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minarisplaything · 9 months

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Blackpink In Your Area (Part Two)

pairing: jisoo x male reader (featuring an instigating jennie) word count: 1.6k rating: Explicit Summary: picks up where part one left off which you can find here. , part three is here

It was as if time itself had been frozen.

Jennie stood there, one hand still pressed against the wall while another now covered her mouth in shock. Jisoo was motionless, cum coating her hair and face and looking like she was torn between disgust and wanting to cry. And then there was you, standing there like an idiot with your mouth hanging open and your cock hanging out.

"Oh my god."

Jennie was the first to react and the first to move. "Jisoo, baby, are you okay?" she moved from her position, acted as though she had not just been getting her brains fucked out backstage. It left you bewildered but in reality was Jennie was doing the smart play. If Jisoo ran off they your little escapade would be discovered and likely worse things to come.

Your girlfriend handled her with care, gently brushing your cum from her strands of her. In response Jisoo nodded, finally seeming to gain her senses. "I-I didn't know you were..." she trailed off and you caught her gaze briefly shoot to your hanging cock. The silence was momentary but you couldn't help but wonder if Jennie had noticed it as well. "If I had known I wouldn't have come by I swear. I just didn't know where you were and — "

"Ssh, it's okay. Don't worry about it" Jennie reassured her.

If you had to label the dynamic between the two, Jennie was certainly the more dominate one while Jisoo seemed more meager and pure. A thought that had your cock twitching back to life.

Jennie continued to talk to Jisoo, her voice lowering to the point that you weren't able to hear what she was saying; all you could do was see Jisoo's small nods as she looked at Jennie with doe-eyes. What happened next nearly had you double over in shock and definitely had you hard again.

Jennie wiped some of the cum that had landed on Jisoo's cheek, however rather than flick or wipe it aside she slid her finger into her mouth, sucking it clean of the fluid. What are you doing?! my inner voice screamed. She had just been calming Jisoo down, maybe even making her forget all that had happened and now she had very bluntly and boldly reminded her! And yet it didn't stop there. Next, Jennie wiped off another glob of cum and wiped it on her tongue however she didn't swallow it, instead leaving her mouth open and tongue out expectantly. Jisoo, no longer the stunned deer in headlights, seemed to know exactly what was expected of her as she leaned forward to kiss her band mate.

It was a display you had never expected, yet judging by the way your cock was quickly hardening again one you were thoroughly enjoying. Your girlfriend's hand settled on Jisoo's neck, deepening the kiss effortlessly. It made you wonder if they had experience with this kind of exchange.

When the finally parted you were more turned on than before and equally as confused. "Um, Jennie? Do you want to fill me in on what's going on?" After all you were still standing there with your cock out feeling rather...exposed.

Jennie looked at Jisoo and then back to you. "Well..." she started, stepping forward, her hand curled around her friend's as they came towards you. "I think Jisoo wants to do something for you. If you don't mind that is."

Her words caused my mind to go blank trying to process what she was offering. You looked to Jisoo but rather than meet your gaze her eyes were transfixed on your exposed cock. Fuck was this really about to happen? You looked back to Jennie who now wore a cheshire grin. Clearly she was on board with this and you wondered if this didn't have to do with what she had whispered to her.

"She feels really bad about walking in on us like she did" Jennie's free hand moved up, stroking aside stray strands of Jisoo's hair.

Hell if anyone should feel bad it was you, you shot your cum on her after all. Now you couldn't help but think about doing so in a different manner. You looked back to Jisoo for confirmation but she was still transfixed.

"Is this true, Jisoo?"

"I..." she paused, swallowing thickly, "Yes...I want to do something for you." She finally looked up to meet your gaze, a certainty in her eyes that hadn't been there before.

The whole situation was rather sudden but it had made you extremely hard. Besides who were you to turn down a proposition from another member of Blackpink when you had your girlfriend's approval? Having made up your mind you gave a nod and Jennie looked practically gleeful. She leaned over, whispering some more things to Jisoo — whether it was instructions or encouragement only they knew.

You stood in anticipation, cock twitching when you saw Jisoo descend to her knees. Jennie who had been standing next to her moved to you, her hand on your shoulder. You would have asked her something but your mouth turned to cotton when you felt Jisoo's hand wrapping around your cock quickly followed by the warmth of her mouth.

Forgetting where you were for a moment you let out a moan. The visual of Blackpink must have taken that as a sign to continue as she wasted no time in taking your length fully, her head bobbing in a steady rhythm already.

"Look at her" Jennie cooed in your ear, her breath hot against it, "She's such a good girl isn't she?"

Where you had previously been focused on the the feeling and pleasure you looked down to lay your eyes on the sight. And what a sight it was. Kim Jisoo eagerly blowing you, her tongue swirling around your cock, her eyes occasionally glancing up to look at you. All you could do in response to her question was nod. A giggle left Jennie and she followed it up by placing a kiss against your neck.

"You know..." she started, speaking between each kiss, "You don't have to be so gentle with her." Jennie nibbled on your earlobe, her hand finding one of yours and guiding it to rest on the back of Jisoo's head. "She likes it rough."

Normally you might have hesitated, maybe asked first, but you were completely lost in the moment. Truth be told you were under Jisoo's spell as much as you were under Jennie's. As such it took less than a minute for you to act on your girlfriend's words, pushing down on Jisoo's head and forcing her to take your full length. She was surprised and caught off guard, gagging on your cock. You wondered if you had acted to hastily yet you could practically hear Jennie grinning from ear to ear. Had this been a part of her plan too?

Unwilling to change course, you pulled Jisoo's head off of your cock giving her a moment to catch her breath before pushing her back down. This time she was prepared, her throat relaxing as she took you fully. And god did it feel amazing. So good that you did it again. And again. And Again. Until it reached the point you were face-fucking a national beauty. In the backstage of her own concert no less!

When you finally pulled her off the innocent and pure face of Kim Jisoo was now a lewd display.

Her eyes were glazed over, tongue extended as a mixture of pre-cum and saliva trailed from her mouth.

"Isn't she beautiful" Jennie chimed in, a delicate hand reaching around you to cup Jisoo's chin. You could only nod wordlessly, enraptured by the sight.

You felt Jennie's presence shift from next to you and soon she was leaning down, turning her bandmate's head to hers and closing the distance between their lips. If you thought their kiss earlier had been marvelous, this was spectacular. Your cock twitched in appreciation, drinking in every moment of the sight.

When Jennie finally pulled away her thumb wiped at her bottom lip, a smug look on her features. She gave you one look and instantly you knew your girlfriend had another devious idea.

"You know" she started, her fingers wrapping around your cock and stroking you slowly, "I think there's an even better gift she can give you."

This comment seemed to bring Jisoo out of her lewd haze, her eyes darting over to Jennie as she bit her bottom lip. You hesitated for a moment, glancing between the two girls. The thought alone had your cock primed to act but this was one thing you couldn't just take Jennie's word on.

"Babe, I don't know that seems risky..."

You and her had just got caught doing exactly what Jennie was suggesting so it wasn't as if you were lying. You couldn't begin to imagine the trouble if someone else found the three of together.

"Please."

The response didn't come from Jennie but instead Jisoo. You looked over at the vocalist to find her wanton gaze looking back at you. "I want it...Here. Just like you were earlier."

You could see Jennie grinning out of the corner of your eye. Was this all just another part of her plan? "You heard her baby, you should get to work quick" Jennie winked and gave your cock a squeeze.

You could only watch in admiration as Jisoo stood, shyly pulling off her training shorts from beneath her outfit.

"God, look how wet she is just from sucking you off" your girlfriend observed, "You really enjoyed that didn't you?"

You didn't need to hear Jennie's confirmation, you could see it for yourself and the sight only drove your lust to new heights. Wordlessly you stepped towards Jisoo, the timidness you had felt earlier rapidly giving way to lust. You wanted to be inside her, needed to be. Given the treatment you had received earlier, you weren't sure how long you could last but you were ready to make the most of it.

Jisoo turned, one hand reaching out to grab the nearest surface. You had almost forgotten the fact that you were backstage, but the benefit was there were plenty of places for her to grab hold of. Hiking up her skirt, you half expected Jennie's hand to guide your cock to its new hole, but when she didn't intervene, you were more than happy to take the initiative. Leaning forward, your engorged head pressed against her slit, sliding in with some resistance.

With Jennie, you had worked each other up and teased beforehand, but this time there was no such thing. You're not sure either of you would have been able to handle it.

A small yelp left Jisoo as you sheathed yourself deeper into her, reveling in the sensation. It had been ages since you'd been inside any pussy that wasn't Jennie's, and you felt a bit guilty admitting to how good it felt. Her walls clenched around you, welcoming your invasion as one of your hands gripped her lithe waist. Despite wanting to bask in the sensation, you had enough presence of mind to remember time was of the essence. That and your cock was begging for more than just staying still.

You recalled Jennie's earlier words. That despite Jisoo's meager demeanor, she liked things rough. Did that extend to this as well? There was only one way to find out. You pulled your cock out before slamming it back into Jisoo, shaking her petite frame. A moan was cut off as she clamped a hand around her mouth.

Well, that was a good sign.

Her moans were all it took for the switch in your head to go off. Jennie's interruption earlier had left your cock eager for release, and you would be damned if you didn't get it now. You started to pound into the Blackpink vocalist with reckless abandon. Each stroke stretched her tightness more and more. If you were caught right then and there, you don't think you could've brought yourself to stop. You had finally reached heaven, and there was no going back now.

"Oh fuck."

The accented words sounded all too familiar, and you glanced over to see that this time around Jennie wasn't content simply playing a spectator. Her fingers were dipped between her thighs, wrist moving frantically as she got herself off at the sight of her boyfriend fucking her best friend. Her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths; the visage alone was enough to have your cock swelling inside Jisoo. If you were going to get off, then it was only right that she did as well.

You may not have had Jennie in your ear coaching you this time, but you had an inkling of exactly what was needed. You leaned over Jisoo, her back arched against you, "Jennie's watching right now. You should put on a show for her, don't you think?"

As expected, before she could even muster a verbal response, her pussy tightened around your dick at the mere mention of Jennie watching.

"Well, what do you think?" You questioned, purposefully slowing your thrust to get an answer out of her. You'd like to think if Jennie could speak right now, she'd be proud.

"Y-Yes…"

"Yes what, Jisoo."

"Yes, we should put on a show."

Satisfied with her answer, you picked up your pace again, thrusting forcefully inside her, earning an unmuffled moan in response. You heard another moan from your girlfriend and took it as a sign of approval. Despite being in a similar position to what you had been with Jennie earlier, this had a completely different vibe to it. One that was hard to put into words. You reached forward, grabbing a handful of dark locks and pulled roughly. Jisoo, whose head had been bent forward, was now exposed as you fucked her harder from behind.

You could feel your own release building again, this time even better than the last, but you refused to do so without taking Jisoo over the edge with you.

"Jisoo-ah~ he's getting close, I can tell."

For the first time since you started fucking Jisoo, Jennie spoke up. Her voice was breathy, and you imagined she was drawing towards her own orgasm along with you. You were grateful; it let you focus on fucking Jisoo while Jennie talked her over the edge.

"Ah…When his expression gets like that…" she let out a soft moan, "Remember when he came all over you? He's going to do it again…Fuck…he's going to cum inside you, I'm jealous."

Jisoo covered her mouth just in time as she let out a small scream. However close she had been, Jennie's words were clearly enough to send her over the edge. If you weren't in the midst of nearly cumming, you would have marveled at the power your girlfriend held. Despite her words, you considered pulling out, only to be stopped by Jennie.

"Do it, baby. Cum inside her."

That verbal encouragement was all you needed. Your knuckles turned white as you gripped Jisoo's hips tighter, hips slamming into her once more before your release exploded inside of her. It took a moment; ropes of pent-up cum were finally unleashed as your cock continued to twitch inside her.

For a long moment, all you saw were stars, even as your dick began to soften inside Jisoo. You were faintly aware of Jennie speaking, but you couldn't make out what she was saying with the ringing in your ears. You finally started to come to when Jisoo finally slipped out of your grasp, adjusting her outfit in the process.

You looked to your girlfriend, who had a smile that was far too innocent to not have an ulterior motive.

"Well, now that that's out of the way, we can do some formal introductions. I don't know about you guys, but I think we're all going to get along great."

#jisoo x reader #male reader #kpop smut #blackpink smut #jisoo smut #bpiya series

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wonijin · 10 months

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NEWJEANS WITH A CRUSH

how newjeans act when they have a crush

TAGS: headcanons. pure fluff. set in highschool.

KIM MINJI

• lowkey highkey a chicken

• her crush was so obvious even the school janitor knows. her eyes practically shoots hearts at the sight of you. her face lights up like a child opening presents when you're in the same vicinity as her

• one of the prettiest girl in the school but when you talk to her she turns to the lamest of losers

• can act a little more normal when she's around friends. but when its just the two of you, her steps are a little slower and she's a little more hyperaware of her surroundings. but her smile is undoubtedly wider and everything about her just glows.

• she just smiles at you like a fool, sometimes she forgets to even breath. you can run your mouth but she's too busy daydreaming for your words to register in her mush of a mind

• but she tries to recover by inviting you on study dates sessions. where you both never really study and just end up getting kicked out of the library.

• her friends were quick to get tired of the pinning. the secret glances and the fleeting touches were so painful to watch they had to intervene.

you sit idly at the swings, staring at the families and couple around you. the sun paints the park in orange glow. hearing footsteps behind you, you turn around to meet minji's eyes.

"hey," she greets as she sits beside you. "what did you want to meet up for?" she asks you and she looks so cute with one of her eyebrows raised and her lips in a small smile.

you furrow your eyebrows at her. "i was about to ask the same thing. you're the one who gave me a note saying you have something to tell me." you reach to your left pocket to take out a yellow note.

she watches you cautiously, her gut already forming a hunch. she could see it from a mile away. but its too late.

minji takes a note that looks similar to yours out of her back pocket. she watches your face attentively, witnessing how the gears on your mind twisted and turned before the realization dawning on you. she averts her eyes shyly.

"guess we got played, huh?" you smile bashfully. and minji's lips turned upward automatically.

suddenly, her face turned blank and at the corner of your eye you see her fists clench on her lap. she didn't look serious or nervous, just blank and frozen. yet, her eyes bore into your soul.

in her mind, minji thinks its far too late to turn back. there's no point in doing so even if she can anyway. you were here and she was in front of you. only a fool would let a chance like this go to waste. minji is a coward but she is no fool.

"i like you."

PHAM HANNI

• she would throw herself off a cliff before confessing her feelings. no, not because she's scared to be rejected. but she wants you to be the one to confess.

• flirts with you every opportunity she gets. and if there isn't any she makes one. her day cannot be over without seeing your blushing face.

• every time she compliments you its paired with a hug or a kiss in the cheek just to show she means it with all her heart

• then she teases you for being so flustered because she's cheeky.

• always touching you one way or another. whether it be linking your pinky fingers or leaning her head on your shoulder. you name it.

• hanni would be doing everything in the book apart from confessing. she doesn't mind how long it takes, she'll get you to confess to her.

• however, she does drop hints to speed things up. like making you sit through thousand of rom-coms. and when one of the protagonists profess their undying love, she always wonders how being confessed to feels like.

you sit at the couch with hanni curled up beside you. the two of you were wrapped in a fluffy blanket while the empty bowl of popcorn is nestled between hanni's arms. you don't know it but hanni doesn't move to place the bowl to the coffee table because she fears that moving an inch would make you remove your arms around her.

a familiar scene comes onscreen. you know this part, it's the scene where the main characters confess their feeling to each other. "we've watched this so many times. i can literally recite this scene word for word," you keep your gazed fixed on the screen.

"really? say it to me then," hanni's reply came natural, like she practiced saying that line a thousand times. your head snapped to the girl beside you to find her already waiting for your eyes.

"let's see it then," she challenges. her smirk ever widening. you yield.

"i love that you get cold when it's 71 degrees out. i love that it takes you an hour-and-a-half to order a sandwich." you recite the first two lines with the help of the actual movie, turning to it every time you forget a word.

your gaze fell to hanni one more time, and the lines came naturally flooding at the top of your head. yet, the words got stuck on your throat for a moment as you see her watch you with a fond smile. "i .. i love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you're looking at me like i'm nuts."

"i love that when I spend a day with you, i can still smell your perfume on my clothes," your smile fell slowly word by word. your heart skipped at the realization that the words, no matter how unoriginal, came straight from your heart.

hanni looks at you, overjoyed. her heart swells at every syllable that leaves your lips. she'd hang every star in the sky just for you.

"and i love that you are the last person i want to talk to before i go to sleep at night," you finish. and only then did you realize how close your faces are.

a silent second pass consisting of the sound of the forgotten movie in the background.

"i meant it. every word," you confess.

"took you long enough"

MARSH DANIELLE

• she's the first one to realize her crush on you. because she's that in tune with her emotions

• dani tries to make it obvious. and in hindsight it is.

• she leaves cute notes at your locker filled with pink hearts. that asks about your day, or reminds you to eat and never lets you forget to take care of yourself

• miss marsh makes time to talk to you everyday, going out of her to meet you no matter how inconvenient the situation is to her. her class might be at the other end of the school but she'd still show up to bring you a cup of coffee or tea.

• but you still don't notice any of her advances. and its starting to frustrate her.

• but could she blame you? she is friends with the whole school. it was only natural to think you were of her many close friends who she enjoys the company of

danielle walks besides you. you glance at her for a moment and god she is so bright. the sweetest. she shines as radiant like no other. and the best part is she's right beside you.

"thank you for always walking me. you're such a nice friend," you think at how she's been nothing but nice ever since you've met her. an angel.

you look back towards danielle to see her frowning at you like you just cursed at her. "what's wrong, dani?" you ask a bit worried at her sudden mood change.

"a...friend,"she mumbles the word to herself in disgust. her eyes on fixated on the ground.

"yeah? im glad you consider me close enough of a friend. i mean you have so many friends,bi just think im lucky," you say like its so obvious. and danielle finally meets your eyes, they held disappointment.

you were denser than she thought. or were you just deliberately looking the other way. her minds is breaking in two thinking of all the reasons why you still have not caught on to her intentions yet.

"i didn't think you were this oblivious," she says straight to your face and you were about to take offense when you realized you had no idea of what she's complaining about.

"well, why don't you stop sulking and tell me what the problem is so we can fix it, dani," you wait for her response eagerly. what has made sweet danielle so irritated. you ensure revenge on anything anyone that dares to harm precious dan-

"its you."

"what did i do?" your words came out like a cry, putting your hand on your heart dramatically in shock.

"you're too stupid to realize i like you."

KANG HAERIN

• poor girl never realized she had a crush on you.

• everything just came natural. she didn't think of you as a friend yet the thought of being your lover never crossed her mind either. and she never stopped to think what that meant

• she never missed your presence because she tries to follow you everywhere. although she resembles more like a lost puppy rather than a shadow.

• before everyone knew it, she was acting like your girlfriend. all the while she is still unaware of her own feelings.

• one day, she just start sitting with you during lunch. and from that day forward, you both eat together. sometimes in comforting silence, other times in quiet chatter.

• she didn't even notice she was waiting outside your classes just to walk you to your next.

• haerin needed the words of others to finally know what she's been feeling

"here. let me pay," you took your wallet out you pocket and opened it. suddenly, haerin placed her hand on top of yours.

"no. i was the one who invited you," her hand snatched the bill quickly. and when you tried to reach get it out of her palms, she puts it out of your reach.

thankfully, night time meant there were only a few people in the cafe. but that doesn't mean your little squabble didn't get their attention though.

"nope," your hand pulls her arm back gently. "come on, give me that."

"come get it then, shortie," she laughs at your attempts. haerin's heart jump as you try to get closer and closer. your hands brushed with her for a second, her skin tingling where your touch met hers.

"look, why don't we just split the bill?" you relent, you knew haerin too well to know she'd never hand that booklet over even if you attempt a thousand times.

"give up already?" she teases but she puts the bill down. and you take this chance to grab it and run to the cashier, handing her your money swiftly.

"come on, that's so unfair," haerin complained as she walked over to you, admitting defeat. she would've run to chase you but a part of her wanted to see the victorious smile adorning your face.

"shut up, loser," you stuck your tongue out. you look back towards the cashier who is looking at the both of you with a small smile. "oh to be young and in love again."

"oh- uh- we're not, actually we're...yeah," you fumble, making the old woman in front of you laugh.

"oh, i know." she smiles at you mysteriously like she knows something you don't. she hands you the receipt and you bow at her one last time before exiting the cafe.

you look behind you to see haerin deep in her thoughts. "hey don't mind what she sa-"

haerin puts a finger on her lips, "shush, i'm thinking." you roll your eyes playfully at her but still giving her silence like she wanted.

haerin's thoughts drift from the little ache she tries her hardest to ignore when you're away to the way her heart drums in her ear when you're near.

everything felt like a puzzle finally coming to place. well, she would've come to this conclusion on her own but she was too occupied pinning over you to notice. she wasn't shocked, more like "aha!"

haerin's hand caught your wrist to stop you from walking. the moonlight illuminating your confused face. she looks at you, chill and cool as ever. as if she'd let her voice waiver at a time like this.

she says in the steadiest voice like the words were as natural as uttering her own name, "i think i like you."

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gentlyweeps-world · 5 months

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Ferrari Red .3

summary: Tensions run high between the beloved Ferrari boy and his girlfriend after a complicated Austin GP. Pictures and rumors surface, catching the eye of Y/n.

pairing: charles leclerc x fem! reader

warnings: angst, Ferrari boys red flags, alcohol consumption, toxic actions, throwing up

Previously: “We have to go” She says, her eyes traveling around the club rapidly.

“Why-“ You ask, trying to keep up with her, but then you finally realized why, or more so saw why.

Charles Leclerc was standing only four feet in-front of you with a look of pure rage on his face.

LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO

All you could do was stand there frozen looking at Charles, you had never seen him so mad. Sadie continues to yank you away from Charles, but he's quicker.

“She's coming with me Sadie”, Charles growls out, grabbing your other arm and pulling you into him. Sadie doesn't say anything, rolling her eyes as she walks away, in search of a different guy to flirt with.

“I told you she was a shitty friend cheri..”, He murmurs to you, leading you through the club and towards the doors. You don't object, since you don't know if anyone could be filming, after all it was a very public club in Monaco.

Once outside the lights of Monaco illuminate everything, you break away from Charles grip and opt to walk next to him towards his Ferrari, not questioning where he's taking you.

Charles opens the passenger side door for you, moving so you can get in. Charles is quick to get into the driver's side, starting the car and going a bit over the speed limit to your shared apartment.

Finally back in the comfort of your shared apartment you look to Charles, crossing your arms over your chest. “What is your issue?”, You ask with irritation in your voice.

