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eddies-house · 9 months

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Smoke Signals

Chapter Three - Two Old Fashioneds

W/C: 5.2K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Your first shift at The Bourbon goes less than smoothly and more chaotic. Does the town's hard-ass really have his shit together like he leads everyone to believe?

A/N: guys I'm so excited for this to pick up even more (i want to make them kiss like barbies but all in good time)

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The ins and outs of a bar were something you could have never anticipated and while similar in certain ways to a diner, there was a distinct line that separated the two. A diner had grumpy old men complaining about not getting their coffee soon enough. The bar had grumpy old men slurring their words, groaning about their lives and insisting that a ‘cute lil thing like you’ would fix everything. You had to stop yourself from gagging, plaster a smile on your face, and carry on. Because one complaint and you could be out of a job, only proving that you couldn’t handle the ‘rowdy’ customers as disclosed by the boss, who now that you thought about, hadn’t seen in the last forty minutes.

Not one other server was on staff to at least show you the ropes, it seemed like you were the first one. One of the bartenders, Jett, who had been the one you’d seen working the day before, was unfortunately selected to both train you and run the bar for the most part tonight, no time for a proper introduction before you were thrown into the deep end, only a quick exchange of names. It was a Thursday night but apparently to people in Knife’s Edge that meant the weekend started early. Poor Jett was nineteen years old and the whole bar depended on you two ever since 8:00 PM when you clocked in for your very first shift. It was nauseating having to ask him stupid questions in between attempting to serve tables while he made drink after drink, desperately trying to keep up with each order and delivering them to the right customer, even going as far to step out from behind the bar to tend to some of your tables. You assume he was probably used to it, what with how he did it without hesitation and seemed to have his own little system in place.

It wasn’t your fault, he assured you. It’s just that you happened to pick up your first shift the very night that the kitchen ran out of beef which also happened to be the main ingredient of one of The Bourbon’s only menu items, the famous Shreddar Burger topped with an ungodly amount of cheese and jalapenos. Turns out the customers went wild for it. It didn’t seem appetizing but you weren’t going to argue with the crowd favorite. And now it was being requested left and right, the explanation that the kitchen was currently out but should be back to whipping up another round soon, not enough for their hungry bellies. The best you could offer was a basket of fries until the beef magically showed up, Jett insisting that someone was taking care of it and that the cook would be back to whipping them up as planned sooner than later. You were beginning to lose faith in his promises but proceeded one step at a time regardless.

Just one more task and then the beef will be here and I won’t have to hear another damn grievance over a heartburn-inducing burger.

Yet it seemed to never come to an end, table after table requesting the very same order each time; only for you or Jett to break the news that their precious burger would have to wait and that again, the best you could offer were some fries or chicken wings, neither measuring up to the pedestal they held this burger on.

By around 9:15 PM, out came Eddie from the kitchen, door swinging behind him as sweat dripped from his brow. He was out of breath, chest heaving while he gestured for you and Jett to come over to which you obeyed, zigzagging around tables in a hurry with a tray tucked under your arm, brows pinched together stressfully. A new party of eight had just arrived which prompted you to push three tables together to accompany them, their drink order hadn’t even been taken yet and Eddie seemed to pick the worst time to call an impromptu meeting, in the middle of a never ending rush. Burgerless.

“Beef’s here. Jett, I need you to help with the rest of the boxes so we can get burgers going.” He instructs, the boy immediately following orders and frantically heading through the swinging door at full speed, very aware that he still had the front of house to attend to. “And you, Bambi, change of plans. I need you in the kitchen.”

So much to unpack in just one sentence. The kitchen? Bambi?

“Well–I-I thought I was just a server–”

“I said change of plans, I need you in the kitchen.” Before you could ask further questions, he disappears into the kitchen and for a split second you turn to glance at the full bar awaiting service only to wince and follow him. No one was managing the front and that made your nerves twitch but you suppose the boss knows what he’s doing. At least you hope. Your first hour or so had been a shit show.

Pans clanked against the metal worktop as he shoved them out of the way, clearing the space and igniting the flat top all while not batting an eye at you or caring to further explain. You could just make out the formation of numbers on his lips, no sound coming out, but he was distinctly lip syncing the numbers one through three over and over. It was strange though you didn’t have much time to process it, instead opting to internally lose it over the sheer idea of filling in for another position. You didn’t sign up to be a cook and this was way out of your scope of skills. He deemed you as incapable of being a server and now he was putting the foundation of this place on your shoulders.

“Randy, our cook left.” He begins, oiling up the surface, his focus never faltering. “Don’t know why, don’t know where. All I know is I went to pick up beef and when I came back he was gone.”

Jett scrambles near the back door, hauling boxes of beef into the walkin freezer as your eyes dart between him and Eddie, a certain queasiness forming in your stomach. Eddie continues pulling supplies out and though it's within your rights to demand to return to your original position in the front, you can’t, the words won’t come out.

“So you’re gonna flip burgers, Jett and I will be in and out to help while also holding it down out there.”

“I don’t even know how to ‘flip burgers’!”

It comes out less hostile and more alarmed, your eyes feigning apprehension at the current inconsistency of the place. In any other circumstance you should leave, quit with your dignity intact however that is not an option and you are in no position to be calling any shots; you begged for this job, afterall.

“You don’t know how to flip burgers.” He deadpans.

“I-”

“You ever flipped a pancake?”

It’s not a genuine question, more of a mockery of your simpleminded excuse. His head drops to catch your line of sight that had been previously shooting around the colorless kitchen, saturated in grays and whites that would drive anyone mad.

“That’s not what I meant–” You proclaim, setting your tray on an unoccupied work top.

“Just–cook the meat. Make sure it’s not raw.”

As if that wasn’t the whole point of ‘cooking’ it. This guy must have thought you had mush for brains yet he was the one with a crumbling structure of a business just based on what you’ve experienced in one night. One hour, even. You were starting to miss the senior citizens from the previous evening that appeared to have had a great deal of patience in comparison to the younger crowd that seemed to have more audacity and a shorter attention span.

“But what about–”

“Stop asking questions! Just follow my lead.” He demands, rushing out to the back, the door propped open so he could assist Jett in retrieving the remaining boxes from his truck.

What lead? There was no lead. Only chaos.

You idled next to the grill, shuffling your feet against the grimy tiles beneath you and taking notice of the astonishingly disgusting drain on the floor, coated in some kind of copper-colored grease. At least if Eddie came back in to yell at you for not doing anything, you had the excuse of manning the grill, ensuring his precious bar didn’t burn to the ground though metaphorically, it already was. What else were you supposed to do?

–

You were sure the smell of beef, onions and cheese were going to be crusted into your hair for eternity when all was said and done. Eddie and Jett had been taking turns walking you through the steps of creating this so-called famous burger and after a few mutilated testers, you eventually got the hang of it and it became a game of rinse and repeat. Sometimes an order for a rare cooked burger would come in and you could only hope that you cooked it just enough that it wouldn’t bring on a nasty case of food poisoning to whoever had requested it.

Eddie stood behind you at the fryer, back to you while putting together another batch of fries to store under the heat lamps while you pieced together yet another burger, setting it along the space designated for finished meals along with its corresponding ticket underneath. Eddie dumped some fries onto the plate before swiping it up and delivering it to its table. When he quickly came back in to repeat the same motions, a question lingered in the back of your mind and it only made sense to ask it.

“Why am I on burger duty?” You question, mentally facepalming at the phrasing you chose.

“Come again?” He gives you another chance.

“I-I mean, if I’m brand new, why put me in charge of one of the most important things on the menu? Why don’t you cook and I keep serving?”

It seemed like a valid concern, only your first day and suddenly you’ve moved up to head of the kitchen? Okay, maybe not head of the kitchen but that’s how it felt when thing one and thing two were constantly rotating out and mainly only managing fries and other small bar foods that were simple enough to make in big batches. The grease from it all felt prominent on your skin, and you feared your sweat was going to become one with the vegetable oil.

“Every person out there knows me. And I know them. I know how to butter them up.” He explains, a rogue curl escaping his messy bun in the mayhem of it all as he dumps another large portion of potatoes into the fryer. “You…well, you know.”

It’s uncertain whether that was meant to be an insult or simply him losing his train of thought. Either way, you didn’t read much into it, only nodding hesitantly.

“Don’t worry, we’ll throw you back to the wolves in no time.” Eddie half jokes, exiting the kitchen once again, this time with plates balanced on his forearms and palms, Jett zooming past him to start up another round of wings.

“So, how are you enjoying hell?” He laughs, giving his hands a good scrub down.

“Oh, it’s amazing.” You exaggerate, piling some cheddar cheese high on top of the charred meat, topping it off with jalapenos and a bun, then plating it up with some fries.

“Well, I promise it’s not like this every shift. And contrary to what you may have seen tonight, Eddie’s a good boss. Just kinda cranky but you learn to ignore it.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” The man in question rushes by, heading for the walk-in freezer, yet again counting in threes, this time using his fingers as well.

–

As promised, you were sent back up to the front once things had slowed down, the bar emptying out aside from a few regulars that had straggled behind. It was a manageable workload between three people, plus Jett was able to offer a little more in depth training behind the bar as well as giving you the official tour of The Bourbon.

There was the main room where all the action was, dimly lit to create a nice ambience littered in knick knacks that decorated the walls, torn band posters covering the ceiling along with some Christmas lights. Of course there was a pool table though you hadn’t witnessed any intense games in your short time here. Jett took the liberty of educating you on the kitchen a little further should anything of tonight’s nature happen again. You learned where everything was kept for their small but cherished menu, where the storage closet containing all the cleaning supplies was as well as the back office which was only reserved for Eddie according to Jett. Lastly, he showed you the dumpsters, in case you happened to be on trash duty and he even gave you strict instructions on how to close them back up so animals wouldn’t rummage.

Now you were back behind the bar, being taught to make the signature drink, an old fashioned containing cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger. You could appreciate it, a bit spicy and a touch smooth, accompanying that burnt wood taste that would get you there fast. It wasn’t a difficult drink to make however, perfecting the presentation was what set you back. You couldn’t simply toss a cherry and an orange twist into the liquor, it had to be done tastefully. Or that’s how Jett explained it, claiming that those were Eddie’s words. The drink was in a way, an art and you couldn’t be sloppy with it, not by The Bourbon’s standards.

A hectic night of becoming a makeshift cook, training as a server, and an intake of so much new information would do a number on anyone and the bags under your eyes clearly showed the physical exhaustion you were experiencing. You didn’t think you ever worked so hard even at the diner back at home during rush hour.

“Little lamb made it through the night.”

Tilting your head up from the cocktail before you momentarily, you’re met with that pair of intimidating but gorgeous eyes, nearly black in the low lighting of the bar. It was interesting, you’d seen many brown eyes in your lifetime but none of them resembled something quite like the universe he held in his, his outlook on things noticeably different from the average person. He had taken a seat at one of the stools on the opposite side of the bar from you, some paperwork laid out in front of him as he began scribbling something down. All you could offer him was the raise of your brow in acknowledgement of his presence, too engaged in perfecting the cherries on the toothpick just right, balancing them on the rim of the glass like a circus act.

“They’re too close together.” Eddie remarks, his gaze glued to the paper he had been marking up, an inventory list you notice at a second glance.

“Hmm?” You might as well have been in your own world, some kind of trance caused by fatigue pulling at your muscles and overworked mind.

“Cherries. They’re unbalanced.”

For a man of such few words, he still seemed to say a lot. The attitude ingrained in his tone never appeared to let up and it felt as if something was either always bugging him or losing his interest. Never content, always sour and sharp-tongued.

“Oh.” You sigh in defeat, as if it were impossible to simply pick up the toothpick resting against the glass and your finger and move the cherries, solving the case of the wobbling toothpick.

Jett emerged next to you after participating in some small talk with a regular at the end of the bar, a grin on his youthful face despite what a shit show the night had been. So far you observed that he was something of an optimist, smiling his way through tough situations. It was refreshing.

“There you go!” He praises, gesturing greatly to the drink you’d just created. Your third try at it.

“Jett, you’re bein’ a shitty example. Leaving your sheep unattended.” Eddie grumbles, sticking a toothpick in his mouth. You’d be lying if you said you wished he’d stop sticking toothpicks in his damn mouth. Well, half-lying. You’d admit he looked good chewing on a tiny piece of wood but he did it far too often.

Wait…sheep? Were you the sheep? Was this a jab at you? You’d just spent the night keeping this place afloat and he was insulting you once again?

“Munson, I’d say I’m doing just fine considering you left us without a fuckin’ cook the whole night.” Jett defends. You want to grimace, knowing this wasn’t the standard when talking to your boss but Eddie seemed unphased while the boy kept grinning at him as he leaned against the bar. “Plus, it seems like this sheep kicked ass on only her first day.” He nudges your shoulder with his, sliding the drink you’d just concocted in front of Eddie. You smiled in appreciation of his kind words.

“I didn’t leave you without a cook. Cook fuckin’ left without telling anyone.” He reasons, immediately throwing half the drink back in one swig.

Please don’t taste shitty, please don’t taste shitty, please don’t taste shitty.

“And I guess you proved not to be as dainty as I thought.” Eddie admits to you, throwing the rest of the drink back. No complaints yet. Only what you could make out to be a compliment.

“So can she stay?” Jett pleads, bottom lip jutted out for emphasis. He seemed to have taken a liking to you but then again, the place was short staffed so maybe he was just desperate to have anyone help out.

Eddie looks up from his list, pen tapping against the bar top with annoyance. There was still no indication whether the old fashioned had been any good or not, seemingly forgotten about amongst the conversation and it was quietly eating at you. The need for validation.

“That’s up to her, kid.”

Both pairs of eyes landed on you, anticipating your answer.

“Well, uh, I dunno.” You shrug. “Was I even any good at making a drink?” Like you had a choice in accepting the job, this is all you had.

“I dunno.” Eddie replies, sliding the glass back over to you. “Try again, let's see.”

“That’s a yes.” Jett chimes in. “Big boy wants a refill.”

“Jett, I will personally give you a swirly.” There’s a glimpse of humor in Eddie’s tone, the smallest you’ve seen within him so far though you refrained from giggling.

“Oh, a swirly? Real mature.” Jett mocks, Eddie quietly snorting a laugh in response.

His smile was cute.

And it may be the first time you’d seen a genuine one from him. He had dimples, deep, deep dimples. It was a wonder why he didn’t put them on display more.

In the midst of the banter, you began whipping up another old fashioned, The Bourbon way. You figured it wouldn’t be your place to insert yourself among the jokes, being the new girl. It was best to keep quiet until you blended in a bit more. Several customers throughout the night had already initiated conversation stating they’d never seen you before and you didn’t need to draw any more attention to yourself than you’d already received.

“Make it a double?” Eddie interrupts your process.

Again you look up to meet those large eyes, practically black holes absorbing any and all light aside from a tiny sparkle you found that survived within them. He was asking and not demanding. He owned the whole damn place and yet he was asking you to make it a double when he could very well just tell you.

“Yeah.” You whisper, unsure of yourself. A double just meant…well, double, right?

So you turn to Jett who was now scrubbing at an especially sticky spot on the bar. He didn’t take any notice in your silent plea much to your regret. You looked like an idiot, pondering over what exactly the measurements should be since today's training didn’t exactly cover what to do should someone ask for a double. At least you knew how to use the entirety of the kitchen though…

“Just another shot.” Eddie instructs, emotionless.

With a nod, you kick right into action, using what you learned and putting it to use while remembering to add an additional shot and not completely overlook it in your uneasiness. You didn’t care to peer up at him once more, uncertain if he was still watching your every move and unsure whether he would reprimand you for making one mistake in crafting his drink. He said nothing so it was safe to assume he had resumed filling out his boring paperwork.

“See, she’s a natural!” Jett applauds upon turning back toward you as you carefully pierce the cherries with a toothpick, balancing them just how Eddie had taught you.

It really wasn’t rocket science and you could feel the humiliation seep into your bones at the thought of him judging you for simply not being able to figure out why they kept falling in before. You were by no means a natural.

“You’re gonna be the new favorite, I can already tell. Everyone’s gonna love ya.” Though Jett’s words are appreciated and far too kind, you can’t help but doubt his confidence in you.

You were used to being a fly on the wall, observing and keeping to yourself among loud personalities. And you were okay with that. Being so removed grants you the ability to perceive everyone else without barely even being perceived yourself. It was flattering, the way Jett talked you up having only known you for a few hours but you knew you were nothing special. He was just being nice and most likely picked up on your anxious undertones.

