role in the chapter was purely unplanned, but I just couldn't pass up the opportunity.

You could barely keep your head screwed on straight. As you sat in front of your parchment, quill motionlessly clasped in your frozen hand, you felt your head wobble a bit. Harry is sat next to your inert figure, lips parting then closing as he tries to grapple for the right words. 

“Well, say something.” His words have you snapping your head over to stare at him, your hand shaking from the motion, droplets of ink descending from your quill to rain on your notes. 

Cursing quietly, you quickly spell away the mess and sigh, “Harry, isn’t it just a little strange? I mean for a good chunk of our last year, Dumbledore acted like you were a ghost, and now he’s giving you private lessons on what? Voldemort’s childhood?” 

Nodding at your (extremely justifiable) response, he runs a hand through his hair, turning to face the window in front of your table. 

“And you’re saying bloody Voldemort was an orphan– one that Dumbledore tried to intimidate? Bloody hell, the welcoming committee for Hogwarts back then was rubbish, I mean, setting an orphan’s meager possessions on fire?” Your words are tinged with amusement and Harry’s lips curl up ever so slightly. 

Shaking his head lightly, he drops his chin into his palm, “Magical fire,” he corrected, “but yes. It was strange to see the Dark Lord look so baby-faced and innocent. But Dumbledore thinks that I’ll somehow figure out Voldemort’s weaknesses and secrets from these lessons.” 

Sobering up at his words, your voice turns grave as you take in how exhausted your friend looks, “It’s all really happening then. The war,–” you pause to glance at your surroundings, “it’s near, and everybody’s putting you at the center of it all.”

Your words are even, but Harry is able to pick up on the bitter undertone, sending you a strained smile in appreciation. Of course, Harry couldn’t help but be in the middle of it all. Wretched prophecy. 

“I wish we could run away.” The boy next to you makes no move to echo your sentiments, “Once this is all over, I want to go to the beach.”  At your last statement, he smiles and his eyes glaze over, muttering his own silent wish. 

Your wishes fall on silent ears, both of you knowing that the likelihood of making it out of the war was slim. For now, you could enjoy this moment of solace with your burdened friend. 

But it seemed that peace would not befall Hogwarts for a long while. 

It was finally the day of the Hogsmeade trip, a time of year that usually had students bustling about in excitement. This year however, the energy fell flat as many shuffled in hushed whispers, either mulling over school work or worrying about the increase in death eater attacks. 

Hannah Abbott’s mother had been murdered less than a month before, and the girl’s continued absence at school had set the tone for the following months. Lady Abbott’s demise marked a new era of the war, and becoming accustomed to death would be a tough pill to swallow for everyone. 

The thought weighed heavy on your mind even as you sat with the trio inside the warmth of The Three Broomsticks, four glasses soon being placed down in front of your hunched figures. As your eyes dart around the tavern, you accidentally snort as you look into the corner of the room. 

‘Something amusing, little bird?’

Your surprised flinch goes unnoticed by the table’s occupants as the rest of your friends take notice of the source of your amusement. You had forgotten that you brought Regulus with you, his portrait lost in one of the many pockets of your jacket. 

‘Nothing much, crowface, it just so happens that Ron’s sister and an old dorm mate of his are snogging right in front of us.’

‘Merlin, will you ever let that nickname go?’ 

Smiling into your butterbeer, you’re quick to shoot him a teasing response, ‘Never. What’s so wrong with it? You’re my crow after all.’

Regulus doesn’t respond to your comment, and you were unsure if he was annoyed or too tired to engage in banter with you, but you barely have time to dwell on it as you see Professor Slughorn approaching your table with a twitchy grin. 

“Harry, my boy!” Harry is quick to spring from his seat, enthusiastically shaking the man’s hand in an exaggerated show of excitement. You were amused by Harry’s efforts, unsure if he was trying to impress the man for networking purposes or if he was trying to siphon information from him. You suspected it was likely the latter.

Harry barely respected authority. You were sure he only actually liked Professor McGonagall, and he surely never beamed like the sun in her presence. 

His conversation with Slughorn continues and you only snap your gaze up to look at the pair when you hear Slughorn say your surname, followed by Hermione’s name. 

“You’re both welcomed as well! Ah–Nice to see you, Wallenby.” You snicker at his remark, watching Ron sour at the man’s words. As Harry sits down, you can’t help but cluelessly ask what your Potions professor was talking about, having been preoccupied by your own thoughts. 

You nearly drop your butterbeer into your lap when he tells you that you’ve been invited to a friendly supper with him and ‘Mione. It seems that the man was already collecting trophy students for his Slug Club, and you were a little flattered to be on par with your two friends in his eyes. 

The Slug Club would be an opportune time to start networking, Merlin knows the connections you’ll need once you graduate from Hogwarts.

The high from the invitation seems to swell and soar higher, the embers of delight crackling wildly in your chest as you trek in the snow with your friends. Hills of unsullied snow stretched for miles and seemed to brighten up the grounds, consequently lifting away the veil of tension that clawed at the student body. 

Your high is obliterated almost instantaneously when a high-pitched scream hits you like a bludger. A chill cuts through your core at the sound and you find yourself racing towards the distressed noise, recognizing the shouting girl to be Leanne Trembley. The Hufflepuff was furiously gesturing to a crumpled figure in front of her that you failed to notice until that moment. 

Before you can even register her words, the motionless body in front of your feet begins to shove from side to side, before being dragged into the air. As the girl is suspended above you all, you curse silently and begin to look around for help. 

She was another student above your year, and quite a well-known one at that. 

Before you can run off to find help, you jump back as she suddenly comes crashing down, the snow crunching under her in protest. Nearly tripping over yourself, you peer down and see a tangled necklace glittering on the ground near her unconscious figure, a sudden pull of magic making your fingers twitch. 

Slowly releasing your magic, you flinch back harshly as it makes contact with the magic emanating from the gaudy jewelry piece, realizing it was likely a cursed item–dark magic. The magic surrounding it was like an inky void, its vicious nature barely contained by some haphazard spellwork. 

What the hell?

Katie Bell had been tossed around like a ventriloquist’s puppet in broad daylight. But who would want to hurt her? And who the hell was passing around cursed objects? 

You don’t get any answers from the adults. As expected. Instead, you all simply get brushed off with uneasy looks.  

‘It just doesn’t make sense, Reggie. I mean you should have seen it, she was being flung around like a ragdoll, and now she’s being shipped off to St. Mungo’s for who knows how long.’ 

After you were all dismissed from the necklace incident, you decided to head to the library for some quiet time, needing time away from your friends to think. 

‘A cursed necklace making rounds in the student body? Be careful, birdie. This is likely a ploy from a junior death eater trying to impress their parents. The Dark Lord would never be that sloppy, and he certainly would never allow the victim to live.’ Regulus’ words do little to soothe your worries, but you know you also have no lead to investigate even if you wanted to. 

Plucking a book from off the shelf in front of you, your eyes widen as something flashes quickly across the other side of the gap. Waiting with bated breath, you continue to watch as it flashes back and forth. 

It was only after a few more moments that you realized someone was aggressively pacing back and forth in the next row over. 

‘Reggie.’

‘Hm?’

‘Yes or No?’

‘No.’

‘Okay.’ Yes it is.

Padding around the bookshelf, you peer into the aisle to see a disheveled Draco, mumbling to himself like a mad man. His composure was nowhere to be found and you’d never seen him look so pale. 

“Malfoy, everything okay?” Your words are filled with genuine concern and have the boy snapping his frenzied eyes to you, a sudden shock coloring his expression before it’s twisting into a sneer. 

“None of your concern, L/N. Shouldn’t you be off with Weaslebee or Potter?” His words are fueled with malice and you have to fight the urge to roll your eyes. So much for being nice. 

Despite your sudden eagerness to stick your nose in the Slytherin’s business (clearly Harry’s been rubbing off on you), you knew when to stop prodding. 

“Friendly lad you are. Do head to Madam Pomfrey, you look sickly. And as always, it's been a joy.” Shaking your head, you breathe out a small dismissal before you’re cutting past him and leaving the library behind you, head spinning from the wild trajectory of events. 

You should have dropped out of this damn school the moment that troll tried to splatter your brain across the bathroom sinks. 

You have little time to simmer over your thoughts about Malfoy and his distress, spending the following days chatting with Hermione and Harry about what to expect at the first Slug Club meeting. Harry had enlightened you both on the fact that he was chumming up to the older man on Dumbledore’s request. Of course, this news had you twisting your mouth peevishly, not liking the fact that Dumbledore was plotting something and using your best friend to achieve his goal. 

You found yourself becoming increasingly off-put by the headmaster with each passing day, but you’d remain complacent as long as he didn’t push it too far. 

As the evening of the Slug Club meeting emerges, you’re left to fret over your appearance and worries with a bemused Regulus. 

“Your circling is making me dizzy. Merlin, don’t stress yourself out, little bird. It’s just going to be a small get-together, and he’ll ask you questions about your career goals and studies.” 

Reasonable enough. 

Nodding in exasperation, you fling yourself onto your bed, careful to not lay on Regulus’ frame. Your head felt heavy with stress, and you couldn’t shake off the chilling feeling that’s been bothering you since the beginning of the year.

“Reg, can I take you with me?” Your words come out a little small, and you feel almost awkward by making the request, feeling like an anxious child. 

The boy responds almost immediately, “Of course, birdie. You don’t have to ask, I’ll be wherever you want me to be.” His words are light, but genuine, clearly not affected by your almost odd request. 

Feeling immensely reassured by his conviction, you can only release a small sigh of relief, feeling your nerves settle down. 

“Thanks Reg. I suppose I’ve just been out of it since there’s so much going on nowadays.” 

Regulus hums in understanding, and you’re almost tempted to just roll over and go to sleep with his portrait clutched to your body. The feeling of wanting to stay in your blankets forever has been a persistent one for the past few months. 

Just as you feel your eyes growing heavy, Regulus’ soft voice cuts through the haze that threatens to drag your consciousness away, “You should get going, Y/N. Unless you’re feeling unwell, if so then you should change into more comfortable attire.”

“Mm, no, you’re right, I should go now.” Your mumble is entirely unconvincing, but you knew you’d regret it if you decided to abandon your plans, besides, you had other matters to attend to aside from the Slug Club meeting. 

Getting up from your spot, you quickly slip Regulus’ portrait into your pocket and make way to grab your wand. You promised Harry that you would meet up with him earlier in order to discuss something. 

Harry’s words had been vague, but the look in his eyes when he asked you had you agreeing almost immediately. You weren’t sure if Harry was struggling with a life-threatening issue or if it involved Draco’s erratic behavior, but you were curious nonetheless. 

The questions flooding your head go flying out of the window when Harry hits you with a statement that has you floored from shock. 

“I think I have feelings for Ginny.” 

You feel your eyebrows drag together in bafflement, mouth creasing down into a slight frown. Across from you, Harry seems beside himself, looking even more lost than he’d ever look in his entire school career.

Snapping out of your shock, you place your hands on Harry’s shoulders before giving him a hard shake, “When the hell did this happen?!”

The boy allows you to manhandle his body, glasses bouncing around with the movement. Perhaps if you shook him harder, the bouncing of his head would be enough to wake up his brain.

“I don’t know! It’s just that lately with the whole Dean situation, I’ve just been…well, you know.” Finally stopping your movements, you’re unable to help the laugh that escapes you. 

“You’ve been jealous then?” To his dismay, your teasing words are paired along with a shit-eating grin that has him reconsidering all of his life choices thus far. 

Shaking his head and readjusting his glasses, Harry releases a heavy sigh before going to say something again. Before he’s able to though, his eyes go wide as he reaches for your arm, attempting to tug it to the side in a hurry. 

You’re confused for a split second, but before you can question your friend, a heavy body goes slamming into your back, sending you stumbling forward. A yelp pushes past your lips and you see Regulus’ portrait go flying into the air, before tumbling to the ground and sliding a few feet away. 

Shit. You forgot that this jacket didn’t have a pocket zipper.

Swinging your head around in irritation, you’re met with a shocked Cormac McLaggen standing behind you. The imbecile had been too distracted with fixing his sweater, which was still clutched in his hands, to notice that he was rapidly stalking towards your unknowing figure. 

“Woah, sorry, my bad.” You feel your eye twitch at the apology and you barely grunt out a response before he’s stepping around you and making his way further down the hall. 

Harry goes to put a hand on your shoulder to steady you, but becomes distracted by the item on the ground, making his way over to it before you can stop him. 

“No, wait, Harry, I got it!” As you rush forward, you only make it in time to see Harry flip the frame over, his body going rigid at the sight of an unimpressed Regulus. Your hand only pauses in the air for a split second before it’s snatching the item away from Harry’s hands at the speed of light. 

The mantra of curse words that go flying through your head would be enough to send McGonagall flying off the handle.

Clutching the frame to your chest, you hold your breath as Harry continues to stare at his empty hands, eyes alight with confusion. 

Slowly turning towards you, his voice is surprisingly even for the amount of shock you could see in his face, “Why do you have a picture of Regulus Black in your pocket?” 

Gripping the frame tightly in your hands, your words come out breathless as an intense wave of unease washes over you, “How do you know it’s him?” 

Harry sighs harshly, pinching his thumb and middle finger on the bridge of his nose as he answers, “This summer, Dumbledore took me from the Dursleys to go find Slughorn at his home. When I was looking around the place, I saw old photos of him and a quidditch team. He pointed out Regulus to me.” 

Regulus’ voice echoes in your mind link at the boy’s words, ‘Slughorn has a photo of me in his home?’

Stepping back in confusion, you almost want to look at Regulus to see what expression he was donning at the revelation. 

Before the conversation can continue, a bright voice erupts from behind you, “There you both are! It’s nearly time for the meeting to begin.” 

You spin on your heel and see a smiling Hermione making her way towards you, hands tucked in her brown dress jacket. Returning her smile, you quickly slip away the portrait before she can see it, trying your best to hide how shaken up you were. 

You trusted Harry, of course. But you weren’t sure how the added information of Regulus’ existence would bode with the burden-overloaded boy. As you begin to make your way down the hall with your friends, only partially engaged with Hermione’s ramble, you see Harry shoot you a pointed look. 

Clearly, the conversation was far from over.  

The Slug Club meeting seemed less daunting now that your secret had been unearthed and, quite literally, tossed into the air. As you sit eating your dessert, vaguely aware of the way Marcus Belby was scraping his spoon furiously against his glass, you look around to survey the table. 

It was quite the random bunch, and you were surprised to see that Draco wasn’t in attendance seeing as Potions was his pride and joy. Although, you aren’t upset that it was Blaise Zabini sitting across from you instead, quite enjoying the boy’s humor despite who he chooses to associate with. Merlin knows Draco’s sardonic demeanor was overwhelming enough, you guessed it was only fair that there was Blaise to balance it all out. 

Continuing to look around the table, you feel yourself do a double take before narrowing your eyes. 

Wait–is that McLaggen? Why the hell was he here?