“Who was that guy?”, Charles asks, anger and pain clear in his face. “I don't see why it matters…you went off in Austin and did the same thing to me”, You state, rolling your eyes as he rubs a hand over his face.

“Just- just tell me who cheri..”, he begs out voice breaking. You let out a sigh, “I..I don't know, some random guy named Lucas I think? Maybe Liam?”, you say trying to recall when you had kissed him, but your mind goes blank.

“Did it mean anything?”

“What?”

“Kissing him, did it mean anything?”, he repeats, his eyes searching yours as you lean up against the kitchen counter.

“What if it did? I don't see why you're so upset Charles, you kissed a random girl, better yet you felt her up! That broke me…you dont- you dont get to be mad and act like you did nothing wrong!”, you say, voice growing with anger and wavering.

“I’m not saying I didn't do anything wrong Y/n! You're mine..I'm the only one who gets to kiss you! Who gets to touch you and make you smile!”, Charles says his voice raising as he moves closer to you, his hands instinctively going to your hips.

“No..no..I'm not yours Charles! You lost me as soon as you kissed that other girl!”, you say, pushing him away from you. Then with one look at him you realized just how much your words hit him.

You can see tears fall from his eyes, lips parted to say something but nothing comes out from his mouth. Just a few seconds later you realize why he's gone silent. Jules and his father. He couldn’t lose you too.

“No..cheri, please no”, he begs out, voice breaking with a soft tone, more tears falling from his face.

With a shaky hand, Charles reaches out towards you and caresses your face with his hand, wiping the still falling tears off your face.

“I need a break Charles..” You softly say, looking him in his eyes once more. Instead of saying anything he simply presses a kiss to your forehead then one to your lips, cherishing it for one more moment before you leave, at least for the meantime.

“I’ll pack a small bag and stay with Sadie..” You say, breaking away from Charles with a sad smile on your face.

“How long?”

“I..I don't know Charles'” You mumble out, walking away from him to quickly pack a small bag for Sadies apartment.

“Why must you stay with Sadie?” He asks out, watching as you pack up a bag. “She offered for me to” You grumble out, throwing some last essentials into your bag.

“Why do you care anyway?” You add on, rolling your eyes as you walk out of your bedroom and back into the living area, planning on leaving soon.

Charles doesn’t say anything, silently following you, his eyes focused on your every move.

“When will I hear from you?” He softly asks, moving close enough to lace your fingers together.

“I’m not sure..” You say, turning to face him, looking over him one more time you pull your hand away from his, opening the door to your apartment then shutting it softly behind you.

Charles simply stood there, tears forming in his eyes again. Looking down at his hand that was once in yours he lets out a groan, wishing he hadn’t kissed or even looked at that girl.

radio: Honestly might end this series with a sad ending, that would be fun (At least for me). Once again leave any requests and comments! I’m slowly running out of ideas and energy, so requests are appreciated :)

taglist: @distancedss @janeholt3 @dessxoxsworld @lightdragonrayne @glitterf1 @bansheelydiia @kiarahblack @meadhbhcavanagh @cmleitora @needtokeepfeelingsincheck @honeybunchiesofoats @wcnorris @victoriaholland

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forthelostones · 5 days

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𝚙𝚝.𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 ; 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 ─── ⋆

⟡⋆˙୨ᥫ᭡. 𝚗𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚞 - 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎!𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚢 𝚡 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛ᥫ᭡.୧⋆˙⟡

synopsis: abby was a woman whose presence was becoming deeply irresistible to you. in your final year of nursing school, you toil with the idea of pursuing her — ruin what you have or enjoy what’s in front of you?

warnings. 18+ (mdni); sub!abby, domsub!abby, sexual themes, jealousy, fluff, nickname: dummy, and modern au - pre-established relation.

an: guys. this has been such a crazy ride, thanks for the support on both of my stories. it means so much to me. sorry for the wait... lets get it.

CLICK HERE.

(no y/n)

Abby watched from the row behind you, observing how you chewed on the end of that neon #2 pencil. She could tell by the bobbing of your leg that you were nervous and stuck on a specific question. It was the same during studying — chew, bob, sigh. Almost on cue, a frustrated sigh left your throat. She knew it was her fault that this was happening.

She knew neither of you studied long enough for you to feel confident on this exam. Well, that’s what she kept trying to convince herself, she was already finishing up the last page. Although her pencil glided on the paper effortlessly, she couldn’t help but be distracted by your indecisiveness on the math equations and multiple-choice questions. The once full eraser had been subsided to pure metal scrapping into the pages.

The time on her watch read ten minutes left until the end of the exam and you were only on page two. Studying had become harder for you with Abby around. It wasn’t only the dating component it was mostly the difference in your skills. Her ability to memorize vocabulary and complete math problems without thinking twice about them made you academically insecure. While you averaged low B’s and high C’s, she had a 4.0 and made it look easy. The clock's ticking distracts you from the problem you are trying to solve. It was one you and Abby worked on multiple times, yet you’re frozen, unsure how to solve it. As everyone flicks their pages to finish, you just … froze.

“Okay. Pencils down.” Your professor said just moments after you started a new equation. Your jaw dropped slightly and you squeezed your eyes shut. Abby shook her head, not at you specifically, but herself. You had practically moved in and the nights that would typically be spent studying were now used to learn more about each other beyond your friendship. Realistically, Abby understood that those moments would be worth more than a grade in the long run. But a part of her also resented getting this comfortable, ultimately impacting you. The feelings clashed within her. The heat forming inside of you could only be described as embarrassment. Why was it like your brain suddenly lost all power to its systems? It wasn’t unusual for you to skip a few questions but this was completely unlike you.

You chew on your cuticles and fold the mostly blank pages and pass them down to the front, doing the same for your classmates. Their pages crumbled with computation answers and confidently filled bubbles exposed your shortcomings. You should feel relieved that the test is over but you don’t. A heavy anchor grounded you but you were still floating. Abby met you down in your row where you saw her concealing another A-plus smirk. Once you both exited into the hall Abby’s hand finds the center of your back and she begins to pet it slowly. You shrug her away gently.

“Don’t.” You sigh.

Abby knew it would set you off but she did it anyway to show you she sees you. The blonde’s brain was moving at a rapid pace. She so deeply wanted to ask you about the challenging problems and the scenarios on the quiz. Her translucent lashes tapped frantically as she imagined the sheet of paper behind her eyes.

“I feel good about this one.” She finally says.

“Good. I really did not do well. It’s — whatever. Right?”

Abby looks to you and she couldn’t lie and tell you that it’s not just whatever. It’s your future. Both of your futures — together — it was important to Abby that her partner was just as successful as her.

“You should be happy that you did your best but understand that if you did do as bad as you think, it’s worth asking for a makeup to understand the material.” She suggested.

You hated when she got like this, rigid. Her posture was straight, her mouth set hard, and no softness found anywhere on her face. The regime her father instilled in her stayed and it was evident in moments like this.

“Abby, sometimes I really need you to just listen to me and be rational later.”

A chill followed down her spine following your sharp comment.

“Maybe we shouldn’t study together anymore.” She muttered.

Part of you wanted that to be a joke but knew it wasn’t. The night before proved itself to be deeply uneventful for the both of you.

“You’re distracting me.” You groan as you’re reviewing flashcards on Abby’s bed, the first mistake. She was wearing a thin, white tank top and a pair of loose black sweats, untied, on her hips. Her hair was drying from the shower you two just took and so was her body. The outline of her features was accentuated by the water being absorbed by the cotton. She was so casually beautiful and simply yours. The bed shifted behind you, her weight bending the mattress inwards, as she crawled towards you.

“Am I?” She asks, using the tip of her tongue to playfully lick a stripe of slick up towards your lobe. An instant bubble of relief popped inside of you. “Okay. Okay.”

Abby couldn’t take her eyes away from you. She had seen you in this robe every night now but it was something about how it was gliding with you. As well as your skin's glint from your body oil makes you look regal. You sat at the base of the bed while Abby retreated towards the headboard, leg tucked under her butt. She took off three inches of hair and it looked so fresh, carving out her face perfectly, and highlighting her stiff jawline. “How about we make a deal?” She said brazenly.

“What?”

“For each answer I get right you remove something?”

“Abby,” you chuckle, not denying her advances.

You thumb the index cards in your hand and turn to tie your eyes with hers.

“First question, the section is Anatomy and Physio. What best describes endocrine glands?” You ask.

Abby taps her chin as if she’s searching for the answer. “They secrete chemicals into the blood, growth, metabolism, sexual development and function.”

She raises her eyebrows and shoots her eyes towards your robe. A deal is a deal so you remove the silk, leaving you in your two-piece pajama set. Abby notices the goosebumps lining the outsides of your shoulders and can’t help but desire to rub them warm.

“Question number two. Anaerobic respiration can lead to a burning sensation caused by which molecule?”

“Easy,” she scuffed. “Lactic Acid.”

Her teeth appeared behind her Cheshire grin as your top found its way onto her floor.

“Good job.”

Your words made her cunt pulse.

“The mediastinum is located within which cavity?” You ask.

Abby’s face fell instantly. The outline of your nipples looked delicious and icy, she needed them in her palms immediately. “Fuck. I don’t know.”

You lift yourself off the bed and bend right in front of her to retrieve your shirt, Abby’s shadow overcame you and her hips thrust into your ass in one motion. She spins you around to face her, mouths inches away. “Do you think you’re going to actually put that back on?”

Her index finger traced the outline of your lips with her eyes following. You grip her wrist, halting her movements, “And if I do?”

Abby gently places the index cards neatly on her bedside table and presses you into the wall behind you. Usually, Abby is submissive but the stalking woman imposed her strength on you, like she’s been wanting to do from the first time she saw you in clinicals.

“I’ll just rip it off you.” She giggles.

“Would that be so bad?” You reply, bringing her finger into your mouth, sucking it then adding another. Abby huffed a keen groan as she bent down onto her knees, immediately pressing her mouth into your cunt. She lapped at the fabric separating her from you and didn’t even ask for you to remove them.

You insisted by beginning to take them off but she tore them off you and hoisting up one leg onto her shoulder following the other one.

“Abby.” You gasp.

“I got you, hold onto me.”

She was flexing her skill by fine-tuning your pussy with her tongue while she slowly hoisted you up towards the ceiling. Not only did you feel as if you were floating, you actually were. She was a show off but you fucking loved it.

After that, there was no more studying done.

“Do you think we should cut down on the time we're spending together?” You question, as the night replays in your mind.

Abby’s face scrunched up in immediate disapproval without hesitation at the suggestion. She pulled her bottom lip slightly in her mouth and looked around as if the walls suddenly grew eyes. Abby wanted to tell you no but she knew what had to be done.

“We can.” She grimaced with a shrug.

Despite all the time you spent together the girlfriend conversation had yet to come up. She thought about it the most when you were in her presence. She didn’t comprehend how you liked her so much and yet, you refused to make it official. She truly believed that once you ditched Ellie she’d be over the moon, but right now it’s feeling the same and Abby doesn’t do stagnant.

“Abby, we can still study together, in the library, several feet away from each other.”

She forced a smile. “Fine. Does this mean you’ll still sleepover?”

Before your crush on Abby developed you were denying yourself the fact that it was possible. But during this time, before the dating, your grades had been the best when you were alone, and you know for a fact, that it was because of her. You may not be as smart as Abby but you do want to come out on the other end with a degree too.

“Why don’t we come up with a schedule?” She suggests.

“That would be perfect.” You said.

The schedule consisted of dinners at Abby’s during the week, sleepovers on non-clinical days which were Wednesdays and Fridays, and studying every day at the library. Abby liked the organization but her body had gotten so used to you beside her. A week into implementing the new schedule Abby felt an immense amount of anxiety without you around. She didn’t know how to break down the feeling and why it was so persistent. Although you two were next door to each other, text messages still provided a temporary cushion for her sadness, but it wasn’t enough.

Abby clicked the icon that was the home for your name and called but there was no answer. Dinner was stewing on the stove, and in the middle of mixing a cocktail, Abby called to find out if you could taste what was missing. Another call led to another one and soon Abby was sitting with a candle flickering silently in front of her. Your plate sat untouched and she just picked at the remnants of hers.

Little did she know you were closed off in your room after studying, panicking. You knew yourself more than you wanted to. The schedule was needed for you to clear your brain on the feelings you had for Abby. With upcoming exams and graduation where would that leave you? She'd move across the world while you were huddled up in your small town's hospital circulation? It was coming in so fast and before you could mix in a girlfriend you had to know what you wanted. The pages of your journal turned soft as you tore your pen through the book.

A part of you wanted to hear the rapping of her fist against your door, ready to envelop you and reassure you that you would figure it out. She never came and because of that, a piece of you died. Conversations with her have turned short and passive since the last exam. It wasn’t just the exam it was a culmination of multiple things that either of you were ready to talk about.

Abby put your dinner into a glass container and waited outside your door trying to gain the sense to knock. One of the many nights you spent together gave her a reason to knock instead of sulk in her bed, thinking about all of her shortcomings in the relationship. You were both lying down and Abby lit a candle that night that you bought her. The sweet scent of peaches and cream cut through the bitter smell of her pine products. She loved it. Between the sheets were your naked bodies damp and lazy. Abby had brought a glass of cold ice water and set it on the nightstand beside the candle. You took turns taking sips.

“Thank you for the water.” You smiled.

“Don’t mention it,” She nudged you.

You twist your body onto your stomach and look up to her glimmering, post-sex face.

“Abby?”

“Yes, beautiful?”

“You still make me nervous.”

She cackles and brings her hand to your cheek and massages away your imperfections. With the roll of her eyes she licks her lips before curating a snarky response. But she quickly realizes you’re being serious. “Why?”

“I care so much about you and that’s something I haven’t felt before. With anyone.”

A kind pause swells between you both.

“I care about you too. I don’t want that to make you nervous.” She said.

“I know you see me differently but I am a little insecure.”

She leans down and kisses your forehead tenderly without a breath.

“That’s normal.”

“But I burrow. I distance myself when I get like that and I don’t want to subject you to that. I don’t want to hurt your feelings again. If I do that, get distant, don’t hesitate to just tell me to get out of my own head. It’s not your fault or your responsibility.”

Abby’s fist banged on the door with your words echoing in her mind. The thuds startled you out of the sleepy daze you fell under. You shuffle to the door to see the goofy blonde in her pajamas and slippers holding what was supposed to be tonights shared dinner.

“You didn’t come to dinner,” Her voice was more welcoming than usual. “I was worried. Are you okay?”

Shoving her way past you and nearly tossed the container on the kitchen counter. Without hesitation she opened her arms and you couldn’t help but to run into them. Although she didn’t say anything the affirmation from her presence was enough.

“All too much in your head again aren’t you?”

A sob escaped into her chest and she gripped you tighter. These past few days have been a blunder of confusing thoughts. A part of you knew getting together with Abby would make things unclear in your life. But if she was willing to get uncomfortable and support you, you were obligated to do the same to her.

“Abby, I should’ve answered your calls.” You pull away to notice how unswayed she is of your state.

“You should have but that doesn’t matter right now. We need to talk.”

You nod your head seldomly and she grips your hand and takes you to your bedroom. Abby pats beside herself to welcome you.

“I’m so scared.” You blurt out.

“Me too,”

Abby was scared for the complete opposite reason. When she was with you it seemed like all the decorative things such as school didn’t matter. She wasn’t familiar with how that felt. To have an identity outside of her accomplishments or care about someone. With you, she could flunk out of nursing school, move back to her home town, and still be satisfied. That scared her — that one person could allow her to have such a paradigm shift.

Hearing Abby say those words made your heart settle.

“I care so much about you. I didn’t think I would, this much. I should’ve known because on orientation when I saw you I thought, ‘I need to know who she is’ and I am grateful for that thought blossoming into my mind.”

You couldn’t muster any other word but her name. She picked up your hands to bring them into her lap. She leaned in to place a soft kiss on your mouth and lingered there with her forehead pressed against yours.

“When you moved next door, I just thought maybe this is the sign I need to do something different. To not let my ambitions lead me but instead my heart. And my heart loves you, Dummy.”

#abby anderson smut #abby smut #abby anderson x you #abby x reader #abby anderson tlou2 #abby the last of us #lesbian #abby anderson #abby tlou

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unseededtoast · 6 months

Text

Take My Hand | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Part Two to I Stayed There

Inspired by “Right Where You Left Me” by Taylor Swift

Summary: In which almost a decade later unlikely paths cross again, with little time to make big decisions. What once was broken can be mended, and the past can be forgiven. Frozen hearts can be reignited and destined souls can become one again. But only if given the chance.

Cross posted on Wattpad and AO3 and here is my masterlist!

wc: 10.3k

warnings: a lot of angst, pining, men begging on their knees, emotional turmoil

a/n: howdy folks, back at it again with part two. I want to thank everyone for the overwhelming support on part one, and I really hope part two lives up to your expectations. It got a little lengthy, but I hope you all enjoy it. And as always, thank you so very much for taking the time to read my stories, I appreciate each and every one of you.

"I knew if I told you that there was someone else that you wouldn't push the issue. I knew you loved me too much to interfere with my happiness. I used your own love against you and I am so sorry." He sniffles and pushes tears from his eyes.

His words feel like someone has punched you square in the stomach. Spencer had never found anyone else, he just wanted to protect you. He loved you too much to let you be harmed. Realizing his actions were done out of pure love, and not betrayal, a sob bubbles up from your chest.

Years upon years you had spent every night in envy of the other woman who was receiving Spencer's love. Months had been dedicated to wondering what you could've done differently to keep him from leaving. Countless weeks spent in agonizing misery, mourning and yearning for the love of your life.

Eight years, eleven months, and twenty-eight days. That's how much time has passed since Spencer had walked out, and every day that passes and another day is added to the count, his heart grows heavier.

Sure, he's able to get up in the mornings and do his job thoroughly, but the joy life once had has faded. He's become jaded, and everyone has noticed. They've all just accepted that it's who he is now. He no longer tries to go out of his way to inquire about his teammates and their lives, he stopped practicing his magic tricks when there was downtime. Instead, he keeps to himself for the most part. The only time the team really hears from him is when there's an active case.

The first year or so the team had given him some grace, they understood how badly the break up had affected him; they assumed he'd bounce back eventually, but more and more time passed with no indication of returning to his former self.

And after a while they stopped trying to set him up with dates, they quit teasing him about being disinterested in getting back out there. Spencer had never told them exactly what happened, but after they stopped, he suspected Derek filled in the blanks for them.

Truthfully, the rest of the team had taken pity on him; they understood all too well why he had initiated the breakup. But even with their knowledge and insight, they are still saddened by what Spencer has become, and they wish every day that his old personality will resurface. But until that day comes, if it ever does, they will remain supportive from a distance with which he is comfortable with.

"You ready for the next case?" Derek asks Spencer as he stirs the sugar into his coffee. Spencer stares at the rising steam before answering.

"Yeah, I'm ready." He replies and grabs the cup, following Derek to the briefing room where JJ and the rest are awaiting them.

Spencer takes his usual spot and listens to JJ explain the case. It's a local case, a wife gone missing in the middle of the day yesterday. From the photos, it looks like it could've been a burglary gone bad. Spencer zones out a little while JJ is explaining, instead focusing on his coffee, which he wishes he would've put more sugar into. After JJ has completed the brief, the team heads out to start working, and like usual, Spencer is tasked with the geographical profile.

Derek works alongside him under the order of Hotch while the rest go explore leads. The two of them work silently and efficiently, singling out places of interest to investigate and narrowing down a perimeter for officers to search.

"What do you think about it?" Derek breaks the silence, earning a sigh from Spencer. He steps away from the board and crosses his arms, studying what they have so far.

"I think it's weird that nothing of value was really missing, just the wife. You'd think if it were a burglary gone bad the unsub would've taken something else." Spencer's eyes dance across the crime scene photos, mind working a hundred miles a minute to make sense of this.

"Well maybe it wasn't a burglary." Derek says, eyes trained on a photo of the husband who reported his wife missing.

"Maybe not." Spencer agrees, and the two of them delve back into the work.

-----

You stir your tea around in your cup, settling on the couch for some morning television before you start your day. There's a laundry list of things you need to get done, only you lack the necessary motivation to get started on it all. Your hand finds the remote and turns the volume up, the woman on the screen piquing your interest and distracting you from your responsibilities.

"Mrs. Greene was reported missing late last night by her husband. At this time, her whereabouts are still unknown, and the authorities urge you to contact them if you have any information." The news reporter speaks with clarity and urgency. A photo of the missing woman pops onto the screen, but you don't recognize her. You hope they find her alive, but you know cases like this usually don't end well.

Thinking about what might have happened to the woman, your mind drifts to Spencer, and you wonder how he would approach the case. Would he immediately suspect the husband? Or would he hold off on judgment until he got the facts straight? Running your hand over his blanket, you wish he was here to talk about it.

Though it's been almost nine years at this point, there isn't a day that goes by that you don't think of him. You hope he's doing well, you hope he's found happiness. And at this point, you even think he might have a family of his own. But you try not to dwell on that thought too long, for it still makes you sick to your stomach to imagine him having a family with anyone other than you.

Of course, you could always ask Derek, but you think that a part of you would prefer not to know. Because if you don't know for sure, then there's always a chance that you're wrong. In order to stay functional you need the plausible deniability. While you want him to be happy, and you want him to live his life to the fullest, his absence is still very prominent and noticeable to you.

After you finish your tea, you place your cup on the white tablecloth adorning the dining room table, red stain having faded to pink from time and wear. And while the stain may fade, you know for a fact your memory about that morning will always be in your mind. And if the stain wasn't enough of a reminder, the scars on the bottoms of your feet are. It still hurts to step a certain way after all this time, the glass had embedded itself deeply into your skin, causing lasting damage.

Once you get ready for the day, you embark on the errands you have to run. A small part inside of you is excited about this new journey; it'll be like a fresh start and you think that's exactly what you need. You don't really want to move away, you love this city, but it houses memories that will forever hold you prisoner if you let them; and you've let them for the past nine years. The other part of you, the part that still clings to Spencer, is suffering and it makes this decision ten times harder. The guilt slowly, but surely, eats away at you with each step you take down the street but you try to convince yourself that this is the right move to be making.

Ignoring your emotional turmoil, you walk into the leasing agent's building and find her office easily, having already been here once last week to start the process of relisting the apartment. She welcomes you in and explains the paperwork as you sit across from her. The agent tells you where to sign and when you will need to be out of the apartment once you've submitted the paperwork. She said that since Spencer had taken his name off the lease years ago, that this process is a hundred times easier since there's no permission needed from him anymore. It's a bittersweet statement you realize.