Eddie remained mute, continuing to scribble away at the paper in front of him as if you and Jett weren’t there. Just as silent, you slid the drink over into his peripheral before occupying your hands with a rag to wipe up any remnants caused by your shaky hands. He only scanned the drink over once before tapping his pen against the counter, three times. Always in threes.

Awaiting his consensus on your bartending, you pretend to pay no mind, as though his opinion is the last thing on earth you would want. Really, it’s all you want. To know if you exceeded at crafting the bar’s signature drink or if you failed so miserably that he wouldn't let you behind the bar again. After all, your official job title would be ‘server’ and server’s didn’t generally make drinks, they served. But this wasn’t a normal bar and it seemed everyone was performing more than one job at a time so if you had to make drinks you might as well be somewhat good at it. And if not, it could render you useless in his perception, seeing as he’d already underestimated you before.

When he finally takes a sip, large hand wrapped around the glass, you refrain from sucking in a breath because although he had already had one, he gulped it down like water. This time it seemed he was performing a quality check.

“Good.” His monotone voice doesn’t convey much other than you’ve at least satisfied him to some extent. But that's it.

Next to you, Jett celebrates again before tending to another customer and then yelling out for the last call. Eddie’s focus doesn’t budge from his work while he sips away at his drink, this time nurturing it rather than greedily throwing it all back.

–

Some time around 12:30 AM Jett had dashed out after the bar received a phone call from his mom complaining that the racoons had stormed their barn and came too close to threatening their chicken coop again. With all patrons now gone and only cleaning and closing left to be done, Eddie dismissed him from work and told him to get a better handle on the raccoon situation seeing as it happened three times in the past month. Jett muttered something about how raccoons are relentless and how they will find a way if they really want to on his way out.

With one last wipe down of the tables and a thorough cleaning of the bar top, all that was left on your mental checklist given to you courtesy of Eddie was making sure behind the bar was organized and pristine for the following day, bottles accounted for, and glasses washed and dried. He was absent for a good thirty minutes but you concluded he was doing his share in the kitchen as you heard the clanging of metal on metal and a few curses every now and then when there was an extra loud crash.

The sudden crackle of a speaker and booming music startles you, a glass nearly slipping out of your grasp at the sound. A harsh metal song blares through the bar, guitar wailing and bass vibrating, causing a few bottles to gently clink against each other on the shelf. Seconds later, Eddie came sauntering out from the back office with a broom in hand and a cigarette hanging from his bottom lip, unlit.

You try to ignore whatever he may be up to but find it impossible not to look up from the glass you were polishing off. His hair was unruly, now out of the confines of a bun and seeming to have only gotten bigger throughout the night and–he wasn’t using the broom for sweeping. Instead, he crawled on top of a freshly cleaned table with his dirty, clunky boots and poked at something in the rafters, tugging it forward. You wanted to be mad that he was stepping on your freshly scrubbed table but you couldn’t help but be curious, pausing your motions to stare and try to predict his next move.

The end of the broom was looped under the handle of a small wooden box and his arm stretched out to open it before pulling some cash out of his pocket and sticking it in the box. Then he closed it back up and shoved it back into place, out of sight. Once he jumped down off the table, he began walking toward the back again, stopping in his tracks when he realized you were standing there watching him the whole time.

A puff of air escapes his lips, his bangs briefly blowing upward before resting back against his forehead. You tear your gaze away, now more interested in cleaning water droplets off of another glass. Your heart pounding, his footsteps only inch closer and closer and yet again, he is on the opposite side of the bar from you, staring you down. It was obvious he had forgotten you were there. The unlit cigarette is plucked from his lips in between his fingers and tucked behind his ear.

“You didn’t see that. If it goes missing, I’ll know it was you.” He speaks so gruffly and low, as if someone might hear despite the place being empty.

Nodding in submission, you can’t bring yourself to catch his fierce gaze.

“Yeah?” Eddie pushes for a verbal response, more intensity to his tone.

“Yes.” You chirp. Like a pathetic little bird.

Satisfied with your answer, he hums, resting the broom against a stool before making his way around the bar, pulling a rag out of his back pocket and assisting you with wiping down the remaining glasses. There had to have been at least a dozen left and by the looks of it, he had finished his tasks and wanted to get out of here. So you worked in silence, side by side.

It felt like an eternity but it must have only been two minutes later when you began to feel antsy. Like you were supposed to initiate a friendly conversion. Some kind of bullshit small talk. And then your better judgment kicks in, telling you ‘better not’ since the man beside you didn’t seem like the small talk type. In all fairness you weren’t either but it felt like you had to constantly conform to certain standards. Then your mouth started running without a second thought because one thought provoked you and now you just had to know.

“So…the bingo night…is that a regular thing?”

A side eye from him may as well have shot daggers directly into you, his movements pausing as he scowled. So you backtracked.

“N-nevermind–”

“Yes.” He answers abruptly, much to your surprise.

“Oh.”

Your voice comes out soft, as if trying not to spook an animal. And for as annoyed as he looks, he’s the one who answered after you attempted to give him an out. He was a very conflicting man, hard to read and mysterious.

“Every Wednesday. The senior home wants its residents to get out every now and then.”

“And…they chose a bar?” A smile tugs at your lips, one that you can’t help.

“What’s wrong with that?”

His face shows offense but his tone holds some kind of amusement, the slightest bit of personality seeping through the cracks and exposing itself to you.

“I just–nothing, it’s just, out of every place they could choose…a bar?” You couldn’t wrap your head around the idea, shaking your head.

“I mean, we’re the only place that offered.”

There’s a genuine kind of hurt behind his words. You’re unable to determine if it was directed toward your question or something else wading through his mind. Or if it was even meant to slip out in any way based on how closed off he was. Your guess was that his sudden projection of an emotion was a slip up and that it was up to you to ignore it otherwise he’d give you an even harder time.

“Oh.” Again, your soft spoken voice carries itself gently to his ears. “That’s…nice. Really nice.” You say honestly, glancing at him.

For having such tough armor and such offputting behavior, Eddie was pretty. His curls were messy and appeared to be pieced apart by his fingers running through them constantly, leaving them fuzzy and unkempt. But still appealing. And his side profile illuminated by the warm lights was soft but still manly, handsome. He was good looking, there was no denying that. His personality was rather repelling though and good looks could only get you so far, not that he was flaunting how attractive he was and using it to his benefit.

Coming out of your trance, you find that you’re both down to the last few glasses, silence taking over once again. Out of the corner of your eye, you take notice of the way Eddie’s mouth forms numbers again, without sound.

One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three.

All mouthed as he seems to breathe unevenly. You don’t draw any attention to your observation much like earlier when you’d caught him doing the same thing. There were depths to him that you were beginning to feel were unexplored by anyone other than himself. A loneliness detected beneath the surface of his solid and impenetrable armor.

~end~

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tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiemunson95 @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel @mmunson86 @witchwolflea @kurdtbean@micheledawn1975

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson au #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you

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sariahsue · 7 months

Text

Let Me Count the Ways

Chapter Nineteen - Epilogue

[Ch 1] [Ch 2] [Ch 3] [Ch 4] [Ch 5] [Ch 6] [Ch 7] [Ch 8] [Ch 9] [Ch 10] [Ch 11] [Ch 12] [Ch 13] [Ch 14] [Ch 15] [Ch 16] [Ch 17] [Ch 18]

“So who was he? The boy you loved so much.”

It was evening at the Eiffel Tower, and Chat Noir sat and leaned against a beam. The weather was clear, the sunset was golden, and Ladybug was curled up in his lap, lazing against his chest as he traced his claws across her stomach.

They’d gone on several dates in the last few weeks, and he thought it might be safe enough to finally satisfy his curiosity.

She didn’t answer immediately, just hummed absently while she considered. “I finally got over him enough to see what was right in front of me this whole time.”

Chat Noir felt his face flush. It might have embarrassed him a few weeks ago to display how easily she made him swoon, but he didn’t bother to hide it now.

“It would compromise my identity,” she said, “but I don’t really care anymore.”

He nodded, and his hold on her tightened. That was so much more than he had ever expected and wished for.

Ladybug launched into an explanation. “Okay, so do you remember that first year we fought together? How Chloe’s class got akumatized a lot?”

“Almost everyone in the class got it at least once.”

“Right. I was in that class. And so was the boy I was crushing on.”

Chat was intensely interested, leaning forward and shifting her in his lap.

“I’m explaining this to you,” she continued, “so you don’t make fun of me.”

“Why would I?”

“Because.” She let go of him to hug herself. “I’m not like all the other thousands of girls who had a crush on Adrien Agreste. I personally knew him. We were close friends back then.”

His breath caught at his own name, and it took several seconds for it to return to a normal pace. He wasn’t sure his heart would ever calm down. Not only did she love him now, but she had loved him the entire time.

That also narrowed down the list of people she could be. It had been several years, but he still remembered the roster. Chloe, Lila, Alya, Rose… all those girls he knew couldn’t have been Ladybug. They’d been heroes and villains he and Ladybug had fought either with or against. Their looks were didn’t match, their personalities were too different, and he ruled them all out one by one, until–

“I hate to give you bad news,” he said after several seconds of recovery, “but I know who you are.”

She shrugged, leaning against him again. “I figured you would. You got to know my class well after a year of fighting them.”

“More bad news.” He swallowed around the heart beating in his throat. “You didn’t get over Adrien.”

“I did!” she said, jerking backward. “I love you! More than anything.” Her eyes were wide and insistent, begging him to believe. “I love you with my whole heart. You’re the only person for me. I love only you, I mean it. Why– Why are you smiling?”

“Because you’re lying.”

Her face flooded red, like she’d just cast her Miraculous Cure. And just like the real Cure, Chat Noir was left with the feeling that everything was right where it should be, and safe, and whole. When he cupped her face, she grabbed his wrists to steady herself.

“You love Adrien,” he said, a smile coloring his words. “More than anything.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off with a kiss to the cheek. When he pulled away, her face was scrunched in confusion.

“You love Adrien with your whole heart.” A kiss on the opposite cheek.

Her expression was unwinding, growing loose with what he hoped was comprehension. He waited, holding her. This time, he was the one silently begging the other to believe.

“Adrien is the only person for you.” He kissed her on the nose.

Ladybug - Marinette - didn’t let him get far, holding onto his neck to keep him in place. Are you serious? her expression asked him. You’re not making fun of me right now?

He let his wide smile answer, and one more repeated line. “You love only Adrien, I mean it.”

Chat Noir leaned in one more time, kissing her smiling lips. When he pulled away, he found himself wrapped tightly around her and encircled in her arms. Just where he’d always wanted to be.

“That’s what I said,” she replied. “I love you, Adrien.”

THE END

----

Tag list: @clawsout83 @trippingovermyfeet @tbehartoo @yoonjae20 @random-cartoon-fangirl

Author’s note: Thank you for reading! I loved working on this story. When I started, I literally asked myself the question, “How obvious can I make it before he catches on?” and it was so fun to write him being super dumb about everything!

Special thanks to my betas, @jennagrinsoverml, @h-sunnywet-d, and @ladyofthenoodle. You made the story stronger, and I’m grateful!

(Self promo warning) Click here to see my other stories. (Lots of one-shots and a handful of longer stories.) Be on the lookout for my Square Dance fic in Nov. and my Big Bang in Jan. I’ve also got a ton of drabbles that I have ideas for, plus a few one-shots and longer fics that I’m excited to work on!

#ml #ladynoir #fanfic #miracuous ladybug #miraculous

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wardenparker · 2 years

Text

Starting Over - Chapter 12

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Recently arrived in Texas and only slightly removed from his divorce, Marcus finds himself smitten with the women at the housewares store that is helping him furnish his new Austin condo. It becomes a more complicated situation than he could have expected, but Marcus has never been one to shy away from a challenge when love is on the line. ✨This fic takes place *before* the events of The Mentalist.✨

Rating: Teen Word Count: 10.1k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this fic will include divorce, past abusive relationships, deceased mothers, father issues/family trauma, unplanned pregnancy.* Cursing and food mentions, unplanned pregnancy, pregnant reader, Marcus being shamelessly flirted with, *Lisbon Alert*, fluff everywhere, Summary: Everything’s coming up roses in the wake of Amanda’s departure from your lives, and a trip to the farm comes with a sweet surprise. Notes: We’ve finally caught up with the plot of the Mentalist in the very last chapter! Marcus deserved better than the way Teresa Lisbon treated him, and hopefully the epilogue will show that he’s gotten it. 💗✨🥰

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11

“Pike!” Section Chief Russell is a generally upbeat man, or at least relatively upbeat for a lifetime member of the law enforcement occupation, and when Special Agent Marcus Pike walks into his office on Monday morning his expression is downright jovial. “Sit down, son. I’m glad to see you.”

“Sir.” Marcus nods respectfully, nervous even though he knows he’s innocent. The accusations have been withdrawn but it could still leave a mark on his service record. Sometimes people were nicest before they delivered a crushing blow.

“I’m sure you’ve had a hell of a week, so I won’t poke the bear, but is everything all right at home now?” Russell’s own office is probably not far off from what Pike’s will look like in thirty years: photos of his family set in frames given to him by his wife and pieces of art by his grandkids displayed with honor. If he’s honest, that’s probably where his soft spot for Marcus Pike comes from. The younger agent is like a glimpse into his own past. Although Pike might have more good sense about him, which is one of the reasons that this whole domestic violence nonsense had seemed to come from so far out in left field.

There’s a small sigh of relief, shifting in the fore-mentioned chair to get comfortable. “Yes sir, fortunately, after retracting her slanderous allegations, my soon to be ex-wife signed the divorce papers and there will be no mistakes by the lawyers this time.”

“Good.” Russell picks up his coffee mug, draining the last of his second morning cup. “The new Mrs. Pike is well? Baby’s good?” The full explanation of everything that was going on at home was something Pike had given privately when news of the pregnancy came down the pipe, and Russell had been a little gobsmacked but shrugged his shoulders. To each their own, he always says. And Pike had plenty of his own.

“Very good.” Marcus nods, unable to stop himself from giving a soft smile. Even though Andrew had stayed until this morning, the spare room was officially starting to look like a nursery. No traces of Amanda were left anywhere in sight.

“Good.” Leaning back in his chair, Russell surveys his young agent with an appraising eye, seeming to take one last look before he decides to go ahead and say what he planned on saying this morning. “I’m sorry you were out of the office for a few days, but a few people wanted to nose through your business, and I wanted to make sure that there wasn’t a drop of ink out of place while they did.” The older man’s face betrays a wider smile, and an unmistakable expression of pride. “You’ve been on a short list in Washington for a few months now, and as of this morning, you’re at the top of it.”

He knows the shock on his face is clear, eyes widening, as he takes in the older man’s words. He’s looked up to him as a mentor over the short time he’s been here. “Sir— I, thank you for the consideration.” He gushes slightly. “It’s an honor.”

“Marcus,” Russell chuckles, a little charmed by the earnestness on Pike’s face. “I haven’t even told you what the short list is for. It could be Archives for all you know.” Not that it ever would be. Pike has an excellent arrest record and a high conviction rate. He’s as good in court as he is on the street.

He flushes slightly, aware that he might have jumped the gun. “I would take it if that was what was offered.” He tells him honestly. “My fiancée would love nothing more than to move back to D.C. She attended college there and it’s where we are planning to get married there.”

“You would hate the Archives.” Russell’s amusement turns into a full laugh, and he nods as he leans forward in his chair again. “There’s a task force being assembled to have our Art Crimes division collaborate with Interpol and Scotland Yard. It would be a lot of desk work and a lot of travel. But?” He waves one hand as though indicating a world of possibilities. “Do well and it becomes a promotional fast track.”

Marcus’s brows raise and he nods, aware that it’s essentially being groomed for a Director role. “I understand.” He tells him. “A task force could revitalize the close of Art Crimes cases.”

“I’ve already put in my recommendation.” And he stands by it, using the time that Pike was out of the office on the outlandish domestic charges to pull up the young agent’s record and make sure everything is spotless. “I don’t know what role you might be offered, or how soon, but I’ll let you know as soon as I hear something.”

Understanding that he’s being dismissed, Marcus stands and holds his hand out to his boss. “Thank you for your guidance and leadership.” He tells him. “I have learned a great deal about being an agent from you during this time.”

“It’s been my pleasure.” Russell isn’t looking forward to losing his best agent, but he is proud to see Pike doing well and stands to shake his hand. “One more thing,” he remembers, wondering how this was a thing he forgot. “They’re doing a little renovation on our bullpen for the next week or two, so we’re sharing office downstairs. We’ll be using the conference room for interviews, so you can set up in there.”