“So, Y/N, I hear quite the praises about you. Yes. Yes, Professor Babbling and Professor Flitwick are chuffed to have you in their classes. Is there a particular area of study you are interested in?” Slughorn’s words have you snapping your gaze away from the source of your stress, eyes growing imperceptibly wider at the attention. 

Clearing your throat, you shoot a quick glance at your friends before smiling lightly at the older man, “Oh, well I’m quite interested in runes and I’m also partial to researching ancient charms. I spent most of my summer reading old tomes and heirloom books.” About the Dark Arts, not that you would say it aloud. 

Slughorn nods quickly, pleased by your words. Observing the other occupants at the table, you see Blaise meet your gaze with intrigued eyes, while Neville shoots you a warm smile. You supposed it was better than them looking at you like you grew a third head, and you suspected that Blaise somehow could read between the lines and knew exactly what type of research you were doing.

“Why, that sounds like quite the interest! I happen to know a few researchers in Norway and Scotland who are versed in archaic charms. I’ll be sure to reach out to them, perhaps you will be able to meet them at the Christmas party.” Slughorn’s words send a beat of shock through your spine and you find yourself beaming at the man, not expecting such an opportune offer. 

As soon as you nod at his words, the man turns towards Hermione, asking her about her parents and what they do for a living. You try to ignore the awkward silence that spears through the atmosphere once Slughorn realizes he knows very little about the muggle world, choosing to instead send glares at McLaggen when you notice how much your back hurts. 

You had heard he was trying out for a position in Quidditch this year, so maybe you could ask Ron to barrel dive into him as payback. 

The meeting seems to wrap up in the blink of an eye, and you’re soon trailing through the dark corridors behind the rest of the club members. Hermione quickly parts from your side and says she needs to go check out a book before curfew, but you’re less concerned about that and more concerned about Harry’s noticeable absence. 

He was probably still with Slughorn, no doubt already enacting his plan to get information. You only hoped that Dumbledore would leave the man alone soon, or at least until the Christmas party. Opportunist you may be, but the biting nature of the real world demands that you never turn away from such a golden ticket. 

You are dragged away from your thoughts as you feel someone fall into pace with you, looking up to meet a familiar set of eyes. 

“Zabini, what can I do for you?” 

The boy’s lips twitch at your forthright words, hands tucking away into his pant pockets, “Heirloom books. I wasn’t aware you had such…proclivities.” 

Nodding your head, you manage a small smirk at the Italian, “It’s been a strange summer.” 

“It would seem so.”

You both fall into a comfortable silence and you see a few people begin to break away, leaving for their respective destinations. As you reach the grand staircase, Blaise steps away from you, turning his head to give you one last assessing glance. 

You take the initiative to wave at him, still surprised by his cordiality, “Later, Zabini.” 

“It’s been fun. See you around, L/N.” With a small smile, he nods before strutting down the stairs.

As you continue through the darkness you reach into your pocket and pull out Regulus’ frame. You aren’t able to make out his expression, but his presence is comforting nonetheless. 

‘I think I just made a new friend, Reg.’ At least, you hoped you had. 

‘Just be careful.’ 

‘I will be. But I’m sorry about earlier, I should have pinned my pocket or something. Now Harry knows.’ 

‘It was bound to happen eventually.’ 

Huffing through your nose, you set your mouth into a firm line, ‘He won’t tell anyone, promise.’ 

‘I trust you. I know you’re good at picking friends, little bird.’ 

You send a brief pulse of amusement through the mind link, making no comment about the obvious self-praise in his words. 

The next day would be an interesting one, and you were already planning out what to say to Harry, but you weren’t sure how he’d feel about you keeping such a big secret for so long. 

It was truly unfortunate that you couldn’t stay buried in your bed forever. 

tag list: @krazyk99 @venomsvl @valsarchives @bunny24sstuff @novella12nite @elia-the-bibliophile @txoru @surelysherly @xlifexdeathx @trikigirl271 @the-marauders-world @sleepydang @blueberry-thrawn @lestat-whore @chanaaaannel @clockworkherondale @peachyaeger @wilmasvensson @thegayhoenextdoor @l--absinthe @ok-boke

[ohforficsake]

Down, Boy

A Margay Universe Drabble

series masterlist / main masterlist

Summary: The boys end up at a dive bar on Frankie's birthday. Snipers are good at pool. Frankie's not gonna be able to wait until they make it home. Can be read as a standalone.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Sniper!OFC Audrey 'Moose' Goddard

Word Count: ~ 1.6K words

Rating: Explicit 18+ / dirty talk, momentary dry humping, jerking off in a dive bar bathroom, mention of oral sex (f receiving), bit of a come fetish (it's these two, they're just like this) / language / drunk!Frankie is the sweetest, filthiest menace with a massive competency kink / Minors DNI

A/N: A little drabble that came up a few months ago but didn't quite fit with the main Margay storyline. Just something fun to tie you over after putting you all through it with Chapter 9.

Divider by @cafekitsune!

Frankie is—

—a bit drunk tonight.

But it’s his birthday.

And he’s always been a happy drunk. 

There’s no falling on the floor. No getting up in other patrons’ faces. Just cheeks ruddy and round from freely-given mirth. 

He’s harmless as a puppy and just as excitable. 

Whooping with cheers whenever anyone sinks a pool ball into a pocket, whether they’re on his team or not.

_____

He had made the trip out to northern California for the occasion, wanting only to spend his day with his daughter.  

But the boys catch wind of his plan and throw in for an Airbnb on the coast for the occasion.

And in the process of planning, Santi and Benny cook up a four-beer deep idea over an empty pizza box to arrange an extra gift.

Aud, what are your thoughts on Fort Bragg? Santi fires off on a text thread between the three of them.

I’m glad that they’re changing that name, guy was a cunt.

Sorry no, California. Benny clarifies. But also, agreed.

Is that not named after the same guy?

Santi sends the house’s address at the same time Benny sends, it is yeah.

Catfish wants to spend his birthday out there with his kid and we couldn’t let him celebrate alone. Pope attempts to steer.

Wondering if you might want to tag along? Last week of June. 

Send me a venmo request for my part of the booking.

_____

Something warm blooms in Audrey’s chest at the sight of Frankie with his friends, quietly strategizing over forest green pool table felt.

He throws his arm around Benny’s neck and thumps Santiago on the back when they win this round, uncaring that he and Will have lost the last three.

“Can you please play this one, this score is embarrassing,” Will leans over on his bar stool with arms crossed against his chest, voice raised just enough so Audrey can hear him over Garth Brooks being played at a decibel below ungodly volume.

“Already told you, if I play, it’s over in one turn,” she takes a swig of beer, “that’s no fun for anyone.”

“Losing isn’t fun either though.”

She studies Will in the haze of neon-red tinged smoke. Audrey’s only known him for three hours, but she likes him already. Enough to grant him this favor.

“Fine.” 

She slips off her bar stool and shimmies her jeans higher up on her hips before shrugging the leather jacket off of her shoulders.

“You playin’, Moose?” Santiago calls with a grin.

“One round,” she holds up a finger, “save these boys some shame,” she finishes as Will hands her a cue. The minute she lifts it off the ground she murmurs “not that one,” and Will swaps her out. 

“There’s no way she’s that good,” Benny quips to Pope as he racks up the balls.

“I—do not have as much confidence as you on that,” Santiago carefully lifts the triangle and slots it back under the table. “You should probably know better, Benjamin.”

“You boys are fucked,” Frankie loops his arms around both of their shoulders as Audrey chalks her cue.

She places the cue ball towards one rail behind the second set of diamonds and glances behind her, gauging the space before leaning down to eye level, bouncing and spinning the cue in her hand to get a feel for its balance before she takes her first shot.

Audrey sinks two balls on the break. 

She quickly assesses the table when they come to a stop. “Stripes, do I need to call the pocket?”

“No need to be a show-off,” Pope quips. 

“Fair enough,” she slips around the far side of the table and sinks the 9-ball in a corner. It lines the cue ball up perfectly and she drops 14 in a center pocket. 

One lap around the table and a glance at the boys to be sure she has clearance before Audrey knocks the cue ball just off its center point, gliding it across felt where it transfers its spin to 15, sending it swirling down the rail into a corner pocket. She slips around to the opposite side of the table, banking the cue ball off the opposite rail and into 13, which slips neatly into the center pocket nearest her. 

“What went in on the break?” Benny calls.

“11 and 2,” Will answers where he’s calmly perched on a barstool against the wall.

She could miss now and he’d still be impressed.

She won’t.

The cue ball is dead center on the table and 10 is sitting a foot short of a corner. Audrey circles the table, chalking her cue as she analyzes angles. The best shot is from the end nearest the three boys but she’ll have to reach for it.

She stands in front of them and murmurs “sorry, boys,” before she hikes one knee up on the side rail and leans down, chest nearly grazing the table. 

Frankie covers Benny and Santi’s eyes from where his arms are still braced on their shoulders. 

His eyes, however, are locked on her ass.

They hear 10 drop in before brushing Frankie’s hands away.

Audrey bounces the cue ball off the edge of 12, popping it into the nearest pocket.

“Oh, that’s done, she’s got it,” Benny murmurs when the white ball comes to a stop directly in line with the corner pocket nearest Will, the 8 ball sitting perfectly in the middle of the shot.

Audrey sinks it and Frankie whoops, clapping both men on the back before rushing around the table to grab Audrey in a bear hug that lifts her up off her feet.

“FUCK yeah, baby!!!” He screams, taking her face in his hands and mashing his mouth against hers.

“Okay, down boy,” she quips with a smile.

“Well played, Moose,” Will holds out his hand for a shake.

“Alright, the rest is on y’all,” she hands the cue off to Will. “I gotta hit the restroom and then I’ll pick up another round.” She makes her way around the table, Benny and Santi congratulate her with claps on the back before she’s off down the hall.

“Hell of a woman you got there, Catfish,” Will chalks his cue.

Frankie answers with the quirk of a brow and a smirk that drips with filth.

One of the patrons recognizes Benny from fight night and it causes a stir. Turns out Will knows him from high school and everyone’s fascinated with what a small world it really is, attention distracted enough to allow Frankie to slip away.

_____

Audrey wrenches the door to the bathroom open and collides with Frankie’s chest.

“Jesus, Francisco.”

He backs her up with his body, kicking the bathroom door closed and latching it as his mouth crashes against hers, twisting his cap around backwards.

“You’re fuckin’ amazing, baby.” He smashes her against the wall with his broad form, craning low to kiss at what skin he can get to under her turtleneck before giving up and sucking on her earlobe. 

“Yeah, well, I guess” she pants as Frankie drops to his knees and grabs at her hips, grinding the bulge in his jeans against her shin as he mouths at her stomach through the fabric of her shirt, “don’t play pool with a sniper.” 

Frankie is fully hard as he ruts against her, pulling clumsily at the button and zipper of her jeans. He inhales against her mound and moans before quickly getting to his feet. 

Harmless as a puppy and just as excitable.

He’ll sniff crotches and hump legs too, apparently.

Audrey grabs his face between her hands in an effort to center him, dipping her tongue into his mouth before Frankie pulls back.

“Fuuuck baby,” he reaches down to squeeze his cock through his jeans, “I’m not gonna make it, baby, I can’t–”

“Frankie–”

“Shhh, gatita, please,” he clamps a hand over her mouth as his forehead thumps hard against hers, “fuck,” he huffs, “I’m gonna. Pull those pretty panties down for me, beautiful. Just a little bit.”

Audrey is positively dying to see where this goes. 

She slips her jeans and thong down her thighs, eyes locked on Frankie’s locked on black lace.

“Right there. That’s my pretty girl. Yeahh,” he shifts around to free himself from his jeans and she moans into his palm where he slides the hot, hard length of him against her center.

Frankie indulges for a moment, slipping his cock against the smooth wet of her lips.

“Shit,” he hisses before gripping himself in his fist, brown eyes searching green for permission.

And having it, he starts to pump his cock.

It takes him less than a minute before thick ropes of semen spurt into the gusset of her panties as he groans against the back of his hand where it’s still clamped over her mouth.

“Gatita?” He lets go on a ragged gasp once his hips have stilled and he’s worked himself through.

She puffs an acknowledging breath against his palm. 

“I’m gonna make it up to you, I swear,” he lets his hand drop but keeps his forehead pressed against hers. 

Frankie’s fingers move down to hook in the waistband of her lace thong before he slips it, warm and sticky and reeking of his spend back up into place.

“Keep that for me?” He slips his tongue in her mouth, fastening the button on her jeans and dragging the zipper closed. “I’m gonna come back for it.”

He presses a final, wet kiss to her lips, warm palm resting briefly on her cheek before he slips out of the door.

He leaves her frayed with want. Panting through burning lips as her head thumps back against the wall.

Sometimes she wonders if Frankie Morales is the filthiest motherfucker alive.

Two hours later when he cleans her cunt with his tongue—cap twisted round backwards on his head, wet panties stuffed into the pocket of his jeans—she realizes he probably is.

He probably is.

And he's hers.

Tagging a few lovely folks who are/might be interested: @tinytinymenace @theshensei @jeewrites @oliveksmoked @for-a-longlongtime

@toomanytookas @missladym1981 @harriedandharassed @76bookworm76 @spookyxsam

@soft-persephone @julesonrecord @legendary-pink-dot

[nolita-fairytale]

still into you | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader | chapter one: thursday

summary: you, syd, marcus, and carmy return to where it all began: new york city, prompting you and carmy to think a lot about your past... and your future together. (four part series | follow-up to 'make my heart surrender)

warnings: lots of swearing, tooth-rotting fluff, use of she/her pronouns, the lightest of smut, no use of y/n, second person pov

word count: 5k

listen to: 91 - bleachers | now i'm in it - haim | bewitched, bothered, and bewildered - ella fitzgerald (playlist here)

a/n: re: the poll -- yall really said 'let this man be happy please!' and i love that for us. if you voted for the other fic, i want to reassure you that i will be writing that one right after this! please enjoy all of the fluff and joy of this four chapter fic. i also feel like i potentially robbed us of a smut scene so... anyone interested in a bonus smut scene as a companion to this chapter?

Thursday 

“Alright, guys. We only have a few hours to get our day one prep done. I’ve outlined a schedule for today so that we’re as efficient as possible. Tomorrow’s gotta go smooth, alright?” Carmy instructs, laying out the day. 

You listen intently, marveling at your boyfriend in-action. He’s so fearless when he’s in his element, and being back in New York just seems to bring back all the memories of how you met. It’s like you’re twenty seven again, huddling up for a pre-shift meeting, led by recently-promoted wunderkind CDC, Carmen Berzatto. 

Only, you’re not twenty seven anymore and Carmy is the love of your life. 

“I’m gonna start with the mise for our beef dish, so Syd, can you get working on our signature veal stock? I think we should work with one in the pressure cooker just in case we get short on time and have a back up,” Carmy directs, an intense determination filling his eyes. 

He looks from Sydney to Marcus, before continuing his orders. 