You take the papers from the agent's office and tell her that you'll be back soon with everything signed. She had wanted you to fill everything out right there, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it. After all, this apartment holds so much sentimental value and the thought of it being someone else's makes your heart ache. You'll have to build yourself up to sign them, once you've fully convinced yourself that this is the right thing to do. And you know that once you sign those papers, the tiny part of Spencer you still have, will be yours no longer.

After the leasing agent's office, you take a trip to a moving company to get a quote on how much it would cost to move your things from Virginia to Colorado. The price they gave you was a little steeper than you had hoped for, but you thank them nonetheless and try to figure out how to foot that bill while also finding a new place to live. There are a few places in your sights, but you had yet to decide on one.

You return to your apartment after you had completed the last few errands on your list, dropping the stack of papers onto the dining table and unloading the groceries you had picked up on your way back home. The sun had started to set and so you turned on a few lamps and lit a candle, wanting to try to soothe your anxieties after today and have a relaxing evening.

A glass of wine finds its way into your hand after dinner, you kick your feet up on the coffee table and sip while staring at the screen in front of you. They're running another story on the missing woman, but it seems they have more details. Intrigued, you turn the volume up.

"Authorities are now saying that the scene looks like it could have been a robbery gone bad. Informants on the scene noted that there were signs of a struggle inside the residence. If you noticed any suspicious activity, contact the sheriff's office immediately." The reporter switches to a different story, and you change the channel, wanting to know more about the missing woman. And you know there's always one channel that seems to be ahead of the news.

The reporter is a fiery blonde-haired lady who makes her opinions well-known to the public. And you know her persona is probably partially to generate views and interest value, but you can't deny that she's able to get insider information quicker than the traditional news channels. Sure enough, the woman's face is on the center of the screen, and she's going on about Mrs. Greene's disappearance in a very animated manner.

"You're telling me that a husband reports his wife missing hours after he was aware of her absence? He knew that she was gone since at least the afternoon, and he didn't report it to police until almost the next day? Not only that, but there's been a disturbance in the house! From the photos I've seen so far, the ottoman in the living room was knocked over, the coffee table was shattered, and the dining room chairs were all sorts of disheveled. And to top it all off, I've got someone on the scene there, and they just told us that police are reporting a positive luminol test. There was blood on the scene that's been cleaned up. Now I'm no expert, but I think that certainly casts suspicion on Mr. Greene." Her voice drones on and on about her theory that Mr. Greene was most definitely involved in the disappearance of his wife, but something about the details is oddly familiar, you just can't quite put your finger on it.

You go to bed that night trying to recall why those details sound so familiar. Tossing and turning, you struggle to pinpoint where you've heard something like that before and it's beginning to drive you insane. The plots of movies and shows run through your mind, trying to piece things together, but to no avail. You eventually drift off to sleep, and for the first night in nine years, your dreams are full of something other than Spencer; your mind finally has something compelling enough to mull over to distract you from the cold, empty spot beside you.

The morning comes and your hand ghosts over the spot next to you, like it does every morning. You had hoped that by now your unconscious would understand that he's not here to hold close in the morning anymore, but you wake up the same way every day; full of sorrow and longing. With a sigh, you push yourself out of bed, the air feeling crisp against your skin. What you wouldn't give for five minutes of Spencer's warmth.

Your morning routine comes and goes, and you find yourself staring at a stack of cardboard boxes, waiting to be filled. Hands on your hips, you look around at everything that needs to be packed. Things are either coming with you, or they're being returned to their rightful owner. You still had no idea how you're going to get everything back to Spencer, but you figure you'll work it out when the time comes. For now, you'll start boxing things up.

With a box beside you, your heart constricts as you reach for a stack of Spencer's books to be put away indefinitely. The empty shelf is reflective of the emptiness in your soul, and you're not sure if it'll ever fill back in. Truthfully, you don't know what could possibly mend the brokenness as your heart only has one desire.

You pack up two bookcases before you're unable to handle it anymore. With each empty shelf the reality sets in more and more; he's not coming back here. Your Spencer isn't going to knock on the door and come back to you. You turn your head to look at the door, not sure what you're expecting, but your eyes land on his coat that still hangs from the rack. It lost its signature Spencer scent about three years ago, but you don't have it in you to take it down, not yet at least.

You're keenly aware that eventually you'll have to pack up the stained tablecloth, Spencer's clothes that remain in the dressers, his favorite blanket, and give them away forever, never to be seen or touched by you again. Then all you'll have left of him are the memories, and after all this time some of them have already faded entirely. You're no longer able to remember many of the small moments shared together, you can't recall how his lips felt against your forehead as he bid you goodbye in the mornings before work. You fear that in another nine years you won't remember anything except his name and the moment he walked out of the door.

You fold the top of the box down and slide it across the room to join the others. When you return to the shelf to assess what size box you need next, your eyes land on a very specific book. It's one you had recommended to Spencer. You told him it was a compelling story and though it's not a literary classic, he should give it a try and broaden his horizons. Of course, it took you a week to finish it and it took him a casual afternoon.

The details of the book flood your mind and you realize why the disappearance of Mrs. Greene seemed so familiar. Your hands open the book and flip through the pages, finding exactly what you were looking for. In a frenzy, your eyes scan over the words and they grow wide with realization. Either this is one of the biggest delusions you've convinced yourself of, or you might just be onto something.

You reread the words over and over again, wrestling with yourself about whether this is worthy of submitting a tip. From the perspective of an investigator, it may seem absolutely ridiculous. I mean after all, you're using a piece of fiction to explain a real-life situation. But a small voice in the back of your head reminds you of something Spencer had said several times,

"Sometimes what seems like an insignificant detail ends up cracking the case."

Youwrestle with what to do, placing the book on the coffee table and pacing around, the television providing low background noise as your mind goes through different reasonings. You stop pacing around once you see a familiar blonde-haired woman on the screen, her FBI credentials hanging from her blazer pocket.

Sitting on the edge of the couch, you turn the volume up and listen to her intently. She announces that the BAU is actively working the case and that they hope to find Mrs. Greene soon. She also implores the public for any information. Your phone on the dining room table seems to call your name, and before you can think through what you're doing, the phone is ringing.

"What's up sweet thing?" Derek's voice greets you through the phone. You trust that even if your speculation is wildly ridiculous that he won't make fun of you. You explain to him your theory but he cuts you off in the middle of your sentence.

"Come by the office in the morning and explain it to the team. It might just be something." He asks, and you sigh.

"Derek I don't-" You begin making your excuse of why you can't go to their office, but he cuts you off for a second time.

"He won't be there, just come on by." Before you can get another word in, he hangs the phone up. It seems you have no choice, really.

Anxiety blooms within you, you haven't been to the BAU office in a decade. And the last time you were there was under much better and happier circumstances. But if Derek promised Spencer wouldn't be there, you figure it's worth going if your theory can help find Mrs. Greene. You just hope that the others don't bring him up in any capacity; you don't think you could handle hearing how happy he is with her while you suffer every single day without him.

-----

Nine years. It's been nine years today since Spencer left you. He stares up at the ceiling when his eyes open in the morning, heavy with sleep. There's an uncomfortable emptiness within him, fueled by his thoughts of what today signifies. He's sure the only thing he'll be able to do is replay that fateful night over and over again in his mind today, he's not sure how he's going to stay focused on the case.

Eventually, he gets himself out of bed and begins his morning routine. He buttons his shirt, puts a tie on, and shrugs a sweater overtop. Spencer stares at himself in the mirror, his reflection showing him the grim reality that is the dark circles under his eyes and his unkempt hair. His eyes trail down to see that his tie is crooked, and his fingers fix it; but he can never fix it like you used to.

Breakfasts don't seem to be as tasty as the ones you made, heading off to work without a goodbye kiss gives him no ambition for the day, and there's nothing to look forward to after he's off the clock for you aren't eagerly awaiting his return with a smile on your face. In the nine years that have passed, the vibrant world has devolved into grayscale.

The clock on the wall tells him he still has two hours before he's supposed to be in. Derek told him to take a few hours this morning, he knows how hard today was bound to be for Spencer, and he was right. But Spencer is restless, he knows if he stays in this apartment for another hour and a half that he's going to let his mind take him to sorrowful places; and that's sure to affect the team dynamic.

After three years, Derek had confronted Spencer. He said that while he understands the pain, that Spencer can't let it affect his job performance. And that if he did, there's a chance he'd have to be let go. So after that day, Spencer made an effort to keep up his appearances and performance. He couldn't bear to lose you and the job. If he lost the job then it means he left you for nothing. It had to be for something, for something good and meaningful.

Spencer ties his shoelaces and finds his messenger bag, slinging it over his shoulder. The team isn't expecting him for a while, but he's got nothing better to do and he doesn't want to be left alone with his thoughts any longer than he has to. And surely the team won't mind him coming in sooner than scheduled, besides there's just something about this case that seems so oddly familiar to him.

-----

The elevator door dings and you find yourself in front of familiar doors, the FBI logo cleanly shining on the glass doors into the BAU's office space. Readjusting the bag on your shoulder, you go to open the doors to find lots of agents buzzing about, carrying folders and talking to others. You're really just looking for one agent in particular, but you can't seem to find him. Feeling anxious about being here, you contemplate just turning around and going back home. As you go to make your quick escape, you hear Derek's voice behind you.

"There she is!" He says and you swear you can hear the smile on his face. His arm wraps around your shoulders, bringing you in for a brief hug. So much for your escape plan. You plaster the best smile that you can manage on your face and return his hug, his embrace is familiar and warm.

"Here I am." You say, nerves twisting your stomach around. Derek leads you through the craziness of the bullpen into a smaller room, where people are already waiting. You recognize the blonde from the TV, and you remember Garcia and Hotch, but you don't know who the dark haired lady is, nor the older man. But you're thankful that there's one missing agent from the table. Feeling like you're under heavy scrutiny, you give everyone a polite smile and wait for Derek to take the lead like you know he will.

After a few moments of silence, Derek claps his hands together to gain everyone's attention and then introduces you to the team. Once again, you give your politest smile and listen to Derek explain why you're here. The team all looks to you with interest, and you pull the book from the bag on your shoulder.

"So, I know this may sound silly, but I couldn't help but notice all the similarities, just from what I've gathered from the news. If you look where I put the bookmarks, you'll see what I mean." You tell them in rushed words, anxious to see their reactions, expecting ridicule.

"Gone Girl, huh?" The older man Derek introduced as Rossi questions, leaning in closer to the book to read the marked pages. You nod, chewing on your bottom lip as their eyes scan the pages.

"It is oddly similar. The picture frames on the mantle, the ottoman, the blood in the kitchen. I wonder if there are more similarities that we just haven't noticed." The dark-haired woman, Emily, speaks up first. Her words of interest makes it feel like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders, they're not going to ridicule you after all. In fact, it seems like they may be entertaining the idea.

While you're engrossed in the team's blooming discussion about what this might mean, you hadn't heard the door to the room open, and you hadn't noticed who stepped through that door. No, your attention is solely on the lively debate about what the team's next step should be. Emily thinks that this might be a path worth pursuing, but Rossi urges her to keep an open mind. It's not until the discussion has died down, and the team all thanks you for coming in, do you turn to leave. Immediately your eyes land on his tall frame, standing right in the doorway.

Spencer is standing right in front of you.

It feels like the air has been kicked out of your lungs, your limbs feel like they've turned to jelly. The blood in your veins turns to ice and you're frozen to the floor. Ringing sounds off in your ears, unable to hear anything around you. The only thing you can focus on is his honeyed eyes staring right back into yours. It's like the rest of the world has dissolved, and he is the only thing that remains.

In his eyes you can see your Spencer, you remember so clearly the first time his eyes met yours, and how you were enamored from the very beginning. The first time you laid eyes on him you felt your heart race and you just knew you had to go up to him and say something, or else you'd regret it. You remember how soft spoken and polite he was, and how he stumbled over his words when he asked you on your first date. His hazel eyes dazzled under the warm lights that night and you knew you were hooked. His eyes hold so many precious memories, and they all flash right after another in your mind, even the memories that had faded with time come back.

Derek's hand on your elbow knocks you out of your trance and you realize then that the whole team is staring at the two of you, but you don't care. You come back to your senses and look over Spencer, taking note of how his hair is longer, curlier, and how his tie is still crooked. He's even grown out his facial hair a little. He looks so much like the Spencer you knew but nothing alike at the same time. This Spencer looks tired, worn down, and just plainly miserable. It deeply pains you to see him in such a condition.

He licks his lips and opens his mouth to say something, but he stays silent. You see his hands clench beside him and your face flushes with heat, your eyes begin to sting, and you feel like it's becoming harder to breathe.

"Come on, I'll walk you out." Derek says into your ear and he gently tugs you towards the door, where your eyes stay locked onto Spencer as you follow Derek. Spencer takes a step to the side to let you and Derek out of the room, and your arm just barely brushes against his, sending a tingling feeling throughout your body. You feel a tear drip down your cheek, and you swear you can see tears in his eyes too.

Derek gets you down to the parking lot where your car awaits you and he opens the door for you and helps you in. He can tell that you're going through something. You haven't said a word, you have a far away look in your eye, and you're crying without bothering to wipe away the tears. It's almost like you're in shock, and in a way, you are.

"He wasn't supposed to be here for another hour, I'm sorry. If I had known I would've just come over or something." Derek apologizes, but you shake your head, slowly coming back to reality.

"It's not your fault, Derek. Maybe this was the universe's way of letting me say goodbye, get some closure." You speak, voice hoarse. Derek's eyebrows furrow together,

"What do you mean?" He asks, not understanding what your words imply. He'll never admit it to you, but he's concerned about how you're going to handle this run-in. From experience, he knows that you're likely to spiral after this, and that's the last thing he wants for you. After all the progress you've made lately and your personality finally beginning to come back, he fears this may cause a relapse of sorts.

"I'm moving to Colorado." You tell him for the first time. His mouth falls agape in surprise.

-----

After Derek comes back into the office from seeing you out, he can tell that the atmosphere has changed in the room. Glances are being thrown Spencer's way, and Spencer looks more pale than usual, like he had just seen a ghost. He's lost in his own mind, oblivious to the looks everyone is giving him.

"Let's head to the scene one more time to see if this theory holds up. Morgan, Reid, you can meet us there." Hotch announces and stands from the table, the rest of the team following closely behind. Once everyone has dispersed, Derek sits across from Spencer.

"You okay?" He asks, not knowing where Spencer is at mentally. His watery eyes glance from the tabletop to Derek, and he swallows hard.

"Today is the nine year anniversary of when I left." He says, and Derek's heart breaks for the two of you. Sure, it would've been hard on any given day for the two of you to see each other, but on a day with so much significance? It has to be gut wrenching. And to put the cherry on top, Derek knows the news he has to break to Spencer.

"Listen man. She told me something before she left and I think you should know." Derek's hand finds its way to Spencer's shoulder.

"What is it?" Spencer's mind is running through dozens of scenarios, trying to predict what you possibly could've said. Derek lips his lips and sighs,

"She told me she's moving to Colorado." Spencer feels as if the entire world has stopped spinning.

"What? When?" His voice is breathy and desperate. He has to know where you're going, when you're going, and why. He can't stand the thought of you being out there alone without being able to make sure you're okay. Derek's hand squeezes Spencer's shoulder, trying to comfort him.

"She said within the next few weeks, but she's got some loose ends to tie up here first." Spencer nods, understanding he still has some time to figure out how to approach this situation. He can't see anything clearly right now, for his mind is self-destructing from the thought of losing you for good.

"Maybe I can find a way to delay her trip somehow, or find out where she's going and set up some sort of periodic welfare check. Or maybe I set up a fake social media profile to follow her and make sure she's still okay." Spencer begins rattling off different ways he can make sure that you'll be okay if he can't be there. And he's well aware that his suggestions sound like borderline stalking, but he doesn't care, his love for you knows no boundaries and he would go to the ends of the Earth to make sure you're okay.

He needs to know that you are okay, no matter how many miles are put between the two of you. If he can't know that you're okay then he doesn't know what he's going to do; he even considers relocating to a field office out in Colorado just in case you need help.

"I've watched the two of you destroy yourselves over the past nine years. Neither of you have actually been able to recover, and you know it. She still thinks that you're with another woman. You're still in love with her, and now it's time to make your decision on whether you can let her go or not." Derek's voice speaks reason into Spencer's racing mind and he realizes that Derek is right. He's got a decision to make, and he has to make it soon.

-----

Rain patters against the window, providing some white noise for you while you tape the top of a box down. At this point, you've managed to pack up all of Spencer's books and every bookcase now sits barren. You swear the absence of his books causes the apartment to drop a few degrees, it feels empty and lifeless. You told the leasing agent that you would be by in the morning to drop off the paperwork, finally gaining the courage to sign them last night.

It had taken you about ten days after seeing Spencer before you could push yourself to sign them. A tiny part of you was still clinging to hope that he would come by. But he didn't. And he's not going to, you have to remind yourself. Constantly you have to remind yourself that you were able to see him one last time, and that's going to have to be enough closure, for it's all you're going to receive. But still, you can't help but feel the hole in your soul ache with desire for him.

Standing in the middle of an almost barren apartment, you're haunted by memories of happier days. You can remember the first time you and Spencer had walked through the front door, excited for your future together. Little by little, the two of you decorated and furnished the apartment to make it your own private haven where the two of you could seek refuge in each other.

Your hands find Spencer's blanket draped over the back of the couch, and you hold it close one last time, trying to commit the feeling to memory. It lost Spencer's scent long, long ago, but you still cherish it. After you've made peace with it, you fold it and place it in the bottom of a box, and go to the bedroom. Pulling out drawers of the dresser, Spencer's clothes are still neatly folded, just as he had left them. His clothes find their place on top of the blanket, and soon enough, the drawers are empty and more boxes are taped shut.

Evening comes around and you zip up a familiar dress, ready to spend one last night in a familiar restaurant. Today would've been your twelfth anniversary. Just like every year, you had made a very specific reservation, only this year will be the last. Applying mascara to your eyelashes, you give yourself one last look in the mirror. You can still see the young woman you once were in your reflection.

Your phone buzzing on the counter tears your gaze away from the mirror. You see that Derek is trying to call you, and so you pick up without a second thought.

"Hey sweet thing, what are you doing tonight? How about you come over and we have a farewell drink?" He offers and you smile at his generosity, knowing that any other day you would've taken him up on it.

"Sorry Derek, I can't tonight. I've got a reservation." You tell him, knowing that he will understand what you mean. He doesn't keep track of the days like you do, but he's familiar with your annual tradition.

"Okay, another night then, enjoy yourself." His voice is warm as he hangs up the phone. You're grateful that Derek has been a reliable friend throughout the years, and you know you're going to miss him when you move. Of course you'll make the effort to stay in contact, it just won't be the same as having him nearby.

The waitress shows you to your seat and you order the same wine you get every year. It doesn't matter if your tastes have changed, that's not the point. By now the rain is coming down harder, and you can't help but wonder if the Earth is mourning the end of things like you are. Your lipstick leaves faint marks around the rim of the glass and you stare at the empty chair in front of you.

Each year, you try your best to remember what it was like when Spencer was here, but each year your memory becomes more and more hazy on the details. Until one year you couldn't even remember what color tie he was wearing. Instead, all you can recall is the way he made you feel. You intend to drag this dinner out as long as you possibly can, knowing once you leave here that it's just one more piece of Spencer you've had to say farewell to for the final time.

There's a couple sitting at the table next to you, sharing smiles and clinking their glasses together. You try not to stare, but they remind you so much of who you used to be. The woman's eyes have a hopeful spark in them, hopelessly in love with the man who sits across from her who is obviously just as in love with her. When the waitress comes around to ask if you need anything else, you ask if you can pay for their tab.

An hour later, you're swirling around the remnants of wine in your glass. You had finished dinner and consumed enough wine for the night, so now you're just stalling. You can't yet pry yourself up from this spot, still clinging dearly to this part of Spencer you still have. Once you stand up, it'll make this reality all too real, and you can't face it quite yet. So you give yourself a few more minutes to mourn the way you need to and to make your peace here.

You hear the front door open, but your sights are set outside the window, watching the rain pelt the sidewalk. There's some sort of rushed conversation happening by the hostess' stand, but you can't make out the words, not that you're trying to anyways. The couple that you paid for gets up and leaves the restaurant, and that gains your attention. You offer them a weak smile as they giddily exit the restaurant; their happiness only emphasizes your sorrows.

Before you can turn back to resume watching the rain, someone stands in front of you. Your eyes trail up the person's body, only to find Spencer in front of you, hair wet from the rain, hands occupied with a bouquet of pastel-colored tulips. Your heart drops into your stomach and you have to blink a few times to make sure that he's actually real and standing right in front of you.

"Spencer." His name falls from your mouth effortlessly and breathily, shocked to see him here. He licks his lips and looks over you once before meeting your eyes, a familiar look within them.

-----

Spencer paces around his apartment, hair disheveled from raking nervous fingers through it. His mind has been consumed with nothing except for you since he saw you at the BAU. Derek's words keep repeating themselves in his head,

"She still thinks that you're with another woman...make your decision on whether you can let her go or not."

He knows his time is running out and yet he's conflicted as to what is the right thing to do. The logical and rational part of him is quick to remind himself that he left for a reason, for your safety. The photographs in the unsub's room flash before his eyes, vividly reminding him of what kind of danger his presence puts you in.

But the aching in his chest yearns for your touch, to hear your laugh. For years he's been able to make sure that you're taken care of from a distance. Some years he would anonymously send tulips to your apartment, and other times he would pay the leasing agent half of your rent so it would be one less thing for you to worry about. Of course, it had taken some convincing to ensure the agent would keep his donations a secret, and as far as he knows the agent kept good on the agreement.

Nervously, Spencer bites the skin around his nails, a battle of reason and emotion waging itself inside his mind. He turns to pace again, but this time his eyes catch a picture that sits on a side table. It's a small photo, taken in the early days of your relationship. Spencer picks up the picture that he's committed to memory, seeing the bright smile on your face, your eyes wrinkles at the sides from happiness, his lips pressed to your cheek and his arms around your waist.

His mind morphs his own body into another man. And now he's seeing that man's arms around your waist, another man's lips on your cheek, and it's almost enough to bring Spencer to his knees. Abandoning the photo, he moves quickly to put his shoes on with newfound purpose.

He's made his decision.

With rushed movements, Spencer makes his way to the florist he frequents for your flowers. It's a race against the clock, he only has five minutes to spare and he hopes that the florist is still there. The rain makes it hard to see the road, it slows traffic and the anxiety bubbles up in his chest.

With one minute to spare, Spencer enters the florist to see the sweet older lady packing up for the day. His entrance startles her, and she jumps.

"Spencer?" She questions, knowing he's not due back for another month at least. He nods his head frantically,

"Yes ma'am, sorry to come by like this but I'm hoping you can help me." He swallows hard, heart pounding in his chest from the adrenaline flowing in his veins. The woman sees his distraught demeanor and gives him a small smile. Of course she'll help him. After all, Spencer is one of her favorite customers; he always leaves her generous tips.