“Yes sir.” Marcus nods and turns to walk out of the office, nearly floating on air he’s so excited. The idea of going back to D.C. had been a distant dream and he’s thrilled he can possibly make it a reality sooner than he ever believed possible.

******

The kitchenette downstairs is full to bursting, four other agents all bustling around making coffee and grabbing muffins including another member of his team. Isabel Cortez is making small talk with three women Marcus barely recognizes when he walks in. “Pike!” She calls his name, relieved to see him after a couple of days of no word from Russell’s office. “You came back to us!”

“I’m back!” He grins at her, always happy to see the cheerful agent. “What’s been going on?”

“We’ve got the interview for the gallery shooting in a half hour.” That’s not the good news, but it’s the work news, so Cortez makes sure she mentions it first. “And we have lovely new floor mates.” This is the good news, and she introduces the other agents easily. “Fisher, Wylie, and Lisbon. They have accepted our peace offering of muffins this morning, so now we’re all friends.”

“Nice to meet you.” Marcus smiles at each one. “Marcus Pike.”

“Nice to meet you.” The agent named Fisher puts her hand out to shake Marcus’s, and Lisbon gives him an extremely unsubtle once over before stepping forward to shake his hand as well. “I don’t recall having run into you before.” She says, offering him a small, flirtatious smile.

“I’ve been out of the office on personal business.” He offers, not elaborating on things beyond that. “But I’m here now.”

“You certainly are.”

“Ladies,” Cortez laughs, barely managing not to roll her eyes. “He’s engaged with a baby on the way, let’s let the man get back to work, huh?”

Marcus bites his lip to keep from chuckling at the disappointed expressions on their faces while the agent called Wylie looks oblivious. You would find that funny, although you will also tell him that they have every reason to be disappointed. “Speaking of working….” He glances around. “Where are we setting up?”

“Grab your coffee,” Cortez nods to the counter behind agents Fisher and Lisbon. “And I’ll show you the conference room.”

“Ladies. Gentleman.” Marcus nods and skirts around them to get to the coffee pot. He’s stopped making coffee at the house out of consideration for you.

“That’s a damn shame.” Lisbon mutters to her colleague on their way down the hall to the bullpen a few minutes later. “I’d climb that tree in a heartbeat.”

Fisher chuckles, agreeing with her. “He’s attractive and he seems nice.”

“You’re so polite about it.” Teresa laughs it off as they walk down the hall together, putting Agent Pike on the unattainable but fun to look at shelf in her mind and moving on.

******

Greater Rochester International Airport is just big enough to feel busy, but as you and Marcus step out into the sunlight of the parking lot of the car rental company to get into the little Ford Focus that you’ll be using for the weekend, it is abundantly obvious that the folks around here move at about the third of the pace of Austin. The twenty-year old snapping her bubble gum at your hands the keys to Marcus with a smile even though the reservation was under your name, and you roll your eyes in amusement as he hands them directly over to you. “It’s not too far,” you tell him as you climb behind the wheel. “Twenty-five minutes of country roads and we’ll be right as rain.” The visit to see your father is fast on the heels of Amanda’s departure from your lives and you honestly can’t remember the last time you felt so relaxed. The only worry is how your father will react to you already being pregnant, but since the ring is already on your finger you figure even a traditionalist like him will have to concede.

Marcus nods and shuffles the bags in his hand. “Are you happy or nervous to see your dad?” Marcus has his own reservations about meeting the man who he had both asked to marry him without getting permission and knocked up. Your father might have some strong feelings about it. “Hopefully he likes the gifts we’ve brought.”

“He’ll love them.” The collection of barbecue dry rubs and packets of various pickling spices that you and Marcus had put together will be right up his alley. You just wish you could have brought him a bottle of Texas whiskey as well. “I have to admit, I’m happy to be home for a couple of days. I know but the time we’re ready to leave I’ll be more than happy to retire from farm life again, but this will be nice.”

Laughing, he opens the trunk of the car and starts loading bags in. The two of you hadn’t traveled heavy, but there was plenty between you. “I’m interested in seeing home.”

“The cute little farmhouse that begot your cute little fiancée?” You joke, once he’s situated in the passenger seat beside you. “The best part of the whole place is my mother’s garden.”

“I take it your father cares for it religiously?” Marcus had a house plant once. It died a pitiful death, and he’s never tried again so he has no clue how to care for a garden.

"He does his best, and I check in on it whenever I'm home." You nod, turning over the rental car's engine and heading for the highway. "I always...I put out a vase of flowers every morning while I'm there. Like Mom used to."

“That’s good.” Marcus smiles and reaches over to rest his hand on your thigh. “I can’t wait to see that.”

The drive is quick, passing easily as you point out various landmarks or the sites of old memories to him along the way. Twenty-five minutes later exactly, you're pulling up in front of an old-fashioned farmhouse at the end of a long gravel driveway. Its white paint is chipped and worn but the shutters are the same warm red as the roof and door making the whole place look picturesque and inviting. "Home sweet home," you grin at Marcus when you park the car.

Marcus frowns at the two trucks in the yard. “Eric?” He asks, nodding towards them. “You said he still works for your dad?”

"Yeah." The bumper sticker of an angry red-and-blue-striped cartoon bee emblazoned with an M on its chest is faded but proud in the back window beside a sticker for the Buffalo Bills and one that reads Support Your Local Farmer in bold white lettering. "James Monroe High Redjackets." You explain, pointing out the first sticker. "I don't know who made that up but it's the weirdest fuckin' mascot."

“I’ve heard of Yellowjackets, but never a Redjacket.” He jokes, feeling a little nervous about meeting the dad and the ex in one go, but he owes you after the shit you put up with from Amanda. “I love you.” He murmurs suddenly, reaching for your hand to squeeze. “Your dad is going to love me by the end of this visit. I promise.”

"I have absolutely no doubts about that." And you don't, really. Your father may be a little bristly with new people but the only people he actually actively dislikes are the rude and ignorant. Marcus is neither of those things. Slipping your hand into his, you bring his knuckles up to your lips and dust a few kisses across them. "You ready to do this?"

“Of course.” Scoffing, Marcus shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. “I’ve been in a standoff with a murderer, how hard can meeting your dad be?” He asks and then widens his eyes dramatically. “Shit, but I had a gun then.” He jokes.

"Yeaaah," you pat Marcus's leg with your other hand, smirking until it turns into an all-out laugh. "This time Dad has a gun, but you have the ultimate shield. You're giving him grandbabies."

“Very true.” Marcus concedes. “Plus…maybe the fact that I’m rich will help?” He is still getting used to that fact, the idea of using the trust fund, but it doesn’t bother him like it used to. He will use it to make sure that he gives you the best life possible. “Maybe I’ll buy him a tractor. Farmers love tractors.”

"I have a feeling that that factoid might piss off Eric more than it would help with my Dad." The two of you climb out of the car and you huff slightly, soothing your belly automatically with one hand as you straight up. "Just be yourself, baby. That's all you need to do and I promise everything will be fine."

“I just don’t want your relationship with him to suffer.” That’s what Marcus worries about the most. If his father-in-law didn’t care for him, he could live with that. He’s a grown man and knows sometimes people just don’t like each other. But the last thing he wants is to affect your relationship.

"I think you're worrying more than you need to." You try to reach for your own bag but get a dirty look from Marcus for the brazen audacity of thinking he would ever let you handle your own carryon. "Come on," you laugh, shaking your head at him. "We should be just in time for lunch."

“Okay.” Marcus makes sure the only bag you are holding is the one containing the gifts. That is fine. “You should be hungry. You haven’t eaten in two whole hours.”

"Har har har." Rolling your eyes at him as you climb the two steps to the porch, you stick out your tongue like the very mature adult that you are. "Go ahead and tease the pregnant lady about her snacking habits and then see if you get any tonight. I dare you."

“Wait.” Marcus comes to a dead stop. “You mean that’s on the table here?” He asks in wide eyed wonder. He had expected to be told hands off under your dad’s roof.

"I mean we should probably keep the volume down to be respectful, but yeah. I don't see why not." It's not like you and Eric hadn't lived technically in sin in this house for almost an entire year. There isn't any reason you can think of why you shouldn't be able to indulge with your fiancé over the weekend.

“Shit.” Marcus shakes his head. “I’m sorry baby. I know I’m starving.” He shoots you a grin and a wink.

"Well I can't have you starving for affection." You pull him close for a quick kiss - alright, two - before knocking loudly on the front door and barging directly inside. "Dad! We're home!"

Marcus follows you inside, shuffling bags and setting them out of the way as he hears footsteps coming from the kitchen. Wanting this to go as well as he possibly can, he turns towards the sounds and watches as your father moves into view.

“Sunny?” You hear him before you see him, your father’s deep voice ringing through the house easily, and grin when he strides through the kitchen doorway. “Well I’ll be damned girl, look at you.” He huffs, and anyone who didn’t know him would think he was annoyed. But that’s just how he sounds. “You look happy, Sunshine. Give your old man a hug.” It’s about the easiest request you can think of, even if your father is a full foot taller than you and it still makes you feel like a little kid to have to reach up to him in tip toes. At least, for now, you chose loose enough clothes that your belly isn’t immediately on display. He would have said something. “Dad,” you pull back from your father and turn to smile at your fiancé. “This is Marcus.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” Marcus offers his hand, immediately taken in a very firm grip. Part of him thinks that it might be a test of strength but another part of him thinks that it’s just your father’s handshake. “She has been looking forward to this trip.”

“She doesn’t get home often enough.” Your father contends, surveying Marcus carefully before letting his hand go. “I guess I have you to thank for getting her back. Come on in, kids, we were just making lunch.”

Deciding that leaving the luggage in the entryway is the best course of action, Marcus follows you as you follow your father through the hall. Glancing at pictures on the wall that he will want to study when he has the chance. It’s obvious that they are pictures from when you are younger and he can’t wait to see them.

“Look at what the cat dragged in.” There is a younger man standing in the kitchen, tan and blonde with bright blue eyes and broad shoulders, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. There is a pot of soup on the stove and a cutting board laden with the ingredients for grilled cheese on the counter behind him, as he is obviously ensconced in everyday life here. “Hi Eric.” You’ll be civil, friendly even, because if what your ex means to your father in terms of the family farm - but any feelings you had for this man beyond passing cordiality have long since dried up. “Um— Eric, this is Marcus. My fiancé.”

Eric's eyes widen slightly in surprise. He hadn't actually expected the fiancé to be real if he was honest with himself. Your father had said something about a man, but he hadn't thought it was as serious as you had said. Recovering, he wipes his hand on his jeans and holds his hand out to Marcus. "Eric. Ex-fiancé." He chuckles.

"Except this time there's a date and a venue that doesn't involve milking cows between the ceremony and reception." You mumble, shaking your head. "So what is it that you do, son?" Your father has gone to retrieve a pitcher of iced tea from the refrigerator and two more glasses. "Sunny here didn't give out too many details. Was it...law enforcement?"

Marcus lets go of Eric's hand and nods, shuffling slightly. "Yes sir, I'm with the FBI." He explains, wondering if they will be uncomfortable at the mention of federal law enforcement. Sometimes people are wary of any of the alphabet agencies.

"FBI?" Handing off two glasses of tea to you and Marcus, your father raises an eyebrow at you. "You really couldn't stand small-time anything, could you, Sunny?" "It was a coincidence," you take the glass easily, nudging Marcus toward the kitchen table so you're not all just standing around awkwardly. "He came into my store to buy furniture after he moved to the city, and I helped him pick some things out."

"She was a lifesaver." Marcus corrects with a small laugh. "Everything in my condo she helped pick out, beyond a few paintings."

"I'm kinda wishing I had talked you out of the leather sectional now that I'm living there," you joke, poking at Marcus a little as you sit down at the table. "I end up sticking to it whenever I fall asleep in the living room."

"We will be glad we can just wipe it off." He reminds you, smiling slightly at the upcoming mess and destruction of furniture that all kids seem to bring with them.

"She's a fairly tidy girl, I think you'll be alright." Eric is back to the business of making sandwiches, adding then one by one to a large pan. "No...uh..." Shaking your head, you reach over to thread your fingers through Marcus's and sit back in your chair. You definitely hadn't planned on doing this in front of Eric, but maybe it's worth it to get around what would otherwise be a gossip storm. "We have, uh...we have one more thing we wanted to announce. And then you can resume the interrogation."

Marcus squeezes your hand in reassurance. He had told you that he would tell your father, but you had insisted you wanted to be the one. “We are really excited.” He adds, wanting him to know that he is happy for the baby.

“More announcement than that you’re getting married?” Your father raises an eyebrow as he sets bowls of soup down at the table. “You kids running off to Vegas for this wedding or something? You can’t be in any kind of trouble with an FBI fiancé, right?” “Nobody’s in trouble, Dad.” You hang on to Marcus’s hand to steady yourself, but the fact is you’re so happy about everything finally going well that you know you’re beaming. “I’m pregnant.”

Marcus watches at Eric’s interested face falls -obviously not happy with the the news - turning to watch the cogs in your father’s head turn as his frown furrows his brow. Not the most enthusiastic response, but he knows it’s a surprise to him.

“But you said that you got engaged two weeks ago, Sunshine.” Watching your father put the pieces together is making your stomach flip - and it’s not the baby moving around that making you green around the gills. His frown is fully formed as he eyes your oversized shirt, and his gaze is disapproving where you were so sure he would be excited. “H-how…how far along are you?” “Twenty-two weeks. I’m due in December.” Gently smoothing one hand over your loose clothing reveals your noticeable bump, and the smile on your face is watery with happy tears. “We—we just found out last week. We’re having a boy.”

"I am fully aware that this is a shock and seemingly sudden." Marcus adds. "But I want to assure you that we have been nothing but thrilled to be preparing for the baby and expanding our family." He levels a look at your father - man to man. "I understand that you might be upset at me, and I deserve it. But I love your daughter and I want nothing more than to provide for and spoil her and our coming children."

“Sudden’s sort of an understatement.” Rubbing at the back of his neck, your father leans forward in his chair and surveys the pair of you carefully. “You know you don’t have to marry this man just because he gave you a baby, Sunny,” he reminds you slowly. “You can come home and I’ll take care of you and my grandson myself. Things ain’t like they used to be.” “Daddy.” It’s your turn to frown, but you understand that it’s coming from a place of care and concern even though it might not sound like it. “I love Marcus so much. I would have said yes to marrying him even without the baby, and we’re excited to be parents. We’re going to have a big family and bring your grandbabies up to visit as much as we possibly can. This is a good thing. All of it. I promise.”

This isn't going so hot. Marcus squirms, only comforted by the fact that this is what you want. "If she had chosen to not be with me, I still would have made sure that both your daughter and my child never wanted for anything." He promises, knowing that it would have broken his heart, but he would have done it.

That seems to mollify the older man slightly, and your father looks back at you with a slightly softened expression. “You’re happy?”

“Yes.”

“Excited?”

“Yes.”

“You love this man and you trust him?”

“More than anything.”

“Well shit.” One fist pounds the kitchen table exuberantly as your father leans back on his chair with a wide smile on his face. “I guess we’re having a party then.”

Thank God. Marcus blows out a silent breath of relief. Eric is still frowning, and he knows the man had hopes that you would come to your senses and come back home - to him. Marcus had just ruined that plan for him. He hates it for him, but you weren't going to ever give him that fantasy anyway.

“Barn party?” You grin at your father, knowing exactly what he’s thinking and he nods. “Mom used to throw barn parties with her friends.” Squeezing Marcus’s hand, you can give him sort of a quick outline of the kind of thing your father is talking about. “It kind of became town tradition. Anytime somebody has some good news they want to share, they call around and invite everybody over to eat and drink all night in whoever’s barn is hosting. We play music and the kids bring games. Everybody brings food. They’re a very casual way to have a lot of fun.”

A potluck in a barn." His brow raises, but he's not judging it. "I think that would be fun." He offers, smiling at you. I'll help in whatever way you need me to."

“You want to show him around town, Sunny?” Now that you’re father has decided that he accepts the situation, he’s all in - only regretting the fact that your mother isn’t here to celebrate with you, too. “I’ll make you a list of things to pick up for tonight and you can spread the word?” Of course he’ll make some calls as well and start setting up, but he needs to be at the farm to do the work in between chatting. “Congratulations.” Eric murmurs, not meaning it for a second as he puts the plate of sandwiches down in the middle of the table. “Jim, I’m gonna go and check on that bit of fencing in the east end of the pasture. I’ll meet you for the afternoon milking.”