“Marcus, I need you to start on the ice cream today, chef. I ordered us some liquid nitrogen if we need to make more on the fly, but I’d really prefer not to.”

And then it’s your turn, and boy, do you love to watch him work. You have to fight the corners of your lips from curling into a broad grin because you know now is not the time. 

“And lastly, I’m gonna have you work on the pasta. My goal is for us to get all of the agnolotti assembled today, so I’ll jump in when I wrap up with my mise to help you with that, yeah?”

“Heard,” the three of you answer in unison. 

Everyone’s got their game faces on because this is a big deal. 

The biggest, actually. 

Representing The Bear at the James Beard House is more than a big deal – it’s an honor. Only a handful of chefs get invited to cook here per year, and after a little fancy footwork in terms of scheduling, the four of you were finally able to agree on a date with the famous organization. You’re more than elated to be a part of the team, even if you aren’t working at The Bear anymore. 

The four of you quickly busy yourselves with setting up your stations. You only have a few hours to accomplish a whole lot of prep, and the pressure sits heavily on each of your shoulders. Tickets to the dinner had sold out within the first hour, which, after all the press, accolades, and media attention the restaurant had earned over the last few years, hadn’t been a huge surprise.

“Think you can keep up, chef? Don’t tell me you’re gettin’ rusty on me,” Marcus quips, already starting the playful trash talking early.

You let out a laugh, before challenging him in jest.

“Damn, Marcus. Hasn’t been that long. Bet I can still kick your ass on a ‘beat the clock’ mise, chef.”

“Oooooh. Shots fired,” Sydney calls out, joining in on your friendly banter.

“Challenge accepted,” Marcus shoots back, almost instantly. 

And then you’re scrambling to get as many prep containers and a kitchen scale, as you race your friend and mentee, all in good fun. 

You’ve missed this. 

It’s only been a few months since you started your new job – a culinary education director at a startup intent on building more sustainable food systems. While your heart would always be at the restaurant, you’d been ready to take on new challenges. The salary pay and benefits didn’t hurt either. You were happy taking a grown-up job, craving a little more stability and normalcy – and so that you and Carmy could stop paying out the ass for health insurance. Besides, you were still working with food. It just looked… well, a lotta different these days. 

You’ve missed the fast pace of the kitchen, your people, and Carmy’s desire for excellence, but it’s not like those things have left your life either. You still have them. 

After you’d left the restaurant, Marcus had taken over as the head pastry chef. In the last few months, you’ve watched him mentor and inspire a new group of wide-eyed, green, chefs-in-the-making, which had made you prouder than you’d ever have the words for. 

You can smell the sharp-allium scent of onions, as Syd quarters them for her stock, and while you have several cartons of eggs and 00 flour, Marcus has gathered all the milk that you’d just purchased for today’s prep.

“Behind,” Carmy says. He passes you by with a few 5 qt storage containers stacked, as he hugs them to his body with one arm. 

You feel his other hand place the gentlest touch on the small of your back as he leans in and whispers in your ear, “It’s good to have you back, chef.” 

You smile, turning your head just enough to lean back to look at him. 

“It’s good to be back, chef.” 

He presses the gentlest, slow kiss to your lips, and it feels like time stops for a moment. As he pulls away from you, there’s a small smirk on his face as Sydney shouts, “Oh get a room, you two!” 

“If we had the time…” he murmurs quietly, planting one more soft peck onto your lips. His face is still only inches away from yours. You giggle in response, the tender moment filling your heart with warmth. 

“Speaking of time… I just bought Marcus a head start,” Carmy teases, your jaw dropping as soon as you realize what he’s doing. 

You pull away from him, your head snapping towards Marcus’ direction to see that he’s already filled a 5 qt container to its capacity with one portion of the milk. 

“Seriously? Damn it, Carmy!” you cry out, shaking your head. “This is sabotage!”

You hear Marcus laugh in the background and as Carmy walks away with a cheeky feeling of accomplishment. You shake your head in disbelief. 

“Sorry, babe. You can deal with a little hazing, yeah? Since you’ve been gone for so long. Gotta give my guy a head start. ‘S only fair.” 

“You’re such a dick,” you scowl, scrambling to catch up. 

Oh it is so on. 

*

By the time you’re done with your day one prep, the four of you head to the hotel. Luckily, it’s only a five minute walk away, and you’re grateful that the James Beard Foundation chose to partner with one so close. The four of you pull your suitcases down the streets of Greenwich Village, before arriving at the luxurious, vintage-inspired hotel. 

You’re eager to get up to your room, as you haven’t had a shower, nor a time to take a break since you all arrived. 

“Woah…” Carmy says, his brilliant blue eyes scanning the high end hotel room. “You sure we can afford this?” 

You chuckle, “I think uh… they have a partnership with the James Beard Foundation, which is the only way I can answer your question with a ‘yes’ without having to tell you that we have to sell an arm, a leg, and our first born.” 

He shoots a half smile in your direction before letting out a whistle as he looks around. The floor to ceiling windows feel way outside of anything you could afford, as Carmy spots the French doors that lead right out onto a terrace. As you continue to explore the rest of the room, you spot a huge tub in the bathroom – something you’re very eager to take advantage of. 

“Power nap?” you ask Carmy, setting down your suitcase in the middle of the room. 

You’ll put your things away later.

“Fuck yeah,” he agrees eagerly.

You’ve barely put your book bag down before you’re both stripping off your jeans and climbing into the perfectly made hotel bed. After spending the morning traveling, you, Sydney, Marcus, and Carmy had gotten off the plane at JFK and gone straight to the James Beard House in Greenwich. Not only had Carmy been antsy to see the kitchen and get a head start on prep, you hadn’t been able to check into your hotel till this afternoon. You’re both spent, and you know that Carmy’s been running himself ragged preparing for this once in a lifetime opportunity. He hasn’t been sleeping all that well either– his thoughts consumed with nailing down the perfect menu, while paralyzed with indecision.

His quest for perfection had made him irritable over the last few days. You could see that the pressure was getting to him. His appetite was down, he was picking fights with you about small, unnecessary things at home, and pushing Sydney (sometimes a little too hard) at the restaurant. 

But today, he seems a little more in control of his feelings, and it puts him a little more at ease now that you’re finally in New York. He knows he’s been driving you crazy all week, and now that you’re all here, he’s hoping he can relax a little. 

Now that you’re here, in the city. 

Now that the dinner is only a day and a half away. 

You’re hoping he’ll slow down at some point too – give himself a little time to enjoy how big of an accomplishment this is. At least by the end of the weekend. Frankly, you’re glad you’ll have Saturday to enjoy the city without any pressure. 

For all of your sakes. 

You’re surprised that Carmy falls asleep with you during your late afternoon nap. He’s been so wired, so high strung lately, but you’ve just been waiting for him to come back down. Now that it seems like he is, there’s no way in hell you’re going to wake him up. You’re curled up together when you wake, your back pressed against his chest, his arms enveloping you. It feels almost impossible to pry yourself out of his arms without waking him up, but his deep slumber confirms your suspicions and you’re more than willing to let him continue sleeping. It takes a few tries to slip out of his embrace, but you do, and it’s off to the bathroom to get ready for dinner.

You try to make as little noise as possible, but by the time you're out of the shower, and your hair has been blown dry, Carmy’s up. You can hear the hotel TV on as you exit the bathroom and see he’s put his jeans back on. He’s perched on the edge of the bed, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. You notice that the dark circles under his eyes that have accumulated over the years seem to sit heavier this week, as his eyes flicker over towards you.

“Damn, my girl’s got style,” he compliments, checking out your all black-ensemble. “We really are back in New York, huh?”

You nod, grinning at his sweet compliment, as you sit down to slip your white sneakers on. 

“You meetin’ up with Liz and Maya tonight?” he asks you. 

“Yeah. Syd’s gonna join for a bit before her thing. She should uh… be here any minute, actually.” You begin tying up the shoelaces of one of your shoes, before slipping the other one on. 

“You sure you don’t want to come?”

“Nah I-, I'll see ‘em tomorrow right? But tell ‘em I say ‘hello’.”

“Of course. I think they’re both really looking forward to seeing you.”

You check the time on your phone making sure you have enough time, before you make your way to where Carmy sits on the edge of the bed. 

“What’re you going to do tonight?” you ask, curiously, stopping so that your body is right in front of his. 

“Well Marcus is staging at per se so… I’ll probably just hang out. Order room service or pick up a sandwich across the street. I wanna run through all this shit so tomorrow goes as well as it can,” Carmy answers, waving his notebook at you. 

He’s like a man possessed, but it’s one of the many reasons you love him. You pull the notebook out of his hands tossing it somewhere on the bed behind you. You place your knees on each side of his hips, before settling down on top of him. 

“Think you can relax a little tonight?”

He pulls you in, his arms moving over your hips. Carmy leans in, placing a small kiss against your glossy lips. 

“Think you can help me with that?”

You giggle in response, twisting your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck.

“I think… that could be arranged.”

Before anything too spicy can happen, there’s a knock at the door and you know it’s Syd. Carmy groans as you pull away, falling back onto the bed with a sigh of defeat. You climb off of him, heading to answer the door. 

“Hey, you ready?” Sydney asks, as you greet her. 

“Yeah, let me just grab my phone,” you reply, stepping aside to let her in. 

As she enters the hotel room, Carmy’s sitting up. With his feet planted firmly on the ground, he leans over, resting his forearms on his legs as he runs a hand through his messy curls. 

Sydney looks from you to a somewhat pouty Carmy, as if she knows she interrupted something. 

“Staying in tonight, Carm?” she asks him, as you gather your things. 

“Yeah,” he grumbles, and you can’t help but notice how tired he looks. 

Sydney rolls her eyes in response, “Don’t worry. I’ll have her back by nine.”

“Alright, I’m ready,” you say with a smile as you address Sydney. 

“You guys have fun,” Carmy nods, with a half assed wave.

“Don’t work too hard, boss,” Sydney adds, as the two of you turn to leave. “Oh and Carmy. You’ve got a little…” She gestures towards the lipstick you’ve left on his face. 

You laugh in response, and as you close the door, Carmy can hear Sydney’s ‘oh my god, you two are like rabbits’ comment in the distance. 

Carmy allows himself to fall back on the bed, reaching above his head to grab his notebook again. He’s honestly grateful to have a night to himself. He’s never been much for going out, or big social events, so having a night in feels like a good kind of calm before the storm – especially because the next few days will be full of social interactions. He’d always found New York City a little overstimulating. 

Between the dinner and the reception on Saturday, Carmy felt like he was collapsing under the enormous pressure – his only out being excellence. It’s not just the fact that being invited to cook at the James Beard house was a once in a lifetime opportunity, but there’s important business to announce here too. And then there’s the social aspect of it all, and he can’t help but feel like there are high expectations: from the food world, his reputation, your old friends from New York. And he wants to make everyone happy – he wants to impress them all. 

Something about being back here, and being back here with you, has him caught up in his head about it all. This is where you’d met. It’s also where he’d been at his lowest – right before Mikey died. So much has changed, and Carmy feels too large for his old battlefield.

Because that’s what it had been for him: a battlefield. 

A battle for his mental health, to rise to the top of the New York City fine dining scene, fighting with his feelings for you. 

Over the last two years, he had learned that he didn’t have to fight every single damn day. Some days he could just… be – be himself, whatever the fuck that meant, be a friend, and be with you. It felt strange – familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Being back here makes him somehow feel like the total loser he was six years ago when he first arrived in NYC… and a completely different person at the same time. 

While he was over the moon when he got the call from the James Beard Foundation, he also couldn’t fight this uncomfortable feeling that’s been sitting in his stomach all week long. Carmy had never quite been able to come to terms with the whole ‘celebrity’ aspect of the food world. He knew what he could do in the kitchen. That was unquestionable. But the rest of it – the networking, the celebrity chef circles – was the part he felt most unsure about.

Ever since Sydney’s Rising Star win, he’d let her take center stage with her rising visibility in the culinary world. Actually, he’d been grateful that she was so good at it – that it seemed like she enjoyed the part of the job he hated. There was someone to take the pressure off of him – someone who thrived in front of the camera so that he didn’t have to. But he knows at some point this weekend, he’ll have to face the music. 

There were big changes coming to The Bear. 

*

It didn’t take long after the initial introductions for your friends to fawn over Sydney. They were more than happy to meet your friend they’d heard all about, and the incredible chef who was shaking up the Chicago food scene. 

“Well I’m glad to hear that some things have changed and that working with Carmy’s not a total nightmare any longer-?” Liz concludes your conversation about the restaurant, earning an eye roll from Maya and a laugh from both you and Sydney.

“Oh no it’s still tough sometimes,” Sydney says back. “He has his days. We all do.”

“Liz!” you protest, in regards to the Carmy-bashing.

“What?! You didn’t have to work directly under him back then!” she defends herself, before clarifying with Sydney. “And in his defense, Sydney, it was really our exec chef who was the real nightmare.”

“Oh she works directly under him, alright,” Maya jokes, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“And sometimes on top of him, and also-,” you quip back, ready to play along.

“Oh my god, you’re out of control and I am sick of you!” Sydney exclaims with a laugh in reference to your crass comment.

“So tell us more about the new restaurant,” Maya prompts, refocusing the conversation back to Sydney’s previous reveal.

Sydney tells your friends about The Bear’s plans to expand, and shares ideas she has that even you haven’t heard from Carmy yet. As she wraps up her story, she realizes what time it is, meaning that she’s gotta head uptown soon. She really only was supposed to stay for a glass of wine, but meeting your friends has been so fun that she’s lost track of time. 

“Shit. I have to head out,” she says. “But I’ve really loved meeting you guys. You’re coming to the dinner tomorrow night, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Absolutely.”

“And the reception!” you add gleefully, so glad you get to see your best friends three days in a row. 

“It’s been really great meeting you, Sydney,” Liz says, shooting you a look of approval. She squeezes your hand under the table momentarily, before saying, “Thanks for taking care of our girl. She speaks so highly of you.”

“Where are you off to next?” Maya asks, excitedly. 

“Syd’s got dinner plans,” you answer, waiting for Sydney to provide more detail.

“Yeah, I uh-, I got invited to one of the To Be Hosted events and it just worked out that we’d be in town for this the same weekend,” Sydney replies, a glimmer of excitement flashing through her eyes as she shares.

“Damn, you got invited to a supper club?” Liz marvels. “Okay!”

“Yeah because she’s a rockstar,” you cheer your friend on, saying it so matter of factly that even a stranger would believe you. 

You all say your goodbyes to Sydney before ordering food. It feels so good to be back in the city, back here with some of your best friends. Maya and Liz had been the friends that held you up, and you them, when you lived here. While you had met Liz at your last job, a sous chef under Carmy’s leadership, Maya worked in fashion and the two of you had become fast friends after meeting through an ex-boyfriend. Once you introduced the two of them to each other, the three of you had been inseparable ever since. 

They had always been your biggest cheerleaders – especially when it came to you and Carmy.

“She’s great,” Maya says, in reference to Sydney. 