After fifteen minutes, the florist has constructed a beautiful arrangement with all of your favorite colors, tied up with a bow around the stems.

"Good luck." The florist gives him a knowing smile, and he thanks her before rushing over to your apartment. Spencer's fingers tap anxiously on the steering wheel and his chest heaves with nervousness.

He parks his car along the curb and hops out, practically running into the building. There's a small line for the elevators, and he doesn't have time for that. Not when a lifetime with you is at stake. He takes the stairs at record speed and takes a moment to compose himself once he stands at the door.

With a rush of courage, he knocks on the door and waits to hear your footsteps. But instead he's met with silence. He knocks again, a little harder this time and waits. He's met with silence again. Fearing the worst, he digs his phone out of his pocket and calls Derek, who answers on the third ring.

"Listen she isn't here. I'm at the apartment and she's gone. Did she leave already?" Spencer's voice cracks as he asks the dreaded question, but he needs to know. If Derek tells him that you've left, he won't hesitate to take the first flight to Colorado to find you.

"No, she didn't move yet. I called her earlier, she has a reservation. Remember the restaurant you two went to for your first date?" Spencer rushes out a thank you before hanging up, knowing exactly the restaurant. How could he forget?

You were wearing the most beautiful dress that complimented your body well, your hair was loose around your shoulders, and your eyes held the depths of your love. He knew from that exact moment that he would never find a love like yours again.

He parks and haphazardly shoves his keys into his pockets, instead taking care to handle your flowers with the utmost care. His heart thumps heavily in his chest with each step he takes towards the front door.

He runs a hand through his hair as he approaches the hostess stand, and his words come out very rushed. He asks if there's a woman here matching your description, but the hostess is hesitant to answer. He begs her to tell him, insisting that you'll be here waiting for him. The hostess glances between him and the flowers in his hand before nodding and pointing to where you are.

Spencer swallows hard and thanks her, eyes scanning the dimly lit restaurant for you. A couple laughing gains his attention and he can't help but look. And he's thankful he did, for you're sitting right across from them, a sad smile on your face and sorrow in your eyes.

His feet carry him over to you before he can process what he's doing. As if time moves in slow motion, he watches your eyes move up his body before landing on his face. Your eyes grow wide, your jaw goes slack.

He only hopes that you'll listen to what he has to say.

-----

"What are you doing here?" You ask, eyeballing the flowers in his hand; they're oddly reminiscent of the ones you receive on your doorstep every few months.

Of course, he's probably here to meet his girlfriend, or fiancée, or perhaps even wife. A mixture of nausea and confusion hit you like a brick wall but you try your best to maintain your composure while you feel like your insides are melting. Spencer takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours and he finally speaks to you.

"Without you and your love, your touch, your warmth, life is entirely meaningless. Ever since I made the biggest mistake of my life, every day has been like walking through hell. There hasn't been a single day that's gone by that I didn't wish to have you back in my arms or to spend just one more evening with you. And I know this doesn't make up for any of it and I am undeserving of your forgiveness. But, I couldn't let you go without letting you know that I've never stopped loving you." His voice cracks with his confession, and a lone tear rolls down his cheek.

His words sends chills down your spine. What he said just doesn't make any sense. Hadn't he left for someone else? Or perhaps he did and he left her as well, or maybe they're still together and he's just doing this to break your heart one last time. You're conflicted with what you should be thinking and feeling. You had waited for this day for nine years, and now that it's here it doesn't make sense.

"But what about her?" You finally muster up the courage to ask, knowing very well that his answer could break your heart. Spencer shakes his head,

"There was never anyone else." His words sting. Had he left because he fell out of love? Or perhaps he grew bored of you and used a newfound love as an excuse for an easy departure.

The more he speaks, the less you understand. Your eyebrows draw close together in pure confusion, your head shakes and your eyes move from him to the flowers in his hand, another mystery about this situation.

"But you said that you had fallen in love with someone else." You point out, desperately needing some explanation to all of this. Spencer nods his head with a solemn expression.

Instead of answering, he digs some cash out of his pocket and throws it on the table before extending his hand to you, to help you from your seat. The gesture sends your heart soaring, having missed the simplest of touches from him. And no matter how confused you are, you've missed him too much to pass this up. He helps you out of the seat and guides you to the front door with a hand on the small of your back.

A familiar fire within you blooms, one that could only be ignited by Spencer's touch. And with just the slightest contact with him, you feel your frozen heart begin to warm.

Thankfully it appears the rain has stopped, for now at least. The two of you walk slowly beside one another towards the parking lot, something that was once so familiar seems so foreign now. After a few steps you hear Spencer suck in a breath,

"I owe you an explanation." His voice is even, but you can hear his apprehension. You swallow your nerves and agree, wanting to hear every last word he has to say.

-----

By the time you both arrive at the apartment, the sun has fully set and the wind carries a bitter chill with it, piercing through the fabric of your dress. The tension is palpable between the two of you on the elevator ride up, your arms brushing against each other with every little movement.

Your hands tremble as you unlock the door, nervous about being so close to him and what he may tell you. The two of you step through the door and for the first time you see how empty it is, boxes stacked on top of each other throughout the apartment.

Turning around, you watch as Spencer takes in the scene of what his former home now is. Guilt washes over you, but you stay quiet, unsure of what to say. Once he's taken in the apartment, his full attention turns back towards you, his eyes flickering between you and the flowers.

"These are for you." His voice is soft as he hands the flowers to you. You take them, fingers brushing against his as you do.

"Did you- were you the one sending me flowers?" You see the familiar color combinations and arrangement style as the ones you've received off and on for nine years. You had never expected Spencer was the one sending these to you, you had always assumed it was Derek trying to brighten your day. And you had always wondered how Derek knew what your favorite flowers were, but you chalked it up to his profiling skills.

A smile small appears on Spencer's face and he nods. Your heart swells with emotion as it hits you that maybe some of what he said is true, maybe he never has stopped loving you. Not prepared to face all of that just yet, you turn and find a vase to put the flowers in, thankful you hadn't packed them up yet and let them decorate the kitchen counter.

Silence washes over the two of you, but it's short lived as Spencer clears his throat and pulls out a chair at the dining room table. You join him and your blood runs cold as you realize you're sitting in the same places as that day he left. Spencer starts picking at the skin around his nails, opening and closing his mouth as if he can't find the words he's looking for. But you've waited nine years so what's a few more minutes?

"The case I came back from was one of the worst we've ever seen, even to this day." He starts and you nod, leaning forward to soak in every word.

"The unsub had printed out pictures of you hanging from his walls along with the rest of the team. He had a plan to torture each and every one of us, and he was going to use you to hurt me. He had plans to torture you to death." He continues, voice wavering towards the end. Your eyes are glued to Spencer's face as he speaks, never having heard the details of that last case. Derek would never tell you.

"Oh, Spencer." You whisper, wanting so desperately to reach out and comfort him but respecting that he might not want your touch. His eyes glance up to yours, and you see his jaw tense.

"I knew then that my job puts you in too much danger. It was clear that while you were with me that you could be a target for anyone who wanted to get back at us. I couldn't let that happen, I couldn't let someone hurt you because of me." Tears spill down his face and he bites his bottom lip to try and keep his composure. You feel your own lip start to quiver, but you hold it together.

"And I knew if I told you that there was someone else that you wouldn't push the issue. I knew you loved me too much to interfere with my happiness. I used your own love against you and I am so sorry." He sniffles and pushes tears from his eyes.

The two of you cry together, and while you want to be angry because he had lied, you only find yourself feeling overjoyed that he's back; that he wants you back and never fell in love with another. And now knowing that he was still showing his love for you by sending you flowers solidifies that what he's telling you is factual. You only wonder what else he's done that you're unaware of.

Spencer's love runs deep, that much you do know. You're keenly aware that if he went through the trouble of sending you flowers that he was also likely up to other things. But you're okay not knowing, as far as you're concerned, you're just happy he's here.

"I'm so sorry." He cries out again, moving out of his chair and getting on his knees in front of you. You wipe tears from your eyes so you can see him clearly, his glistening eyes beautifully reflecting the light as he envelopes your hands in his.

"I will spend every second of every day earning your love back if that's what it takes. I cannot bear to live this life without you any more, I will do whatever it takes. I love you with every fiber of my being, and I will love you for as many days as there are stars in the sky. As long as the sun rises in the morning and sets every night I will continue to love you. You're the one that completes my soul, you're the one who my heart beats for." Spencer pours his heart out to you as he grips your hands tightly and looks into the depths of your eyes. Your lip trembles as tears continue to stream down your face, unable to contain your overflowing love for the man who kneels in front of you.

Taking your hands back from his, your fingertips graze the soft skin of his cheeks. The familiar warmth brings a smile to your face, one that you never would have thought would come back. You hold the sides of his face, so that you can look at him, really look at him.

His parted lips are wet from tears, his face blushed from crying. Even while he cries on the floor in front of you, he's still the most beautiful man you've ever seen. Unable to hold yourself back, you bring his face to yours and your lips reunite.

It's like the two of you were made for each other, and feeling his lips on yours is like falling back into a familiar rhythm. Spencer stands from the floor and brings you up from your seat, one of his hands wrapping around your waist while the other holds your cheek, bringing you impossibly closer to him.

Your frozen heart warms with a heat long forgotten, and when your lungs burn for air, you pull away and rest your forehead against his. The two of you catch your breath, each unable to keep your hands off of one another. Your eyes meet and you can see the love he holds for you plainly.

This is your Spencer, and he finally came back home. After all these years he finally came back to the place where he left you, the place you had stayed.

-----

"Is that the last one?" You ask, placing books neatly on a shelf. It was a no-brainer that after Spencer came back that you weren't going to move. With him here, there's no place you'd rather be. And so after you had halted your plans, you and Spencer began repiecing your life together.

Turns out, a lot happens in nine years and the two of you spend every moment possible catching up on lost time together. He tells you about some of the most memorable cases, and you tell him about how you made it through in one piece. You both agreed not to spare each other any details, and have agreed to work through whatever issues arise one step at a time and with honesty. And you made Spencer promise that no matter what happens at work, that the two of you will talk and plan together; there's no more running, except for towards each other.

"I think there's one more." He says, showing you the book in his hand before he slides it in the open spot on the shelf. It's the copy of Gone Girl that you had brought into the BAU. Spencer had told you that your theory ended up being right. They found Mrs. Greene as she was staging her alleged kidnapping getaway. And while it wasn't your favorite book, it has a special place in your heart now; without it there's a chance you and Spencer never would have crossed paths again.

You feel Spencer's hands wrap around your waist from behind as he comes back from the shelf, and he hugs you tightly against him, burying his head in the curve of your neck and gently kissing you. Showing affection at every given opportunity has been Spencer's modus operandi. After having lived so long without you, he never wants to stop touching you, or kissing you, or showing you love in any way that he can.

Your eyes flutter shut, soaking in all the love he gives you, placing your hands atop of his and just letting yourself be held by him. Even the smallest moments are cherished now, for you understand their true value.

"I love you." He whispers into your ear before letting you go, and a smile makes its way onto your face while your cheeks heat. Even after nine years he's still able to make you blush like a highschooler with a crush.

"And I love you more." You say, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before moving to pack up the empty boxes that are scattered everywhere.

The two of you stand in the front doorway of your apartment, looking at how everything has come together. Spencer's books are back on their shelves, his blanket is draped over the back of the couch, his clothes back in the dresser, and he's right beside of you. Like it should have always been. Your eyes find one last thing to get rid of alongside the boxes.

Walking over to the dining room table, you rip the stained tablecloth off and crumple it in your hands. This tablecloth holds too many bad, heartbreaking memories to keep it in the place where you two are rebuilding your lives together. Without a second thought, you toss the tablecloth into the trash and you're relieved. Only a short time ago you dreaded the thought of getting rid of it, but now you can't stand the thought of keeping it.

Now it's as if a new light and a fresh breath of life has been given to the apartment. For so long it was representative of all that you had lost, but now it shows you how much you've gained and how far you've come, both of you. Rays of bright sunshine filter in through the sheer curtains, and you take in a deep breath, soul full, content, and at peace.

"We really did it." You breathe out quietly.

"There's only one more thing I can think of that would really make this all come together." Spencer speaks up, and you scrunch your eyebrows together, not seeing anything that you two had forgotten. As you turn to him, you see him kneeling down in front of you on one knee, a small velvet box in his hand.

Your mouth falls open as he opens the box, revealing the most perfect ring you've ever seen. Spencer has a wide smile on his face and a hopeful glint in his eyes.

"My life will never be complete without you by my side, there's nobody on this Earth that can even begin to compare. When I look inside my heart, I can only see you. May I have the honor to take your hand in marriage, will you make me the luckiest man in the world and marry me?" He asks and you nod your head enthusiastically before he can finish the question. Rushing up from the ground, Spencer envelopes you in a hug, lifting your feet off the ground and spinning you around.

As your feet make contact with the ground again, he takes your hand and slides the ring onto your finger. It's a perfect fit. Tears of elation well up in your eyes, and you pull Spencer in for a kiss that's full of love, desire, and passion for him. You both smile into the kiss and only break away to confess your undying love for each other.

"Spencer Reid, you are the love of my life." You say with tears of happiness rolling down your cheek, a wide smile on your face.

"And future Mrs. Reid, you are the reason I wake up every morning, you are the breath in my lungs, and you are the love of my life." He brings you in for another kiss, and you know that you're going to spend every day for the rest of your lives together. No force of man, nor nature, can drive you apart for the love shared between you two runs deep, your souls intertwined with one another for the rest of eternity.

Looking down at the shiny gemstone on your finger, you feel the once fragmented pieces of your heart tie themselves back together, the million pieces seemingly repairable after all. With a smile on your face, you can't wait to marry your soulmate and you're hopeful and grateful for the life you will share together.

- -

Taglist: @spenciesprincess @reedmurdock

#spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #derek morgan #dr spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #taylor swift #taylor swift inspired

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eddiernunson · 1 month

Text

Really Drives Me Mad | Older!Eddie x Fem!Reader | 18+

Prev Part l Master List |

Word Count: 10k

A SPECIAL HAPPY BIRTHDAY POST. (I’m 28 y’all)

Chapter contains: brief pregnant!reader, babies/kids…this is like a lil collection of blurbs. I have some head canons about each OC I can post if you’d like xoxo

I had ideas about their kids for ages, lol. This crazy lil family is chaotic

Still thank you to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you and @bebe07011 for without you two this fic wouldn’t nearly be this good

Third trimester is a bitch. I barely have the bandwidth to write lately. I hope you enjoy

Two pink little lines stare back at you as Eddie turns the shower on, completely oblivious to the manic state you’re in.

He offers you to join him, a temptation you decline with an intense amount of reluctance. You just claim you need your own bed, which was true.

Eddie missed four weeks of work while you were on your luxe honeymoon, which means he now has several fires to put out. It keeps him busy for the week, making the doctor’s appointments and blood work you do that much easier when he passes right out on his couch at the end of his long days.

The following week, knowing you're pregnant but not being able to tell him is pure torture. It doesn't help that for some odd reason Eddie seems more lovey, more affectionate. Your first instinct is to chalk it up to your newlywed status, but his affection feels different, the way his arms wrap around you each morning to wake you up, his gentle voice low in your ear. It's driving you up a wall not being able to share your secret with him.

He seems to consistently have a hard time letting you go to leave for work (not that you’re complaining.) Though eventually you have to practically push him out the door.

The ultrasound is nearly dull, the implantation in question is only a bundle of cells, but once you get a photo from the tech at the end of the appointment, it’s the very thing you needed to tell Eddie.

After another early night of falling asleep you empty the face of the fridge, yanking every magnet off as you place the sonogram on the silver surface with a pink heart magnet right at his eye level.

Eddie wakes in the middle of the night, a sudden urge to rise hitting him out of nowhere. His arm tightens around your waist, admiring your pretty face as he kisses your cheek. Your face falters only the littlest bit, twitching your muscles to shake off the tickle of his stubble.

He finds himself starving, craving something only a feral racoon would also be satisfied with. He rubs his eyes as he walks down the steps. Sometimes he thinks he’s going to see you back in the kitchen chair in the dress and bathing suit, Dylan searching manically for a parking pass as if Eddie has imagined this whole dream scenario. Your love is just too good not to think he’d made it all up at times. He smiles to himself as he turns on the stove light, turning to the fridge for a snack.

He feels frozen by the blank fridge at first, wondering where all the magnets got to. The black and white image staring him dead in the face suddenly registers, the heart shaped magnet falling to the floor as he rushes to pick it up to make sure his tired eyes aren’t fucking with him. They bulge out of his head when the significance of the photo occurs to him, and the hunger that woke him up seems to vanish.

His long legs take the stairs two and three at a time as he rushes back to you, hurling himself beneath the covers.

The cold of his arms startles you, a gasp leaving your lips from the shock as you abruptly awoke. “Hmm?”

“Are you fucking pregnant, sweetheart?” His eyes are unbearably soft, melted pools of milk chocolate staring intently at you.

A burst of sleepy giggles leaves your mouth, turning your body so you don't have to crane your neck. “You got up early.” You comment, weaving your fingers into his curls.

“Skip the pleasantries, love.” He dismisses, scooping his arms beneath your back. “Are you fucking pregnant?”

You pull him in for a kiss, your legs wrapping around his hips to pull him down against you. “What’s the sonogram tell you?”

He chuckles against your lips, his thumbs swaying against your smiling cheeks. “You’re a little shit, you know that?” You nod, absentmindedly playing with his curls. “Fuck, I’m so excited right now, baby.”

“Really?” You ask him, grinning.

“I just found out my wife is having my baby. Are you fucking kidding me?” he asks, rutting his hips against yours desperately. “I’m rock hard, sweets.”

Lucky for you and him, you opted for a pair of tiny panties and a t-shirt to bed, feeling his hardened cock against the thin lace fabric of your panties. Your fingers fumble to his boxers, hurriedly pushing them down his hips. “Then fuck me.”

Eddie gently pulls the fabric aside, exposing it as his head perfectly brushes against your entrance. “God, my girl is soaked for me, ain’t she?”

Your thighs tighten around his hips, jaw dropping as he teases you. “Want you, please, Ed.” Your eyes squeeze shut, relishing in the feeling of him pressed against you

He pushes in, arms wrapping themselves around your torso. “Oh my god you’re having my fucking baby,” Eddie mumbles, face curling into your neck. “Gonna see your stomach all big when you’re carrying my baby, sweets, and you’ll be even hotter than you are now. Which I thought was impossible.”

No words come to mind, mouth open and gasping at the way he moves in you. The cotton of your shirt is too hot, your hands shakily grabbing at the fabric to take it off. Eddie admires the sight he sees as your piqued nipples fall out of his faded black t-shirt, his eyes glazed over as he stares down at them. A moth drawn to the light, he dives into one, curling his tongue around the nipple with the perfect mix of teeth, pulling little mewls from you.

“Fuck, we’re gonna be the happiest little family,” he chokes, kissing from your breast up to your neck, his voice filled with emotion.

“Love you,” you sigh, gasping into his open mouth as his hips hit you harder.

Eddie smiles, a wicked little grin as his hand curves over the swell of your tummy, thumb petting it gently.

“Hold on to me, sweetheart. Hold on to your baby daddy,” you grin the line, wonderfully cheesy, but Eddie feels the way you tighten around him. Your arms curl around his back, pulling his body against yours.

“Eddie, make me cum, please.”

“Hold on, baby, I’m almost there, hold on,” he stutters, his deep voice starting to falter. His lips bend down to your ear, gasping desperately, bordering on whining. “Fuck– cum with me.”

His lips wrap around yours, delicately connecting his tongue with yours as his hips stutter a final time, the little moans vibrating against your lips as he fills you up. As you collapse on the bed, sweaty bodies intertwined, he spends the twenty minutes until he falls asleep cooing, whispering in your ear how excited he is.

You wake up the same way, with rounds two and three before he begrudgingly trudges off to work.

The sun accounts as a natural alarm clock as Dylan stretches his limbs wide, turning to face his girlfriend. His arm falls over Maya’s form, pulling her in as he starts to wake up. “Morning, Dylan,” she whispers, her pink lips spreading into a smile.

He pulls her back against his stomach, hiking his legs under hers. “Mornin’.”

She hums as he kisses the back of her neck, giggling as he takes a deep inhale of her shampoo. “You work today?”

“No,” Dylan answers, caressing the strip of her exposed skin with his thumb. “I am seeing my dad today.”

She smirks, turning to face him. “And your stepmom?” Dylan grits his teeth, tickling her stomach until she begs him to stop, hunching over the arm around her. “Okay, I’m sorry!”

“Mmhm. I’m telling them, did you want to join me?”

Maya squishes her face, seemingly debating on pros and cons. “I’m gonna pass on that, respectfully.” She can feel the questioning look Dylan gives her. “I have a long shift today, and I am exhausted.”

“Next time, I’m dragging you with me,” Dylan insists, squeezing with his arms wrapped around her.

“I’m counting on it.”

As soon as Dylan opens the door, he listens in, waiting for a sound that never comes. Good, he waited long enough to come. He wanders into the kitchen, meeting his dad drinking orange juice straight from the carton. “Dad?”

His dad freezes, removing the spout from his mouth, and wipes his face hurriedly. “Hey bud.”

Dylan raises his eyebrow at him, pointedly glancing to the carton and back to him.

“Don’t tell my wife.”

Dylan smirks, rolling his eyes. “Speaking of the devil, where is she?”

“Upstairs.”

As if your ears are burning, the two men’s ears pick up the particular sound of someone coming down the stairs. Eddie prays you come downstairs with some clothes on. Your face lights up when you see Dylan, welcoming him into your arms without a second thought. “Dylan!” The familiarity you two share is still new, but wrapping him in a hug is like second nature at this point. “What brings you into this part of the world?”

You leave the embrace, backing straight into Eddie’s arm. “Actually, I have some news I wanna share with you guys.”

Eddie’s hand tightens around your arm, he’s mentioned Dylan talking about proposing last month, and this news felt right around the corner. He feigns ignorance, innocently asking, “Oh, what news would that be?”

Dylan’s cheeks bloom in red, glancing down to his feet sheepishly. You just hoped you wouldn’t have to travel to a destination wedding while largely pregnant. “Uh, we–or, Maya,” he clears his throat, a laugh stuttering through it, “Maya’s pregnant.”

The first thing you do is glance at your husband, both sporting wide eyes and slacked jaws. To say you’re surprised is a grand understatement.

“Not the news you were expecting?” Dylan asks, watching the two of you share a silent conversation.