Marcus frowns slightly at the man quickly walks to the door and opens it. Turning to you and sighing softly. He wonders if he should go talk to the man, or if it would make things even more difficult.

“Let him adjust.” You squeeze Marcus’s hand gently before turning to the food in front of you. The baby is basically keeping you in a constant of hunger lately and you’re not going to lie - your dad’s vegetable soup is comfort food. “He’s had a bomb dropped on him…I’ll go and talk to him before the party tonight.”

"Okay." Marcus doesn't like it, but there is nothing he can do. You and Eric have history and he respects that. "Your soup smells wonderful." He compliments your father. "She's been looking forward to some comfort food. The baby's been giving her a bit of a time with foods that don't agree with her."

“Her mother had a world of trouble.” It had been a part of her decision to only have one child, ultimately. That your mother’s pregnancy had been so difficult. “I swear by the time she was six months along there were only about five things she could eat without having trouble.”

“Oh good, so this is hereditary.” Despite rolling your eyes, you shoot Marcus a grin. Any difficulties you might be having are well worth it as long as the baby is healthy.

“As hereditary as your hair and eyes and smile.” Your father nods. He always liked to point out how much like your mother you look and since her passing it’s made you feel just a little bit closer to her memory. “So Marcus,” he doles out sandwiches and takes a sip of his tea. “What sort of work do you do for the FBI?”

Marcus sets the sandwich down and gives his full attention to his future father-in-law. “I work in Art Crimes.” He explains. “Stolen, copied or plagiarized famous works. Mainly working with museums to recover works from the black market.”

“So no drug dealers or gun runners or anything that’s going to make my daughter a young widow.” Jim nods his head. “Good. Not that I don’t have respect for those people, but my concern is for Sunny.”

“I won’t lie and tell you that there is no danger with my job.” Marcus tells him honestly. “But I will do everything in my power to come home to her everyday.” He promises. “And, while it’s a small consolation, if something happens to me, she will not be a bereft widow.” Before his father had left, he had the attorney’s draw up a will that would be iron clad and provided for you and any and all future Pike-ettes. Everything he had would go to you and there was no way anyone could contest it. Not even his father.

“Planning for the future important.” Jim nods solemnly, face momentarily drawn. “Everyday I had with her mother was precious. Lizzie was barely ever sick a day in her life besides being pregnant and getting cancer. You just…you never know what can happen.”

“I am very sorry that I never got a chance to meet her.” Marcus murmurs softly. “My own mother died when I was 17 from cancer and it was the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through in my life, I can’t imagine if it was the woman I love.” His hand grips yours tightly wanting to suddenly demand that you go to every doctor’s screening available without fail.

“And we’re not imagining that now.” Holding onto Marcus, you squeeze his hand back reassuringly. “I’m fine, the baby is fine, everybody is good and we’re not worried.” In fact, since Amanda left, the only dark spot in your days has really been work. Even your morning sickness is starting to let up a little.

He smiles, picking up your joined hands and kissing the back of it softly. “All I want.” He promises you, not worried about showing affection around your father. He won’t grope you in front of the man who had helped create you, but he wasn’t going to hide his feelings for you.

“So,” he smiles, glad to see a bit of natural affection between you. There should be, between spouses. “When’s the wedding?”

“October 11th.” You brighten at what is easily one of your two favourite topics of conversation. “It’s a Saturday, and a long weekend, and Marcus and I will make sure that you have your own room at the hotel for as long as you want to stay. I know you don’t like to be away from the farm for too long, but we’ll take care of everything. All you have to do is show up and walk me down the aisle.”

He knows you will be heartbroken if your father claims that he can’t leave. He hopes that he won’t, but he also wants to make sure it doesn’t happen. “If necessary, I’ll be happy to hire workers to make sure that everything is running smoothly while you are gone.” He offers.

“Eric can mind the place for a few days. He and Ginny can hold down the fort.” He looks to you with a tilt of his head. “Long as you don’t mind your cousin missing your wedding in favor of your old man being there?”

“Ginny? Seriously?” Though you sound incredulous, you do nod. “I didn’t think any of Aunt Corinne’s kids ever went in for the farm life. That’s great, though. I’m glad you have good hands to help out and not just the seasonal guys.” Soup spoon back in hand, you lend your bewildered fiancé a grin. “Aunt Corinne is my mom’s sister. She and Uncle Rob own a cheese shop in town, and I thought all of their kids worked there too, but I guess not.”

Marcus hums, intrigued by the idea of a cheese shop. “I can see not wanting to work for the family business.” He quips, thinking about himself.

Your father catches Marcus’s tone and looks over at him. “What business did you leave behind to fight crime, then?”

“My father runs a technology company.” He tells your dad nonchalantly, as if it’s not a big deal.

“Hmm.” Though he doesn’t know why, that wasn’t the answer Jim was expecting, so he just nods. “Not everybody’s cut out for the same things are their parents,” he acknowledges, pointing at you. “My girl did everything we asked of her, but she just wasn’t happy on the farm.”

“I completely understand.” Marcus nods, not going into why he didn’t want to follow in his father’s footsteps. “Running HP wasn’t my idea of a future. So I made my own path.”

The company name doesn’t register in your father’s mind, and he nods as he pushes his clean plate away on the table. “And the two of you together?” He asks instead. “You have a path together?”

“I think we do.” Marcus smiles and kisses your hand again. “I have told your Sunny that I will fully support anything she wishes to do, even if she would like to be a stay-at-home mom. Or become a powerhouse in the hospitality business.”

“Good.” When Jim nods this time, he pushes back from the table and picks up a notebook and pen from the sideboard nearby. A few moments of silence gives him a chance to jot a few things down, and after briefly reviewing the items he hands it over to you. “You kids head into town and pick up some supplies,” he tells you, digging into his back pocket for his wallet to get you a credit card which you immediately refuse to take. “Invite whoever you want while you’re in town, I’ll make a few phone calls myself. Tell ‘em 6:30.”

Marcus watches as your father kisses your cheek and then heads out the same door that Eric had left through. “Well that went okay, I think this means that he approves?” He asks, gesturing to the list of items to get for the barn party.

“I thought he’d be thrilled immediately and even I didn’t expect a party.” You haul yourself up from the table and give Marcus a kiss before you start to gather empty plates and glasses from the table. “Want to help me load the dishwasher before we go? Downtown isn’t big but I’ll get to show you all my old haunts.”

“Baby, you sit down.” He huffs. “You can point to where things go.” He knows you can do things for yourself, but he also knows you might get a little sick after eating so he wants you to let your food settle.

With Marcus following your direction, the kitchen is quickly cleaned up and you’re grabbing your purse from the entryway where you left it before you head back out to the rental car. “So, is it as quaint as you were expecting, so far?”

“I think that it’s charming.” Marcus looks over at you and grins. “I can see our kids running around out here.”

“Soon enough.” One hand on your belly makes you hum and return his smile. “First stop is Aunt Corinne and Uncle Rob’s shop. She’ll riot if she’s not the first to know about the party.”

“I can understand that.” Marcus grins at you and reaches over to cover your hand with his. “Family needs to be told first. And I’m curious about this cheese shop.”

******

“You looked at me like I was crazy when I went off on cheese knives and graters the day we met, but I come by it honestly.” The drive into town isn’t too bad, just average country roads that you’ve seen a million times but Marcus can’t enough of. The hand-painted East Rochester Cheese Co. sign above the retro-looking shop front on the corner of Main and Elm is an East Rochester institution since Uncle Rob’s father opened the place in the early 60s. Now they proudly sell cheeses made on your family’s dairy farm from freshly milked cows that get pampered more than any pageant queen. Aunt Corinne works the front counter while Uncle Rob handles the deliveries and stock, and puts his accounting degree to work on the books, and their sons do every job in between. It’s a full family operation, right down to your cousin’s kids colouring at a table in the corner when you walk in.

“Wow.” Marcus whispers as he walks into what he can only describe as a cheese haven. Every kind of tool and cheese board is stocked on the shelves and there are cheeses he’s never even heard of written on a board as a specialty.

“Saying the cheese course of our wedding dinner will be the most important plate was not an exaggeration.” Being back in such a familiar space with Marcus by your side is so relaxing that you actually sigh happily, right before a screech of “Sunny!” goes up from the doorway behind the counter and the blur of a short woman all in blue and white bolts out from around the counter to squeeze you in a crushing hug. “Careful!” You laugh, prying your aunt off you. “You can’t squeeze as hard as you want to right now.” With a grin at Marcus, you add: “Baby on board.”

To say that Corinne’s mouth drops open would be an understatement. Pulling back quickly and glancing from your stomach to your face and then finally over at Marcus. “Oh my God, what did your father say?” She breathes out in shock.

“He said ‘party at 6:30’.” You grin, reaching for Marcus’s hand. “Aunty, this is my fiancé, Marcus.”

"Fiancé." She hums in approval, looking Marcus up and down and the small grin grows wider. "You landed yourself a good looking man, Sunny." She tells you with glee. "You look natural together, unlike the last one you were with." She's not certain if you've told Marcus who you were with and she won't try to rock the boat by speaking out of turn.

“Aunt Corinne was never a fan of Eric’s.” You explain, offering Marcus a shrug that barely contains an accompanying smirk. “Clearly.”

She huffs and rolls her eyes. "Yeah and I hope to hell he doesn't turn his eyes on Ginny."

“Just because he wasn’t right for me doesn’t mean he can’t be right for someone else.” Pulling your father’s list from your purse gives you a little bit of focus and you squeeze Marcus’s hand again reassuringly. “We wanted to tell dad about the baby in person, and it was a good excuse to show Marcus where I grew up.”

“Of course.” She smiles at Marcus. “He should know where you get your crazy from.” She winks with her joke and looks over the list. “I’ll bring the cheese board of course.” She insists. “No need to put in an order. We will make sure it’s spectacular. A welcome to the family thing.”

“Can I talk you into putting an extra block of dill Havarti in with whatever you bring over?” You’re practically salivating looking through the case and Marcus grins at your enthusiasm. “It’s Marcus’s favourite and the baby is very into herbs.”

“I was actually thinking about bringing a fondue fountain.” Corinne shoots you a grin. “I have a new model I want to test out. How does that in dill Havarti sound?”

You nearly groan, realizing you’re salivating at the thought only a second later. “You’re a genius, aunty,” you promise her, with all the sincerity you can possibly muster.

“Anything for my favorite niece.” She gives you another wink, not mentioning that you are her only niece, and her eyes slide down to your stomach again. “How far along are you, hun?”

“Twenty-two weeks. Due in December.” With Marcus beside you at the counter, you’re suddenly wishing you had blocked out an entire day of this trip just to sit and eat cheese and see your family. It’s so much nicer to visit when there’s something happy to celebrate and right now you have double the happiness. “I’m just hoping he’s not late, so he doesn’t lose his birthday to the holiday season, ya know?”

"I'm sure you would never let that happen, even if he was a holiday baby." She doesn't miss the reference to it being a boy and she's practically shaking in giddy happiness. "You let me know what you are doing for a baby shower and I'll either be there or we will throw you one here."

“We’re not planning on doing anything big.” Having talked it over, you and Marcus had decided that getting everyone together for the wedding was more important than trying to do an additional shower, especially with that being busy time for you at work and everything. “But the wedding is going to be in October, and that’s really what’s more important to us.”

“You’re going to be a beautiful bride.” Corinne suddenly gets a little watery eyed and leans in for another hug. “I wish your mother could have seen it. Happy looks good on you.”

“Thanks, aunty.” You squeeze her shoulders tight, appreciating how easy it is for your family to see that you truly are happy. The ease with which they’re accepting Marcus makes everything more exciting on a level you hadn’t anticipated. “I’m, um…I’m going to wear her jewelry in the day. There are a few things in my jewelry box that were hers and I thought it would be a nice way to have her there.”

“I have her veil.” Corinne announces. “She - it had a small rip in it, from when you used to play with it as a little girl. Then she got sick and it became unimportant.” Her sigh is heavy and laced with the sorrow of a sister who had lost her best friend. “But I did fix it and packed it away for you. If you want it.”

“Hmm.” Your lips twist and you raise an eyebrow at your aunt in amusement. “Weird how that offer never happened when I was engaged to Eric.” Even Marcus has to laugh at that, although he politely stifles his while you and Aunt Corinne have an all-out giggle. “I would love that, aunty. Thank you. Any way we can have our mothers with us, we want to. That is, um…Marcus lost his mother as well. Younger than I did. So we’re trying to find ways to carry them with us that day.”

“I’m so sorry.” Corinne turns to Marcus and reaches out to hug him fiercely. “I know that there is nothing I can say, but I am sorry.”

“Aunty, we should get going on this list.” More hugs all around, and you reach for Marcus’s hand again. “We’ll see you tonight?”

“Of course.” She laughs and shakes her head. “I don’t want an angry pregnant lady because I didn’t bring the fondue.”

******

Nothing is forgotten that night, and it seems like the entire town has turned up to meet the man who managed to tie down the wandering farmer’s daughter and see if the rumoured baby bump is for real. Gossip spreads fast in small towns and everybody on Main Street today caught at least a glimpse of you and Marcus walking hand in hand between stores. The barn has overflowed out into the nearest pasture and every table has been piled up with food and drink. A few people came with gifts or morsels of long-standing family advice, and your cousins even showed up with sound equipment to be able to play music that’s far better than what happens when Stuart and Eddie from the hardware store have one too many and decide to reminisce about their high school band. Citronella torches keep the bugs at bay and the kids have been playing games for hours while their parents and older siblings dance and eat. It’s…well, it’s the most perfect engagement party you could ever ask for.

“Wow.” Marcus can’t believe this is the same barn he had walked into hours ago. “They manage to put together a party quickly.”

“It helps when everybody is allowed to pitch in,” you tease, seeing as Marcus hadn’t wanted you to overdue anything and wanted you to take it easy during setup. You had compromised by staying just in the barn while he brought you everything that needed to be set up on the tables.

“This is what you wanted.” He realizes this now that he sees how much you love it. You hadn’t wanted to be married here, but you wanted this. Your community celebrating your happiness.

“I feel like we’ve been haunted for months.” It’s silly to admit, and probably sounds stupid to have it said out loud, but as you sway with Marcus on the makeshift dance floor it makes perfect sense. “We can finally breathe. Breathe and laugh and be excited about the future without having to look over our shoulders. And that is cause for celebration.”

“Yes it is.” Marcus decides that right now is the perfect moment to tell you. “The lawyers called while you were in the house peeing.” He grins at the fact that you go to the bathroom every twenty minutes like clockwork now and strokes your back to soothe you when you tense up at the mention of the lawyers. “The court date has been moved up to next week. So the divorce will be final sooner than we hoped.”

“Oh, thank god.” The sigh that escapes you is audible, like air leaving a balloon. “It’ll all be over…”

“I know.” His lips brush over your cheek and find your lips. “I can’t wait to marry you.” He promises.

"It feels like it's taken forever to get here even though it's only been a few months." You don't let him get far, stealing another kiss before he straightens his back again. "Bet you weren't expecting to be married again and be a father within a year of moving to Texas."

“Not at all.” He shakes his head and gives you a smile while reaching up to cup your cheek. “I came to Texas believing I was starting over.” He murmurs softly. “But what I really did was find the life I am supposed to have, the woman I’m to spend the rest of my life with.”

"I love you, Marcus Pike." Turning your head ever so slightly lets you kiss his palm, and you smile again the warmth of his skin. "And I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you."

******

You may have gone a little overboard. A lot overboard. In the weeks since Amanda had invaded your workplace, even Marcus’s reinstatement, the trip to the farm, and the divorce and haven’t been able to smooth over the cracks in the rose-tinted glow of how you used to look at your job. Maybe it’s your second trimester talking, but long days standing on cement floors getting yelled at by entitled people who no sense of humanity or manners just isn’t something you can take anymore. It used to be something you took with a grain of salt, but the fact is – you never intended to be in retail for the rest of your life, and working for a corporation that gives you no room to accommodate or stand up to customers as the situation calls for it has finally run its toll on you.

Which is why, as you hustle around the kitchen at the end of Marcus’s workday, the entire place smells like Thanksgiving. It’s Marcus’s favourite meal in the whole world and since you’re basically going to tell him tonight that you want to quit your job, you thought he deserved his favourite foods. Hopefully you won’t be unemployed for long, but for now? For now, this is sort of your peace offering for telling him you might be a housewife for a while.