“Right? I’m so excited for her. This is a huge deal: create her own menu, a chance to run kitchen without Carmy…” you agree, feeling deep satisfaction over the amazing people you have in your life. “We’re announcing the big news at the dinner tomorrow.”

“Speaking of, how is our favorite guy? What’s he up to tonight?” Maya asks, guiding the conversation back to Carmy. 

“I told him he could come but I think he wanted to stay in tonight. I think he needs some time to decompress. He’s been pretty high strung all week,” you answer. 

“Carmy? High strung?” Liz asks back sarcastically, earning a laugh from you.  “I’m kidding! I really am looking forward to seeing him tomorrow. 

Maya shakes her head, before taking a sip of her glass of wine. She’s always adored Carmy, but knows that Liz has a different relationship with him, having worked as a line cook. 

“You guys are… getting serious, huh?” Liz asks, glancing over at you. 

“Um.. I think those two were married after their first coffee date,” Maya adds. 

“It was not a date!” you insist, shooting her a look. 

Liz lets out an unconvinced laugh, and you accept defeat because you know they’ve always been right about you and Carmy. 

“Maya, don’t forget. Our girl is and has always been the Queen of Denial,” Liz adds, winking in your direction. 

“Oh ha-ha. You guys are so funny,” you reply dryly. You nod, thinking about you and Carmy’s relationship over the last few years. “Yeah uh… it’ll be three years in the Fall so… you could say it’s getting pretty serious.”

Your friends are beaming back at you in response to your admission, and while you’d love to spend all night talking about how head over heels you are for Carmy, you’re also kind of ready to shift the attention off of you and your relationship. 

“Enough about me. What’s going on with you guys?” you change the subject. 

It feels so good to catch up with your girl friends. You all agree to make it an early night. While Maya’s husband had agreed to put their kid to bed, she wants to make it home in time anyways. Liz has a date later, and before you know it, you’ve wrapped up dinner and are walking back to your hotel. You send Carmy a quick text, because you’re only a few blocks away. 

You: On the way back. 

New York City has always been so inspiring to you. The city itself feels alive – like there’s an electric undercurrent that always makes you feel so full. There’s never a dull moment, and it feels as if the potential for a wild adventure is always around the corner. It’s also the place that you and Carmy met, all those years ago. It’s funny. The version of you that met him six years ago never could’ve predicted this: that you’d actually get to be here together, after almost three years of loving each other fiercely. 

Your friends were and always have been right about you. 

Back then, you were Queen of Denial and even then, Carmy had been your king. 

But you’re here now: in the city you met in, stupidly in love with the man you’d met six years ago who had seemed terrified to merely have a conversation with you. 

Your phone buzzes in your hand, interrupting your trip down memory lane, as you peek at the text you just received. 

Carmy: Went out for a walk and a smoke. 

You type back a quick, yet short reply. 

You: Love you. 

When you return to the hotel room, you enjoy the quiet of the evening. It still feels like spring in NYC, so you open a window because it just feels too damn good outside. No wonder he’d gone for a walk. You kick your shoes off, placing them gently by the door, before stripping off your jacket and heading into the bathroom. 

As you pull your hair up and out of your face, piling it into one conglomerate on top of your head, you eye the large bathtub you’d admired earlier.  Not only are you in need of a relaxing soak, but you’re hoping you can persuade Carmy to join you – maybe even help him destress a little. You don’t think twice about it, as you strip off all of your clothes, sliding on one of the fluffy robes that the hotel has provided. You flip on the hot water, the sound of rumbling water against tile hitting your ears.

There’s a bath soak in a glass jar that you find on the bathroom counter, before adding it to the increasingly hot water. While it looks like a mixture of some kind of soak and epsom salt, large bubbles begin to form underneath the rapid stream of the faucet, and you inhale deeply. 

Lavender. Vanilla. Chamomile, maybe?

The smell puts you at ease and you can feel your shoulders melting away from your ears. 

It’s not long before Carmy returns, the bathtub is almost at its capacity and the bath soak that you put in the hot water has bubbled up and blossomed into large, sudsy configurations. You’ve put on a jazz playlist, the sounds of Ella Fitzgerald filling the small space as you hum along. 

“Babe?” Carmy calls out to you, as you hear the front door close behind him. 

“I’m in here,” you call to him, turning the volume of your phone down a few levels. . 

You hear a shuffle of shoes, before he’s peeking around the door frame, his eyes lighting up as soon as he sees you. He knows it’s silly. It’s not like he’s been able to be very present over the last week, and it begins to dawn on him that he’s missed you.

“How was your walk?” you ask softly. 

“Good.”

He looks around the bathroom, the air thick with humidity from the hot water. You turn the faucet off, as you’ve now filled the tub to its capacity.

“You look comfy.”

“I am. It’s a very comfy robe.”

You wait a beat before preparing your ask.

“Big tub,” you entice him, gesturing towards the bubble bath that awaits you. 

“Yeah?” he asks, a half smile on the edges of his lips as he takes a step towards you. 

“Big enough for two,” you nod, making your case. 

It’s all the convincing he needs. You’re removing your robe, leaving your bare body on display for him to see, and soon enough, he’s stripping down and climbing into the bathtub with you. You share an awkward laugh as the two of you clumsily figure out how to position yourselves for optimal comfort. Your back is pressed against his chest, and you’re truly in awe of the large bathtub that somehow holds the both of you.

It becomes progressively easier for Carmy to relax. Between the hot water, and your naked body pressed against his, thoughts and worries about tomorrow begin to slip away. The two of you enjoy the quiet intimacy between you, the soft sounds of your favorite jazz standards, and Carmy’s lazily dragging his fingertips across any bit of exposed skin that he can.

You lean your head back against his shoulder, and Carmy buries his face in the crevice where your neck and shoulders meet. 

“Why don’t we do this more often?” he asks, in between leaving a few slow-paced, soft kisses across your shoulders. 

“Hm?” you hum in response. From the way his mouth and hands move across your body, and the silky feeling of the hot water, you barely have a thought left in your head.

“This whole… bath thing,” he clarifies, exhaling a deep sigh. 

This may be the most relaxed he’s felt all week and he likes that you seem to be enjoying this too.  

“Probably because we have a tub that I can only assume was built for a small show dog,” you joke. 

He laughs dryly. 

“Fair enough.”

Carmy waits a beat before speaking again, enjoying how his mind has quieted for the first time in days.

“Let’s put it on the list… for when we’re ready to move to a new place,” he suggests, quietly. 

“Somewhere with a big tub?” you ask, only sort of surprised by his request. 

“Yeah.”

You turn your head to look at him, as Carmy presses a searing kiss to your lips. You feel his hand snake between your legs and you begin to understand exactly why he’s enjoying this whole bath thing. 

“As much as I’m enjoying this…” he whispers against your lips. “Think you maybe want to get out of this tub…”

Another kiss.

“… dry off…”

You slide your tongue against his as his fingertips move higher up your inner thigh, earning a hiss of pleasure from you. 

“…not put our clothes back on?”

And then he’s swallowing your moans in his mouth, as he continues his exploration. Your head is spinning, and it’s not just the hot water that makes you feel as if your soul was set aflame.

“Yes.”

*

The next morning, you wake up alone. On the bedside table there’s a note in Carmy’s scratchy handwriting that reads:

Couldn’t sleep. Went to Chelsea Market. Love you.

You let out a frustrated sigh. Last night had been incredible but you also knew it’d be back to the grind today. While you’re excited for him – and for tonight – you’re also kind of ready for this to be over. You’re ready to have your boyfriend back.

read: bonus smut scene | chapter two

taglist: @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha @starbritestarlite @tpwkkmila

[mrsmandalorian]

city lights, country nights

cowboy! joel x techie! reader

summary: enjoying the simple life with a cowboy!joel and his family. 

series masterlist/main masterlist/word count: 1.6k

warnings: reader is able-bodied, no outbreak AU, fluff!!!,makeout session, cheesy and sexy flirting, pet name (darling), drinking (just a glass of wine), no use of y/n.

a/n: hello, lovelies! i am maddie! this is my first time posting on tumblr. i hope you enjoy it! i would like to make this a series and write other stories! We will see how it goes. i hope everyone enjoys cowboy! joel! i would love to hear your feedback or comments! 🤍maddie

Log off your work computer when you see the clock hit five o’clock with a small smile. You were ready for your long weekend with your sexy cowboy. Being in the tech field was much more challenging than some would think. You still have a few projects to review this weekend while you are away. The projects could be done later because it was time to get the hell out of the city. 

The two-hour drive from the city into the country was always the best on a Friday afternoon after work. The hustle and bustle of the city fades as your tires drive down the road into a relaxing retreat. The time change improves the drive, with the sun shining as you drive with the window down and listen to the radio loudly. As you pass the cows and pastures, you know you are getting closer to your perfect haven with your person. 

The ranch was a place you would have never gone on your own or even thought of loving as you did. Joel and his family had built it slowly over the last five years after they bought the land. The main house was Joel’s, which everyone always came over (mainly for his outdoor setup). It was a good-sized house with four bedrooms and three and a half bathrooms inside. Outside the house was a beautiful patio fit for the whole crew with a fire pit, giant outdoor TV, tool shed, lounge area, and hanging lights. Tommy and Ellie both had their own houses on the property. Joel said Sarah had not been interested in her home on the property since she was at college and had other plans (still close by). The ranch part of the property was beautiful and full of different animals, from chickens to sheep. 

The sun starts to set as you pull into the long driveway to the ranch. As you slowly drive up, you can see an outline of a horse and its rider approaching you against the fence line from the rear. You break your car so they can catch up to you. 

“Hello, darlin',” Joel’s Texas twang says as he rides up next to you with a sweet smirk. He is riding his horse, Whiskey. He is a lovely brown horse, especially if you have a sugar cube or apple slices. Seeing Joel in work mode was fun; he was dirty from a busy day with the animals and crew. 

The blush and smile crept up, “Howdy, cowboy,” you joke with a cheesy grin.

The comment caused him to roll his eyes and slightly grin. “Pull up to the house and wait for me to give you a proper hello.” You nod in agreement and let him get a head start to the barn to put sweet Whiskey up for the night. Driving up the driveway, you are passed by Joel’s crew, including his brother and daughter, Tommy and Ellie. You give them all a big smile and wave. Tommy and Ellie jokingly thank you because Joel always lets them off earlier when you come to stay for a few days. 

It doesn’t take long for the flannel-wearing cowboy to walk out of the barn toward you from about 30 yards away. He seems to have washed off some dirt from his skin by wiping away the water from his face with a rag. Getting out of the car quickly to meet him halfway, he pulls you in a bear hug as your bodies come together; all the tension leaves your body.

A sweet, passionate kiss is placed on your lips following a “How was the drive, darlin’?” 

“It was a lot better now that it does not get darker at 5!” you giggle and look into his big brown eyes, which make your stomach butterflies dance and blush hard.

He kisses your head as he pulls away to get your bags out of the car. He turns around with his hands full of your weekend bags and the few groceries you brought. “How long are you staying?” he jokes as he walks up on the porch. “I think so, too. It makes me feel more comfortable with you driving in the country with all those deer.” 

The sweet encounter was cut short when a ball of energy ran around the house and circled you happily as she barked at you. “Sassy! Let your mom get inside, at least!” Joel grumbled as he opened the door to the house. Joel had gotten Sassy, an Australian Shepherd when he started bringing animals to the ranch after he had built it for a ranch dog. She was a hard-working dog but enjoyed her evenings off, with Joel spoiling her with too many treats and pets. 

Both of you followed him inside the house and into the living room, where he set all the bags down. You plopped down onto the couch as you prepared for the forty-five pounds of energy to jump into your lap. It felt like she was there in a second. You watched Joel as you pet the dog sitting next to you, “How was your week, handsome?” 

Joel walks over to the couch and sits beside Sassy, throwing his arm around your shoulders. “It was an okay week. I've just been busy and missing you.” He starts to take off his boots and looks over at you. Sassy gets fed up with being squished between the two of you and jumps down to her bed by Joel’s chair. 

“I missed you too,” You sweetly say, snuggling closer to him, his arm wrapping comfortably around you. The two of you sat snuggled around one another for a while. This was one of the rare occasions that you two are not already fucking against the dining room table after the first five minutes of your arrival. It was a bittersweet occasion, but both greetings are perfect. 

After a while, Joel got up and started messing around in the kitchen. He returned to the living room and leaned on the door frame with a glass of your favorite wine. “What are you feeling for supper, darling?” he asked, teasing you to get up with the wine. With a soft grin, you got up and kissed him in exchange for the glass. 

“A bottle of wine and you,” you smirked as you sip the glass, meeting his eyes. He grins and wraps his large hands around your waist, pulling your body closer. The sexual tension and longing were thick in the air as eye contact was kept. His hands start to wander towards your ass, grabbing onto your ass cheeks roughly. This caused you to wrap your arms around his neck. 

“I like the way you think, little lady.” He grunts as he kisses you again, but this time, it is more passionate and rough. His hands kept wandering your body under your shirt, which caused a moan from you. The make-out session became more intense with wandering hands. 

“Hey guys!” is heard throughout the house as Ellie wanders inside the side kitchen door. The two of you quickly pull away from one another slightly as she walks inside the room. “Oh, shit! Sorry guys!” she says and covers her eyes dramatically with a laugh. “ Joel, this is your fault! You made the plans with us for pizza night when Darling gets into town. Tommy said you guys would probably be about done greeting each other when we got back with the pizza.” 

“You’re right, kid,” Joel chuckles as he meets your eyes, kissing your head. “We will have to finish this for dessert, darling.” He whispers in your ear with a wink. You join Ellie in the kitchen, where Tommy simultaneously enters the door. Joel gives him a look, but he gives him a smirk as he takes the pizza boxes out of his arms. 

“Shit, I forgot to call Joel 10 minutes out. ,” Tommy says as he puts his hands on his head and gives his brother an apologetic look with a smirk. You go over and give each other of them a sweet hug. 

Ellie was the one to break the silence. “I’m happy that you’re here! I need some girl advice,” she said as she helped gather the plates and drinks for everyone while the brothers set up all the food. The night was full of laughter and catching up through the two last weeks you have been apart. You all ended up outside watching some basketball on the giant flatscreen. You and Joel decided to snuggle up on the couch with a king-sized blanket as you gossip with Ellie about her love life. 

The pair eventually went their separate ways an hour after dinner. It was always so good to visit with them. Joel was a package deal, as you have always known, but luckily, you were blessed with an incredible family. Seeing how protective he was of his little family, especially you and his girls, was touching. 

Joel was very quiet as you both stayed snuggled on the couch. After they left, you rubbed his shoulders as he moved to lay on your chest. His breathing and body had settled and relaxed. He was comfortably passed out; all you could do was smile and take his picture as you held your sexy cowboy. 