In sync, the two of you switch back to him, twin smiles on your faces. Dylan had no idea what either of the faces in front of him could possibly mean, and there’s a part of him that wonders if this is happy news for either of you.

“Um, no, actually,” Eddie barely holds back the sound of laughter in his voice. “That’s, that’s fantastic news, Dyl.” Truly, fantastic news. Eddie has been looking forward to being a biker grandfather since Dylan showed interest in being a father.

You smirk, leaning into his shoulder. “How far along is she?”

“Uh, 8 weeks, or so,” Dylan answers, squishing up his face comically.

“Oh wow, so a week behind me, then,” you say nonchalantly, nodding at Eddie.

“Wait, what?” Dylan asks, making sure he understood that correctly.

You giggle, nodding as you sit your head in Eddie’s neck. “Yeah, I’m pregnant too, ironically enough.”

Eddie leans into your ear, “So you’re gonna be a mom and a grandma in the same year…”

Your eyes widen. “To think, I was just getting used to the idea of being a mom.” You lean back, meeting your husband’s pretty brown eyes. “Are we sure the kid’s gonna call me grandma?”

Dylan picks up the conversation right away. “I mean, unless we’re gonna be completely honest with them, it doesn't make sense otherwise. You’re grandpa’s wife, therefore grandma.”

Am I mom, then, too? You think to yourself, knowing you’ll point it out later. Your stomach rumbles, turning around to the counter to start making a breakfast of sorts. Your eyes hit the open orange juice jug and the lack of cup. “Did you drink straight out of the carton, again, mister?”

Eddie avoids your eyes, looking at his son. “Hey, I didn’t say anything,” he surrenders, having a seat at the island.

“How’s Maya been handling the pregnancy so far?” you ask, grabbing a pan from under the cupboards. “Because morning sickness is no joke.” You pause, leaning on the counter. “Not just in the morning, either.”

“I think it’s some nausea, a bit of acid reflux, but to my knowledge she hasn’t been sick,” Dylan says, taking out his phone to text Maya about the news.

“Bitch,” you mutter, the tone in your voice clear you’re joking. “We can’t all be so lucky. Eggs?”

Dylan nods, grinning at the text Maya shoots back. “So dad, you’re gonna have a kid and a grandkid the same age as each other?”

Eddie shrugs, taking another large sip from the carton. “Since my girl showed up, my life hasn’t been normal, and this just means it will never be normal again.”

“You’re welcome,” Dylan laughs, rolling his eyes at the exasperated look you shoot at him.

Dylan’s phone buzzes, glancing at the unknown number as Maya fades in the middle of her sentence. “One minute, babe, I’m expecting a call from the interview I just did last week. Dylan Munson, speaking.”

“Oh, Dyl-pickle, you sound so big!” Only one person has ever called Dylan that. He gulps, the sound of her voice bringing up old, sore emotions.

“Brooke. W-why are you calling me?”

“Brooke? C’mon, I’m your mom, sweetheart,” she whines, her voice the sound of nails on a chalkboard.

“Really, are you?” Dylan asks, getting up from the bed and starting to pace the hallway, his anger already building. “Ok, what college did I go to?” Silence. “What did I major in? What year did I graduate high school? When did I have my first kiss? Who’s my current girlfriend? What’s my best friend’s name? What sort of vehicle do I drive?”

She doesn’t answer a single question, instead giving stuttered empty answers. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to answer any of that… We haven’t exactly been talking for the last fifteen years.” She says, somewhat accusatory.

Dylan sighs, rubbing his face frustratedly. “What, your phone didn’t work all those years?”

“As far as I’m concerned, I’m not the only one who had a phone,” she protests, sounding incredibly defensive.

“Yeah, well, you also weren’t a child for 8 of those years who begged his dad for his mom to come to one thing that was important to him,” Dylan retaliated, angry at her gaslighting. “My dad had your number, always left voicemails inviting you to my soccer games, to award ceremonies, to my birthdays, and you never answered a single call, let alone showed up.”

“I’m sorry, Dylan, I am, but I was young then, you can’t blame me for wanting a fresh start.”

“Actually, I can,” Dylan answers, now done with this conversation. “You had eight years to be a mom before I finally gave up on you. You don’t get to pick and choose when to be my mom, now.”

“I’m sorry that hurt your feelings, Dyl. But I have two boys, and they really want to meet their older brother. Would you come down for lunch one day?”

He nods, knowing that this sudden need to be a mom again wasn’t going to come for free. “No. I have no interest in being your life. Not since the day I turned 18.”

“C’mon, Dyl–”

“No, mom–Brooke. No. Don’t call me again, please. I need to go now.”

She starts another sentence, but Dylan hangs up on her before he hears it. When he walks into the bedroom he shares with his girlfriend, he crawls into the bed next to her, feeling like the ten year old whose life got torn apart.

It looks like Brooke still has that uncanny talent for making everything about her.

Eddie sits in his office, a small room decorated with frames filled with the faces of those he loves and papers strewn around the desk. He’s going over the receipts and payments, and silently regrets not having hired an accountant by now, but he’s far too stubborn to admit it.

There’s a knock on the door and Eddie looks up in relief. Please, let there be a disgruntled customer to save him from the numbers. “Come on in!”

Connor, one of the new apprentices he hired only a few months ago comes in, looking timid. The first few months he has a new hire they’re usually shy, and when their self confidence in their ability to do their job kicks in, Eddie truly starts to miss it. “Uh, hey, boss, there’s a client out there who wants to speak to you.”

Eddie chuckles, leaning back in his chair as he rests his feet on his desk. “Don’t, don’t call me boss. What do they want?”

Connor screws up his face. “Uh, I forgot to ask.”

“Always ask, man. Tell them I’ll be right out.”

“Alright, I’ll tell her.” Eddie sighs in relief, women tend to be more understanding.

“Hey, send in Joe, will ya?”

“On it!”

Joe, a man who’s worked for Eddie for 20 years, older by ten years, walks into the office just a moment later. “What’s up, Ed?”

“Give the lady a talk, will ya?” Eddie asks, scratching the itch on his right forearm. “Ask her what she wants.” Joe, tall, dark, and quiet, nods and shuts the door.

He’s back in the office in seconds. The door’s loose knob has barely clicked shut before it’s abruptly opened again. “That fast?”

Joe shakes his head, his eyes wide with a grimace on his face. “Uh, no, it’s…it’s Brooke.”

Eddie scrunches his face up. “Brooke, like…Brooke?”

“Yeah. You want me to–”

“No it’s okay, I got it,” Eddie insists, a pit forming in the depths of his stomach. He rubs his face tiredly, fully unprepared to deal with this.

“Dude, you sure?” He asks, having been with Eddie through the divorce.

“Seriously, I got it. Thanks, man.”

Eddie gets up from his desk, catching the eyes of his long-time employees on his way to the entrance of the garage. He’s fine. He’ll be fine.

There she stands, looking around the garage holding her purse with two hands. She’s dressed like one of those Instagram moms, high waisted jeans with a loose blouse tucked in under a long coat. Her eyes land on him, her face lighting up as she exclaims, “Wow, the garage looks great!”

“Thanks,” Eddie mumbles, sighing. “Is there a particular reason for…”

Brooke smiles, and Eddie could almost see a genuine human behind the mask. “Um, do you mind if we go into your office?”

Eddie raises his brows, perplexed. “I really don’t see the necessity for it.”

“It’s not really a conversation to have in front of the guys, Eds,” Brooke comments, shuffling her feet as she crosses her arms.

Eddie winces at the nickname she calls him. She really doesn’t know him well enough to call him such anymore. The audacity of it astounds him. “I’m not Eds to you…and my office holds things that are precious to me, that I honestly want to keep out of this conversation.”

“Like I haven’t already seen pictures of your little wife,” Brooke grimaces, her tone switching from sweet to condescending in a split second, her eyes rolling. “Congrats on that, or whatever.”

Eddie blinks, too exhausted to argue. “Alright, come on.”

It's not like Brooke hasn’t been in his office before, Eddie thinks, they were happily married, after all. She looks around at the changes, her eyes seemingly fixated on where photos of Dylan’s previous achievements are proudly displayed. “Wow, he looks just like you,” Brooke mutters, a look on her face that Eddie can’t quite place.

Eddie assessed the bulletin, Dylan’s graduation, first school dance, the Munsons spending a weekend at the Harrington’s, it certainly spelled out to her what she missed out on.

He clears his throat, quietly asking for her to continue. “Right, um, I was wondering if you could talk to our son.”

“Our son?” Eddie asks, barely holding back his laughter. “Last time I checked you said he was my son.”

Brooke ignores it, faltering in her seat. “I tried calling him last week, but he shut me down.”

“What do you need me to talk to him about exactly?” Eddie leans against his desk, his hands gripping the edge.

Brooke blinks, tilting her head. “When did you cut your hair?”

“Irrelevant. What do you need me to talk to him about?” Eddie enunciates, already feeling the exhaustion of her mere soul sucking presence.

“My sons are asking questions about him, and they would like to meet him.” She inhales, as if preparing herself for what she was about to say, “I would love to reconnect with both of you, honestly.”

Like an anvil, Eddie feels his stomach pull him all the way down into the floor. The silence she’s given him and Dylan for the last fifteen years has been stable, reliable even. The most reliable thing about her. This is turning off the road into a ditch with nothing to instigate it. “What did he say?”

“Uh, he had no interest in it,” Brooke shrugs, leaning back in her seat.

Eddie nods, having expected it. “Brooke, those pictures on the wall? My son spent so much time begging me to call and get you to at least one event, one time just to show that you still cared about him.” He pauses, watching her avoid his eyes. “I left dozens of voicemails in your inbox, and I know it was your inbox, because I remember the day it went from Munson to Prescott. I begged you to show up. Just once. The last time I did was for his graduation, but by then I had stopped telling him.”

“He told our lawyers and the judge he wanted nothing to do with me. Forgive me if I thought he was telling the truth,” Brooke huffs, her voice sounding defensive.

“He was a child, Brooke!” Eddie deadpans, narrowing his eyes. “A child hurt by his mother’s actions tearing apart his happy family. Staying with the stable parent was probably the more appealing option.” He scratches at the stubble on his face, glancing over to the sonogram sitting on his desk. He’d hoped Brooke hadn’t caught wind of that news, yet. “At first, he was really hurt, but after a while, he just wanted his mom. Who never showed up.”

“Well, I might be a little late, but doesn’t it count for something that I’m trying, now?” She asks, folding her arms across her chest.

“I think it counts more that he’s about to be a father and he has no interest in including you in his kid’s life.”

Her eyes bug right out of her head. “Wait, what?”

“Mmhm. Seems he’d rather give what was supposed to be your title to someone he’s known for less than a year.” Eddie flickers to the photo of you he has framed, a portrait of you surrounded by the sunset in your wedding dress. “You had eight years, Brooke. Eight. You don’t get to decide to be a parent when it’s convenient for you. I never had that luxury. I had to pick myself and my son up and find a way to get through it emotionally without falling apart at the seams.”

She seems to start talking, but Eddie is on a roll. “I finally feel like I’m living my life, and not just surviving. If you reached out five years ago, I probably would’ve said yes. I even had a low enough self-esteem to hope it would mean something more…but now I have this woman, this beautiful person who showed me how much she believes I’m worth, showed me how much I am worth. Brooke, no offense, but when I look back on it, especially comparing the two, you treated me like shit.”

“Uh, okay,” Brooke mutters, holding her hand out. “I did not treat you like shit.”

“You never stuck up for me with your parents, forced me to do things I was uncomfortable with all the time, gave ‘our’ son’s teachers hell all the time, and, oh yeah, left me for the person you told me not to worry about. So, no I will not be talking to my son. If he comes to the conclusion to reconnect with you, then fine. But I will not be participating.”

“Wow, you’re being harsh.” Brooke complains, grimacing. “Eddie, I was young. I made a few stupid decisions.”

“You know, my wife is a bit young. Somehow, she already knows not to act like a stone cold cunt.” Brooke stutters through an empty response, completely rendered speechless. “I think we’re done here.”

“I’m not done!”

“Well, I suggest you be by the time my pregnant wife gets here, because she’s not your biggest fan.” It gives him the utmost satisfaction to start looking through the papers. He glances back up to her expectant expression. “Safe travels back to Boston, hmm?”

Eddie swears the smile on your face in the photo of you grows, glad the backbone he needed seems to have finally grown. “You’re not going to even–”

“No. I’m not. I’m done here, Brooke. Give Kevin my condolences, yeah?”

Brooke nods, reluctantly understanding she wasn’t going to get what she wanted. Eddie had indeed grown the self-confidence she never saw when she was with him. “Condolences?”

“Yeah, for still being stuck with you. Close the door on your way out.”

Brooke’s nostrils flare, her jaw locking. She turns around without another word, the slam of the door echoing through the garage as she storms out, every click of her heel enunciated.

Moments later, Joe pops through the door. “Everything, ok, Ed?”

Eddie looks up, his dimples pronounced on his face. “Oh just, peachy, Joe. Mind if I take off for the rest of the day?”

“I would be concerned if you didn’t, man.”

The ringing of your phone stirs you from your slumber, having passed out on the couch mid snack. An app you downloaded on your phone for the pregnancy said the first trimester would have you feeling quite sleepy, and you didn’t believe it until you find yourself constantly falling asleep during your off days, and exhausted at work when you really shouldn’t be.

Your sister’s name lights up the screen, and the quick assessment of the movie tells you you’ve been asleep for at least forty-five minutes. “Hey, Viti.”

“Hey, sis,” she greets, an airy tone in her voice. “Sounds like you just woke up.”

You haven’t broken the news to your family, yet, waiting to present the information in the form of a present next time you and Eddie make your way over to your parents’ house. “Had an afternoon siesta,” you sigh, watching the movie you’re tempted to restart. The twist of Carlisle’s death just isn’t the same if you don’t build up to it. “What’s up?”

She sighs, a habit you’re all too familiar with. “Spit it out.”

“Okay,” she starts, gaining her courage. “Me and Arlo got together the night of your wedding.”

If you were attempting to get rid of any sense of sleep, it disappeared within a second. The information takes a second to register, eyes darting around the living room filled with wrappers you have yet to throw out. “Harrington?”

She laughs, probably expecting a much worse answer. “Do you know any other Arlos?”

“Guess not.” You pet the bangs in your eyes away from your face, trying to remind yourself of the look on your baby sister’s face when she was slow dancing with him. “Ok. How did it happen?”

“You’re okay with this?” She asks, your heart melting at how little her voice sounds.

“It was never my choice, Vi,” you answer, using the remote to restart the movie. “If you like him and trust him, then, yeah, I’m okay with it. So how did it happen? Tell me all about it. But if you’ve slept with him, then maybe not all about it,” You chuckle. Viti sighs exasperatedly and you can practically hear her eyes roll through the phone.

“Um, so we were kind of flirting a lot after the family dinner. I thought he was just being nice, but I was willing to be his friend. It got a bit more intense at the wedding, and he asked me to dance…”

“I saw,” you admit, granted you only saw because Eddie pointed it out to you. “What happened after that?”

You can hear the smile on her face. “He led me to a hallway, and then we went to the hotel room I was staying in…” She trails off sheepishly. Oh, that's all you need to know.

“Damn, girl!” you laugh, opting to push away the mental image and simply be your sister's friend right now.

“We went to dinner last week,” she says, a giggle laced through her sentence. “I really, really like him.”

It had to be Arlo Harrington. “Then I’m really, really happy for you. Have you told everyone else yet?”

“You’re the last to know, to be honest. I think Eddie even knows at this point.” You roll your eyes, because of course that’s why he was so peculiar this morning.

“Just because I don’t necessarily approve of the choice of boy doesn’t mean I won’t be happy for you. Plus, I could get used to him, after all, Steve isn’t so bad.” That’s a damn lie, Steve Harrington has become one of your favorite people. “Tell me you got out of the hotel room before mom and dad discovered you.”

“We heard them coming down the hall…” she says, giggling. “We were dressed as they were about to come in the door. Luckily, they were both pretty drunk, so they didn’t really catch on to what was happening. Well, until the next morning at brunch, I guess.”

Note, send a text to your mom asking about what her perspective was, because there’s a chance she knew more than she let on. You think to yourself.

“Anyway, four weeks in Cancun. Spare me the dirty details but tell me all about it,” she giggles, moving the phone away from her face, “shut up, stop, shut up!’

“Let me guess. Arlo?”

A burst of giggles runs through her body and you can hear the smile on her face. “Maybe,”

“You couldn’t wait until you were alone?”

“She’s not really alone all that much these days,” Arlo’s voice rings out. You can picture the smug smirk on his face.

“Arlo!” She chides him, and yeah, this might not be so bad, you decide.

“I’m gonna let you two go,” you offer, dismissing any protests she let out. “Also, without the dirty details there’s not much of the honeymoon to tell. Well, except one thing.”

“What?”

“You'll have someone new to meet in seven months!”

“No way!”

If there’s one thing you know, it’s Christina Perri’s A Thousand Years is the song for the last credit scene of the Twilight Series. As each character is shown with the corresponding credit, it gets closer and closer to the main cast.

It might just be the hormones, but this round of credits just seems to hit differently, tears spilling down your cheeks as it gets to the Cullen family. The front door to the house slams shut, announcing the arrival of your husband. Odd, he’s about three hours early.

The weight of the cushion next to you sinks down with a comforting arm wrapping around your shoulders. Your head falls easily into his embrace, curling into his lap as you sniffle. It’s ridiculous, the irrational reaction that takes over you, but damn do the editors know how to elicit a reaction out of the audience.

His hand pets your shoulder, kissing your forehead. “You crying at Twilight?”

You nod, furrowing your eyebrows. “Lose the smug attitude, mister. This is your doing.”

He laughs under his breath, petting your hair. “Hmm, that’s not how I remember our honeymoon.”

You tilt your head back to look at his face, fretting at the curls that are starting to resemble closer to a mullet. “Just because I begged for your babies does not mean you had to listen to me.”

He rolls his eyes, leaning in to place a kiss on your lips that takes the breath out from your lungs. As he backs away, he hums with a peculiar look on his face. “What’s on your mind?” You ask, your brows knitting together.

Eddie sighs, petting the bare skin exposed on your hip. “Minor Brooke update, today.”

Your brows instinctively rise, feeling every little muscle in your face tense up. “Oh?”

“Yup. Are you interested?”

You close your eyes, asking any entity out there listening for a lick of patience. “You piqued my interest. Lay it on me.”

Eddie can’t beat around the bush, or he would never say it. “She came into my work today.” He pauses, allowing you to absorb the information before continuing. “Requesting that I convince Dylan to…let her back into his life, so to say.” You squint, remembering the few times that Dylan had confessed about his mom to you, always finishing by claiming he wants nothing to do with her and never will.

“Yeah, good luck with that,” you comment, watching his eyes flicker back and forth between yours.

“She reached out to him last week and when he refused, I guess the next most logical step was to drive the six hours from Boston and corner me at work.” Your teeth grit, angry at the fucking gall that fills Brooke whatever-the-fuck her last name is. God forbid Steve or Eddie ever accidentally tell you what it is, because the day it comes her inbox will be flooded with just a little piece of your mind, and she'll be lucky if profanities are the worst things you say.

“What are you thinking?” He asks, having watched your face move through the storm of emotions.

“I was thinking that I fucking hate your ex-wife and if she has no haters then I’m dead,” you answer, dead panning.

“I love you,” he sighs, tugging you in against his chest. “Are you hungry?”

You look at the wrappers decorating the mahogany coffee table, “Surprisingly yes.”

“Lets get a real meal in you, shall we?”

Eddie is present at every doctor's appointment, every ultrasound, birthing class, and even at 20 weeks, when you were inexplicably spotting, stayed with you throughout the 7 hour wait at the ER. He certainly helped you hide from the embarrassment of the doctor explaining the bleeding seemed to be brought on by intercourse and to start being a bit more careful.

Only one time does a health care worker mistake Eddie for being your father, a mistake quickly fixed at the death glare he gives her. You don’t know how, as you look nothing alike and he has been doting on you too affectionately to be a dad, but you can’t help teasing him by calling him daddy as soon as she leaves the room.

Well, that’s a lie.

There is one other time he’s mistaken for your father, running into the maternity ward and anxiously stating your name to the front desk of labor nurses. The head nurse, a woman bearing silver streaks in her hair, calmly tells him to relax and sit down, only the baby’s father is allowed in the room with patients.

“Well you better take me to my wife, then,” he deadpans, his eyes harsh enough to shoot daggers if it were physically possible.

She stutters through her response. “Oh, you-you’re her husband? I’m so sorry I assumed–my mistake, she’s in the third door on the left.”

He rushes to the door, ignoring her last pleas for forgiveness. He was far too busy focusing on how he knew he shouldn’t have gone into work when he knew you were due to go into labor any day now. He knew he should've told them to ask Joe for the solution, as he was basically acting owner while he was away.

When he bursts through the door, you’re sat on the bed in the room with Bethany petting your face as you push through a particularly hard contraction.

He waits and watches anxiously for you to get through it before announcing his arrival. As soon as your eyes land on him he sees your face crumple in relief and your hands reach out for him. “Baby,” you whine, seeking the comfort of his shampoo and cologne.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologizes, planting a big kiss on the hand that was reached out. “Thank you so much, Bethany, for taking her.”

She shrugs, dismissing his over exaggerated gratitude. “She’s been a champ. Let me know if you two need anything.”

Eddie pets your hair, leaning in to plant a gentle kiss on your lips. “How’ve you been, baby?”

“Only been an hour, and I am so over labor,” you whine, smiling pathetically. “Thanks for coming so fast.”

Eddie was surprised he didn’t get pulled over, going 90 down the freeway. He turned a 20 minute drive into 8. “Made any progress?”

“I’m only one centimeter dilated. We could be here for a while.”

“I’m here every minute,” he says, grabbing a chair to sit by your bed. “I believe in you. We’ll listen to Taylor, listen to a smutty audio book, watch a true crime series, whatever you want, baby.”

True to his word, he allowed you to blast your Faves Spotify playlist, watched a few episodes of 48 Hours with you, and even sat with you as he let you play with the makeup you had packed in your hospital bag on his face.

You made him look like a Captain Jack Sparrow, giggling as he animatedly talks in a pirate voice. The best thing about Eddie being there is that he wards off your parents and others who wish to visit you in your labor and acts as your advocate when the nurse is too rough with you and requests a new nurse immediately. Well, and his presence alone puts you at ease, of course.

It feels like forever, but you’re eight centimeters dilated when a familiar face walks down the hall, passing his father as he carries the millionth cup of ice chips you requested. “Bud! Did someone text you about–”

“She told me when Bethany was driving her to the hospital, but that’s actually not why we’re here,” Dylan sheepishly admits, his shoulders shrugging up to his ears as a pink blooms across his cheeks.