Marcus pulls up at the house, grinning to himself when he sees your car. Reaching over into the passenger seat to pick up the flower bouquet he had stopped to pick up on the way home from work. “Babe...” Marcus groans when he opens the door and smells the mouthwatering scent of dinner. “I’m home and it smells delicious in here.” He drops his keys on the table in the entry way and shuts the door behind him.

“Turkey, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, cornbread and sausage stuffing, green bean casserole, and Brussels sprouts with bacon and pearl onions.” When you pop out from around the corner wearing an apron over your oversized t-shirt and leggings, you offer him a proud smile. “Everything is homemade except the apple pie. I suck at baking pies.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” Marcus protests because he feels like he should, not because he’s not appreciative. “But I am going to make sure that I rub your feet tonight longer than normal.” He walks over and drops a kiss on your lips before he offers you the flowers. “These are for you.”

“I wanted to. And they’re beautiful,” you hum, barely letting him pull away before you’re stealing another kiss. “What’s the occasion?” There are decorative vases in certain favourite spots in the house, but only recently have you actually been able to put flowers in them. You never did before for certainty that Amanda would destroy any buds outside your bedroom.

“Well, we closed our case today and I also have some other news that we need to celebrate.” Marcus murmurs, not wanting to give it away too quickly. “We can talk about it during dinner.”

“Everything’s pretty much ready, I just have to get the sprouts out of the pan.” Nodding toward the kitchen, Marcus followers you and – as you expected – immediately starts bringing things to the table. “We’re going to be eating leftovers for days, but I didn’t think you would mind.”

“My favorite kind of meal.” He loves when you can make enough to have leftovers for a few days. Some of them had made him extremely popular in the break room when he heats them up.

“There might be more of it to come soon.” There’s just no way to know, and you hope that he really meant those times when he assured you that he wouldn’t mind if you wanted to stay home with the kids.

“That sounds great, babe.” He murmurs, reaching into the fridges to grab the bottle of sparkling water so he can mix it with the raspberry lemonade. “But don’t overwork yourself.”

“I won’t.” That, you can promise him. In just a minute more you’ve fully loaded the dining room table with the traditional feast and you’re handing Marcus a plate to load up while you pour drinks. “So. Case closed?”

“Case closed.” Marcus shakes his head. “Jane was right, as much as I hate to admit it.” He hadn’t particularly cared for the consultant, even though everyone had sung his praises. He seemed like he would be a good con man - which he apparently was for years.

“Do you have to work with them again?” You don’t so much mind that apparently some of the female agents thought Marcus was attractive – because obviously you agree – but you know he didn’t care much for their consultant.

“I can tell you with certainty that I’ve worked my only case with them.” Marcus hums happily, a little pleased smirk on his face.

“Is your floor done already? That was fast.” It’s only been a bit over two weeks – you expected it to take a lot longer than that with how long he says the government contractors always take. “That’s exciting. You get your desk back.”

“Actually….” Reaching over, Marcus takes your hand. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“You look excited.” Carefully putting down your fork, you reach over and close your other hand over his. “Did you get something big? I mean I’m not hoping somebody got hurt or anything, but you’ve had a couple of long cases. Did you get a break in something?”

“I found out today that I’ve been selected to lead a task force that will work with Interpol and Scotland Yard on Art Crimes.” Marcus tells you. “In D.C.”

“No!!” Squeezing his hand in excitement, you’re practically propelled out of your chair and throwing your arms around him, babbling incessantly in between kisses to his cheeks and lips. “Baby, that’s— that’s amazing! That’s huge, and it’s so fast! I’m so, so so proud of you, Marcus. You work so hard, baby.”

He soaks up your affection like a sponge, happy that this has happened. Kissing you back and caressing the now very obvious baby belly that has grown over the past few months. “The only thing is…they need me there in a month. Five weeks at most.” He sighs and looks up at you. “If you want to take your time, I can go out there ahead of you.”

“No way in hell.” The proud tears in your eyes are threatening to spill over, and you sniffle them back with one more kiss before pulling back a little to look him in the eyes. “Work never got better even after the Wicked Witch left, honey. I’m still dreading every shift and coming home in tears, and it’s not because of the hormones. I— um, honestly? I was going to talk to you about wanting to give notice. I want to get back into hotels. So…this is actually perfect timing for a move.”

“Quit.” Marcus tells you immediately. “Give notice, walk out, whatever you need to do baby.” He reaches out to take your hand. “You know I will support whatever you want to do however I can.”

“I have the perfect excuse without needing to get into things now.” More than anything, you had dreaded knowing you would feel compelled to explain yourself. To give a reason why you no longer enjoyed your job. “But my amazing fiancé getting a huge promotion is all the reason in the world. I’m so proud of you, baby. Your own task force? That’s enormous.”

“I know.” He blows out a breath and looks nervous for the first time since he’s been given the news. “It will be a lot of work, especially at the beginning.”

“And you’re going to be incredible.” You have nothing but the utmost faith in him and you know it’s well founded. “I’ll tell them two weeks when I go in tomorrow and then we can be in DC as soon as you need.” The idea of that far-off, theoretical DC move suddenly being imminent is nothing but exciting for you.

“I’ll need to call my father so he can give the tenants notice.” Marcus tells you, before he gives a grin. “He showed me the house. You’re going to love it.”

“What’s it like?” So far all you knew was that it was a Victorian, but past that it could be absolutely anything.

“Dad sent me a link.” He pulls out his phone. “Apparently the trust has a page dedicated to the contents of the trust. They updated photos after doing some minor repairs.”

You scoot your chair closer to his at the table as Marcus punches in a password, so the two of you can look together. “Oh wow…” As soon as you look at the view from the front gate, it’s like it was built just for the two of you. The all-brick construction was probably intended to keep the house cooler in DC’s warm weather, but now it combines with the shoulder-height wrought iron gate surrounding the property to create an impressive historical facade. The garden seems to extend all the way around the sides, too, and includes a few fruit trees from the look of it. But it’s the dogwoods framing the entrance to the driveway that you really love. “I don’t even care what the inside looks like,” you joke as Marcus scrolls through the pictures. “It’s gorgeous.”

“I don’t think my father has ever owned an ugly house.” He admits, remembering how nice his house with his mom had been. He had wondered for years why he had obviously spent so much money, but had always written it off as guilt. “It will be modernized as much as design will allow too.”

“Holy crap, it has six bedrooms?” Glancing through the facts listed alongside the photos, you see a construction date of 1893, six beds, eight baths, and that central air was somehow installed in the historical home in the time since that became possible. “If it has a library I’m going to cry,” you tell him, starting in on your dinner with a laugh.

“Baby….” Marcus shakes his head and looks at you in delightful exasperation. “There’s a study – which is basically a library.” He flicks his thumb and takes the photos to the large study with build in bookshelves.

“If you ever can’t find me,” you look him in the eye very seriously. “I am either in the garden, or in my library. Goddamn, it’s sexy just saying it.”

“We will have to get very comfortable lounge chairs for you to curl up in.” Marcus muses with a grin. “And make sure we’ve got plenty of books to read on those rainy or snowy days.”

“I hope the fireplace is functional.” The ornate fireplace built into one wall of the study just cries out for a snowy day family cuddle pile featuring all four Pike-ettes. “Six bedrooms means each of the kids has their own room and we still have a guest room for when one of their grandfathers comes to visit.”

“That works even better than I ever could have imagined.” Marcus admits, knowing housing prices are outrageous for larger homes. He had anticipated children sharing a room at the least.

“We got lucky.” And you know exactly who to thank for it, considering Andrew explicitly put his childhood home aside for Marcus years ago. “I just hope the tenants that are there now are really okay with us moving in. I know Andrew said they had been looking for someplace smaller now that their kids are moved out, but this is short notice.”

“If they need longer, we can always stay in a hotel until they are ready.” Marcus smirks at you. “I don’t mind having you pampered for a little bit with room service and maybe spa treatments.”

“I guess we won’t have to worry about flying to DC for anything before the wedding.” Dinner is great, but now everything is great along with it and you feel like you’re buzzing in your seat. “But I think we should scale back the honeymoon. I doubt you’ll be able to get two whole weeks off with a brand-new task force.”

Marcus shakes his head. “I’ve already been assured that all my leave that already has been approved is rolling over.” He assures you. “I asked when I was told.”

“Well damn.” The smile on your face couldn’t possibly get any bigger, or it would just split you in two. “Got any other good news for me, while you’re at it? Did you go out and get a puppy on the way home and you’re just hiding it in your jacket?”

“No, I thought we would pick out a puppy when we get to D.C.” Marcus winks at you. “After the honeymoon so we don’t give the pup separation anxiety.”

“I’m never going to sleep again.” And yet? That doesn’t sound bad at all. Not when it comes on the heels of a happy family and a brand-new life that’s everything you ever wanted.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri

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ollieofthebeholder · 1 year

Text

to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] || Also on AO3

Chapter 11: July 2016

[CLICK]

ARCHIVIST

Right. There we go. Martin, what do you see?

MARTIN

W-what?

ARCHIVIST

I can’t really stand up yet. I need you to describe what’s going on. For the record.

MARTIN

Oh. Right. Yeah. Um, Sasha tackled Tim and there was a bit of a struggle, but she made it out of the Archives. That was about five minutes ago, and…she’s probably gone to get help. I don’t know for sure, but, well, it’s Sasha. She wouldn’t just abandon us.

ARCHIVIST

Did it look like any of the worms…got her before she left?

MARTIN

No, I don’t think so. Tim neither, I think. It’s a bit hard to tell, what with—it was a lot out there, but I think they both got out without a mark on them. [mumbling] Or a new one, anyway.

ARCHIVIST

Tim. What happened to Tim?

MARTIN

They got split up and he ran to your office. That was where they came in, you said you’d made a hole, so…Christ, I hope he’s careful in there. Jane Prentiss didn’t follow him, and, and the worms should be coming towards her, so as long as he doesn’t…maybe he found the spare CO2.

ARCHIVIST

Spare? What? Where? I never saw any.

MARTIN

I hid a couple in the old casefile boxes.

ARCHIVIST

What, why?

MARTIN

So they’d be handy? I’ve been stashing them pretty much everywhere I can think of. There’s only the one in here, though, since the room is sealed, so…

ARCHIVIST

No, I mean, why hide them?

MARTIN

So the worms wouldn’t find them.

Look, I know it sounds stupid.

ARCHIVIST

Yes. Yes, it is. They’re just…they’re just unclassified parasites. They don’t have consciousness, they can’t plan, they’re just an unthinking infection.

MARTIN

[Sounding tired] Whatever helps you sleep at night, Jon.

ARCHIVIST

[Audibly bristling] And just what is that supposed to mean?

MARTIN

You can’t possibly actually be this big of a skeptic. Nobody can work for the Magnus Institute and not have some idea of what’s going on—and I know you’ve never doubted when it comes to Prentiss, or to Leitners, you always treat those statements with a lot more…I dunno, respect. But when it comes to anything else, I’ve listened to you recording and you just dismiss them. You tear them to pieces like they’re wasting your time, but half of your “rational” explanations are more far-fetched than just admitting that there’s a ghost or something. It’s one thing to want evidence before you confirm something is legitimate, but there comes a point when you’ve got to just…accept that you believe. For crying out loud, you thought I was a ghost, and your only evidence for that was Tim.

ARCHIVIST

Of course I believe. Of course I do. Have you ever taken a look at the stuff we have in Artifact Storage? That’s enough to convince anyone. But, but even before that…why do you think I started working here? It’s not exactly glamorous. I have…I’ve always believed in the supernatural. Within reason, I mean. I still think most of the statements down here aren’t real. Of the hundreds I’ve recorded, we’ve had maybe…thirty, forty that are…that go on tape. Those I believe, at least for the most part.

MARTIN

Then why don’t you—

ARCHIVIST

Because I’m scared, Martin! Because when I record those statements, it feels…it feels like I’m being watched. I…I lose myself a bit. And then when I come back, it’s like…if I admit that there’s any truth to them, whatever’s watching will…know somehow. The skepticism, feigning ignorance. It just felt safer somehow.

MARTIN

…

It’s a good strategy, I’ll grant you that. Worked for Joshua Gillespie, I guess. For a little while, anyway. Don’t think he’s the only one, either.

But it won’t work forever. Ignorance only keeps you safe for so long, but the minute you start accepting that any of it’s true, the only safe way is to accept that all of it is true. Pretending not to believe is just going to get you killed, because it means you’ll miss something until it’s staring you in the face, and by then it’s too late.

ARCHIVIST

…I suppose you’re right.

Still, it’s not my fault we’re about to get eaten by worms. Speaking of, can you see anything?

MARTIN

Not much. They’re just…there.

ARCHIVIST

How many?

MARTIN

Too many. And they’re coming up through the floorboards still. I didn’t think they could fit through.

ARCHIVIST

Prentiss?

MARTIN

No, I can’t…[frustrated noises] Hold on. This glass…

[DEEP BREATH, FOLLOWED BY A FAINT HISS OF STATIC]

She’s over by the shelves. Or at least there’s a lot of…there’s something person-sized over there.

ARCHIVIST

[Dry but slightly shaky] You might be able to see better with your glasses on.

MARTIN

Yeah, you’d think, but it’s easier to pinpoint without them. Christ, that’s a lot.

ARCHIVIST

A lot of what? Worms?

MARTIN

Yeah, basically.

Yeah, it’s Prentiss all right.

ARCHIVIST

What’s she doing?

MARTIN

Not sure. She’s messing with the boxes. She’s just picked one up and—aah!

ARCHIVIST

What?

MARTIN

She’s…she’s destroying them. Sort of.

ARCHIVIST

Sort of?

MARTIN

N-no, more like…Corrupting them. I’m not sure what that stuff is coming out of her mouth, but I think we should probably burn them.

ARCHIVIST

Right.

MARTIN

…

I’ll teach you the way we used to burn Leitners.

If you want.

ARCHIVIST

We?

MARTIN

Me and Gerry and Neens. The three of us.

[FAINT CREAKING NOISE AS MARTIN SITS ON THE COT NEXT TO JON]

I lied, Jon. Or, well…not lied, not about most things, but I haven’t told you everything. The only thing I really lied about was my CV. I don’t have a master’s in parapsychology. I don’t even have a degree. I was seventeen, my mum was having…problems, and my stepfather was starting to get forgetful. It wasn’t too bad then, not so bad he couldn’t function or take care of Mum, but it caused issues for him at work and he lost his job. I had to drop out of school to support us all, but nobody was hiring without qualifications and when I offered to take over Mum’s job at Pinhole Books Aunt Mary said I wouldn’t be needed, thank you very much. I started making things up. My lie about parapsychology got me in the door here at the Institute, and I know why Elias hired me after that, but…honestly, most of my employment details are made up. I won’t even be twenty-nine until next month.

The reason I know so much about Leitners isn’t because of a degree or a thesis or anything. It’s…that was literally most of my childhood. Mum and Mary Keay were—I don’t know if you’d call them friends, but they worked together, and not just at the bookshop. If they’d actually been witches, they’d probably have been a coven. A lot of what they did was tracking down Leitners. Books of power, you know? And the three of us got recruited to help.

ARCHIVIST

That’s why you’re here? In the Archives, I mean. I—truth be told, it’s been bothering me for a while. You’ve been living down here for four months, under the constant threat of…this. Sleeping with a corkscrew and a fire extinguisher. You must know that’s not normal for an archiving job. That’s why you stay?

MARTIN

Partly. Partly because I realized you didn’t know what was going on, not like I did, and I thought…I just thought if I stuck around, maybe I could keep you safe. You and Tim and Sasha. [bitter laugh] You can see how well that worked out.

ARCHIVIST

We’re alive, aren’t we?

MARTIN

For now.

Mostly, though, I haven’t left because…I don’t think I can. While I was still…you know, upstairs…I think I could have walked away, no harm done. Once I came down here…well, I think we’re all caught now.

ARCHIVIST

Yes.

Yes, I—I see what you mean. I think.

MARTIN

[Softly] I wish you did.

[CLICK]

———

[CLICK]

SASHA

[Breathing heavily] Oh, God, that’s so much.

Okay, Jon. I know you’ll want to know what’s been happening. If you’re alive after this. There are worms on the upper floors. Not so many as down in the Archives, but enough.

I set off the fire alarm, so everyone’s evacuated but me and Elias. I haven’t seen any sign of the fire brigade, but I haven’t been near a window in a while. There was…a wave of worms, I guess, and I got separated from Elias. We were on our way to set off the fire suppressant system manually. I hope he made it, but who knows. Maybe everyone’s dead already.