You let out a little chuckle and whisper, “No dessert for us, I guess, old man,” placing a small kiss on his head. You turn on your favorite show as you slowly fall asleep, listening to the rhythm of his breath, which calms you into a deep sleep. 

thank you for reading! let me know what you think!🤍

[cleolinda]

I am so fucking pissed. We’re hearing forecasts that we might get FIVE FUCKING INCHES OF SNOW overnight from Monday to Tuesday. In ALABAMA, where we have no snow removal equipment. Like I think we got one bag of sand for the whole town. No snow tires, I don’t even know what those are. This isn’t cute “Haha it’s just barely below freezing! Snowball fight!!!” snow. This is 14° Fuck (-11° Come the Fuck On) snow. FIVE INCHES? We get flurries and the city descends into madness.

What if we lose POWER. Everything runs off USB cord stuck in the outlet charging nowadays. This is why everyone used to run out and buy Milk Bread Batteries. Listen. I have this memory of the power going out during this wild snowstorm when I was a kid--I want to say it was Winter Storm '93. Ask anyone who lived in Alabama at the time. Like we had Desert Storm '92 the military operation one year and Winter Storm '93 the next. It was that serious in our minds, and I'm not sure you can blame us:

The storm dumped several inches of snow each hour on Birmingham, which ended up with officially 13 inches of snow.

Due to the high winds some parts of Birmingham reported drifts 5 to 6 feet deep. One state trooper reported that the roads were in the worst shape he had ever seen. "People can't tell what's road and what's not."

Low temperatures during the storm were in the 5-to-10 degree range on that Sunday.

IN A TOWN WHERE WE DON'T KNOW WHAT A SNOW PLOW IS. I think we had one for the entire county. Like I'm only kind of joking here.

And our power went out.

The snow was so heavy that it pulled down power lines either by its own weight, or by the tree branches its weight broke off. Meanwhile, the power at my house already went off every time a squirrel sneezed. I don't how many days this lasted; it was probably like, 2-3 days, but in my head, I was 14 years old boxed up with my family with no heat and it lasted two weeks. Maybe three years. The four of us slept in sleeping bags layered with quilts, huddled on the floor around a wood burning fire. (In the haunted house, no less.) The carpet was really nice, at least. We had a--do people still call them boomboxes? A big portable cassette player--battery-powered--with AM/FM radio. We listened to whatever TV shows were broadcast from the ABC station at night. We did have hot water; I took a lot of hot baths. We cooked food over the outdoor grill (which we moved to the comfortably large area under the deck, to hold off the falling snow), sometimes using aluminum foil as a kind of thin impromptu frying pan, and kept perishables like milk and meat in a cooler. Oh, did we have a bag of ice for the cooler? No, we used snow. God knows there was enough of it. Of course, I'm sure the refrigerator was perfectly serviceable even without power, because it was TEN DEGREES FUCK ALL.

I remember going outside a good bit and playing, as much as a teenager plays, in the snow with my seven-year-old sister. I remember that all the neighborhood kids got big rubber trashcan lids and used them as toboggans, going up to the top of the hill on our street and pretty successfully sledding down. Maybe it was "lmao snowball fight!!" snow when I was 14. I'm 45 now, and the cold makes me hurt. It makes me hurt all over. Maybe Winter Storm '24 will be a fun core memory for my nephew. I am pissed. And also charging all my electronics.

(ETA: It’s ‘24 now, isn’t it. My brain hasn’t clicked the date over yet. What is time.)

[mattybraps10]

I Can See You | Brendan Brisson x Hughes!OC

Summary: Phoebe Hughes loved being at the lake with her brothers more than anything. This is the last summer before Luke goes to New Jersey to join Jack, and she's ready to make the most of their changing lives. However, once she arrives, she learns that the boys have invited a special guest this summer... Brendan fucking Brisson.

Word Count: 1130

By: M

Parts: part two | part three | part four | part five

PART ONE:

With summer quickly approaching, Phoebe Hughes was ready to put her books away and lounge around the lake with her brothers. Although she had spent almost everyday with Luke whilst at school, she was still looking forward to having one-on-one time with the three of them like it used to be. She was proud of her brothers, of course, but with two of them in the NHL and one about to leave, she was starting to miss constantly being with them, something she’d never admit to. When the last day of the semester finally came, she and Luke packed up the car, smiling and waving to Luke’s teammates as they pulled out of the driveway. 

“Ready Pheebs?” Luke asked, turning the car onto the main road.

“Definitely.” Phoebe nodded, glad that summer continued to be a constant in their ever-changing lives. 

When they pulled up to the lake house, Phoebe was overwhelmed with the pure bliss accompanied by the wooded scenery. The lake was the one place that really felt like home to her after moving around so much as a kid. Stepping out of the car, Phoebe was transported back to high school summers with various members of her brothers’ teams, laughing around the fire pit without the stresses of adulthood. The smell of the pine trees filled her nose as she spun around, tilting her head back.

“Good to be back, huh?” Luke asked.

“You know how much I love this place.” She replied simply, everyone knew how much she loved her summers. Just as she was about to knock on the door, it opened and Jack stepped out, bumping into her.

“Umph- PHEEBS! I missed you kiddo.” Jack quickly wrapped her into a huge hug. Being the youngest of the Hughes siblings, Phoebe was used to being babied by her brothers and their friends.

“Missed you too Rowdy. Where’s Quinn?” She asked, stepping into the foyer. The foyer consisted of a massive hallway, and stairs leading down into the main rooms of the house. 

“Oh, Quinn’s just showing Briss around the house, you remember him right?” Boy did she remember him. Brendan had been her first crush, her first kiss, her first taste of teenage rebellion, and as all things go, her first heartbreak. Of course, the boys had no idea or Brendan would not have been invited back to the house, let alone breathing.

“Oh. Um. Maybe? You guys have a lot of friends.” She shrugged, avoiding eye contact.

“You’ll recognize him when you see him, he was around a lot when we were younger. I’ll help Luke unload the car now, you should go find Quinn.” Jack said, dismissing Phoebe and walking out the door. 

Great.

Phoebe wandered down the stairs, mentally preparing herself for the overwhelming emotions that would come when she laid eyes on Brendan again. She thought she’d gotten over him when she’d ended up at University of Michigan in his wake, but the pain of what he’d done forever lingered. She didn’t really blame him, she was three years younger and never expected anything to come of their relationship, but it still hurt when he pulled away and left for college. 

“Hey Pheebs, how are ya?” Quinn said, walking to the foot of the stairs and pulling her into a long hug.

“Quinny, I missed you buddy.” She replied easily, hugging him back.

“By the way, Briss is in the guest room if you wanna say hi, I know you guys spent a lot of time together growing up.” Leave it to Quinn to have picked up on their fleeting relationship, although it seemed he didn't know the true nature of it. 

“Oh. Uh- Maybe. I’m gonna unpack first…”

“Is- Are you okay Pheebs?” Of course he picked up on her hesitancy. Quinn had always been the most observant of her brothers, he always knew when things were off about her.

“Yeah, just tired.”

“Okay. We’re gonna head out on the boat in a bit if you wanna join.” He dropped the subject, although it was clear he didn’t believe her in the slightest. 

She walked to her room, opening her drawers and putting on an old swimsuit. Since she was usually only away during winter months, she left her warm weather clothes at the house, opting to make the drive on odd weekends when the weather warmed up. The bikini she grabbed had been Brendan’s favorite on her, small high waisted polka dot bottoms with a matching pink top. She hardly noticed the suit she’d grabbed, however, her mind preoccupied by thoughts of what it’d be like to finally see him again. 

“PHEEBS LETS GO!” Quinn yelled through the door, breaking her from her thoughts.

“COMING HOLD ON!!” She replied, pulling her brown hair out of its ponytail and letting it cascade down her shoulders. She ran out her door, figuring she’d grab one of her brother’s shirts as a cover up. 

“Woah.” A voice, Brendan, whispered. She wasn’t expecting him to look better than he had years before. He had been hot then, but now… Well now he was a whole other level of hot. 

“Pick your jaw up off the floor before my brothers see you ogling me. You had your shot, remember?” I said, walking into Jack’s room and grabbing a shirt from the closet. 

“Uh. Yeah.” He replied, following her into the room and scratching the back of his neck. As he raised his arm, his shirt lifted just slightly and Phoebe could see the outline of his abs, he certainly hadn’t had that when they were younger, that’s for sure.

“C’mon Lil’ Hughes, your brothers are already on the boat.” He said, leaning on the door frame as Phoebe put on Jack’s shirt, butterflies erupting in her stomach at the nickname she hadn’t heard in years.

He led the way down to the boathouse, making jokes and trying to rekindle their relationship and Phoebe couldn’t help but find it endearing. When they reached the boathouse, Phoebe was just about ready to forgive him.

“Hey Pheebs, Briss nice of y’all to finally join us.” Luke said, nodding in their direction.

“Woah, Pheebs, who’s shirt is that?” Jack asked, confused.

“You mean it’s not yours? Why the hell was it in your closet?” She asked, starting to get frustrated.

“It wasn’t- Briss and I traded rooms cause the other room was too bright for him with the big windows…”

“OH. MY. GOD. You’re wearing Briss’ shirt! HAHAHA!!” Luke interrupted Jack, cackling like a hyena. 

“Brendan.” Phoebe quickly turned to Brendan, her face shrouded in a frown. 

“I- What?” He asked, raising his hands up in mock surrender.

“Why didn’t you say anything?!” 

“I thought you knew?” He said, shrugging. “It’s not like you haven’t done it before.” 

[her-power]

Last Chance to Dance (Part Four: Rockstar! e.m. x fem reader)

🚨🛑🔞18+++ MINORS DNI - YOU WILL BLOCKED🚨🛑🔞 TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNING (For entire series): Rockstar! Addict! Sweet! Mean! Eddie, smut, unprotected p+v, fluff, fingering (f receiving), masturbation, oral (m+f receiving), heavy drug use, descriptions of IV drug use, swearing, talks of anxiety, panic disorder, mental illness, talks of suicide

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Last Chance to Dance Part One Part Two Part Three

Summary: Full Summary on Part One

Word Count: 8.1k

I wake up to the smell of French toast coming from the kitchen; I smile, realizing what day it is. I groan, feeling the muscles in my back stretch and my spine pop. I throw on my jeans and exit the room. I find you in the kitchen, you were dancing to Prince on the radio, in an oversized band tee, not noticing me behind you. I realize the shirt you’re wearing is mine, a shirt that I haven’t seen in almost twenty years. 

“Merry Christmas.” I say and you yelp, awkwardly stumbling back into me as the spatula falls out of your hand. I hold your waist and you're laughing loudly. 

“Jesus Christ. You scared me!” You cup my face and kiss my lips softly. “Merry Christmas.” 

I smile against your lips, gripping your waist. “I was wondering what happened to this shirt.” 

You blush, winking at me. “You left it at my house.” 

“I’m sure I did.” I laugh, gently patting her ass as she goes back to cooking breakfast. I peek out the windows, the snow was pretty melted already. It seemed warmer than usual. I feel my phone ringing in my pocket, and I see that it’s Ted, I smile when I answer. 

“Merry Christmas, Teddy.” I say with a grin.

I hear him giggle. “Merry Christmas, dickhead. How you doing?” 

I glance over at you, and you look up, smiling sweetly at me. “Better than I have been.” 

“Oh yeah? Why is that?” 

“Remember the girl?” I whisper. “The one I told you about.” 

“The girl…the girl. Oh!” He laughs loudly. “Wow, man. That’s amazing. Are things…are things well…?”

“Things are incredible.” I grin and I pull my hair up in a half pony. 

“Good. I love to hear it.” He coughs a little. “Happy seven months by the way.” 

I glance at the date on my phone, he was right. I was seven months clean. I’ve never had that much time under my belt. “Wow. I didn’t even realize…thanks, man.” 

“I’m proud of you, kid.” He says, and I hear him let out another hacking cough. “The boys talked about meeting at the studio, Gareth told me you’ve been writing?” 

“Uhhh. Been preoccupied to finish, but yeah.” I smile. “I haven’t sang anything yet, it’s been a while.” 

“You know whatever you do it’s gonna come out amazing.” He’s coughing again, and I can’t help but feel a little worried. 

“You alright, Teddy?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Wrong pipe is all.” He laughs. “Where you at? East coast or cabin?”

“Boston. I have to go back to the cabin in a few days for my next therapy session.” I had almost forgotten until now, I would’ve been fucked if I missed it. 

“Okay, why don’t we plan to meet at the Boston studio after New Years? Bring your girl.” 

My girl. 

“Okay.” I smile. “What are you doing today?”

“Nellie is coming to town with the grandkids, been some time since I’ve seen them.” I can hear a smile in his voice. “Julie is coming too.” His ex-wife. 

“Ohhhh.” I grin goofily at the phone. “Rekindling things hopefully?” 

He laughs. “We’ll see. Enjoy your day, Eddie. Love you.” 

“Thanks, man. Love you too.” 

I hang up, you ask me who was on the phone, and I tell you it was the man who saved my life. 

We had finished breakfast, had light conversation about the plans for the day. Gareth had video chatted me, and when he saw your face on the screen, I thought he was gonna pass out. You had taken the phone from me, laughing and talking about things from the past. Gareth kept saying “oh my god, oh my god” which was weird because, he was the one who gave you my phone number. I had shrugged it off, he was probably excited that it actually happened, that we were in the same room together after so many years. When she had given the phone back to me, Gareth had smiled large. 

“You look good, dude.” He grins, sipping his coffee. “Email me that song you wrote, I want to add the melody notes.” 

“It’s not finished yet.” I sigh. “I don’t even know if I want to record it, it’s different from our regular stuff.” 

“Nothing wrong with being different, didn’t you tell me that?” He smirks at me, and I roll my eyes. 

“It’s…it’s almost like a ballad. I guess, I don’t know. I started it in rehab and then picked away at it when I hid out in my cabin. There are definitely parts that we can add the heavy stuff to, I don’t know.” I laugh awkwardly. 

“Dude, stop being hard on yourself.” He smiles at me. “I’m sure it’s great. Go enjoy your day with her and I’ll see you soon.” 

“Alright, man.” I smile. “Merry Christmas, idiot.”

He gives me the middle finger. “Merry Christmas, bitch.” 

I hang up, putting my phone on silent and look up at you. You were coming towards me with a wrapped present in your hand.

“What?” I laugh. “No, sweetheart. I didn’t get you anything. Why did you get me something?” 

“Relax. I’ve actually had this forever.” You sit down next to me, curling your legs under you. “I got it for you before…well, before everything.” 

You hand it to me, and I can tell you were telling the truth because the corners on the wrapping paper had wear on them. I stare into your eyes, trying to comprehend. “Come on I’ve waited fifteen years to give this to you.” You laugh and I smile at you, tearing the paper. My eyes immediately fill with tears, remembering. 

It was a music transcript notebook that I had my eyes set on at a record shop back then. It was 200 pages of smooth paper, leather bound; I remember this being expensive. 

“This…you got me this?” I look in your eyes and you nod. “How…what? Why?”

You shrug and give me a sad smile. “Because I loved you.” 