“We?” Eddie catches on, blinking. “Is Maya also..?”

“Yeah, we got here about three hours ago,” he squinted one eye comically, crossing his arms. “She’s about halfway there, now I think.”

“Wow she’s progressing a lot faster than we did,” Eddie comments, it taking you far more than three hours to get to five centimeters.

“It would be ironic wouldn’t it, if they had the same birthday?”

“Irony is one word for it,” Dylan chuckles. “My girlfriend asked for ice chips about eight minutes ago, and she is not patient, so I’m going to get back to it.”

“Let us know any updates, won’t you?”

“I bet my kid will be born before yours,” Dylan answers, only somewhat joking.

“Oh, you’re on, dude.”

As nurses and the doctor rushes around you, frantically assessing the baby while helping you with the afterbirth, birthing the placenta and ridding the bodily fluids that came out with the infant. Eddie cut the cord, watching carefully as the nurses quickly washed his newborn son off.

He’s simultaneously whispering sweet nothings against your cheek, how proud he is of you, describing your son’s dark hair, his little mouth opening as the nurse's hand gently washes it. “Did so good, baby, so good, I’m so fucking proud of you.”

“Is he okay?” You whisper, eyes half open as you stare up at your husband’s brown ones. “J-Josh, is he okay?”

Eddie knows exactly what you’re asking, making sure his limbs are working, that he looks healthy, that the nurses don’t look too concerned about their results. He can’t help but answer, “He’s perfect.”

Your favorite nurse, the one who got assigned after Eddie demanded it, brings him over swaddled in a hospital blanket and tucks him into your arms. The hormones and adrenaline overwhelm you as you stare at his face, selfishly grateful he looks just like his father, happily staring at the little button nose.

“I love you,” when you stare up at your husband, you’re expecting his eyes to also be planted on the newest member of the little family. Instead they’re shiny and planted on you, his expression drenched in pure love.

“I love you,” you sigh, leaning in for a sweet kiss. “He’s so perfect.”

“I fucking love you so much.”

The love fest eventually dies down, all the medical aides surrounding you finishing up and leaving the room as they steal one last glance at the happy little family.

You’re lost in your own little world when Dylan runs in, seeing the little addition sat on your chest. Eddie looks up to face Dylan dressed in a hospital gown and a hairnet. His face is lit up with the same joy as the room is filled with. “You wanna meet your grandson?”

Eddie nods, quickly stopped by his wife still lying on the bed sitting in the afterglow. “Go,” you insist, petting at the soft hair on your son. “Say hi for me.”

He smiles, placing a gentle kiss on your knotted hair, followed by his newborn. “Be right back.”

On the way over to the emergency surgery room Dylan explains that the umbilical cord ended up twisted around his son’s neck and they took Maya straight into an emergency C-Section. He sat with his girlfriend as they emptied the contents of her abdomen to allow the newest Munson to come into the world.

Eddie asked several times to make sure it was okay if her father in law, her boyfriend’s father, to go into a room where she is this vulnerable. Dylan insisted that she said it was fine and since Eddie was here for the birth of his son it would be cool for him to meet his grandson, too, within the same half hour.

Miraculously, after getting in his own scrubs, Eddie wanders in with Dylan as Maya is finished with her stitches. She’s still loopy from the general anesthesia, holding her newborn on her partially covered chest.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Eddie asked, knowing how against visitors you were.

“Just come say hi to your grandson, Eddie,” Maya chuckles, passing up the newborn. “Meet Jace Edward Munson.”

“Edward?” Eddie laughs, barely holding the mist that comes to his eyes. “What?”

Dylan scrunches his nose, tilting his head to face the newborn now in his father’s arms. “You stepped up when she left. You were everything to me. You may have stolen a girlfriend, but that is small beans in the grand scheme of things, you know?”

“Jace and Josh,” Eddie muses, laughter bubbling up his throat. “God, they even sound like twins.”

Kayla smooths over the dress she wears, nervously looking around the classroom. Are there enough learning centers set up? Will the children like the home center she put together? Will there be any difficult teachers during her first year?

For the first time, she’s on her own, placed in the very class she had spent so long working toward, kindergarten.

Her little classmates with their parents, usually mothers, wander in with wide eyes, nervously holding onto their sleeves and looking around anxiously. She talks to each little one at a time, welcoming them and offering them many activities to distract them from wanting to stay with their parents.

One little boy doesn’t need much, or any, peeling off his father as he runs in, his shaggy brown hair rustling in as he bolts straight to the building blocks. His dad walks in right after, carrying his bag dressed in a leather jacket and acid wash jeans.

“Hi,” he sighs, sounding tired. “That’s Dylan.”

“M or H?” Kayla asks.

“M.”

“Dylan, can you grab your bag from your dad and put it in the cubby?” Dylan runs to grab his bag from his dad, shouting in slight frustration as he’s pulled in for a hug. “Yours will have an M next to your name!”

He listens, but doesn’t look back as he runs back to the blocks.

“I’m Eddie,” the father says, holding his hand out. “His mom, Brooke, will pick him up after school, uh, she’s a bit of a hardass, so just beware.”

Oh, goody. She gives him a strained smile, insisting she’ll be able to handle it.

Eddie and Dylan end up being one of his favorite pairings for the year. But when Brooke walked in, she knew it became a big deal for something as small as Dylan putting his book in the wrong pocket in his bag.

Kayla got along great with Eddie, as they turned out to be the same age. They saw one another around the school as Dylan got older, even became someone Dylan could rely on for a maternal figure when his parents ended up divorcing in fifth grade.

About twenty one years after initially teaching Dylan, she’s a veteran teacher in her own right, having a monopoly over classroom #3 as she continues to be the answer for dozens of individuals when asked their favorite teacher.

She sits in her lumbar chair that her coworkers raised the money for the previous Christmas as she finally is able to look over her newest class list. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until she came across 9th and 8th from the last name, two boys with J initials and the last name Munson. She’d been wondering if she would ever have the pleasure of teaching Dylan’s boys, or if he decided to skip town like most of his classmates.

Their birthday right next to their attendance names indicated they had the same birthdate, so she was safe to assume she would have another set of twins. If they were anything like Dylan, they would be a fun sort of challenge for her, that she was sure of.

On the first day the following fall, she keeps an eye out for her former student, keeping in mind it could very well be the mother that decides to drop them off.

As she’s helping a particularly shy child settle into her classroom, she notices a parent helping their kid out of the wind breaker they’re wearing. As soon as the little girl is settled she goes to them welcoming them. She immediately recognizes the parent. “Dylan!”

“Oh, Miss. Thompson! I didn’t realize you were still teaching!” He sheepishly admits, looking at the plaque now containing her married name.

“I am just married, now,” she answers, answering him the same way she would a student out of habit. “Now, who do we have here?”

“I’m Jace,” the little boy answers shyly, brown hair of this father but stark green eyes.

“Well, Jace, would you mind finding your name at one of the cubbies for me? I think you’re put right next to someone named Josh,” she tells him, watching for any recognition of the other name she thought was his twin.

“Oh, sweet!” Jace exclaims, running with his Pokémon bag.

She gets up from her squatting position, her knees far too achy for doing it continually like she still is. “So, there’s another Munson on the class list, would you know anything about that?”

Dylan chuckles, sighing. “Well, about that–” Dylan is interrupted by a little boy with dark hair hugging him, exclaiming his name. “Hey, Josh, we were just talking about you!”

Josh laughs, tugging on Dylan’s arm. “Is Jace here?”

“Yeah, he’s playing with the dinosaurs, if I know him.”

“Cool!” Josh runs straight off, meeting his supposed relative at the play carpet.

Kayla turns around in confusion, questioning what just happened.

As if answering her, in comes another familiar face, holding a bag that looks comically small compared to his tall stature. “Ah, Kayla. I was wondering if you were still here.”

“Eddie!” She greets him, giving a very frank hug. “I have to admit, I am very confused.”

“That’s okay, you wouldn’t be the first,” Eddie comments, crossing his arms. “Me and my wife had Josh at the same time Dylan had Jace. They’re assholes, they like to gang up on adults, but don’t let them intimidate you, they can’t with their adults anymore, so they try it on teachers.”

“Takes a lot more than that to intimidate me,” Kayla answers, looking back at the boys who gained ownership over the carpet with dinosaurs and cars. “I appreciate the warning, though.” She looks back to her old friend, seeing the smile lines on his face, still carrying his son’s things. “I’m happy you found someone, though.”

“Thanks. His mom will pick him up after school,” Eddie tells her, going to the cubby with his kid’s name on it. “She’s not as bad as Brooke, so there’s no worries, there.”

“Alright, can’t wait to meet her.”

Eddie and Dylan share a look, one that Kayla misses as she starts to welcome in a few new classmates.

The bell rings for lunch for the rest of the elementary school and end of day for the kindergarteners. Mrs. Franklin, or Miss. Thompson, as Dylan knows her, helps all her students with their backpacks and jackets. It’s one thing to manage five-year-olds, it’s another to get them to stop wrestling and help them simultaneously.

The Munson boys are certainly no help, Josh trying to stick his finger up Jace’s nose, pinning him down on the dirty floor as Jace wiggles underneath him. Kayla wished Josh would stop telling Jace he’s his uncle and he has to listen to him, that way she wouldn’t have to hold back her laughter so hard.

“Okay, Mr. and Mr. Munson, break it up, your parents will be here any minute now. Get up.” They both switch their glances up to her, eyebrows raised over wide eyes. “Get up.”

They roll their eyes, Josh reluctantly getting off Jace slowly and helping him up. Slowly but surely, parents start to pick their kids up, both Munsons waiting for their parents anxiously. You wonder in with your youngest, a little three year old by the name of Stevie. She holds onto your pointer and middle finger anxiously, eyes darting around at the unfamiliar noises and faces.

Your son is seemingly nowhere to be seen, usually seen with his counterpart but you can’t see him around the crowd of parents kneeling with their kids and asking how their day was. The teacher, someone both Dylan and Eddie insisted is the best in the school, approaches you kindly to ask which kid is yours.

Before you can even answer Josh runs into you, happily glancing up at you as he wraps his arms around your legs. “Hi, baby,” you greet him, kneeling down as you pet his sweet face.

You miss the peculiar look Mrs. Franklin, or Kayla as Eddie referred to her as, gives you. Surprised to say the least that the Mrs. Munson she has yet to meet is so young. Her brows furrow even further when Jace notices you, yelling, “Grandma!” as he also runs for a hug.

“Were you boys nice to Mrs. Franklin today?”

“Of course!” Josh smiles, and you squint through his bullshit.

“Well we’re gonna make sure to be nicer or we’re gonna have to lose our tablet privileges, won’t we?”

You get back up, smiling at their grumbly faces. They never listen to new adults, it was a field day at their first day of preschool. One glance to their teacher’s observant face told you all you needed to know. “Eddie didn’t warn you, he?”

“No, but they did have a peculiar look on their faces when I mentioned meeting you. Should’ve known better, with those two,” you tilt your head, curious at what she meant. “Seriously, your husband needs to tell you more. I taught Dylan when he was in kindergarten.”

“Oh!” you exclaim, somewhat surprised. “That’s really cool! Were you surprised to see Eddie wi–”

“With another kid,” she interrupts, laughing, “yes, I was. I’m happy to see that he found someone else, Brooke, was, well, she was not a nice person.”

Your eyebrows raise at the mention of your husband’s ex-wife, this being the first person she meets outside Eddie’s inner circle to having even mentioned Brooke. “So, I’ve heard.”

“Hey mom,” you hear behind you, you shove the owner before you even see him, rolling your eyes.

It’s very recently become a silly habit of Dylan’s to call you mom, due to your son asking why his brother calls his mom by her real name and not mom like he does. After the best attempt at explaining Dylan has a different mom who is no longer around, Josh is still confused and insists that you still act like his mom, so therefore, are Dylan’s mom.

It was awkward at first, but now it’s a little inside joke. If you were told when you first got together with Eddie that Dylan would be referring to you as a maternal figure, you probably would’ve hit them on the head for fucking with you.

“Hey, kiddo,” you tease back, mocking his twisted face expression. “They were apparently giving her a hard time today.”

“Of course they were. You know we can ask one of you to switch classes, right?” Dylan asks, an aura of authority in his voice.

Their eyes go wide, even though it was a threat in their preschool room, they have yet to consider this. You didn’t want to resort to threats but with their shenanigans, it's literally one of the only things that will work.

“C’mon, your dad is making your favorite for dinner,” your shoulder cascades around Josh’s shoulder, telling him to say bye to his nephew and that he’ll see him tomorrow.

Two years later, Stevie shows up with her dark curls down to her shoulders after her father, giggling as she says hi to the teacher.

That was the last time Kayla taught one of Eddie Munson’s kids. Or, so she assumed.

The double doors to the high school flew open, big black boots echoing as the large leather jacket trails behind a slim torso. He takes the immediate left into the office, his presence large, with grey streaks leaking into his roots and an angry look on his face.

The kind administration lady looks up to his expectant face, the curiosity quickly melting into confounded terror. “Can I help you?”

“Apparently Stevie Munson is in the office right now?” Better be a damn good reason for peeling me away from one of the only moments I have left alone with my wife, he thinks, eyes observing around the office.

“Yes, she is, uh, are you her–”

“Her father, are you going to let me in the office or do I have to let myself in?”

The surprise that fills her features would be charming if Eddie wasn’t so fucking annoyed. He’s used to the assumption by now, but for the moment he just doesn’t have any patience in his body.

“You can go right ahead, Mr. Munson,” she peeps out, gesturing to the door marked Principal. Eddie’s not sure why he even asked, or how he had the foresight to ask, first. He’s surprised, honestly.

The door opens to face the school principal, his daughter and a boy sitting two seats away from her nursing his face with an ice pack. “Mr. Munson, welcome in! Have a seat.”

“No thanks,” Eddie answers, polite, but curt. He looks at his daughter, “What happened?”

She opens her mouth to answer but is interrupted by the bald principal, “I didn’t ask you, I asked her. What happened?” He directs his attention back to his daughter.

She smiles at him, the same sweet smile his wife bares. “This guy touched my ass under my skirt, so I punched him in the face.”

Eddie’s brows raised, teeth gritted as he sends a daggers at the boy he is now aware assaulted his daughter. “I’m sorry?” He asks, now directed to the principal.

“So she says,” the principal says, eyes widening at how Eddie manages to look murderous. “Granted, even if Mr. Jackson did do that, it’s not a good enough reason to assault him. She will be suspended for two days.”

Eddie laughs, loudly, shaking his head at the gall, the fucking nerve. This principal is extremely lucky it was him who answered his phone and not you. “Really? My daughter got sexually assaulted and your reaction to her defending herself is suspending her? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Mr. Munson, if you could please calm down and have a seat,” he starts, gesturing to the chair, yet again.

“Oh, I am calm. You don’t want to see me angry,” Eddie answers, the Hulk flashing through his mind. “You deciding to punish her tells me exactly why this little shit felt confident enough to lay his hands on her, to begin with. I just think about all the other girls he’s done this to, too afraid to speak up, I wonder how many times he’s done this with no consequence to feel confident enough to touch under a skirt. What the fuck is this place? No-tolerance bullying policy? Utter bullshit.”

“Mr. Munson, calm down before I call security–”

“Don’t make me laugh. Seriously. Don’t.” Eddie sighs, pinching his nose. “If you do suspend her, I will press charges against him and I will sue this fucking school. If you punish him, like you’re supposed to, take him off his team for the season, put him in detention for a month, I don’t care, something with fucking consequences, I won’t. You decide.”

He looks down at the little shit, whimpering as he still nurses the barely there bruise. “You better hope I don’t hear you doing this shit to any other girl in this school, or you won’t get into any college in the country.” He pauses, opening the office door to an audience. Maybe he was louder than he thought he was. “C’mon Stevie, let’s go get some fucking ice cream.”

When you heard about how your husband stuck up for your daughter like that, you got on your knees for him in the bathroom. That might’ve cheered him up a bit.

The sounds are familiar yet foreign when you wake up to the blindingly white room, the chatter in the hallway and some heart monitor beeping. Two people immediately come into focus, Josh, sitting at the end of the bed on his phone, Stevie sitting concerned by your head.

You moan, sitting up in your bed annoyed at the stark contrast of the back of your eyelids. “What the hell?”

“Mom!” Josh shouts, getting up and standing on the other side of his sister.

“Mom,” Stevie runs out of the room, calling for a doctor.

You look to your son, brows furrowed. “What happened?”

“You passed out at the grocery store. You fainted and you didn’t wake up until just now.”

Your brows raise, because you haven’t felt off even the slightest. The dizziness hit you out of nowhere, going from fine to woozy in two seconds and falling flat on your face. “How long ago did that happen?”

“Like twenty minutes? The ambulance got there pretty quickly,” he admits, turning his head to his sister and the nurse coming in the door.

“Mrs. Munson! So glad to see you awake. I’ll let the doctor know and he should be able to give your results,” she says, sweet smile as she turns away.

Stevie’s bottom lip is stuck out, quivering as she grabs the hand containing an IV line. You thought that was a bit much. “Stevie, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure, because I heard the nurses saying it’s not normal to stay out that long after fainting. What if you’re sick?”

“I’m okay,” you insist, watching both their worried faces. “Fuck, you called your dad, didn’t you?”

“Uh, yes! He would’ve killed us if we didn’t!” Josh laughs, leaning back in his chair.

As if summoned, your husband pokes his head in, his eyes wide as he walks in the room, hands out to you as his long legs take him to the head of the bed. “Fucking Christ.”

“Hi, baby,” you greet him, leaning into the forehead kiss that he gives you. “I’m okay.”

“Fainting in the fucking grocery store, fucking hell. My god, baby.” He looks over to his kids, “What tests have they done, so far?”

“Just a blood test, I think,” Stevie shrugs.

“They might do an MRI but that could take weeks of waiting.” Josh offers no comfort to his dad despite his best efforts.

“I’m okay, really.” You insist to all their worried faces. “You didn’t call anyone else, did you?”

“Uh, we called Dylan,” Josh says, wincing at your annoyed face. “And Jace.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, intertwining your hand with Eddie’s rough one.

The doctor doesn’t come as quickly as the nurse promised, but he comes within two hours. “Oh, hello, you have quite the visitors, don’t you?”

You shrug, rubbing his thumb as it anxiously rubs your hand.

“We have the results, inconclusively.” The air is tense, every one of the family seemingly expecting terrible news. “Congrats! You’re pregnant.”

You knew nothing was wrong, but this was not what you were expecting. You’re forty-two, Eddie is nearly seventy. You weren’t even sure he could still get you pregnant. You meet your husband’s eyes, sharing a bewildered smile.

In the meantime, shouts of disgust from your teenage kids fill the room, standing up with tense shoulders.

“Gross!”

“Ew! I didn’t even know you guys still did it! Oh my god! Ew!!!!”

You bite your lip, shrugging. “Are you wanting to be a father to a newborn at almost 70?”

Eddie smirks, leaning in for a kiss that makes your kids jeer again. “Bring it on, baby.”

Steve calls an hour later, concerned for the text his name sake sent him. When Eddie informs him, you’re pregnant, twenty years of karma hits tenfold.

When Steve and Jocelyn said they were pregnant with Eliza fifteen years after having Dustin, Eddie spent the pregnancy making fun of their oopsie baby. Asking if they knew what protection was, joking how they still had sex, telling them to keep it in their pants, the works.

Now, Steve was more than happy to return the favor. “A baby at 70, you old bastard? What was that you told me twenty years ago? God, I’m surprised you two still do it, considering how low Eddie’s ball sack must be hanging.”

“You wish you could see my ball sack, you asshole,” Eddie teases, laughing with you as you sigh. “You’re just jealous I can still keep it up, you geriatric bastard.”

Five years later, when Eddie and Kayla are older, he wanders into classroom #3 for the last time, holding his third son who ends up being notoriously clingy towards his older father.

It’s ironic to the both of them how Eddie has a son for both Kayla’s first and last year of teaching, keeping tabs on one another for the duration of forty years.

Eddie doesn’t say anything, letting Tommy down and dismissing her questioning look. Don’t wanna talk about it.

By the time Tommy is 18, Eddie is too old to give a shit, wondering constantly what Wayne’s opinion will be when he ends up knocking on heaven’s door.

When you got into your sixties, Eddie was full of gratitude, thankful that you will no longer be confused for one of his kids despite his actual kids all calling you mom. He makes fun of your vision, stealing his reading glasses constantly despite his constant insisting that you get your own pair.

Despite the smile lines by his lips and his eyes, the sunspots decorating his skin, you still stare up at him like you did when he was forty-seven.

Your lives were forever intertwined from the moment you saw him, from the moment he saw you. He lies down in your bed next to you for the millionth time, his hand caressing your side, pressing kisses on whiskered lips, it doesn’t occur to you to ever be anything less than woefully in love with him.

———————-

Thanks so much for reading remember that reblogging and replies are the best way to support your fic writers

Tag list Taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken

Taglist for Really Drives Me Mad: @yunnie-f1 @josephquinnsfreckles @corrodedcoffincumslut @daisyridleyss @daniellabrandt @lail1010 @spencerssatchel @b|4ckt00thgrin @ali-r3n @t-click73 @vintagehellfire @hellfirefiend @kittydeadbones @luumunson @uncxmfxrtablex @eddiesgfffffffffff @hkurbsjundebi @eddies-puppet @joantje @novelnovella @shady-the-simp @lma1986 @mischieftom @strangerfan3691 @crayongirl-linz @dumblittlebunbun @ick90 @emilyshortcake @lemonmintseltzer @joannamuns9n

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader smut #older eddie munson x you #older eddie munson x reader #older eddie munson #older!eddie x reader #older!eddie munson #older!eddie

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optimist-pine · 2 months

Text

Snow

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: It snowed, and the brilliant beauty of it created this drabble.

Era: Between seasons 2 & 3, on the move

The sparkling grass crunched under every step of your boots. Frost coated the ground as far as the eye could see, shimmering in the fresh morning's sun. You inhaled, long and deep, the sharp sting of cold wintry air assaulting the back of your throat.

Complete contentment washed over you, the scent of a blank slate filled your lungs and your eyelids fluttered shut with the feeling. So quiet was the world in a moment like this. You would stretch it as long as you possibly could, soaking in every minute detail.

Like the way the breeze rustled your hair and slipped down the back of your coat, cooling the sweat that had built against your skin. Or how the silence only amplified the birdsong and made it echo and pulse. The nearby stream, half frozen as it was, made it as melodic as a garden full of windchimes.

A soft crunch turns into faint footsteps and you return to the world once again, a puff of air billowing out from the sigh that escapes your lips.