I’ve had to retreat into Artifact Storage. That should tell you something about how bad it is out there.

God, I hate this place.

Did I ever tell you I joined the Institute as a practical researcher? I had to analyze and investigate all the stuff in here. Take notes after sleeping in the rusted chair, write in the memory book, that sort of thing. I transferred after three months. Would have quit, but I couldn’t afford to back then.

Never understood why we keep all this stuff secret. I mean, we’ve got enough here to send any skeptic packing, but it’s just locked away. I—I asked Elias about it once, but he just mumbled something about funding and mission statements. He’s good at changing the subject, isn’t he?

Sorry, I’m rambling. No worms, though, that’s—

MYSTERIOUS FIGURE

Get back!

SASHA

What—who’s there? Who are you?

MYSTERIOUS FIGURE

Just—shit. Get out of here!

SASHA

Look, you shouldn’t—

MYSTERIOUS FIGURE

[Agonized and desperate] Listen to me. If you take one more step forward, if you look at that, you will die. Get out of here.

SASHA

Are you threatening me?

MYSTERIOUS FIGURE

Damn it, I’m trying to save you! I don’t know who you are, but you don’t—[gasps in pain]

SASHA

Are you hurt? Shit, the worms—come on, let me—

MYSTERIOUS FIGURE

[Panicked] No, no, don’t touch me! Not yet! Just—

SASHA

Wait, that’s—is there someone else in here?

MYSTERIOUS FIGURE

Oh, fuck.

[SASHA SCREAMS, THE MYSTERIOUS FIGURE YELLS, A DOOR SLAMS]

SASHA

What was that?

MYSTERIOUS FIGURE

Don’t know. That’s never been my—

[MYSTERIOUS FIGURE DROPS TO ONE KNEE, MAKING STRANGLED NOISES OF AGONY]

SASHA

Are you okay? Have you—have you been bitten?

MYSTERIOUS FIGURE

[Strained] No—no, it’s—give me a second. It’ll pass.

[DELIBERATELY FORCED BREATHING THAT SLOWLY EVENS OUT]

MYSTERIOUS FIGURE

Right, okay. Get out of here. If you know a way out that isn’t that way, I suggest you take it.

SASHA

Look, I don’t know who you are, but I’m not leaving you behind. Besides, I don’t know if my friends are okay. We’ve got to stop those worms.

MYSTERIOUS FIGURE

[Dryly] I’m open to suggestions. I suppose setting the whole place on fire is out of the question.

SASHA

No! Not with—the CO2 is going to be bad enough, but they can survive that. Maybe.

We’ve just got to trigger the system. There should be a manual override. Elias was going to set it off, but we got separated, I don’t know if he managed it.

MYSTERIOUS FIGURE

Lead the way.

[CLICK]

#ollie writes fanfic #to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest)#tma fanfic #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #sasha james #canon-typical worms #panic #peril #death mention #fire mention #the formatting is better on AO3 #at least it damn well better be because I spent the last half hour fixing it

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berrymascarpone · 10 months

Text

We’re so close to Ichigo’s return and Rukia’s bankai!! But in the meantime, here are my thoughts on TYBW Episode 18:

1. Haha yeah, do your job Kyoraku, what exactly have you achieved while everyone’s been fighting for their lives?

2. He directs people to the remaining barracks? Does that mean there are some that have managed to not be replaced?

3. So I have mixed feelings about the Visored captains and their fights so far. On the one hand, we’ve had some really cool bankai moves, and they all have a sort of feral energy that I love, that reminds me they’ve all got some barely constrained Hollows knocking about in their souls.

But on the other I’m not sure they’re really contributing anything? And also the one aspect of their character design—their Hollow masks/powers—doesn’t make an appearance at all! I’m wondering if there’s some in-world explanation for this, like the Gotei doesn’t think it’s a good look for their captains to be traipsing around with Hollow masks and throwing ceros out left and right, but it seems like a real missed opportunity for the Gotei, especially when captains’ bankai were getting stolen.

4. Rose’s technique surprisingly easy to counter. If you can't hear it, then your heart can't be captured by it, or whatever. Kinda reminds me of Tosen's natural counter to Aizen's zanpakuto technique through virtue of being blind. And that, folks, is why the shinigami need to diversify their ranks.

5. RENJI!!!! RUKIA!!!! My loves you have finally come home from the war. Or, should it be you've come home to the war?

6. Love to see the reminder that Rukia can probably deadlift two captains quite easily. Though...since she only took Kensei and Rose, does that mean she left Shuuhei, Ikkaku, and Yumichika back there in the rubble?

7. I do like how Renji embraces the role of villain, haha. There's definitely a kind of return to his roots as an initial villain when he arrested Rukia and beat up Ishida and Ichigo in the beginning, but now we as the audience are cheering him on! Idk, I'm reaching for some symbolism in this fight, since it really doesn't seem that thematically meaningful for Renji.

8. It seems like...a bad tactical move for Mask de Masculine to eliminate all the little Jameses? Like you couldn't have punched Renji a bit further and then attacked him away from your little cheerleaders?

9. More Soul King lore! Did the Soul King give Ichibei his name before or after they cut off all his limbs and sealed him up? Makes me wonder what the Soul King was like back in the day, as an actual sentient being instead of a rock. And wondering if he still has some consciousness these days.

10. What’s with Yhwach turning into shadow when he has to ‘sleep’ (whatever that means)? We know that Quincies can hide in the shadows (somehow, this power is never really explained despite being kinda important to the plot? Or did I miss it?), but isn't this already the shadows, or at least the Wandenreich used to be in the shadows and is now...not? So what is left? Is it just an empty space? Is Seireitei now in the shadows? How come last time he had to sleep all the Quincies went with him, but now they can stay and fight?

11. Interesting how Yhwach seems to be some kind of soul recycler? The souls on which that he bestowed his blood return to him after death, and he assimilates their power to grow stronger. I've always thought that the Soul King's power must be somewhat simliar to this, and perhaps that is why the Soul King can stabilize the cycle of reincarnation, by channeling all the souls through himself or something (if that is indeed what his role is).

So does Ichigo in some ways also have this power, which makes him an ideal candidate for potential Soul King replacement? We know Ichigo has an amalgamation of different species/races as his soul, and is uncannily perceptive of people he fights sometimes; is that perhaps also a hint to his nature? Or is it just that he has the capacity to contain all types of souls which makes him an ideal candidate to be some kind of perfusion pump of souls?

#bleach #tybw spoilers #ramblings #it was a fun episode but so excited for the next one!!!#finally time for the main characters to return!!

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mars-da-volcanic-elemental · 9 months

Text

So ahhh…What’s up with Prehn?

I’ll tell ya! It’s a rather long thing just letting ya know.

I had to deactivate my tiktok account for a couple of weeks, because I was being targeted by the Tiktok report system, received account strikes unjustly, and many posts and comments were taken down without an explanation or an insufficient reason.

@NudioCreations advised me to deactivate for a couple weeks to keep my account from further unjustified reports to get me permanently banned. (Highly recommend giving them a follow, their resin-work is flipping wonderful.)

Okay so as far as the situation goes...I have a few theories on who may be targeting my tiktok account specifically. I've made things that may piss folks off.

Fair warning this is a long list, I'm a bit of an altruistic person so bear with me.

List below:

1) “it’s all men until it’s no men” & “it’s not all of you but it’s enough of you.”

(Both are the same which warrant "it's all men.")

2) The mistreatment and hell Romani folks suffer every day, and Anti-blackness being global. (Racism overall).

3) My support for Black and/or Indigenous and/or other multi-marginalized Women, Femmes, and Queer folks of many origins.

4) Transphobes mad about my existence (specifically me being femme-presenting despite being an agender stud with they/them pronouns)

5) Me posting billionaire content to my Tiktok Story, specifically how they’re thought to be reacting vs how they’re actually reacting to climate change (that one upset Tiktok so much, they’re a corporation).

6) Me having to reach out for financial aid to eat and otherwise. Or boosting others in need of financial aid or help of any sorts.

7) Dueting and posting valid concerns about the September 1, 2023 strike. That one pissed off so many folks and I received so much hatred for that.

8) Popping off at a person who said HEINOUS Anti-Artist shit to a Black Artist for hating the Christian-ized version of “Hello Christ I just sinned again,” (just—let Black women and Black queers have shit, damn?) or me blocking after making one pop-off comment at folks in the comments who defend rapists and predators. (Specifically during a circumstance where I agreed to 🌶️🍆 predators being recruited for animal testing. Keep in mind I am a survivor of multiple traumas including of that variety. But human rights was brought up despite folks being bad. Specifically a commenter’s teacher said:

“It’s human rights to be protected. Even though they did something horrible.” -Commenter’s Teacher

And while that’s important, it’s also important to point out and remember the following:

“Human Rights are to be protected. There is truth to what the teacher said, however the system and folks that’s supposed to be protecting its people from predators, isn’t doing right by multimarginalized folks, marginalized folks, SA Survivors, Trauma Survivors, and Disabled folks, and even Children; heck they violate human rights against us all day every day, but the violators get away with it all the 99% of the time.”

That’s just from my experience in United States of America.

9) A huge Black Blerd Tiktok Account who was very like "Give us men our props we love y'all it's not all men!" After the Black young adult (deemed Megamind) making a specific video about women/femmes who reject nice guys like him deserve to be [unfortunate choice of words] (using a cherry tomato but I digress) was caught and arrested, and I blocked him and his many accounts that are for hating Black Women. His followers, who I also blocked who went after me or commented at me, have been going after folks left and right on the platform.

I have more about specifically TikTok's inaction and the things I suffered in my last relationship here:

Apparently, it's reason enough so target me and those closest to me.

Which is unfortunate because…I used my tiktok as it was the only platform left that ensured I was able to get financial assistance with food.

At this rate any help is appreciated. I’d just rather folks not go to twitter when it involves me or mention of me, because of what I suffered there. More here:

“I’d really appreciate any cash you’re able to send over my way so I can eat, and such. I think it’s just the AT&T bill and one IbisPaint X thing I have to pay left for this month. And I have a few needs I need help with on my wishlist. I knew not of any other options—so I’m…reaching out.”

https://wise.com - [email protected]

Zelle https://www.zellepay.com/ - [email protected]

Gift to ABLE account (Ignore Deadname Pls and Thank you)

https://www.sumday.com/gift/maryland-able/ZGcDaNBoKEe4B3LPATC1JQ

Wishlist

Website:

Help me help others:

#mutual aid #tiktok #injustice #receipts #life #read more

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mazegays · 6 days

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could've followed my fears all the way down

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25

Chapter 26

Thomas hasn’t opened his eyes at all, no matter what Rosa says to him. He’s pretty sure it has to be near dark now, but he doesn’t want to check.

Checking won’t help him.

“Thomas, you can open your eyes, I know you’re awake.”

He doesn’t want to. He’s not opening his eyes until he’s out of this forest.

“No, Rosa.”

Ignoring her is so much easier. She can’t find anything to use against Minho and Gally if he does that—not that she seems to need much help with that.

He’d known she wasn’t a fan of Gally’s or Minho’s, but he’d thought they were friends.

“Why do you want to go back?” She asks. He can hear her sitting down next to his head.

“Rosa, I get that you think you’re helping, but Minho and Gally aren’t like your ex-boyfriend. They’re not hurting me. They never were. You just saw the bruises and thought there could be only one explanation.” He’s not going to tell her that she sent him into the thought process that ended up with him stuck in bed for weeks; he doesn’t want to find out how she’ll react.

“You don’t have to protect them.”

“I’m not, I’m telling you the truth.”

“Then look at me.”

“I can’t do that, Rosa.”

He knows his ribs still aren’t healed, he’s not going to risk injuring them more than having a panic attack.

Besides, by now someone knows something is wrong. They have to, right?

Someone will have noticed that he’s gone.

finish on ao3 or continue reading

Gally is left behind, again, as Minho and the others go to find Thomas.

Knowing why doesn’t mean he hates it any less.

“If you want to go back to wait, I can take you.” Frypan offers.

“No, I don’t want to just sit around again. I’ll stay here. What do you want me to do?”

Frypan gives him a dozen or so odd tasks while they wait. It’s not dinner time yet, but it feels like it’s been long enough that it should be. He knows he’s working too slowly, that he’s more in the way than he’s helping, but Fry doesn’t say anything, so he keeps going anyway.

Everything feels like it takes too long, and the silence only makes it worse. But Gally doesn’t think he can handle light conversation. It wouldn’t even distract him. Nothing can distract him. It’s not a new feeling; there have been other times when he’s been focused on a task and completely tuned out everything around him.

He’s just never been so focused on a person before.

“Where do you think she took him?”

“Hopefully somewhere easy to find.”

Neither of them is really focused on cooking, which is only working for them because Frypan decided to throw a bunch of things in a pot and call it good.

“They’ll find him,” Frypan says.

They’d thought that last time, too, and it had taken them far too long to find him.

Rosa isn’t very good at covering her tracks, which Minho is immensely grateful for.

“Should we be quiet about this, or just go in?” He asks Harriet— she knows Rosa, it’s her call.

“I’ll go first. I don’t know what she thinks of you right now.”

Probably nothing good. Maybe Thomas has been able to talk her down some, but they don’t know that.

Another minute or so, and they can see them: Thomas is laying on his back, eyes closed. Rosa is sitting by his head, talking to him.

Is he asleep? Hurt? Or just trying to avoid looking at the trees?

“Rosa,” Harriet calls.

“Hey, Harriet. I guess Minho and Sonya are here, too?”

“Yeah, they are. We need to take Thomas back, Rosa, he can’t stay out here.”

“I’m just trying to help him.”

Minho catches Sonya’s eye and nods. Rosa is more focused on Harriet for now, so he sneaks around behind her.

When Rosa stands up, taking a few steps towards Harriet, he takes her spot at Thomas’s side.

“Hey, Thomas,” he whispers, “I’m going to pick you up now, okay?”

“Just get me out of here.” Minho is careful, but Thomas still winces a little. “Don’t make me open my eyes. I haven’t risked it, because I hate just being here.”

Now that he’s holding Thomas, he can feel him trembling just a little bit.

He leaves Rosa for Harriet and Sonya to deal with.

All he can hope is that this didn’t make things worse. If Rosa was careful enough, if he’s careful enough, then physically, Thomas won’t be reinjured.

From the way he won’t open his eyes, Minho already knows that there’s been mental damage done.

Thomas knows he passed out some time on the way out of the forest, but he doesn’t expect to wake up with only Gally there.

“Minho’s right outside,” Gally says before he can ask. “And Frypan made a new food for you.”

It looks like purple applesauce.

“Basically, but it has no apples in it.”

If it means he can keep something down, he’ll take it. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since the last time he ate. He hadn’t eaten with Rosa; he doesn’t think she had food for him.

He doesn’t even know what her long-term plan for him was. How was she going to keep him hidden and fed? It’s not like he can do anything on his own right now. She had work to do, it’s not like she could just be with him all the time. Even now, it’s difficult for the multiple people who sit at his bedside to be there all time.

He can’t blame them; they’ve still got a lot to do here.

He tries a few bites; it tastes fine, but he really doesn’t want to start throwing up again.

“Thomas, you know you have to eat more.”

“I know.” he sits up a little, using his good arm to shove a pillow into place behind him. “I hate throwing up, Gally. If I keep a little down, I’ll try more later.”

“I know you will, I just don’t want you to get that point again.”

He knows he’s already there. He knows he lost weight while he was in the forest, and he can’t gain it back if he can’t eat.

He just doesn’t know when he’ll be able to eat anything without it coming back up again.

It takes far longer than Thomas would like to get back to doing anything remotely normal.

His trip to the forest with Rosa wound up with him getting sick, because of course he did, and that pushed things back a lot.

It’s been a few months, as opposed to the month he’d thought it would be—hoped it would be— originally.

It doesn’t help that Gally was given the okay to go back to building a month and a half ago, as long as he’s careful. When he was still mostly confined as well, it was easier.

Thomas’s problem isn’t that he’s not healing well, he is, he just… he still can’t seem to keep anything down. He’s been living off of bread and soups, and he wants to eat something else.

His body disagrees.

Still, he wants to do something. Anything.

His arm is still in the sling most of the day, but he can still do things.

Maybe Anya will finally let him do something light around in the greenhouse. It’s about the only place he’s been outside of this cabin in weeks.

Sitting around and reading all day was fun at first, but as much as he likes reading, he wants to move and talk to people again.

He needs something else to do.

(It’s not the white room, he’s got people, he’s not alone—he knows that. There’s something else that feels too familiar, but he just doesn’t know what it is.)