I rub my palm over my trembling lips, running my fingers over the pages. It still looked brand new after all these years. I feel my heart shatter in pieces, I feel every regret and mistake swim through my mind. You take my hand in yours, dipping your head to look in my eyes. “Hey, look at me.” 

I clear my throat, looking at you, feeling hot tears on my cheeks. You cup my cheek, wiping my tears away with your finger. 

“This isn’t me giving you this to remind you of what could have been or to have you beg for my forgiveness. Because I’m not gonna do that. I forgave you a long time ago, that’s why I hung on to this. It reminded me every day of the good. Not the bad. Never the bad. Because you were always good, Eddie.” You curl your fingers through my hair, and I shake my head at you. 

“I was only good because of you.” I whisper, wiping the snot from my nose. 

“That’s not true and you know that.” You say, moving your other hand to the other side of my face. “It just took you a bit to catch up, there’s nothing wrong with that.” 

“Look where I ended up.” I cry softly. “Look what I did to myself for all those years, how is any of that good?” 

“Look where you are now.” You say to me, opening the binding of the book to a blank page. You point to it. “Blank page. New chapter, better life.” 

I stare at you in awe, wondering if this was a cruel dream and I was actually held up in that hotel room in Manhattan, overdosing, imagining things like this. I take your face in my hands, kissing you sweetly, you curl your hands through my hair, and I press my forehead against yours. You were real. This was real. 

“Thank you.” I whisper to you. “Thank you for everything.” 

“You’re welcome.” You smile against my lips and pull back, gently running your hand over my cheek. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” I whisper to you, pressing my lips to yours again, cupping the back of your head. I pull you by your thighs onto my lap, gripping your ass and your waist. You lean back, pulling my shirt off of your head and press your lips to mine again. I hold onto your back, clawing at your skin, as I continue to massage my tongue with yours. You grind against me, and I groan into your mouth, instantly getting hard. I kiss your neck, lick down to your breast, and take your nipple in my mouth. You let out a sigh, your back arching and I hold you tighter. You hold onto my shoulders, pulling my face to yours, kissing me deeply. I feel your hands unzip me, and I groan against your skin as you take my cock and bury me inside you. I hold your hips as you rock, the beautiful moans that you breathe out send shivers down my spine. I cup your breasts, rubbing your erect nipples as they bounce in my hand. 

“Unghhhh baby, you feel so good.” You moan loudly and my head falls back against the couch, rocking you faster. “Ahhhh, fuck.” 

“Mmmm.” I moan, pushing myself deeper into you, arching my hips. “You like that baby?” 

“Fuck Eddie.” You gasp out a shaky breath and I smile, hearing you say my name like that awakens a wild animal in me, I just want to feel all of you and more. I meet your lips, wrapping both my arms around your waist and turn you onto your back. I hold your leg over my shoulder, slamming into you, feeling every inch of your wet pussy swallowing my dick whole. “Just like that baby, don’t stop, don’t stop…annnnghhhh!” 

You’re getting so loud, and I feel myself shudder, pornographic sounds and grunts escape my mouth and I feel you clench around me. “F-fuck…ohhh…unghhh…”

“I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come…oh my…oh…unghhhhhhh!” You cry out as your orgasm rocks your entire body, I keep fucking you, and you’re still screaming as your pussy continues to clench my cock. I groan loudly, feeling my eyes roll back and I feel the warmth come out of my cock as I come inside you, I don’t stop thrusting until I’m completely empty. You’re still trembling underneath me, still moaning as the stimulation you feel starts to settle. I swallow a lump in my throat, pressing my lips to yours, thrusting into you once more. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Manhattan. 

The second to last city of the tour. 

I haven’t used heroin in two weeks. Two long, boring, fucked up weeks. 

Everyone keeps saying how proud they are of me and that I’m doing the right thing. But am I? Do they know that behind my stupid smile and my sense of humor is a fucking ticking time bomb ready to go off and take everyone down with them? No? Yeah, probably not. I’m not that easy to read anymore. I’m still a drug addict and I still know how manipulate people into believing my lies. The ache and the urge to use is so hard to resist, I feel like I’m slowly dying. Everything makes me sad, I cry all the time. I feel like a fucking pussy. 

The shows we’ve been putting on have been unreal though. We’ve had to do double shows because the stadiums have been sold out.

I should be grateful; we have great support from our fans. We had a meet and greet and had met a beautiful young woman, who couldn’t have been younger than twenty-one, who was battling terminal cancer, told us that our music keeps her going on the worst days. I hugged her while she cried, held her face and told her that she was strong, that whatever happens she will walk out of here knowing she made a difference in my life. And when she left, I locked myself in the bathroom, weeping because it was too much. It was all too much, feeling her pain, seeing it in her eyes. I made Ted take down her email, her mother’s email. I don’t know why but I needed to know what happened to her. 

We were on stage now, finishing the last song. I wailed on Sweetheart; my hair was sweat soaked and whipping around me as I head banged around the stage while Gareth slammed on the drums. I bring my mouth to the microphone, singing the last verse, and look back at Gareth, he grins, hitting the double bass petal, snare and we fade out. The roar of the crowd vibrates our bodies, thank them for coming to the show. I toss my guitar pick in the audience and blow them air kisses. 

The boys and I went to a local bar to celebrate, naturally, I had gotten extremely drunk. But they didn’t seem to care, I mean, if they did, they didn’t say anything. Being drunk was better than being sober and when I was sober, I kept seeing the girls face with the cancer. I couldn’t even see straight; I was surprised I made it to my hotel room. 

I don’t even think I shut my door, because as soon as I walked in to empty my pockets, I couldn’t believe what I had placed on the table. 

Sitting so perfectly beside my cigarettes, lighter, and loose cash was a little plastic baggy with light brown powder, and two capped needles. I feel a laugh escape my lungs; I don’t believe this is real. When did I buy some? Was it at the bar? Was it outside the bar? I really don’t remember. I held the baggy in my palm, staring at it like it was the missing piece of the puzzle. 

I didn’t even hesitate; it was like riding a bike. I had done the first shot; it had burned like hot embers in my veins. It made me sweat; the summer air didn’t help, but sitting on the floor next to the air conditioner did. The top two buttons of my shirt were undone, I didn’t take the necklace off. Maybe I should’ve. I press the needle into my vein again. Same spot, uh oh. I smile at the burn again; I probably should’ve waited before I did it again. My head feels heavy, but I am so fucking high I don’t even care. 

I look at the syringe, there’s still some in there, I clench my fist, looking for a different vein. It was just enough to…

Suddenly I’m in my back, staring up at the ceiling, everything feels foggy, I can’t move. My heart isn’t beating, or is it? 

“Look at what you’ve become.” I hear your voice and I slowly turn my head; I taste something foul in my mouth, something warm is spilling onto my cheeks. I see your face, kneeling next to me. There is no way you’re real, looking at me this way, your face cold, your eyes blank. “Just a dead man, laying on a cold floor with a needle in your arm.” 

My body reacts, I feel it trembling. I can’t speak, my limbs don’t work. Nothing is working. I feel calm though, isn’t that weird? 

Did the show really go well? Or did I imagine that too? I think I forgot the words to a song…but Gareth had took over. Have I been high this entire time? 

It’s quiet now. The room is still, I think I see Gareth…he’s screaming something at me. But he’s not angry, he looks almost scared, and he’s weeping. I can’t hear him; I can’t hear anything anymore.

“He’s still coding.” 

“Adrenaline.”

“Are you crazy?” 

“Just do it!” 

“Fifth narcan given.” 

“Eddie? Eddie? Can you hear me?” 

“Still no response. Eyes fixed and dilated.” 

“He’s not dying tonight! Do you know who this is?! Do another narcan, I’ll start compressions.”

“Can you step on it, Mike?!” 

“Give me the adrenaline.” 

“You’re crazy if you think it’s gonna work. Fifth narcan given. No response.” 

“Give me the fucking adrenaline!” 

“It’s not gonna work! Doug, don’t!” 

A loud, deep, gasp escapes my lungs, and my vision clears. I’m in the back of an ambulance, my shirt is ripped and there is a needle sticking out of my bare chest. I feel sweaty, I feel clammy, I think I’m still dead. I stare at the wide eyes of the paramedic and try to ignore the vibrations of what I assume is adrenaline coursing through my bloodstream. I pull the needle out of my chest, and I feel immediately trapped. 

“Stop the truck, let me go.” I say, my eyes wide. 

“We’re taking you to the hospital.” The man who I assume is Doug says. “Whatever you took is not fully cleared from your system.” 

“Nope, no hospital, let me the fuck out.” I go to crawl off the gurney and two strong hands push me back on the bed. I start to struggle, and I end up elbowing Doug in the face. He falls back, and the other paramedic tries to restrain me.

“Mike! Stop the truck! Code gray!”  I rip the CB radio off the wall, and I smash it on his head. I was a trapped animal in a cage, and I needed to get out. The ambulance slams to a halt, and I smash my shoulder against the back doors, awkwardly stumbling out and I start running. Well, running as best as I could. We weren’t that far away from the hotel, and I was grateful when the building came into few. It must’ve been late, because when I walk in the lobby the only person there was the receptionist and she looked at me like I was a walking zombie. 

I try to smile and wave to her, and I can only imagine what that looked like to her because she looked even more terrified. I make it back up to my room, everything was thrown everywhere, the bed was a mess, the floor had medical equipment laid out. There was a puddle of whatever liquid had come out of my mouth on the floor by the air conditioner. My phone, Sweetheart, my suitcase and everything else was still where I left it. This was the third time I have ever overdosed in my life, but it was never this bad. I never had to take an ambulance ride. I walk into the bathroom, and I can understand why the receptionist looked terrified. I was very pale, almost ghostly, my eyes had dark circles underneath them. My curly hair was sticking to my skin because of my sweat, there was a black and blue bruise on my chest. I did look like a dead man walking. 

Oh, what do you know, I still have drugs. 

Did I shoot up again after having just overdosed? Yeah. Why? You may wonder. 

Well, it didn’t kill me. 

I’m sitting up on the floor of the hotel room, a stupid smirk on my face because I knew I wasn’t dying again. I know I’m a piece of shit, I know Gareth was the one who found me teetering on life and death. 

I hear three loud rapping knocks on my door. “Fuck off.” I groan out. 

“This is NYPD.” 

“I didn’t die so you can leave now!” I shout at them. 

“Not gonna do that sir. We could do this easy way or hard way, open the door.” 

I feel angry now, I stumble to my feet and whip the door open. 

“Edward Munson?” 

“Depends on who’s asking.” I let out a low chuckle, there was three officers, and they weren’t impressed. 

“Edward Munson, you have a right to remain silent…” one of the officers comes towards me. 

“Fuck right off!” I said, stepping back but he has the upper hand on me. He grabs my forearm and I swing my fist, connecting with the side of his jaw. The two other officers tackle me, and I’m still able to fight them off. I feel a back hand connect with my nose and mouth, tasting blood immediately. I’m finally forced onto my stomach, my hands are behind my back as I’m shouting profanities at them, letting them know my lawyer was one of the best in the country. They pull me to my feet, the officer that I punched looks at me like a disappointed father. 

“It’s a shame. You’re my son’s favorite band.” He wipes the blood from his face. 

“Gonna tell him to stop listening cause you’re dealing with the devil?” I grin at him, knowing very well there is blood staining my teeth. They pull me out of the hotel room, and lead me out to the lobby. There’s already a line of people outside, I see paparazzi. Oh, this is gonna be great. I wonder what the tabloids are gonna say about me now. 

Heavy metal rockstar Eddie Munson arrested in New York City for being on a drug induced psychosis and beating up cops. 

Probably not exactly that, but at least nobody found out I died for five minutes. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

We had driven to the studio in downtown Boston. It didn’t feel like winter, it felt like a cool spring day. I had to go back up to upstate New York for my therapy session, she was impressed with what more I had to say. It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough to get her to not think I was an asshole. I had mentioned you, and the way she looked at me made me think I was telling her a bedtime story. I had spoken to the paramedics that I had hurt the night of my overdose, apologizing for my behavior even though it probably didn’t mean much because I still hurt them, they never wanted to press charges because they’ve dealt with worse people but since the ambulance company was state run, charges had to be filed, as well as the charges for assaulting three police officers. I had to complete a 90 day program, continue my sobriety with a sponsor and have two years of mandatory therapy. 

You were excited to see the studio when we pulled into the lot. We had stayed at my condo, and I was exhausted. I was up all night doing the finishing touches to the song I was writing. I had sent it to Gareth this morning and all he had written back after I sent it was: “Dude. I’m weeping.” 

I’m not sure if that was a good or bad thing, but as soon as we walked into the studio Gareth had tackled me into a bear hug, lifting me off my feet. You had laughed at our exchanged, and he had done the same thing to you. Ted had arrived soon after with coffee and bagels. He had hugged you like he had known you forever, and when he saw me, I honestly could’ve cried. He had met us when we were a struggling newbie band, we were just kids. Straight out of a small town, no dime to our name. We would sleep in his basement, he’d cook us dinner and his wife would do our laundry. He’s why we’re here today, why we can do this job and I hope he knows just how grateful I am for him. 

This was my favorite place to record. It was mostly an office building, but we had owned the studio. No one bothered us, we didn’t bother them. We purposely remodeled it to make it soundproof, there was an engineering table, with two computers, and a sound mixing station. We had three recording booths, three large couches sat up against the wall. Ted sat on one, patting his forehead with a tissue. He was sweaty, seemed a little pale but he had mentioned earlier he felt like he was coming down with something. 

I sit next to him. “How was seeing your family?” 

He smiles at me. “Oh, it was great. The grandkids are getting so big. Julie wants to go for dinner tomorrow night.” 

I smile, nudging him with my shoulder. “That’s good, right?!”

“Yeah, I think so.” He smiles, looking over at you. Gareth was showing you all the different controls on the engineering board, and how the sound works through the speakers. I follow his eyes, and I smile.

“She’s beautiful.” He says with a grin. “Don’t fuck it up again.”

“I don’t plan on it.” I laugh, running hand through my hair. I was getting nervous about the recording, and he could sense that. Gareth was the only one who read it, and now I was going to be singing it in front of everyone. Even you. I didn’t show you what I had written, it feels like a diary entry almost. Gareth had already told me that he knew what music to put in for it, I had made a note towards the end where the heaviness would come in. 

“You’re gonna do great.” Ted says with a smile. “You always do. Remember, kid. Blank page, clean slate.” He goes to stand up from the couch and I poke his ass with the tip of my shoe.

“Thank you.” I tell him, quietly. “For never giving up on me.” 

He rolls his eyes, and winks, I laugh. “Save the theatrics for later, you got work to do.” He claps me on the shoulder, and I let out a loud sigh. I walk towards the recording booth, the song in my hands. Gareth gently massages my shoulders, following me into the booth.

“You got this, man.” He tells me. “Deep breaths, sing your heart out, block everyone out, and just feel it.” 

I nod at him, shaking the nerves out of my hands as I close the door to the booth. I lay the paper on the stand and place the headphones over my ears. I hear Jeff’s voice over the speakers in my ears. 