"Ya finished?" Daryl asks. His voice is soft and it causes a swell of gratitude to rise within you. Without fail, he graciously gives you these moments to shut off every thought and just simply feel that you're alive. To know so deeply within yourself that the world isn't dead, but instead is thrumming with life in overflowing abundance. It's not just a possibility, it's true and real and so are you.

"You smell that?" Your ask in a hallowed whisper. Your hands lift themselves outstretched at your sides, fingers opened to the sky.

You don't see, but he's watching you curiously. He would most absolutely never admit it, but he secretly savors the moments when this invisible switch flips in you. When your heart practically writes itself on your sleeve and you suddenly appear to be overwhelmingly in love with life itself. How it pours out of you so intensely that he can feel it too. How he inexplicably craves it. How no greater desire exists within him. "Hm?" He responds distractedly.

"Snow." You say simply. And the exact moment you open your eyes is when the flakes begin to fall. At first they're only tiny little pellets, just enough to claim that it's actively snowing. But it doesn't take long for the grey sky to let loose and soon the flakes are large and fluffy and you could swear that God just shook up a snow globe somewhere above.

You do a little spin, sticking your tongue out in pure joy. The flakes are beginning to cover you, collecting on your hair and eyelashes, and the ground is growing whiter by the second. "It's beautiful." You laugh.

A small thought nags at the back of Daryl's mind that the two of you should be getting back to the rest with your catch. But as he watches you, as he studies designs of the flakes on his glove that have yet to melt, he decides that will just have to wait.

And he'd die if you told anyone, but on the way back, when he can no longer put up with your relentless teasing, he finally succumbs and holds his own tongue up to the flurry. He's sure to follow it up with the idle threat, "Ya tell anyone an' I'll kill ya."

Amusement palpably rolling off you, you respond, "Yeah, yeah, ya big ol' softie." The look on his face causing you to laugh on and off the entire way back. There's no way you're sharing the memory with anyone else, maybe it's selfish, but this one's all yours.

#twd #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #twd season 2 #twd season 3 #optimist pine

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melinoelliones · 7 months

Text

Your parents had asked you to babysit your siblings on halloween night as they had, “an important seminar they had to attend” and “needed you to watch them”.... So who was the guy at the door?

MINORS DNI/AGELESS BLOGS DNI/ANTI DC DNI/18+

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Warnings: Brainwashing, quickie gone wrong (kinda), death, biting, no prep, dub con, tears, incubus, creampie?, rough sex! fem reader

2.3k words

Imma say this is Dark Content so if you do not like death, blurred lines between consent and no consent or no prep DO NOT READ THIS!! This is not for you i’m afraid. Sae is a incubus. I have never written this kind of thing before so don’t jump me ya’ll.

“Ugh can you two shut up already, I’ve been dragged to every house in the neighbourhood, cut me some slack will ya” you groaned, throwing yourself onto the couch. Totally ignoring the trails of “but mom said” and “please” that followed behind you.

You had just got home from taking your younger siblings out for Trick or Treating as you did every year, however this was your first official break from starting Uni so you had hoped they’d let you off this time round. To be fair, there was never a dull moment with those two though you had to admit, even if they forced you to dress up with them.

Watching the two kids dressed as ghosts fling their tubs of candy all over the floor you sighed, “I hope you know I’m not cleaning all that up”. “Yeah yeah we know” they rolled their eyes in unison as they began their candy trade whilst you simply scrolled on your phone idly.

“Stuck babysitting once again, never gets old” you mumbled to yourself, shifting your angel wings off your back and onto the floor. Your siblings had forced you to dress as an angel but you only agreed if you could pick the clothes.

“Stop, you’re messing up our piles” your sister moaned, flinging them at your head on impulse. “HEY, STOP THAT OR I’LL HA~”, you were cut off as the doorbell rang. Your eyes turnt to the kids on the floor as if to ask if they knew who that was, yet you were met with two matching pairs of clueless eyes.

You all stayed frozen as the rings continued, over and over again until you mustered up the courage to walk over to the front door, your heart pounding out of your chest at this point as your hand hovered over the knob. Who could be at the door at this time, your house was the only one on the block that didn’t have major decorations so people knew to not come knocking.

Slowly turning the doorknob the door flew open causing you to step back a bit, standing a foot away from you was a boy who looked about your age, staring pure daggers at you. “Wrong house maybe?” you questioned sarcastically, pure vim rolling off the tongue as you retook a step forward. Who was he anyway?

“Definitely the right house” the boy scoffed, looking you up and down as he continued “I’m the babysitter, and by the looks of it, I was needed”. You stood dumbfounded as he swerved straight past you and into your living room, turning to face him you retorted, “Wait a minute, you can’t just waltz up into people's houses like that, who even are you?”.

“Sae, the babysitter as I said a second ago, now hurry up and shut the door” he huffed, scanning the cluttered floor. “Oh yeah did mom and dad not tell you? They hired a babysitter", your brother spoke up before going back to his candy exchange. “Weren’t saying that when we were statues two minutes ago were ya. Didn’t wanna mention that huh?” you sighed, face planting your hand before shutting the door behind you.

Why would your parents hire a babysitter if they knew you were staying the night? You weren’t a little kid anymore, what was the point of that? Not to mention the dude didn’t look like he’d be good with people in general, let alone kids, where’d they even find him.

You watched as Sae strolled across the room scanning it thoroughly, same blank face plastered on his face as before, “well then? Start cleaning up this trash, it's late”. You stood behind the couch, since he’s the babysitter tonight you thought ‘maybe I’ll get a break after all’.

The twins scoured the man with looks of disgust as he barked orders almost immediately, “and who are you to tell us what to do?” “We are in the middle of a candy exchange”. “They got a point” you sniggered under your breath, turning away sharply as he glared at you.

“I won’t ask you again, sort this out.” the guy ordered, hovering over the two as if they were ants. Should you step in? You weren’t the babysitter but maybe that was a bit harsh. As you went to tap him from behind the twins nodded, beginning to tidy away their candy in silence.

“Now how did that work?” you muttered to yourself, you’d have to bribe them with a year's supply of goods to even get them to brush their teeth, let alone tidy up while they're in the middle of doing something. “And why aren’t you helping them?” Sae asked, back still to you as the kids hurried to pack away their candy.

“Umm, maybe because I don’t need a babysitter, nor do I need a strange pink haired boy telling me what I should and shouldn’t do in my own house” you pointed out. What was not clicking for this guy; first he comes to the house unannounced and now he's barking orders? What is going on today, where did your parents even find this guy, maybe if yall met at a party you could have hit it off but God was he rubbing you up the wrong way right now.

You heard a faint sigh from him as he took a step to the side before pointing at the staircase, “N’ go on, I don’t even want to see your faces till your parents get back”. Your face showed an expression of pure disbelief as you watched your siblings almost march up the stairs with a simple “okay, goodnight”, no rebuttal, no fight back, just compliance.

As you tried to comprehend the scene that just played out before you, Sae managed to make his way around you, his hand trailing your waist and to your hand, gripping it ever so slightly “I don’t need a strange pink haired babysitter telling me what I should and shouldn't do, was it?” he chuckled, reiterating what you had already said prior while pulling your hand closer, your back pressed up against his left side as he examined it.

“Maybe I should make you eat those words angel”, “what are you doing, this isn't very professional of you mr babysitter” you spat, did he really think this would be the case of easy girl sleeps with the hot babysitter.

“Is there something in the air today” you scowled, yanking your hand out of the guys grasp and turning to face him, your back hoving just in front of the couches back, “If you’re a babysitter, what’s with the fangs and pointy tail hmm?”, “Oh you like em?” he smirked.

You stood your ground as the guy inched closer and closer to you till he was almost towering over you, your eyes refusing to meet his while you spoke “No, do babysitters usually dress as… Wait a minute”.

“You didn’t come in the house wearing that, what are you?” you stuttered, your eyes darting around his body taking in all the new features. There was no way something like that could have slipped your mind, absolutely no way. “Oh lighten up angel it’s just a costume, maybe you’re just exhausted and didn’t notice. But hey, if you wanted a closer look you could've just asked” he ribbed.

You could feel Sae’s presence as he stepped closer, his cold body radiating an eerie aura that made your heart almost instantly start racing like never before. His icy hot hands cupped your face, trapping you in his gaze till you could no longer move your own body, it almost felt as if there was someone else in your skin and you were just the mere shell.

Under the trance he had put you under, your lips met in an all-consuming kiss, every inch of your body quivered with nothing but lust and desire but you had no control anymore. A small moan slipped your lips allowing him full access, tasting every inch of your mouth as your tongue wrapped around his.

Deepening the kiss, Sae slid his hands down your tight fitted dress, tracing every curve of your body as he lifted you with ease, wrapping your legs around his waist and arms around his neck. Sae walked you both around the couch, laying you on the cushions below yet your lips never broke apart.

“Sae please” you whined needily against his lips, pulling him in as close as you could. “Oh don’t worry, I’ll give it to you” he snickered, breaking away from you, a trail of saliva still connecting you both as he looked into your eyes, “It’ll be the last thing you get”.

Those words resonated with you, what was even happening right now. Fear started to sink in as he gazed into your fearful eyes, all you could see back was corruption and death. Sleeping with him was one thing, but what did he mean by “it'll be the last thing you get?”. You weren’t even sure which thoughts were yours and which were his that were being planted in your head.

Sae ran his fingers down to your underwear, the trail of a icy hot burn lingering where they touched as he slipped them down your legs and onto the floor in one swoop. Without warning he pushed himself between your legs with a groan that was lost amongst your own curses, “did I catch you off guard” he asked sarcastically, pressing his lips against yours to swallow your cries.

The heated kiss intensified as the guy slid his hand under your shirt, feeling the warmth of your breast as he took your harden nipple between his fingers, twisting ever so slightly every now and then. He could feel himself harden as he touched you, a feverish heat coursed through his veins.

With every thrust you felt a fiery coldness inside you that was both unbearable and exhilarating - it was almost as if he was feeding off of your energy, taking pleasure from your body beneath him. “Fu~ck I need you” Sae groaned against your ear between moans, your body was taking him so well. You clung to him, your breathing becoming heavier as he moved inside you.

You wanted him so badly in this moment yet you knew you didn’t want to die, your mind couldn’t even comprehend the situation you were in at this point. Pain, lust, fear and desire just mixing into one as your body held onto him. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide and pretend this was a nightmare, this was your reality and there was nothing you could do. You had no control over your actions.

“You’re so fucking warm” he grunted, his thrusts getting deeper and more frantic as you cried out his name over and over again, tears streaming down your cheeks from the sensations. “S~Sae” you choked out, your eyebrows furrowed as his tip continuously pressed against your sweet spot, it almost felt as if with every stride more air left your body. You were almost suffocating but he made you feel so good.

The sounds of skin slapping against one another and passionate moans filled the large room, Sae’s body almost seeming to get more powerful as your needy cunt swallowed him in each time he grew faster.

“Sae please, i’m so close” you begged, your foreheads almost resting on one another's while he fucked you, your eyesight slowly fading away with each thrust. “Fuck I wish I could keep you to myself, too bad I gotta let you die” he cursed, not wanting to have to let you go, but as an incubus he had no choice.

“Go one, cum for me, paint this cock white before you go” he grinned, his vulgar tone hooking you in one final time, all that was on your mind was the need to fulfil your sexual appetite. Doing as told you came, your walls constricted around him, milking him dry but also coating his shaft completely.

“That’s it” he hissed, longing out his thrusts to allow you to enjoy your final orgasm before sliding out of you. Your vision began to blur and your eyes grew heavy, the realisation that you were fading away hitting you once again.

You just wanted to slip away and forget everything, before you could drift away Sae whispered in your ear, “Can’t let you go without leaving my mark can I?”.

He sunk his fangs into your neck, an odd coolness running through your veins as he did, any energy you had left escaping as you took your final breath. This was it, this was how it would end for you, where did it all go wrong? Would he have left if you hadn’t opened the door? So many unanswered questions but sadly, time was up for you.

“So sweet, just how I like em” Sae laughed, composing himself while taking in the sight of your cold lifeless body laid on the couch. You were nothing more than a vessel to help him regain his power, however he had to admit, you felt different, not many were able to resist an incubus for as long as you could. But no matter the circumstances you had to pay with your life, life didn’t always get to go smoothly for everyone, life isn’t fair.

Just as those thoughts popped into his mind, Sae heard a car pull into the driveway. As he waltzed out of the house a man blocked his way, a confused expression on his face as he spoke, “erm, who are you and what are you doing here? I was told I was babysitting children”.

Glaring daggers at the smaller built man who looked no older than you, Sae rolled his eyes, “I don’t think it matters now anyway, you’re too late”. Stepping to the side and off into the distance Sae muttered, pointing back towards the babysitter, “But I will say, you’d better get ready to explain the scene in there”.

Following the direction of Sae’s point the babysitter shuddered, panic and fear seeping in as he turnt the door handle to see the most horrific scene he had ever seen. Turning back in pure terror, the pink haired guy was already gone into the night.

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eriscl · 5 months

Text

Burning Love

Blade x gn!reader. injury, mentions of blood and cuts. intentional lowercase. fluff. some angst if you squint.

truly, you're unsure of how you got here.

it all started with a trail of blood. one that lead back to Blade's room, and curious you followed said trail, wondering if he must've got a new injury from the mission he just came from. though it happens often, the thought of him suffering leaves a pang in your heart.

following the blood lead you to his room, and fortunately for you and unfortunately for him, his door wasn't closed shut, just a tiny slither open. and to you that tiny slither seemed welcoming enough as you let yourself inside. only to be greeted with his toned, but scarred back.

his muscles flexed under the movement of removing his garments. bandages wrapped around his torso only accentuated his slim waist. his well built figure was truly a sight for sore eyes, but for yours it added just a bit of pain. seeing the way his body littered with cuts, some big some small.

the sound of his door creaking open grabs his attention and his head snaps in your direction. a look of disdain is written all over but it softens just a inch when he notices you, still, he speaks in that low, annoyed tone of his.

"what do you think you're doing?"

he grumbles. placing his shirt down on the bed and turning to face you. crossing his arms and muscles flexing. the room definitely starts to feel hotter by the minute.

"your door was opened and I..."

you trail off when you see the gaping cut down his chest. it seems to have clotted but still awfully painful. Balde's brow raises when you suddenly stop talking and start approaching him instead. coming up and moving his arms down so you can see the flesh wound.

"how--who?"

his eye's squint when he looks at you. letting out a scoff but ultimately not pushing you away.

"you worry too much"

he gives you his signature blank stare, eyes boring into yours. you feel frozen under his gaze. reaching a hand up and grazing it around and just over the cut.

"Blade.." you whisper his name and it sounds like pure bliss to him.

he grabs your hands in an instant and pushes them to your chest. spinning you around and against the bed, the back of your knees pressed into the mattress.

his hand snakes around your back and latches onto your mid section. tugging you closer. face mere inches front yours.

"stop that"

"stop what?"

"stop enchanting me like that"

he grumbles. nose brushing yours and pink dusts his cheeks. red eyes flickering from your own to your lips. almost as if he's been waiting for this moment. and who are you to miss this opportunity?

you bring your lips close to his, waiting just a moment before pressing yours to his. in no time does he kiss back. lips capturing yours in a heated fashion. biting just a bit on your lower lip.

the kiss lasts several more seconds before you break away, gasping for air. and you swear you can see the corners of his lips rise just a bit.

he lets out a chuckle as he releases you. reaching behind to grab his shirt and make his way to the bathroom, sparing you a glance before leaving the room. he's gone fast but you can still feel the intense burning sensation he left on your lips.

he feels a little ooc here but oh well. I hope I did him justice. my poor babygirl tho he's always suffering I just wanna 🤛🤲

#hsr #honkai star rail #blade x reader #hsr x gender neutral reader #blade x you #blade x y/n #hsr x y/n #hsr x you #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x reader #hsr blade #honkai star rail blade #blade honkai

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angelbarelywrites · 2 days

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♡ good one | thomas hewitt x reader

♡ fandoms; Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003 + 2006)

♡ characters; Thomas Brown Hewitt

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; references to extreme violence, stockholm syndrome i suppose?, kidnapping

♡ notes; this was literally supposed to be porn but instead here’s some weird sappy stuff lol

anyways hopefully more fics soon, writers block and rehearsals have been a bitch and a half

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

It was a wonder you were still alive. That’s what you thought about, sitting and fidgeting in the strange bedroom with your ankle shackled. Was shackled the right word if it was tied with rope? Whatever. It didn’t matter. You were fairly certain you’d fall prey to the crazy folks running around the place soon enough. The group you’d hitched a ride with was already long gone- one you’d watched get shot point blank by the bullshit sheriff. The others….well, you heard the chainsaw and the screaming. It was an easy conclusion to come to, especially after you saw the bloody smears on the hardwood downstairs.

You weren’t sure why you hadn’t been hacked into bits yet. You’d been indistinguishable from the others- just another wandering twenty-something with tight clothes and next to no money. The only thing you could think of was that gas station. Your companions had been such dicks to the lady at the counter- of course you apologized to her. She’d been just as kind in return, she even snuck a candy into your bag of sodas and snacks. She was the one who’d sent you that way, towards the farm house.

You stilled, train of thought lost as you heard footsteps. Heavy and slow- they were somehow more intimidating than any angry stomping could have been. You curled your legs up defensively, eyes trained on the door. The person stood there more than a second, silent and just as still as you were holding. If you hadn’t been listening so intently, you would have thought they turned and walked away. But then there was some quiet mumbling- a woman’s voice, maybe?- and the door creaked open.

“Go on Tommy dear- I found a good one for you.”

You’d never seen a man so tall- with shoulders so broad or arms and torso so solid. He was massive. He was terrifying. And he was attractive. Once your eyes unglued themselves from his figure you finally took in the rest. Dark, thick shoulder-length waves. A mask that seemed useless as any sort of medical device thanks to the open mouth. Eyes that were dark but not brown. Maybe blue, maybe gray..maybe just pure black. Like a shark’s. In other circumstances you'd be reduced to a puddle on floor over him. But the bloodstains on his shirt didn’t go unnoticed.

You watched him closely, and he watched you just as alertly, stalking forward like some jungle cat…No. Wait. That wasn’t right. He didn’t look scared, but he was cautious, keeping some distance. Maybe a better allegory would be he looked like he was trying to corner a feral kitten- not wanting you to swipe or dart away. As if doing either was possible. You were frozen with fear, though found the courage to lean back a bit as he stepped forward. He grunted softly and persisted, nearly trembling as he brushed a strand of hair from your face.

Love at first sight was a stupid fucking concept. That you’d always believe. Maybe something in you just broke that same moment, maybe you were just too exhausted to think even close to straight. Maybe both. But when you and this massive man locked eyes, there was an instant understanding. He was already yours- and more importantly, you’d be his. He just had to stake his claim.

“…you’re Tommy?” You practically whispered. He nodded quickly. You got a sense he didn’t speak much, but you told him your name in return and tried to think of anything to talk about to stall the inevitable. “…you killed those people?” You blurted for some godforsaken reason. He tensed, still hovering over you. “It’s okay.” You added quickly “I didn’t actually know them. They were kinda mean.”

He furrowed his brow just a bit and searched your face, for any signs that you were lying. Before he came to a conclusion, you gave a soft sigh, instinctively leaning into the hand that had raised your face to him. Something immediately softened about him, and he rubbed your cheek in awe. The sleepy giggle it caused seemed almost to startle him. It was like no one had ever been that soft with him. Maybe they hadn’t. “….this is your room right? Can we sleep?”

Tommy still seemed in shock but carefully nodded, undoing his apron and seeming at a loss of what to do next. He frowned a bit as he noticed your bindings and quickly undid the knot that kept you stuck there. His guard was down- you could try to run. But you didn’t want to. Doing so would only be tiring. You wanted to let go. So instead you smiled softly and simply opened your arms, letting him cuddle up with you. It took him a minute to get settled, and all the while treating you so delicately… like you were made of glass. He looked up at you, again searching your face in near confusion. He grunted in surprise as you pecked his forehead. His mama really did find him a good one.

#slashers #slashers x reader #slashers x you #thomas hewitt #tcm #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas brown hewitt #tcm 2006 #tcm 2003 #texas chainsaw the beginning #texas chainsaw massacre #gender neutral reader #g/n reader

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vampyrsm · 7 months

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‣‣ COR UNUM: CHAPTER EIGHT | KAGUTSUCHI

‣‣ Synopsis: Our tale begins to unravel with secrets spilt from bloodied lips. Beneath the shroud of darkness, the woman known to wear many faces offers you a chance to discover the truth; should you listen to her even if it means you are to die?

‣‣ Main Masterlist | AO3 ‣‣ Pairing: Sukuna x Reader ‣‣ Word Count: est. 5.7k ‣‣ Warnings: Blank blogs & Minors DNI. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Set in the Early-Heian Period, trueform!Sukuna, cursed energy usage, body horror, Kenjaku gets their own warning, descriptions of wounds/attacks, threats of violence/death, female reader.

“Show me it again.”

It had been two days since the initial fight with Sukuna, he had disappeared for the rest of the day after the odd way he had abruptly left but once he returned he had an uneasy air around him. He was harsher, a little colder than usual and yet he still did not kick you out of his bedroom at night.

But now, here you were once again. Training with Sukuna. Today wasn’t going to be a fight, but rather he wanted to figure out your cursed technique. He had explained that he was well versed in all things cursed-technique related, he spent hours upon hours researching all the documented ones and even the ones that had been rumoured to exist before he did.

Thankfully Sukuna had allowed you to wear something more suited for training. It was similar to the outfit you wore at the first shrine but instead of the red and white colour scheme, it was purely black. It reminded you of the outfit you trained in as a child.

You stood in the middle of the shattered arena. Someone had been generous enough to move all the rubble and scattered tree bark out of the way so the two of you could train more easily.

You nod your head at his words. Sukuna had been asking you to display your technique without actually using it as an attack, he needed to get the fundamentals of it before you started to apply it to battle.

The familiar flow of your cursed energy is something akin to second nature now, it seeps from your stomach and then through your body to the very tips of your fingers. Your eyes close, only to reopen again to see the snowflakes have been temporarily suspended in the air — slowly falling at a rate much too slow to be considered natural.

Sukuna is frozen too in the slowed world you find yourself in, and you wonder if he could really get an idea of just what your technique was.

You move at a normal walking speed until you’re standing directly in front of Sukuna. He looked oddly reminiscent of a statue when he was completely still like this, all four arms folded over his chest like the intimidating beast that he is. You take the time to inspect him.

The cuts from the fight on his body were also gone, but if you looked closely you could see the very faint white lines where some of the heavier hits had been laid upon him. Interesting. You assumed that his technique was flawless enough to ensure no evidence of weakness was left behind.

You breathe in, blinking again and the world shifts back into place. Immediately Sukuna’s head snaps down to you, blinking as his brain processes just how quickly you moved.