“Anya,” he’s not above a little pleading, “Please. Let me do something, anything, other than being in here all day. Can’t I go help Frypan again?” That had been fun, at least. And there must be things he can do with only one arm.

“Thomas,” she starts, stern, “Physically, you’ve healed exceptionally well. At least, as well as I can expect given the lack of technology to perform scans. Your stitches are all out, no signs of infection. What worries me about letting you work again is your arm— I still want you to wear the sling at least six hours a day— and how little you’re able to eat.”

He knows all of this. He wants to get out of here.

“Your arm only causes you pain if you use it too much, right?”

“Yeah.” Which he can’t even do, because everyone is always watching him.

It’s getting a little weird, honestly.

“Then yes. If it starts hurting more, let me know.”

“I will.” he promises, already grinning, “I’ll be careful.”

“Yes, I’m thinking you really learned your lesson after last time.”

He has. He’s not going to run off again, no matter the reason. Certainly not anytime soon, not that he’ll get far.

He can hardly even look at the forest right now.

That’s the next step: get to a point where going near the forest doesn’t send him into a panic attack.

“Hey, Thomas,” Anya finishes packing up her things, “Don’t go down by the fire pits alone, okay? There’s… something they need to show you, first. Let them explain it.”

That’s an odd request. He hasn’t gone anywhere alone lately at all, the few times he’s left.

What could be so bad by the fire pits that he’s not allowed to see it by himself?

It won’t be a problem— Gally will be back soon, and Minho after him. Thomas won’t get far without running into one of them.

He’ll just have to ask them what that’s all about. Anya is usually pretty straight with him, so it must be serious, but she sounds like it’ll hurt him or something.

How bad can it really be, anyway?

<- 25 27 ->

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princesskeda · 2 years

Note

How would you rank each antagonist from the oniverse?

Thank you for this ask! This was actually super fun to do! I'll give a bit of an explanation as to how we ranked them, cuz we kinda went above and beyond haha. I purposely left out a few antagonists who played super minor roles, like Dorhn and Warrack. I also didn't include very many grey characters in this lineup. So characters like Phos, Iona, or even Rook are not included. While technically antagonists at certain points in the story, they are still considered allies for the most part. And no I didn't include Garmadon or Harumi, I felt it best to only include OC villains.

I created 4 categories that I think encapsulate everything important and rankable about a villain and gave them a score out of ten for that category, and then added it up to get a total score of villainy and ranked them based on that.

The first category is overall Appeal. This refers to attractiveness, charisma, and if they were fun to write/read. So right off the bat very subjective haha

The second category is Impact. How much did their actions or presence impact the story and characters? How many characters did they impact? So this includes any kind of damage emotional, physical, or phycological in nature that they inflicted. We also kinda stretched it to include far-reaching effects or indirect influence, like how the Island's creation triggered the Dragon Oni war for example.

The third category is Motive. What drives the villain to do the things they do? This one was a little harder to pin down. For this ranking I considered a villian doing things for the sake of being evil as a 1, and a 10 is when the villian is doing things because they believe its the right thing to do, or they are so committed to their own belief or desire be it good or bad that they will stop at nothing to accomplish it. So basically the difference is whether they had a strong sense of reasoning behind their actions or not.

And finally, we have the Power category. This one was def the most straightforward. It mostly just came down to who was the most difficult to defeat. Be it with shear power, overall skill and cunning, or political influence.

1st

Evynn

A (10)

I (9)

M (7)

P (9)

2nd

Zerek

A (7)

I (10)

M (9)

P (7)

3rd

Island

A (8)

I (8)

M (3)

P (10)

4th

Saesh

A (9)

I (4)

M (6)

P (6)

5th

Matilda

A (8)

I (5)

M (5)

P (4)

6th

Ves

A (7)

I (4)

M (8)

P (2)

7th

Imgloss

A (7)

I (5)

M (3)

P (5)

8th

Ottan

A (8)

I (3)

M (3)

P (4)

9th

Jarule

A (2)

I (4)

M (6)

P (5)

10th

Baron

A (3)

I (5)

M (3)

P (5)

11th

Bula

A (3)

I (4)

M (7)

P (1)

12th

Quazir

A (3)

I (3)

M (5)

P (2)

13th

Adelaide

A (2)

I (3)

M (5)

P (2)

14th

Pazzol

A (2)

I (2)

M (2)

P (5)

Feel free to let us know your opinions! Do you agree with our rankings? Did we forget someone? Is there anyone you would move up or down? Let us know who and why! This was a ton of fun thank you!

#Idk if you were expecting like S to D teir rankings #I think those are fine but I wanted to be more thorough haha #This makes it a little more clear as to why we put characters where we did #and i like scoring things lol #oniverse

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zoeykallus · 2 years

Text

Crosshair – My Beloved Enemy 19 – I've Never Been Good At Goodbyes

Crosshair x Female!Reader (FF)

Warnings: ANGST/HURT/ Ouch/Heartache/Fluff, but the sad kind

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Author's Comment:

Reused this gif again, because right here and now it fits almost perfectly. PS: Ouch.

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What Happened Before:

Part 1 - Crash Landing

Part 2 - Hot And Cold

Part 3 - Hello Kitten

Part 4 - Look Who’s Back

Part 5 - Rebel Darling

Part 6 - Burning Anger

Part 7 - Love And Pain

Part 8 - A Difficult Reunion

Part 9 - The Bitter Taste Of Blood And Failure

Part 10 - Where The Dead Ships Dwell

Part 11 - A Lonely Firefly In Space

Part 12 - Broken Wings

Part 13 - A Helping Hand

Part 14 - The Justifier

Part 15 - The Bounty

Part 16 - Trapped

Part 17 -I Love You Too

Part 18 - When The Past Catches Up With Us

Part 19 - I've Never Been Good At Goodbyes

Hunter and Lando looked at you like you had the answer to all the outstanding questions, but unfortunately, you didn't.

Kyllan Coltroy, was a mistake that now caught up with you. You had barely been old enough to marry when he asked you, and why you had said yes then, you didn't really know in retrospect.

Kyllan was handsome, the kind of guy every woman turned to, and many a man too. Tall, well built, full, pitch black hair, eyes as blue as sapphires, a striking, flawless face as if chiseled from marble. Yes, in retrospect, you had been dazzled by his would-be charm and looks. The moment you realized he was a selfish airhead, unfortunately, came just after the wedding ceremony when you saw and heard him talking to one of his subordinates, boastful, condescending and not particularly eloquent, to put it kindly.

Kyllan could have been the perfect man with a little heart and mind, but he was far from it. You had known how influential he and his family were, you knew the only way to get away from him was to simply disappear and that is exactly what you had done at the time.

"I don't know what we can do. I hate to say it, but the bounty hunter is right, if he's on his way here too, we're screwed. He'll bring a lot of his men with him. Kyllan isn't the brightest, but he's not taking any chances," you said dejectedly.

Hunter looked at you sympathetically. You could see that he was torn with his thoughts, wanting to protect his brothers, but also not wanting to let you down. You couldn't let him wear himself out because of you, that more damage was done because of you.

"Where is Rex anyway?" you asked nervously, hoping for the Captain's strong shoulder.

"He had to leave on a mission, the resistance on Naboo asked for his help" Hunter explained "If he had known what was going to happen here, he would have stayed".

You sighed. There was no other choice.

"The Firefly is practically intact. I should leave Bespin, alone."

"That's crazy," Lando said, "You're a much easier target alone."

Hunter gritted his teeth, you knew he was feverishly searching his mind for another solution.

"I have to go, it's the only way to protect all of you and prevent Bespin and its people from suffering more damage and loss. I am very sorry that it has come to this, I wish I could make it up to you, but I know I cannot. What I can do is to protect you from further danger from him," you said seriously and resolutely.

Of course you had a certain fear, but you knew it was the right thing to do, basically the two men knew that too.

Lost in thought, your fingers reached for the Crosshair pendant on your necklace, leaving him behind hurt the most by far. At the moment he was mad at you too, or disappointed, and you didn't really have time for explanations, Kyllan might already be on his way, you had to leave immediately. That didn't make things easier, but you had no choice.

As you entered the hangar, you saw Tech, Echo, Crosshair and Wrecker working on various things on the Marauder. You didn't really have time to say goodbye, so you tried to slip past them quietly. It was awkward and you didn't like it, but it was better if you left right away. You didn't have time to get into discussions, because you were sure that if they knew what you were up to, they wouldn't want to let you go.

Echo, however, put a spoke in your wheel.

"Ad'ika! Where are you going?"

The question was innocent but it made you wince.

Crosshair looked up from his work and moved toward you just as you opened the Firefly's ramp.

"Can't tell you right now. Hunter will explain everything later," you said evasively.

Crosshair quickened his steps, keeping a critical eye on you as if he suspected you were up to something stupid. When he reached you, he firmly grabbed your arm to keep you from entering the Firefly.

"Where do you think you're going now? We have some things to discuss, you can't just run away from it!" he growled, half indignant, half miffed.

You sighed and looked up at him sadly. You almost reminded him that he ran first, but now was not the time and you didn't really blame him for doing so either.

When he saw the expression on your face, he softened.

"What's wrong?" he asked much more gently.

You gently but firmly pulled yourself out of his grip, kissed him softly on the cheek and said, "I'm sorry I let you down. This man means nothing to me, he is my past that I ran away from, I never expected him to still be looking for me after so long. I love you more than anything, I always will, don't worry about that."

Uncertainly he frowned.

"I was surprised, I admit that.... I'm not really angry. I was just rattled. But what worries me much more right now is that you sound like you're saying goodbye" he spoke seriously.

"Indeed," Echo commented from the background, critically.

"For the time being, I do have to go. I just wanted you to know that before I leave."

"But you'll be back?" asked Wrecker lurkingly as if he suspected what Tech already knew.

Your eyes wandered over Tech who had already understood the situation, he hardly dared to look at you, his gaze was sadly lowered and you saw that he had to pull himself together.

"Sure. I just have to do something so we can get rid of the guy who put the bounty on me. But I have to do that alone, I'll be back afterwards," a lie had never been so damn hard for you, even if you generally didn't like lying, this was the hardest one of your life.

Crosshair looked at you like he had trouble believing you, but didn't want to distrust you either.

"Do you know when you'll be back?" he asked cautiously.

You shook your head, "I don't know, but I have to go now."

You pressed a slightly longer kiss to Crosshair's lips before turning away, running up the ramp and closing it behind you without looking back. You knew it would only hurt if you looked back. That one kiss had probably been your last and you would have loved to drag it out and enjoy it even longer, but there was no time, even for that.

Crosshair looked critically at the closed ramp; when the machine started noisily, he took a step back. He glanced at his brothers and caught sight of Tech.

Gritting his teeth, he said, "Something's wrong here, you know something! What's wrong?!"

Tech looked sadly at his brother, his eyes almost tearing up behind his yellow tinted goggles.

"Isn't it obvious?"

Wrecker asked softly, "She's not coming back, is she?"

Echo frowned and said, "But why not? Why would she lie to us?"

"To protect us," Crosshair spoke somberly "I can't...I can't let that happen, she's in danger on her own!"

His gaze twitched to the hangar doors where Lando and Hunter were just showing up. As the heavy metal gates opened, his heart began to race.

"No! Close the hangar doors!" he shouted to Hunter and Lando and ran toward the men, Tech, Echo and Wrecker following.

"This is going to be messy," Hunter muttered quietly, earning a worried sideways glance from Lando.

"He'll do anything to keep her from leaving without him?" guessed Lando.

"Exactly," Hunter confirmed, "And we have to stop him."

Crosshair approached and Hunter was already standing in front of the console that controlled the hangar doors. Hunter didn't want you on your own any more than anyone else, but he understood and accepted your decision, and for now, it was the right decision to protect lives, including those of his brothers.

"Get out of the way!" grumbled Crosshair, reaching out to push his brother aside.

Hunter, however, braced himself against the sniper's grip and soon after, Lando also helped hold Crosshair down.

When Crosshair realized he was definitely going to be held back, he got rougher, trying to kick and punch to get to the console, but Hunter was prepared for it and out-maneuvered him until he had him in a headlock.

Crosshair threw himself around, causing Hunter to land under him and let go for a moment.

"You sons of bitches! Get your hands off me! You can't seriously be okay with her going off on her own!" he rumbled as Lando and Tech held him until Hunter was back on his feet, and stood in front of the console again.

To his left and right, Lando and Tech each held one of his arms. Crosshair looked over his shoulder and saw the Firefly slowly floating toward the open hangar doors.

"No!" he exclaimed, bracing himself against Lando and Tech, nearly breaking free as well, if Hunter hadn't intervened.

"Wrecker, would be nice if you helped out!" growled Tech.

Wrecker defiantly crossed his arms in front of his chest and murmured, "No. I don't want her to go. I won't stop her from doing what she wants, but I sure as hell won't stop my brother from trying to protect the woman he loves."

Echo said: „Don't look at me. I pretty much think the same“

A little surprised the men looked at each other, but there was no time for discussion anyway.

You flew the Firefly carefully and slowly towards the hangar doors to avoid colliding with other ships or people still in the hangar. You looked through the cockpit window and saw the tussle at the hangar console and felt a merciless fist close around your heart.

The closer you got to the gates, the better you could see the situation and the pain in your chest got worse and the burning behind your eyes more intense. Crosshair wouldn't let you go and the others were trying to keep him from closing the hangar doors.

It hurt so terribly to see him so desperate. You couldn't hear him, but you could see that he was screaming something at the top of his lungs. You had never seen him act so agitated and intense. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, silently, while you turned your eyes away with a heavy heart and steered the Firefly through the open gates into the sky.

Over the comm you heard a crackle, then Crosshair's breathless, hoarse voice: "Kitten? Y/N, can you hear me?"

Contact would only last until you were in hyperspace.

In a trembling voice you answered him softly, "I'm so sorry. I've never been good at goodbyes. You know I love you, don't you?"

His voice sounded pressed as he said, "If that's really true, then come back!"

You held the micro closed to hide the sob that escaped you. By the time you had collected yourself, the Firefly was already breaking through the cloud cover and the darkness of space loomed before you.

"I can't, Crosshair, please forgive me."

"Cyare..." he spoke softly "I love you and no matter what you do now or where you go now, I promise you I will find you"

Suppressing another sob, you activated the hyperspace jump and opened another open comm channel.

"Kyllan. This is Y/N, I understand you are looking for me and seem to stop at nothing to get me. I am traveling in the old Firefly I stole from you back when I took off. It has a new ID, but it's the same ship. I'm on my way to Onderon, you'll find me in the Highlands. Come and get me."

Crosshair slowly sank to the floor and sat down. His pulse was racing so fast he was dizzy, he felt like he was losing his footing.

Tech looked up and said, "Y/N just sent a message to Kyllan Coltroy on an open Comm Chanel."

Crosshair looked up startled, he was pale and looked slain.

"Let's hear it," Hunter grumbled.

"Kyllan. It's Y/N, I hear you're looking for me and seem to stop at nothing to get hold of me. I'm traveling in the old Firefly I stole from you back when I took off. It has a new ID, but it's the same ship. I'm on my way to Onderon, you'll find me in the Highlands. Come and get me."

Wrecker put his hands on his hips and said, "Well I don't know what you're up to, but Crosshair and I are going to Onderon. I'm sure Lando will lend us a ship, am I right?"

Lando grinned with a sigh and nodded.

"I have a very good ship sitting here on site right now. It actually belongs to a friend, but he doesn't need it right now. If you bring it back to me in one piece, you can have it. It's fast and reliable."

Everyone looked at Hunter.

He threw his arms in the air and said, "It's not like we weren't looking for her sooner or later anyway. We'll go together, anyone who wants to come along"

"We are all coming," Echo said „And all this drama was for nothing, poor brother“, and helped Crosshair stand up.

Tech nodded with a sigh but he smiled, he was relieved to know the guys would go come after you.

"We should hurry", Crosshair said sternly.

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drabbles-of-writing · 3 years

Text

A Little Kindness: Chapter 5

AO3 Explanation of AU

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11

In which Raine meets Hunter years before canon, and decides that a kid like him could use all the help he could get with an uncle like Belos. Even if they couldn't go much, they could try something, couldn't they? Years down the line, Raine is exposed as a traitor to the Emperor's Coven, and they are bound by the brand on their own wrist. Hunter notices. And as to be expected, he has more than a few complaints. It's not a big surprise on who he goes to for help.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Hunter awoke to the sound of shrieking.