“Ready?” 

“No.” I laugh and give him a thumbs up through the window. 

I already had the melody in my head, it was just Gareth’s job to mimic it, and Jeff would add the background after. I glance at the song, meet your eyes, and I smile. 

I begin.

“It’s cold in here, my hands shake, my bones ache. I don’t want to feel anything anymore. All the mistakes, they’re catching up, maybe I should’ve just been left for dead. My mind is broken; the walls I made are crumbling around me. It’s so easy to just be, but the ache is there, it calls to me, I just want it inside of me.  Down the rabbit hole I go, can’t find my way, can’t find my way, can’t find my way back home. It’s so easy just to be, but it calls to me, calls to me. Down the rabbit hole I go, how are they supposed to find me? Will I be bone, will I be ash, will I be lost for good?  I don’t regret it, it’s why I’m here, my heart bleeds in my chest. One last shot, that’s all I want, and then maybe they will heal. It’s all I dream, the clouds around me, smiling as I go. But you came back, screaming my name, and it all fades to black. Down the rabbit hole I go, can’t find my way, can’t find my way, can’t find my way back home. It’s so easy just to be, but it calls to me, calls to me. An angel with wings, that’s what I thought, but it was a devil in disguise. I can’t go back, I have to repent, my sins are killing me. My sins are killing me!” I extend the note at the end, and I hear Gareth on the drums. I keep my eyes closed, nodding my head to his beat. I wait for three beats, one, two three…and I’m yelling out the song, feeling my stomach muscles clench as my voice comes out, sounding broken, and angry.

“Cold floors, cold walls, I can’t feel anything at all, just these thoughts that haunt my mind, driving me fucking insane, one last shot that’s all I want, I don’t want to feel this. But somehow, I’m still alive, and there’s nothing left to see. Down the rabbit hole I go, can’t find my way, can’t find my way, can’t find my way back home. Down the rabbit hole I go, can’t find my way, can’t find my way, can’t find my way back home.”  I add the second to last verse again, followed by the chorus, and I yell, my voice fading, and I glance over at my bandmates. In the speakers of my ears, I hear Jeff, “Fuck YEAH, man!” 

I laugh, taking the headphones off my ears. You had tears in your eyes as you’re clapping, and I come out of the booth. Gareth is already whooping as he comes out of the booth, his drumsticks in his hand. 

“Play it back.” I tell them. I look over at Ted, who’s smiling with tears in his eyes. I squeeze his shoulder and he places his hand over mine. We listen to it back, and I’m amazed at how it sounds. We begin to brainstorm on what melody should go where, where to add the guitar. How heavy it should sound at the end. We spent about three hours in the studio, recording the music, adding more riffs, adding piano to it. Once it was completed to our liking, we listened. We haven’t had a melodic song like this since our first album, and I couldn’t believe that was my voice. 

“I say we go celebrate by getting some Italian.” Ted says with a grin.  

“You buying?” I grin, pulling you towards me by your waist. 

“Ha, you’re funny. Let me piss first.” He goes into the bathroom, and I lean my head against your shoulder. 

“That song was amazing.” You tell me, gently rubbing my chin. “I forgot you could sing like that.” 

“Wasn’t that great.” I say, giving you a goofy smile and you nudge me with your shoulder. 

“It was perfect.” You kiss my lips gently and I grin. 

“Ugh, don’t miss that.” Gareth laughs and pokes my stomach. “I’m starving, where’s Teddy?” 

“Bathroom.” 

I watch as Gareth walk into the bathroom and the door closes behind him. “Teddy! Are you taking a shit? Did you fall in?” 

We both giggle. I turn to you, but your eyes are somewhere else. Gareth has come out of the bathroom, his face ashen, his body trembling. “Call 911.” He says loudly. Jeff whips up his head, and the engineer is immediately on the phone. 

“What?” My heart is in my throat. 

I watch as you run into the bathroom, I go to follow you, but Gareth stops me, his hand on my chest, tears are streaming down his face. “Don’t go in there, Eddie.” 

I push his hand off me, ignoring his words and I jog to the bathroom. “Eddie! Eddie!” 

I skid to a halt, watching as you’re giving chest compressions to Ted. Gareth slams his chest into me but has remained frozen as he stares at what you’re doing.  

He’s not moving, his eyes are partially closed, and I see a little blood in the corner of his mouth. “Ted?” I almost yell. 

You look up at me, your expression in full nurse mode as you continue your compressions, feeling his pulse. “Eddie, stay outside, please.” 

I don’t hear you; I slide to the floor and move next to Ted. Trying to see, trying to understand. “Wake up, man.” I say, my heart beating fast. I hear blood rushing in my ears. I couldn’t see his chest rise and fall; just the force of your compressions trying to pump air in his lungs. 

“Eddie, come on.” Gareth sputters out, his hand on my shoulder. I slap him away, there was a cold chill going down my spine. 

“Teddy, wake up.” I’m getting angry now, I feel my throat lock up, and tears sting behind my eyes. He was fucking with us, he had to be. I place my hand on his, he was still warm, but I got no reaction. “Wake the fuck up, man!” 

I watch as you sit back on your heels, your eyes meet Gareth’s and I see you shake your head, you look at me now. “Eddie…”

“No.” I say through my teeth, I hold his face in my hands. “Teddy. Teddy. Wake up. Stop fucking with us man, stop this.” He’s not even looking at me, his chest isn’t moving. I feel myself trembling. I shake his head. “Teddy, wake up!” I feel your hand on my forearm, Gareth’s hand fisting my shirt from behind. I can hear the sound of a two-way radio outside the door. An angry, loud, groan escapes me and I’m sobbing. “Don’t do this to me. Don’t fucking do this to me, man. Please wake up. You’re supposed to go to dinner with Julie tomorrow. You don’t have to worry about me anymore, I’m better now. I promise, just wake up. Please Teddy. Please.” 

The paramedics are in the bathroom now, and I can feel Gareth pulling me back. A loud, guttural, groan escapes my lungs as Gareth has to practically drag me from the bathroom. “Teddy!” I scream, thrashing against Gareth’s grasp. The struggle causes both of us to fall on our asses to the floor, and he’s almost restraining me. You’re in front of me now, holding my face in your hands as angry sobs and groans scream out of me. 

“I need you to breathe for me.” You say calmly. “You’re gonna hyperventilate, Eddie. Breathe.” 

“I don’t care!” I moan out, my teeth grinding. My ears still ringing, this wasn’t happening. This wasn’t fucking happening. He was the closest thing I’ve had to a father and there was no way he was gone. 

“Eddie, baby, please…”

I struggle in Gareth’s grasp, my body still shaking with sobs as I see them wheel Ted out from the bathroom. A mask over his face, the paramedic on top of him doing compressions. They disappear, telling us what hospital and nothing is making sense. Nothing. None of it. 

I felt like I was in a fever dream as I pace in the hospital waiting room. I was talking to myself, reassuring myself that he was okay, that he was alive and would be cracking jokes in his hospital bed. I wouldn’t talk to anyone, even you. I had tried calling Julie, but her phone had immediately gone to voice mail. Gareth was still pale, sipping out of the same coffee cup he has been for the last half hour. 

The doctor had come, and before he could even say the words, I’m walking away from him. I’m holding my stomach; afraid my insides are gonna fall out and a jagged breath escapes me. A sound I never knew I could make before comes rattling out of me, it hurt so much. A massive heart attack killed him. 

“We did everything we could. I’m so sorry. If it gives you any sort of comfort, he didn’t feel much. If anything it just felt like a tickle.” I whip my head around to look at him, I know my eyes are wide and look feral. 

“Do you actually know that though? You don’t know what or how he felt, so don’t even fucking claim that you do.” My voice is breaking, and you pull me away from the doctor, leading me to sit. “I don’t want to sit!” I shout, but your palm is on my chest, gently pushing me down. I hear Gareth say a few more words to the doctor and he walks away. He is handing me a plastic bag, it had Ted’s key, his wallet, his phone, his fucking wedding ring. 

“They need Julie to release his body to the funeral home, have you gotten ahold of her?” His voice sounds far away, he’s still crying, and I can’t look at him, I just shake my head. My hands are trembling as I’m gazing at the plastic bag, I shake my head, rubbing the snot from my nose. Ted’s phone vibrates in the bag, and I see Julie’s name light up. I stare at her name, and I pull the phone out. I stand up from the seat, clearing my throat as I slide to answer. 

“Julie?” I hold my stomach, a small sob escaping me. 

"Hello? Eddie?” She already sounds panicked. “I have no reception where I am, what are you doing answering Teddy’s phone?”

“Um.” I let out a small groan. “We’re in Boston, at a hospital. Ted, he…he uh…” I can’t say it, I can’t fucking say it.

“Eddie…what is going on?” I hear her voice shake.

I squeeze my eyes shut, my wrist falling away with the phone before I put it to my ear again. “Ted’s gone…he…he died.” 

“No, he didn’t.” She inhales a gasp. “Eddie, don’t lie to me, no he didn’t!”

I’m weeping. “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.” 

“No Eddie!” She’s screaming, a loud, heartbreaking scream. “I talked to him earlier, he was fine! He was fine! Oh jesus…”

“I know, I know. We were at the studio…and…and then he was in the bathroom. He didn’t hear me; I was trying to wake him up. Julie, I tried, I tried to wake him up, I’m so sorry.” My knees are buckling as I’m sliding to the floor, my body aching, my throat feeling like it was closing up. 

“Eddie, Eddie, you listen to me right now. Don’t fall back on what you’ve come so far to accomplish. He was proud of you. Despite everything, he loved you, Eddie. You were like a son to him, don’t fall apart now. You hear me?” I nod into the phone; I can’t see straight. I don’t even remember her asking me what hospital, or when she said she would be there. I was still crumpled on the floor, you were at my side, rubbing my head, and I was scrolling through the photos on his phone. There was so many of his grandkids, his kids. There was a bunch of us performing, a bunch of random selfies because I’m sure he forgot how to flip the camera. I scroll through his contacts, trying to remember if there was anyone else, I needed to call. I stop when I see your name.

What?

You’re not looking at me, you’re talking to Gareth about something I’m not bothering to listen to. I click your contact name and see a thread of text messages between you and Ted. It goes back seven months ago. 

What the fuck?

Before I could even make a comment on what I have seen, the doctor comes back, asking if we’d like to see him. I place the phone in my pocket, I would deal with this later. I didn’t even know how to react towards you, why were you talking to him seven months ago if you just met him today? I get up from the floor, and I realize I’m ignoring you. I turn to kiss your lips quickly, Gareth, Jeff and I follow the doctor to a hospital room. I watch as you sit down, waving at me defeatedly, looking tired, sad. I could feel my heart breaking and I didn’t even know why.

They tell us as soon as we’re outside the room that we would have to go in one at a time. Jeff goes in first; I’ve never seen him cry before, and when he came out, he looked like he was about to pass out. I fist his shirt to get him to stand upright, and I hug him to me. Gareth goes in next, he’s in there for a few minutes until he comes out, wiping his eyes, looking at me like I could shatter at any moment. 

I pat his back, reassuring him that I was okay. But I’m not sure if I was.  I step into the room; the lights were bright. Ted was laying on his back, a white sheet was up to his chest. My stomach clenches again and I have to support myself on the bed rail before I sit down. 

I take his hand; it was so cold. I had to warm him up. He shouldn’t be cold. Tears fall down my cheeks as I stare at his face. I’m not sure if he looked peaceful, or if he looked dead. 

“I still think you’re fucking with me.” I tell him quietly. “After all those times you brought me back, I would think this was some sort of punishment.” My lips tremble and I feel hot tears pool down my cheeks. “Fuck you, man. Why’d you have to go and die on me? After everything – after so many years of you practically raising us to be better men, better friends, a better brotherhood. What are we supposed to do now? What are we supposed to do without you?” 

A sob escapes me, a small whimper, my head falls to his bed and I’m laying my forehead against his hand, holding it tight, my chest hurting, my stomach in knots. I feel strong arms on my shoulders, pulling me up. 

“Come on, dude.” It’s Gareth, my head falls to his chest, I felt weak, he helps me out of the chair. I feel like I’m being weighed down by cement as I stare at his body. 

“No…” I groan out loud, I sound like a kid. A kid who just said goodbye to the only person he’d ever known as a father. “I can’t leave him.” 

“It’s okay, dude. I’m here.” Gareth continued to lead me away, my head falls in my hands and I’m groaning again. It hurts, it all hurts too fucking much. 

We waited until Julie got to the hospital a few hours later, I could barely stand up when I saw her. She was cradling me like a small child, rubbing my head, telling me everything was gonna be okay. I didn’t want her to comfort me, I told her. After everything I put him through, she should hate me. She told me that she could never hate me, that I meant so much to her and Ted, that we all did. That she prayed everyday my heart still beat, and that I’d fight the addiction I so desperately craved right now. 

Once Ted was set to go to the funeral home in his hometown in Vermont, you had driven my car back to my condo. You were leaving tomorrow, going back to Maine, to go back to work. We don’t speak when we take the elevator up to my place. I’m on my phone looking at news articles, there was no way the media didn’t get wind of this. 

And I was right, the first article on Google says: Longtime friend and manager of Corroded Coffin, Theodore “Teddy” Callahan has died of a heart attack, at 58. I toss my phone roughly on the couch, you jump a little and I mutter that I was sorry. You sit next to me, wrapping your arms around my shoulders, you lay your cheek on my arm. 

“What can I do?” You ask me sweetly. 

I don’t answer you; I’m staring off, I can’t see straight. Tears still continue to pour down my cheeks. My entire body feels stiff. I had to know, I had to know why she was in Ted’s phone. Why it seems they have been talking longer than they let on. 

“How long have you been talking to Ted?” I feel you freeze next to me. 

“What? I just met him today.” 

I meet your eyes, I’m not in the mood for games. “You may have met him today, but you’ve been talking to him for seven fuckingmonths.” 

You pull away from me, rubbing your eyes. “Eddie, I can explain that.” 

“So, explain.” I feel my chest heaving. There are so many emotions: grief, anger, sadness, the urge to stick a needle in my veins. 

You just stare at me; I can tell you’re trying to figure out what to say. Realization settles in my gut and I stand up from the couch. “That letter was a crock of shit, wasn’t it?” 

“No, no Eddie! I meant every word.” Your eyes are filling with tears. 

“You LIED to me!” I yell at you. “You said Gareth gave you my number. Gareth didn’t even fuck know you were around until the other day! When did Ted reach out to you? Because I know you didn’t.” 

“After your overdose, after everything with the courts.” You sigh, standing and walking toin were me, I step back from you. “Eddie, I wasn’t gonna send you a letter at first. I couldn’t do it. It was like someone brought you back from the dead even though you were alive.” 

“So, you knew everything about me, about my struggles, about ALL of it and just pretended to care? Pretended this whole time?” I’m staring at you with wide eyes. 