“I see.” He comments, one hand uncurling from a bicep to rub at his chin. “So it’s not what I initially thought. I had assumed you were simply fast, faster than most. But it’s not that, is it?”

You shrug a little, you don’t really know yourself. All you had to go off of was your own personal experience and the comment from the blue-eyed Samurai who told you that it was a technique you inherited from your father.

“No. You don’t move fast at all. You slow down time. Everything around you moves at a much slower rate if it comes into contact with your cursed energy, but to the naked eye it just seems like you’re moving inhumanly fast.”

You have to applaud Sukuna on his deduction skills, he wasn’t kidding when he said he knew his stuff when it came to understanding cursed techniques.

“I think that may be one of the stronger cursed techniques I’ve heard of. You could do anything to anyone before they could react.”

“Including you?” You grin teasingly, and Sukuna’s upper lip curls in annoyance.

“No. Now that I know what your little trick is, it won’t work on me so easily.”

Now it’s your turn to nearly snarl at the man, stepping away from the suffocating presence that follows him around.

“So is that all I can do? Slow down time?”

Sukuna hums, finding his position next to you as you overlook the land beneath the mountains. The sun was slowly setting on the horizon, casting the snow-covered world below in a deep orange. None of the people below knew that a man as monstrous as Sukuna was looking down at them all; watching their every move.

“I think there’s more to it. That’s just the innate technique, there’s definitely room for you to develop techniques that branch off of that.” His eyes glaze over the clouds below. “That’s how all techniques work.”

“What about your technique?” You question him boldly, and Sukuna doesn’t bother to spare you a glance but his lips lift into a slight smirk.

“Do you know the power behind revealing your own technique in the midst of battle?” A shake of your head has that smirk broadening. “It’s a binding vow made with yourself. Reveal your technique to your enemy and it’ll become stronger.”

“But wouldn’t revealing your hand like that just open you up to being countered?” You ask, you were always taught to never let your opponent know your next move. It was baffling to imagine telling your enemy your cursed technique.

“Maybe. But if you’re stronger, faster, you will win.”

“So will you tell me your technique?” You ask again, and Sukuna has the gall to chuckle deep in his chest.

“No. I don’t need to reveal it to you to beat you.”

A silence washes over the both of you, the wind today thankfully wasn’t as aggressive as it had been the last few days. The storm had passed. You feel that same tranquil feeling you had the other day, the warmth from the sun even from beyond the clouds warms your cheeks.

Everything had changed so rapidly that you couldn’t quite believe where you were today. You had expected to die a long time ago, perhaps for your sharp tongue or simply for the fact you disrespected Sukuna far too many times with your actions. And still, the man seems unbothered by your presence next to him. If anything, he had welcomed it since arriving back at his ancestral temple here in the mountains.

Even with the recent coldness he had been exhibiting towards you, he still didn’t push you away completely or kill you simply because he could.

“I’ll be leaving tonight,” Sukuna announces, and you turn your head up to look at him but his gaze remains on the distant horizon. “Only for a day or two. But that means you will be here alone, with Kenjaku.”

You hadn’t seen Kenjaku since the day you arrived, and you had hoped to keep it that way but apparently fate has something else in store for you. The fear you had for the woman was still something you felt deep in your bones but with the discovery of your cursed technique and newfound use of cursed energy — you didn’t feel totally defenceless.

“Don’t provoke her. She likes to make jokes but she means it when she says she’ll kill you.” Sukuna finally casts a glance down to you, the seriousness on his face is enough to have you nodding with his words in agreement that you won’t provoke the woman.

“Good. As for food, there’s plenty in the kitchen. However,” he turns to you sharply, “Do not go there at the hour of the Ox.”

It’s an ominous warning. The hour of the Ox was roughly after midnight when theoretically all the evil things came out to play. Was there something evil, other than Kenjaku and Sukuna, that lurked in the temple? You didn’t want to find out.

“Okay.” You nod again.

“If I come back to find you dead, I’ll make sure to bring you back just so I can kill you myself.”

He didn’t give you the time to work your tongue to form a response to him. His presence next to you was gone almost instantly, his energy fading with each step he took further away from you until you couldn’t feel the familiarity of it when it pressed against your own.

That was nearly twenty-eight hours ago.

You had made sure to comply with his words, or rather, you worked hard to avoid Kenjaku. After you had tapped into your own cursed energy, it was as if the world around you came to life with the amount of residuals that everyone left behind.

You found that Kenjaku specifically had muddied cursed energy, so dense and dark yet with traces of other cursed energy inside of it. As if it didn’t all belong to her. It was disturbing as much as it was confusing, you didn’t want to find out just what her cursed technique was to cause something like that.

Her energy lingered mostly on the opposite side of the temple, often leading to the main entrance. You didn’t care where she went during the day, you only cared that she stayed as far away as possible.

Even now, in the relatively safe confines of Sukuna’s bedroom, you could still sense her just lingering beyond the multiple walls that separate you from her. You had no idea what she was up to currently, but you knew for certainty that she was around. You wondered if she slept, you knew Sukuna claimed he didn’t need to sleep anymore. So was it the same for the woman who haunted the halls of the temple?

You direct your attention back down to the old loosely bound book in your hands, it had clearly been written a long time ago as it was falling apart at the seams. But it still retained all the ink on its page well enough for you to read it, some of the words were in very old Man’yogana.

You had been grateful for the lessons your father had ordered you to take to understand the rich history of Japan. Man’yogana was something you had been able to learn when you were old enough to read and write. It was a simple system but it was essentially just Chinese characters in lieu of the Japanese language.

Could Sukuna speak it fluently? You imagine he had a handful of talents that you had no idea about, he seemed to know plenty about everything so you didn’t doubt that he too could speak multiple languages. Maybe you could prod at him to get him to teach you how to actually speak Chinese, you could only read it—barely.

Regardless, you could mostly work your way through this book with no real problem. Sometimes you’d have to figure it out for yourself what exactly was being implied but it was easy enough once you got a grasp of the basics.

One of the things that was vaguely spoken about however was something called a ‘Domain Expansion’. You’d never heard Sukuna mention anything like that before, but it was often mentioned in books across different ages. It was meant to be a pinnacle of someone’s cursed technique and yet no one had a definitive way on how to use one, or even materialise it.

You wondered what your own domain would be like if you could make one. The books always said that it was directly related to the user themselves, or more specifically, their soul. What did One’s soul look like? Perhaps that was a vital part of knowing how to summon a domain, to know what your soul looked like and to expand it outwards with the help of cursed energy.

Maybe Sukuna would be willing to help you figure that out. You didn't doubt that he could use one, he seemed to have mastered almost everything to do with cursed energy. He was very proficient in his techniques, even if he refused to outright tell you what it actually was.

Another technique you couldn’t quite wrap your head around was something referred to as Hanten; reversal. It was so sparsely documented that you couldn’t help but wonder if this particular book was just the ramblings of a man gone mad trying to understand how cursed energy worked.

The pages displayed no way of indicating just how to use reversal, or what it could even do. It mentioned self-healing, but that was about it. Now you knew for sure that Sukuna could use something like that, if not exactly that, you had seen him regenerate his hand in the flower field as well as survive the two fatal attacks on his body.

The end of that page simply ended with a sentence; ‘With death comes the gratitude for life.’

This would be another thing you ask Sukuna for guidance with. He’d most likely outright refuse to tell you how to do it or what it even was. He seemed to be a more ‘figure it out’ for yourself type of teacher, but you’d dealt with that type of teaching in the past. If Kiso crumbled to your incessant nagging on how to be taught a certain thing, then you have a feeling that Sukuna may eventually succumb to you — or he’d kill you.

Either way. All this reading was starting to make your head ache, you blink blearily up from the pages in front of you to see that the sky beyond the slatted windows had wholly disappeared and instead replaced with an inky black smattered with blinking stars. Time seemed to slip away from you when you weren’t drowning in the presence of a man who occupied the space as if he owned it.

You hadn’t eaten since earlier that afternoon when you managed to slip into the kitchen unnoticed and took a handful of different fruits. It seemed to be the only food readily available to you. You had spied there were some bags stuffed away into a far corner filled with rice, you didn’t want to intrude too much in the kitchen in the middle of the day. Who knows what lurks in the halls during the day.

But now the hunger was getting too much to ignore, you doubt fruit would satisfy the ache in your stomach. Putting the books down in the stacks you had formed throughout the day, you get up and head out of the sanctuary you made for yourself in Sukuna’s room.

The halls are barren, as usual, you don’t feel any foreign cursed energy slinking through the temple. Perhaps you’d get lucky at such a late hour of the night and not encounter anyone on the way to the kitchen. The floor is cold beneath your socked feet, even when you pass by the lanterns that had been lit and recently replenished, there’s a chill that rolls through the building.

You make it to the kitchen without incident. Thankfully. The kitchen itself is illuminated only by a single lantern that sits in the centre of the wooden table that was often used to prepare food. There’s a slither of moonlight that seeps through the partly cracked open window, it stretches across the room and touches your toes as if to greet you.

From there, you work on autopilot to prepare yourself some food. It was an easy task to prepare the rice, wash it thoroughly and find the appropriate tools to help light the fire in the Irori to cook the food properly.

Whilst pilfering through the small storage cupboard for some of the tangerines you had seen earlier that day, you can’t help but wonder how the food even got here in the first place. You hadn’t seen Uraume in a while, not since the previous shrine, so you didn’t think they were here running errands for Sukuna.

That left one other person who was capable of heading into villages to get food. Kenjaku. Did she purchase food or simply take it? You don’t think anyone would have the guts to stop a woman of her calibre from taking what she wants. But still, the thought of her handing over coin in exchange for food seems like such an outlandish image in your mind that it elicits a soft snort from yourself.

“Something amusing, little lamb?”

The sultry voice has your fingers freezing in place, the bowl of rice steaming and billowing the hot air against your slowly burning fingers. The warmth of the thicker kimono you had managed to find was no longer doing anything to protect you from the frigid fear that climbed up your limbs and shackled you in place.

Kenjaku consumes the room whole with just her energy alone, she had no qualms about squashing you beneath the weight of it as if she was simply flexing the power she had over you. You don’t—can’t move to face her, your body fighting itself internally to just move–something, but nothing happens.

Instead, you’re stuck listening to her slowly approaching feet, the geta she wears click rhythmically against the cold stone floor until that suffocating presence feels like it’s wrapping around your throat and holding you uncomfortably.

Her exhale of breath is warm against the bareness of your neck, and your fingers twitched in the cooling steam of the food you were cooking.

“What? Cat got your tongue? Last I heard, you were quite the firecracker. Where’s that voice gone now? Is it because your Master has left you here all alone?” Kenjaku breathes the words against the shell of your ear, the sneer evident in her voice.

“What do you want?” Your tongue manages to roll the words off smoothly, and you feel more than hear Kenjaku’s amused release of breath. She backs away just enough to allow your lungs to expand freely. The uneasy feeling of her energy is still ever present but it’s no longer bearing down on you.

You turn to look at her, and she’s smiling, though the smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Her long black hair has been swept up into a more traditional updo, her kimono is the same one you had seen her in the first time – her elegance is undeniable.

“I want to know what’s so special about you.” She answers your question truthfully, surprisingly, her eyes do a quick sweep up and down your attire before they dart to your covered shoulder. “You see. I’ve known Sukuna for quite a while, and never once has he kept a woman alive for so long.”

“He’s kept you around, hasn’t he?”

Kenjaku’s face splits into an unnerving grin until your stomach twists uncomfortably. “We’re very different from one another. After all, I’m not the one who gets to sleep with the King of Curses himself.”

Her words, whilst erroneous, still have your body set alight. That phrasing alone has heat rushing to your cheeks and the tips of your ears. Is that what everyone thought was happening? That you were sleeping with Sukuna? A part of you believes that if that were true, then it’d be easier to explain why he was keeping you around.

How do you explain to someone that he’s keeping you around because you believe he wants to turn you into a weapon for his own arsenal?

“That’s not true.” You retort once the initial embarrassment bleeds into annoyance. Why was she so scornful towards you? Did she have hate for you because you were simply occupying more of Sukuna’s time? You hadn’t pinned her as being a jealous woman, she didn’t seem the type to busy herself with something as trivial as jealousy.

“No? So he doesn’t let you sleep in his room? He doesn’t let you bathe in the only hot spring still active so high in the mountains? He isn’t giving you special training?” Kenjaku pushes off of the wooden table she was leaning on, once again advancing upon you until you knock into the table with the rice bowl behind you.

Too long fingers wrap around your jaw, sharp nails digging into the flesh of your cheeks before wrenching your head up so that Kenjaku could get a good look at you. “What is it that he sees in you?” She demands in a chillingly dark tone, her energy burns at your skin the longer she holds you.

You had to move. Do something. Anything to get out of the grasp of her cursed energy before something irreversible happened. It was near enough second nature now to tap into your own energy, the extensive yet fulfilling lessons Sukuna had provided you with had allowed you to call on it when you needed it the most.

Kenjaku’s body slows completely to a halt, lips parted as if she was about to say something further to you and the room grows silent around the both of you. Thankfully whatever Kenjaku’s own technique might be, it doesn’t seem capable of keeping up with your own.

You slip from her hand, your hand brushing along the table behind you until you feel the cool steel of the knife you had been using prior. She still doesn’t move when you shift the blade between the both of you, pressing the tip of the knife against the centre of her stomach. It wouldn’t kill her, but perhaps she’d understand you weren’t completely helpless when she cornered you like this.

The knife slips into the skin like butter, slicing past the long kimono she wears as if it were nothing but paper. The blood has not spilt yet, but you can see the minute twitching of her fingers as the pain starts to register. Your window is closing rapidly, you leave the knife embedded in her stomach before crossing to the other side of the room.

Here you watch as time spins to catch up with your actions, your own cursed energy flooding back into your body and Kenjaku lurches forward as if she were about to crush your head. Her spare hand comes down to her stomach, long fingers curling around the handle of the knife to try and assess just what had happened.

You expect her to react, to lash out and attack you in the middle of the kitchen but instead, she turns to look at you. Her eyes are wide, her skin looking just a tad more paler than usual. You caught her off-guard.

“Zen’in.” She mutters the word that turns your blood to ice, how did she know your family name from just the use of your cursed energy? The confusion on your face makes her smile wide once again, her fingers tightening around the knife before she rips it from her stomach in a crude spray of crimson droplets.

It drops to the stone floor with a wet clatter, bouncing once then twice until it stops too far for you to reach if you had to make a dash for it.

“You have no idea what Sukuna has done. Do you?” She laughs the words, and her hand that had been pressed to her bleeding wound moves to reveal the stab wound had been healed. “Foolish, naive little girl. He keeps you around like some sort of pet, and you have no idea what he’s taken from you.”

You truly had no idea what she meant by that. How could you? How could you know what Sukuna had done before he plucked you from your old life?

Kenjaku laughs at your expense once again, dragging you from your slowly spiralling thoughts. Her eyes that were usually narrowed in a fox-like gaze are widened, and the brush of blood along one of her cheeks makes your stomach twist with something like fear. She looked terrifying.

In a split second, she closes the gap between the two of you, pushing aside a stool on the ground in hopes of grabbing you before you slip away. Her hand wraps around your throat before you can react, your head bouncing harshly against the wooden beam behind you. Kenjaku was much taller than you, and stronger too apparently. Her fingers are cruel in the way they tense around your throat until you choke.

“I should kill you where you stand for daring to harm my body.” She snarls, leaning in close enough that you can smell the perfume that sticks to her. It had a soft flowery scent but beneath it was something you had become acclimated to; she smelled like death.

Her free hand drags up along the side of your face, soft knuckles digging into the fat of your cheek before she presses the pad of her thumb into your temple. Her wide green eyes are consumed wholly by whatever manic thoughts are currently bouncing around in her head, the tip of her thumbnail continues to curl inwards until it starts to break through your skin.

“Do you think Sukuna would realise you were dead?” She muses to no one in particular, she clearly isn’t asking you for an answer as she watches the blood that beads at the tip of her thumb before it rolls down along your cheekbone. “I doubt it. Your technique seems easy enough to use.”

The hand that had been pressed to the side of your head moves to her own, her fingers drag along the length of the scar before you watch in abject horror when her fingers curl into an invisible seam. There’s a slick wet sound as the skin continues to stretch until it’s free from its other half. The blood that pours down her face doesn’t seem to phase the woman.

Instead, her grin spreads. The initial rush of thick blood painting her lips a deep shade of crimson before it spreads onto the whiteness of her teeth.

“I think a Zen’in would be—” She stops in place, the hand shifting the top half of her scalp stops just before you get a peek of her brain. She remains in place, but her eyes narrow towards the entrance of the kitchen. “Oh. Maybe another time.”

Kenjaku leans back, uncaring for the blood and cerebrospinal fluid on her face soaking into her kimono, as she runs a finger across the seam on her forehead to ‘re-seal’ it.

“Run back to your sanctuary now little lamb. You’ll find your answers there.”

Kenjaku retreats, but not before she brings the hand that had been clamped around your jaw to her mouth. Her tongue drags from the base of her palm to the tip of her thumb, lapping up the blood spilt from the cut on the side of your temple. She doesn’t say anything else, simply smiles before turning away to slink off into the darkness where she came from.

You take the sudden change of events to leave the kitchen, leaving behind the food that no longer seemed appealing. You had no idea what Kenjaku was capable of, but you didn’t doubt that it had something to do with the brain.

In no time at all, you’re plunged back into the familiar warmth of Sukuna’s room. The hearth was still lit but slowly dimming, you’d have to relight it at some point. But not even the threat of the cold could shake the need to figure out what Kenjaku had meant.

What did she mean that you’d find your answers here? You’ve been alone in this room for a day now, and you’ve scoured through the multitude of scrolls and books until you were convinced there was nothing you had missed. Sukuna had an extensive amount of research into cursed energy and techniques, but nothing was the ‘answer’ you were now currently seeking.

You step further into the room, glancing across the neatly made futon bed that you were planning on sleeping in after you ate something. There was nothing of interest there, and there was none when you took a glance towards the seat where Sukuna often perched each time you slept in his bed.

Twisting on your heel, you find yourself in a similar situation to just the other morning. The large weapon chest that you had wanted to go through remains untouched, you hadn’t thought twice about it after Sukuna had allowed you to train with your cursed energy. It didn’t seem necessary to revert back to weapons when you could use your own energy.

You also didn’t think Sukuna was too keen on giving you access to a weapon just yet, he always ignored your questions at the start if you were allowed to use a weapon despite the fact you won your silly bet during that initial sparring session.

But now, here you stand, looking down at the deep brown mahogany chest. Along the lid are deep engravings of symbols that you don’t recognise, you kneel down to find that there is no lock or latch to ensure that only Sukuna can open it. Perhaps he believed you weren’t stupid enough to snoop through his possessions despite the warning.

You however ignore that warning, pushing up the lid with the heel of your palms until it creaks and opens fully. It hits the wall behind it with a loud thud, a quick gust of air and dust blowing upwards into your face. Inside you’re met with what seems like thousands upon thousands of thin strips of paper; talisman, if the lettering on them was anything to go by.

They seemed to be for suppression, and with the opening of the box came a rush of something you now recognised as cursed energy. But it wasn’t any old cursed energy, it wasn’t even Sukuna’s. It felt so familiar, like a smell you couldn’t quite identify anymore as time went on.

You lean up on your knees just enough to peer into the weaponry box, and you simultaneously feel your heart and lungs seize up in your chest. There was only one object in there. One singular object that you would be able to identify even if you were stripped of your vision and could only feel it with your hands.

It’s a katana in a beautiful black sleek sheath, the handle was also black with gold threads weaved through. If you were to remove it from the sheathe, the steel of the sword would be the sharpest of any weapon with a darkened blade ridge.

This katana was something you had agonised over as a child. You yearned to just hold it. But the holder would never let you.

Your father would never let you.

Your hand moves before you can stop yourself, the handle is cold beneath your fingertips as is the blade guard. The weight it holds is significant, it was made to be slightly longer than your traditional katana — something your father as Shogun had requested to accommodate his swordsmanship.

He was truly a master with a sword, or any weapon for that matter, he moved as if he were made of water. He cut down countless men when he was called upon and as Shogun, he did not change. He was ruthless, a true Samurai warrior.

And here is his weapon, trapped in a box filled with talismans that were designed to hide the energy that seeped from the weapon. You hadn’t realised the weapon was imbued with such strong energy as a child, but now you can feel it. It feels just like your father.

Like a hug from a man who had not seen you since you were a child. His energy seamlessly seeps into your hands, curls around your fingers until it feels natural to hold the weapon in your hand.

There was only one reason Sukuna would have your father's sword.

When they delivered the news of your father's passing, you weren’t allowed to visit his body or his grave. It struck you as odd then but now it makes your stomach churn. When a body was unable to be seen or unable to be buried, then that meant only one thing: there was no body.

Did that mean Sukuna knew who you were before he had killed your husband and taken you captive? How were you so blind to the obvious? He had kept you alive, even saved you from certain death, healed your wounds and then went out of his way to train you. He knew exactly who you were, and what you were possibly capable of.

You doubt he felt any sort of remorse for what he’d done, you doubt a man like him could even feel guilt. Your fingers curl tightly around the handle and the sheath of the blade, the metal of the guard clinking as if it were ready to be released.

That goal you had set for yourself so long ago in the burned-down shrine sits at the forefront of your mind. You will kill Ryoumen Sukuna. Binding vow be damned, you will kill him.

A sliding door behind you opens before you hear the voice of the man whose presence alone brings your blood to boiling point.

“—And when I find out who sent me on a wild goose chase, I’ll have their eyeballs for supper.” The door slams to a sliding shut behind him, and you can immediately feel the rigidity that comes with his energy when he is angry. It was overly hot, a suffocating kind of energy that demanded you down on your knees with your forehead pressed to the floor.

Sukuna doesn’t move however to find out who had sent him out of the temple for a day, in fact, if you didn’t feel his energy so close by then you’d assume he had immediately left the room. But you can hear the expanding of his chest with each breath he takes, you can hear the fabric of the kimono he had worn for the day move.

No. He was most definitely still in the room, and he was watching you – observing, to see what your next move might be. Briefly, you wonder if he is hesitant to approach you. He clearly had a distaste for the weapon now cradled in your hands or he wouldn’t have gone to great lengths to suppress its energy until it was undetectable.

“I warned you.” His voice is no longer dripping in malice from just a few seconds earlier, instead, it sounds devoid of anything defining. And so his warning falls flat against the pain swelling in your chest. You had been sharing food with this man, training in such close proximity that you had momentarily been blinded to what he truly was.

A monster.

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#dead dove do not eat #cw gore #cw dark content #cw violence #tw cannibalism #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x reader #banner artwork is official game art for ghost of tsushima made by ian jun wei chiew

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