“I’m not pretending Eddie! He reached out to me because he was scared, he didn’t know what else to do. He said you kept talking about me, how sad you seemed and he thought maybe, maybe I’d be able to help. I was fully ready to just see you, rekindle our friendship but I never thought we’d end up here. When I saw you, it all came rushing back and I couldn’t control it. I love you, I have always loved you.” 

“That don’t mean shit if you came to see me out of pity.” I feel tears sting my eyes again; I just want to rip my fucking eyeballs out. 

“I didn’t! I came here because I was worried.” 

“Your aunt just happened to be away that entire week?” 

You stare at me. 

“Answer me!” I yell, my voice breaking. 

“My aunt has been dead for five years. When I travel I use her place because she left it to me.” You sound so small and I just laugh at you. 

“That’s fucked up. Even for you.” I clench my fists, pressing them to my eyes and you let out a sob. “These last three weeks, you’ve been making love to me, cooking for me, bringing me gifts from the past, telling me that you love me, when this entire time you had no intention in ever speaking to me again if it wasn’t for Ted?” 

“Eddie, I thought about you every day!” 

“Stop the bull shit! Stop it!” I clench my stomach, the same familiar ache forming. “I don’t believe you. Every time you speak, I hear a lie, even if you are telling me the truth. Is this punishment? For breaking your heart? Well, you win, sweetheart! Cause mine is a pile of fucking dust!” 

“Eddie, please.” You’re sputtering. “Let’s talk about this.” 

“No.” I shake my head at you, tears falling. “I don’t want to talk anymore. I want you to get out.” 

“What?” 

“Get the fuck out of my house.” 

You stare at me with wide eyes, pure heartbreak and disappointment on your face. I have to look away from you, I can’t look at you. Because if I look at you this way, I’ll want to take you in my arms, kiss your tears away and pretended like this never happened, but I can’t do it. I can’t. You don’t say anything to me as you take your purse off the couch, you look back at me once and I meet your eyes. I watch as you walk away from me, down the hall until you get to the elevators. A shaky sob escapes me, and I sit on my floor, I hold my head in my hands. Before, I was the one who walked away from you, because I couldn’t handle how to be loved by you. Now, I’m sending you away, because I can’t stomach the thought of you actually still loving me, after everything, after all the pain, the things I’ve done. Maybe you really don’t, and this whole thing was just a game. 

How could you love someone like me? I’m broken, I’m damaged. 

I’m still a fucking monster. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ A/N: Thank you guys! Don't worry, it's not over! Taglist: @kellsck @bellalillyrose @iggyizalien @trixyvixx @originalstar1 @themorticians-world

[syddsatyrn]

❄️Stuck Without Rules❄️

☆Pairing: - Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

☆Warnings: Smut, swearing, drug use, cigarettes, intercourse, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, pet names, Characters are all 18+

Minors DNI, scram!

☆Words: 2.5k

☆Summary: Winter has finally made it to Hawkins covering the town in a white blanket of snow. You head over to your crush’s house to jam out but the snow day quickly turns into a snow storm and you’re stuck at Eddie’s. Turns out that trailer gets pretty cold when the power goes out. Eddie has a few ideas on how to keep warm.

☆Notes: This fic is apart of a holiday prompt challenge @hellfiremunsonn and I are doing for our Christmas event. You can find that post Here. We will be doing holiday prompts and request all month long so come join us!

☆Prompt: Snow day/snow storm

It was far too early for a phone to be ringing in your apartment. The damn thing is all the way in the living room too so you’re forced to leave your warm nest of blankets. With a groan, you crawl out of bed, taking the comforter with you. It felt like the floor was coated with a sheet of ice as you made your way to the receiver mounted on the wall.

“...Hello?” You wearily greeted the mystery caller.

“Hey, sleepy head,” Eddie replies teasingly.

“Eddie? Why are you calling me this early?”

“It snowed last night and my tires suck.” He claims.

“What?” You're clearly still half asleep.

“Look out the window, dork.”

The gravel gray skies were bare and cloudless, fluffy white snow smothered the ground and everything else it could reach. There had to be about three, maybe four inches of snow. A couple of neighborhood kids are tossing snowballs and chasing each other in the street.

“I was uhh, wondering if you’d wanna come over and jam? I just bought new strings and I picked some really good green.” Eddie offers, a slight nervous tone in his voice.

“Yeah, I’ll be over in a bit.” You smile behind the phone.

This isn't uncommon, for your crush to invite you to his place for a jam sesh. You both play lead guitar, so you immediately bonded after a “battle of bands” show. He plays a red warlock NJ series, you play a green fender Stratocaster. Your friends still make fun of you for “literally having heart eyes” as he shredded the solo to “Running with the Devil” By Van Halen.

It did take you a little longer than usual to get dressed due to how many layers you added hoping it helps you combat the cold. Your car heater isn't exactly in the best condition. You packed up your guitar in its soft case, grabbed your keys, and took off.

The weather looked okay, it doesn't seem like it’s going to snow again. The sky looks pretty clear, the roads look manageable. It shouldn't be too difficult to navigate your way to Eddie’s. Let's just hope your tires don’t suck too.

—--------❄️

You pulled into Eddie’s trailer park, it was a pretty safe ride. A couple of slides here and there, but nothing you couldn't handle. Your boots crunched through the freshly powdered snow as you walked up to the front steps. You swallowed your nerves and knocked on the door, heavy footsteps walked through the house, the closer they got the further your stomach sank. I mean, you’ve been to Eddie’s before, several times. But that doesn't make it any less nerve-wracking.

Eddie opens the door and smiles, that same charming smile that wipes your mind clean of any coherence. “Hey! I’m glad you made it in one piece.” He says, motioning you inside. His hand meets the small of your back as you enter and your skin feels like it’s on fire despite the many layers you had on. You remove your boots and leave them next to the door and place your things on the couch.

“It wasn’t so bad, the roads are actually pretty clear.” You reply while unzipping your jacket. You remove a couple of layers, a hoodie, and a sweater. Now you're left in a long sleeve black shirt. You unzip the soft case and pull out your guitar.

Eddie keeps sneaking glances at you. Little did you know, Eddie has been crushing on you for weeks now. He’s never met anyone who can play guitar as well as he can. When he saw you play, he thought you were completely out of his league. His bandmates dared him to talk to you and they wouldn't shut up until he did. Eddie was completely surprised when you stuck to him like glue.

You and Eddie head to his room. You take a seat on his bed and Eddie flips the switch on the amp and hands you the cable. You plug it in with little feedback and he turns the volume dial up slightly. He takes a seat next to you on the bed and you warm up with a few random chords. Eddie can’t take his eyes off your hands, how they gracefully slide up and down the neck of the guitar. The way your dainty fingers press down on each string. When you began to pluck individual notes and occasionally wiggled a string for a vibrato effect, Eddie’s mind melted.

“Show off.” He mocks and you smile back at him.

“You’re just jealous. I can teach you if you like.” You tease back while repeating the same movement.

Eddie rolls his eyes and scoffs. He plugs his warlock into a second smaller amp sitting next to his bedside table. Eddie begins to play, his style is a little messier than yours, but that's the beauty of it. It didn't take long for you to pick up what he was putting down, you clipped the capo over the first fret and copied his movements by ear, playing one octave higher.

You have always enjoyed these jam sessions with Eddie. But something in the back of your head keeps telling you that he isn’t just interested in you as a musician. You’ve never been one for social cues, they fly right over your head, leaving you without a single clue.

The power promptly goes out, amps shut off, and lights gone. The windows are the only light source, and without the loud music, you both could finally hear the large snowflakes hitting the roof.

“Looks like the powers out.” He says while walking over to the breaker box in the hallway. He flips a few switches, but nothing changes. “It's probably a downed tree.” You both take a look out Eddie’s bedroom window to see a flurry of flakes falling from a pale gray sky. What was supposed to be a light snow day has turned into a blizzard. There is no way you’re going to be able to get your car home.

“I don’t think I can drive in this mess.” You add, just barely above a whisper.

“I’m not opposed to you staying until the snow stops. I’m sure my uncle wouldn't mind either.” Eddie suggests. He hangs his guitar back up on the wall over his mirror and plucks the acoustic from its stand. It's a pretty standard acoustic, nothing special. But he has painted the words “this machine slays dragons” on the front, in white.

Eddie sits back down on the bed and you do the same. He begins to strum and you're immediately mesmerized. See, you're not very experienced with an acoustic guitar. But you've always wanted to be, the way he plays so effortlessly is just mind-blowing. 

"You may wish for more electric skills, I think acoustic is far more difficult." You comment while bringing your knees to your chest. Eddie smiles, he doesn't receive sincere compliments often.

“You’re really sweet. Are you just saying that to make me feel better?” He abruptly stops strumming.

“No, I mean it. Really.” You insist.

The quick decrease in temperature makes you shiver, Eddie notices and sets his guitar down.

“Yeah, I had a feeling it might get cold in here fast.” He gets up and quickly walks down the hall to retrieve a blanket. He grabs a soft-knitted blanket off the back of the couch. When he returns he plops back down on the bed next to you. He was rather close, you can feel your face heat up. Eddie wraps the blanket around you both, making sure you are completely covered.

He's really close. So close you can smell his cheap cologne and shampoo. You’ve been crushing on this guy ever since you met him but haven't had the guts to say or do anything. Then fate just swoops in and puts you in the most ridiculous situation.

“This better?”

“Lots better, actually” You lean your head on his shoulder. Eddie looks a little surprised but wraps his arm around your back. “How are you so warm? It’s freezing!” You ask and cuddle just a little closer. Eddie shrugs and you look up and search his face for any emotion. Eddie has always found you attractive and has developed feelings. He regularly uses pet names with you and goes out of his way to make you smile. He’s not the best at expressing his feelings with anything but music, so Eddie has hesitated and hasn’t made a single move. Well, until today.

Eddie cups your cheek, and his rings chill your face. Biting your cheek nervously, your eyes refuse to leave his.

“Can I kiss you?”

“...y-yeah.”

Just like that, Eddie leans forward and presses his lips to yours. You feel hot under his touch, your stomach filling with more warmth than what was already there. Some shyness emerges, feeling incredibly close to him like he’s studying you. You kiss him back and fully lean into him. It immediately became something more, his tongue swiped along your bottom lip. All of your senses have been infiltrated by him, this a war you know you won't be able to win.

Eddie trailed kisses along your jaw and neck. He felt the way you shuddered as his lips ghosted over your skin. His hand slips under your loose top and roams the length of your body until he reaches your bare breast and hums into your mouth. Your breath hitches as he begins to knead the soft flesh, rolling your nipple between his fingers. You take a handful of his t-shirt and pull him just a little closer. Eddie’s arm snakes around your waist as you pull him on top of you.

You press your lips to his, he tastes like weed and coffee. Eddie deepens the kiss as your mouth drops open with a gasp. Eddie pops open the button on your jeans and draws the zipper down, his hand dips into your pants, and his fingers traverse lower and slide between your folds.

“Oh god…” You whine as he swirls his fingers around your clit, your back arches off the bed and your pants slip further down your hips. “Please don't stop.” Eddie sees this as an opportunity and eases two fingers into your entrance. Another moan escapes your lips and Eddie chuckles at how much of a mess he’s made of you. His thumb presses against your clit and he begins by making small circles. After some time he pushes two digits inside of you.

“Am I gonna make you cum with just my fingers? And so quickly too.” He coos in your ear. You close your eyes and bury your face in his shoulder, as pleasure unravels in your stomach and your core clenches in anticipation. All you could do is nod and shut your eyes, a few muffled whines escape and your hips buck. 

“Fuck! Eddie!” His name rolls off your tongue, a sound so addicting, he just wants you to say it again. You unravel in his arms, and Eddie slows down and helps you through the high. Your senses were smothered by him and all you could see were stars. When you open your eyes, Eddie is displaying his signature smirk.

“You’re so pretty, y’know that?” He coos.

“I was just about to tell you the same thing.”

Eddie cupped your cheek and captured your lips in a slow languid kiss. You palm at the front of his jeans feeling his cock strain against the denim material, causing him to shift uncomfortably. Eddie looks ruined, and you haven't even touched him yet. You make quick work of unzipping his jeans. He helps you shuffle them, along with his underwear. His aching member springs free, flushed at the tip and weeping, it’s the most enticing thing you’ve ever seen.

Eddie quickly sits up and leans back against the wall. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pants and dragged you with him. You rock your hips and completely remove them, Eddie crosses his arms and pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere. Eddie grabbed your ass as you straddled him. Reaching up to bring you into a hungry, wet kiss. His mouth was restless. Lightly chapped lips pressed to yours, he helps you out of your top between kisses.

Eddie slowly rubbed his cock against your clit as your hips wiggled in his lap, getting comfortable. As you slowly lowered yourself, moans fizzled into small huffs and whines. When Eddie bottoms out, your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped marks. He holds you by your hips and you brace yourself with his shoulder.

“Fuck…you are so tight.” He growls, “You look so pretty like this, filled with my cock.”

There wasn’t any pain, thanks to how completely soaked you were, but the pressure of him splitting you open made your breath hitch. You looked down at him as you began to roll your hips down onto his. His hands found their way to your hips and readjusting his grip on your body, he began to thrust himself up into you. Soon enough, you both found a steady and continuous speed.

“Are you gonna cum for me again, princess?” Eddie asks, just barely above a whisper.  

“Fuck…yes…please…” You mewl and allow yourself to slump forward over him, nosing at the crook of his neck. Your stomach was tight, breath fluttering in your chest as you tried to focus on reaching your high. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, groans and huffs escape his mouth as he shoves into you impossibly deep and cums, cock pulsing inside your walls.

“Oh god, fuck” He says under his breath. Eddie continues to help you ride it out, your hands slide up the back of his neck and card through his long brown hair. The coil that had been winding in your stomach finally snapped for a second time and Eddie groaned as he felt your cunt cling around him as you came. “That’s it.” Eddie praises. Your breathing is ragged as you come down from your high, still holding Eddie’s arm for dear life.

He pulls you in for a sweet, lingering kiss.

“You did so good for me, sweetheart.” Eddie commends and you give him a lazy smile. He peppers your face and neck with kisses which earns him a soft giggle. You slowly lift yourself off of him, the loss making you whine a little.

The sky is getting darker as 5 pm approaches. After some cleanup, Eddie hands you one of his band shirts, a pair of black sweatpants, and boxers.

“I don't think you’re going home tonight, sweetheart,” Eddie says while moving strands of hair away from your face. "But you can crash here if you like?" He offers and you nod. You look outside the window and see the snow flurries have subsided, but the flakes haven't completely stopped. Your car probably wouldn't make it out of the driveway. It has two wheel drive and runs on hopes and dreams.

"Thank you, Eddie."

"My pleasure, sweet thing."

Suddenly the lights started to flicker, you both looked up at the ceiling light. The power kicks back on and you can hear the heater start up.

"Oh thank goodness." You sigh with relief.

"I'm gonna make some food before we lose power again." Eddie declares, scampering down the hall to the kitchen.