Not the ‘oh Titan, the world is ending, everyone is dying, say goodbye to this cruel word’ kind of shrieking, which he was eternally thankful for. More of the ‘something not human is screaming at us like an alarm clock’ kind.

He jerked upright, reaching for his staff that he left under the table in an instant, eyes wild as he looked around frantically.

“Hoot! There you go!” The tube--worm--owl thing said cheerfully, the shrieking abruptly cutting off. “Up and at ‘em! Crazy day today!”

“I’m gonna go deaf in a week at this rate!” King yelled, throwing Hunter’s cloak at the demon's face. Who promptly got it stuck on his face and started flailing around trying to get it off.

Everyone else was awake, too, either looking just as startled as Hunter or, in Luz and King’s case, extremely annoyed.

The tube demon, he’s pretty sure it said it’s name was Hooty earlier, finally managed to get his cloak off its face, flinging it into a wall. If Hunter still wasn’t trying to slow his heart rate from the earlier terror, he probably would've been more miffed by that.

“Luz, no offence,” Katya said as she sat up from the couch. “But you have the worst house demon.”

“He has his moments,” Luz sighed, and the worm thing only nodded in satisfaction before retreating back to its presence by the front door. Hunter absently wondered how far that thing could stretch.

“You alright there?” Derwin asked, head tilted. It took Hunter a moment to realize he was talking to him. He shook his head and slowly lowered his staff.

“Yeah, fine.” He said curtly, shaking himself off and noting that his cardinal had fallen off the table in the ruckus, now shaking itself out from the floor, looking just as bitter as he felt.

He kneeled and let the palisman hop onto his palm, transferring it to his shoulder as he heard approaching footsteps from beyond the living room.

“An uneventful wakening, but a wakening nonetheless.” Eda said as she stepped in, somehow already all dressed with her staff over her shoulder. “Grab some breakfast kids, we’ve got some crimes to commit.”

“Crap, what time is it?” Hunter jolted, looking around for a clock within the room.

“I dunno, seven-something.” Eda shrugged. “Kitchen, all of you, I’ve got snacks somewhere.”

“Seven?” Hunter exclaimed. “When I said we should leave in the morning, I mean, like, five or six!”

“Does something happen at those times?” Luz asked, turning.

“What? No, it’s just the morning shift when everyone’s cranky. But it's best to go in the mornings so that the guards aren’t at their very best and we have a slight advantage in--”

“Then we eat on the way, we’ve got time.” Eda said, shooing everyone out of the living room.

“You seem awfully calm for someone who got up early to get ready.” Derwin hummed, breezing right by her and into the kitchen.

“I couldn’t sleep, so what?” Eda huffed.

“Fine, fine, whatever, just,” Hunter sighed as he followed the others to the kitchen. “Grab something and let go. I’m still trying to pick out of the more decent plans we came up with.”

“Eh, we’re good at improv.” Luz shrugged, climbing onto the counter and opening a cabinet. “Anyone like oranges?”

“Me!” Amber called as Katya also raised her hand.

“Why do you have oranges in the cabinet?” Derwin frowned.

“Eda’s terrible at organization.”

“I organize fine.” Eda scoffed, pouring herself a glass of apple blood.

“We’re all gonna die.” Hunter groaned, thunking his head on the counter as the cardinal hopped onto said counter next to him.

“That’s the spirit.” Eda grinned as Luz tossed the two oranges to Amber and Katya, the former fumbling with her fruit for a moment. “Go in with low expectations so you’re either right, or pleasantly surprised.”

“I don’t think even the lowest of my expectations would be enough for you people.” Hunter growled, turning his head to the side to give her a glare.

“I’m flattered.”

Luz dug through the cabinets for another moment, handing King what looked like a packet of dried jerky and tossing some vaguely squirming thing he didn’t recognize towards Derwin.

“Got any preferences?” Luz asked him, and he sighed as he raised his head.

“I don’t need any breakfast, we’ve all got something, let’s just--”

“Get him one of those bars from the left cabinet.” Eda spoke over him. “Grab something for yourself and we’ll hit the road, we’re not gonna waste much time here.”

“And you?” Luz asked, dropping down from the counter to move aside to open another cabinet.

“Apple,” Eda said simply, pulling open the fridge as she did so.

“Someone’s got a theme this morning.” Katya mumbled as she peeled her orange.

“I’d have a rat or whatever we found on the way, but today isn’t the day for those.” Eda said, withdrawing from the fridge with an apple in hand as Luz slid a candy bar towards Hunter.

“...this isn’t a breakfast food.” Hunter pointed out.

“It’s food, isn’t it? We can be a little unhealthy today, it’s a special occasion.” Eda shrugged. “Pack it up kids, grab your stuff, we’re heading out!”

Luz snatched what looked like a bag of off-brand chips, Hunter could only imagine how awful those tasted, and he sighed before taking the bar off the table. He was the first out of the kitchen, the others filing in as he stuffed the bar into one of his pockets and grabbed at the papers left on the table overnight.

“Okay, we’ll just figure it out on the way there.” He said, grabbing his cloak off the floor and pulling it on. “Where’s my mask?”

“I thought you didn’t want to be noticed?” Amber tilted her head as Luz looked under the coffee table and pulled out his mask from where it’d been kicked aside at some point in the night.

“No, but it’s better to have it in case I do need it. It’s best to prepare for the worst.” Hunter said, taking his mask from Luz and shoving it in his cloak’s inner pocket. “Let’s just go.”

“King, Derwin, Katya, you’re with me.” Eda said, grabbing her staff from where it was leaning on the wall. “Luz, you’re gonna have to put up with Hunter for a while. I need one of you two to moderate that one, and King's been through enough.”

“Aw,” Luz complained, face scrunched up in a grimace.

“I call the front seat!” Amber exclaimed before Luz could, Hunter snatching his staff by the couch as his palisman buried into his hood.

“Oh no fair!” Luz complained.

"Neither of you are getting the front seat! It's my staff!"

They somehow made it into the sky without anyone throwing hands.

They did, however, argue over a plan the whole way. Hunter lost at least three papers during the flight, which he decided not to go back for, with them already behind in rescuing Raine, in his eyes.

Eda, for all her jokes and teasing, had a tense smile and tight grip on her staff. Hunter had met enough adults before he bore his mask to know she was smiling for their sake. She was worried, and he watched her like a hawk. She could be worried for many reasons, and a betrayal or grab-and-go were pretty high up on that list.

He wondered how Luz would take it, if that were the case. Probably not well, she got all sad when he of all people turned on her to get the palismans back. She gave him his staff! She knew he had a job to do! And she said they were almost friends? She trusted people to a ridiculous amount.

Though, apparently not enough to not be suspicious of Eda when she was acting strange. He’d have to look in on that.

And when they arrived, ducking behind the stone walls lining just outside the ramp leading up to the Castle, they still weren’t any closer to a plan.

“We’re all gonna get caught,” Hunter groaned, dragging a hand down his face as King and the BATs argued in hushed voices. “I’m going to get in so much trouble.”

“And we might get petrified, love your priorities.” Luz snarked, rolling her eyes.

“What part of ‘the Emperor is not a merciful man’ do you not understand?” Hunter hissed, pushing his cardinal back into his hood when it tried to peek out. “I’m not talking about a slap on the wrist, here! And he wouldn’t petrify you, at least.” He added with a hand wave. “Which is probably worse, considering you’ve evaded him for so long.”

“I think hitting him in the face with ice is worse than evading capture at this point.”

“You what-”

“Alright, everyone hush.” Eda said, almost swinging her staff into Derwin’s face by accident when gesturing to all of them. “Man, this place brings back old memories.” She muttered, quieter and bitter as she narrowed her eyes at the bridge leading to the Castle.

Hunter could still recall the last time the Owl Lady had been at the Emperor’s Castle, battling Lilith on the bridge. He’d been one of the spectators among the guards from within. It was his first demonstration on what wild magic could really do, another spark in his interest. And was a rather sudden reminder that he was very grateful she was virtually powerless now. Or disappointed. Depends on if she was really planning a betrayal or not.

“What time is it?” He asked instead, flicking an ear as he peeked out from beyond the stone before crouching back down.

“Like, eight, why?” Amber tilted her head.

“The morning shift guards usually break around now for breakfast. Which means the guards up there,” He pointed towards the top levels of the Castle. “Will be stepping away, just for a few moments, to get their breakfast. The ones here,” He pointed towards the entrance. “Usually like to keep their breakfast stashed away to the side, since they aren’t allowed to leave until the shift is over. They’re the ones we focus on.”

“Hell yeah,” Katya grinned.

“Course,” He continued. “If we had left earlier, we could’ve intersected them when the night shift was trading with the morning shift, and it would’ve been significantly easier to--”

“Yeah, yeah, we made bad decisions, we get it.” Eda waved him off and he scowled. “Anyone got an idea on how to get those guards out of there when the breakfast bell rings?”

“I got this.” Luz said, a smug look on her face that instantly put Hunter on edge as she stepped around the others.

“What are you doing?” Hunter asked, noting Eda and King looked rather cautious themselves as Luz crouched right at the edge of the stone walls, just before she would be in full view of the guards.

Luz didn’t respond, and there was the faint sound of a horn blowing from the Castle. The guards on the roof stepped away then, turning their backs to the ground below as they shuffled off to quickly grab their food.

The guards at the entrance untensed and stepped away, reaching for bags tucked into the corners of the entrance. Luz reached around on the ground for a moment, withdrawing an ice glyph with her other hand as she picked up a rock the size of her palm.

She placed her glyph on the ground, squinting as she judged the distance. She then set her rock on top of the glyph, waited until one of the guards was stepping away with their breakfast in hand, then activated the glyph.

In hindsight, Luz was probably going for the same trick Hunter had done at the Conformatorium. Likely to prove she could do it better than him, or something. Or maybe she was just being clever.

Unfortunately for her, that is not what happened. Because she had misjudged where to fire the rock, and hadn’t anticipated for the guards to move. So in that brief second, the rock soared right over the bridge, and instead of landing wherever it was she was hoping it would land, it ended up hitting one of the guards in the head.

Hunter could sense some of the others wincing when it did so, the guard pretty much immediately crumbling to the ground at getting a decently sized hunk of rock chucked full-force at their head. Luz froze up as the other guard whirled around to their buddy, crouching and shaking them.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Hunter groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He raised his staff and let himself be teleported to the two guards, the others yelping as he did so. He appeared behind the one crouched over their friend, the guard turning with an accusation on their tongue. Hunter kicked them in the gut, wrapping his hand around his other fist and bringing it down over their head when they doubled over.

They hit the pavement, and he didn’t bother to check if they’d get up as he turned to look blankly back down the bridge, where the others were already running towards him in the brief window of time they had.

“Got any other bright ideas?” Hunter hissed, smacking Luz upside the head as she passed him.

“I didn’t see you with a better one!” Luz whirled around to bat at him. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“Hey, as funny as it is watching you two argue,” Eda snapped her fingers, gaining their attention. “We’ve gotta keep moving to the lower levels.” She said, fishing through her pockets to withdraw the map.

“Once we get to the underground area,” Hunter said, stepping away from Luz and hurrying through the hallways, the others following both him and Eda as she came into step beside him. “We’ll have to split up. They’re huge, and there's no way we could cover it all without being caught. It’s more beneficial to have us separate and cover more ground.”

“Two groups, then.” Eda said, eyes darting down the hallways they passed. “One staff with each group.”

“That’s ridiculous, we have enough people for at least three. We could even make it four if I went in alone.” Hunter protested.

“Nice try, but no.” Eda shot it down. “You’re under supervision at all times, kiddo.”

“What gives you the right to tell me what I can or cannot--”

Hunter’s retort was cut off when Katya suddenly bowled into them, pushing them towards the wall. Everyone squished against it, Hunter turning to snap at her until he heard the sounds of voices and his mouth clicked shut.

Guards passed down the hallway they would’ve entered had they kept moving, missing the group clinging to the wall as they chattered amongst each other, continuing down. He wasn’t sure if he hoped all of them were as incompetent as the guards at the Conformatorium or not.

“Don’t you technically have two staffs?” Luz whispered, reaching up a hand to poke at his hood, where his cardinal was peering out of.

“Don’t you even think about it.” Hunter growled, covering his cardinal with his hand when the bird attempted to hop free of his hood and tucking it closer to him protectively.

“It’s fine, we don’t need a staff for every group.” Derwin said, letting his voice come just above a whisper once the guards' voices faded. “We have our instruments, we’ll be careful.” He said, gesturing to his friends.

“If you're sure,” Eda said, frowning. “I better not have to rescue from the Conformatorium again or so help me--”

“Guards!” Amber warned, head whirling to look behind them, where the shadow of guards along the walls could be seen approaching on their patrol.

“Go, go, move!” Hunter hissed, shoving at the others.

Everyone bolted from crouching against the wall, letting Hunter lead the way as he ducked down another passageway. He counted five seconds in his head, then signaled to the others to follow him down a different hallway.

“I’ve got pretty much the whole schedule of the guards memorized.” He boasted, voice low as he peeked up and down a hallway before continuing to move. “There’s more wandering around these days, but we’ll probably be fine.”

“Probably?” Katya echoed.

“Well, knowing you guys,” Hunter said, looking back with a raised brow. “You’ll find some way to get caught anyway.”

“Loving the confidence,” Derwin snorted.

“Eh, Goldie’s got a point.” Eda shrugged. “These never seem to go all that well.”

“Don’t call me that.”

There were only two guards at the entrance to the lower levels, meaning either Raine wasn’t down there, Belos was really confident in his security systems, or he saw no reason to up security around the lower levels, meaning there was likely something better than guards out of sight.

Hunter, personally, really hoped his one-in-third chance was right on Belos having a weird amount of confidence in his guards.

“If any of you throw something at them, I will use you as live bait.” Hunter warned, whirling to give a warning glare to each and every one of the assorted group, lingering on Luz a moment longer.

“You mess up one time,” Luz muttered under her breath.

“I’m making an example out of you. Any ideas?” Hunter clasped his hands together. “And make it quick, a patrol is gonna be coming down this hallway in about five minutes or so.”

“You could walk up to them as--”

“If I have to repeat myself on why I can’t walk up to them as the Golden Guard and risk that information getting back to Belos, I will actually snap your spine like a toothpick.”

“Well,” Eda whistled as Amber snapped her mouth shut. “Someone's testy today.”

“I’m a bit on edge, thank you for noticing.” Hunter snarked back.

“Guys,” Katya waved her hand, gaining the others' attention. She looked to Derwin, who grinned back. They drew their instruments from their backs, Katya peeling off the cloth from around her tambourine to keep it quiet, and they nodded towards each other.

They began to play, and for a split second, Hunter considered making a mad dash for it. He knew bard magic kind of, you know, required there to be noise, but it was still jarring.

The guards by the underground entrance perked up for a moment before slowly beginning to slump, leaning on the wall to keep themselves upright. After a few more moments of quiet playing, the guards fell to the floor, passed out in a deep sleep. He had to admit, he was impressed they had the skill to direct their magic at a specified group, rather than the simple, more common bard magic of affecting everyone within hearing range.

“...well why didn’t you do that before?” He demanded instead.

“You guys were arguing.” Katya shrugged. “Are we going in or not?”

Hunter rolled his eyes and followed the others as they all scurried off, Eda pulling open the large doors that led to the lower levels as everyone filed in.

It was dark down there, with most of the lighting going either unused or unfixed. Luz withdrew a light glyph and activated it, passing one to the others that they could use themselves.

“Okay,” Hunter said as Eda slipped in behind them, quietly shutting the door behind them. “There’s two sections it splits off to, and then there’s smaller hallways after that. We’ll meet back here in no less than four hours, this place is big.” He said, already hurrying off towards the left.

Luz, Eda, and Derwin followed him. King, Amber, and Katya went the other way, calling a quiet “good luck!” behind them.

The four ducked and darted around corners, the silence beginning to make all of them slowly get increasingly more on edge. The only noise in the lower levels was from the quiet creaking of those above and the occasional dripping of water from a leak that Hunter would have to tell them to fix later.

He hadn’t quite realized just how tense they all were until there was a loud crash of something above them falling over and likely taking three other things down with it.

“Scatter!” Eda shouted, likely instinctively, mere moments after everyone had already started doing so.

They all bolted in barely the blink of an eye, scrambling towards a different, small passageway towards different parts of the lower levels. Hunter didn’t even bother to look back, only stopping after he’d put about five different sharp turns in the corner behind him.

He let out a breath, already mentally berating himself from getting so spooked and rubbing at his face. Whatever, at least now they had more area to cover with them all split--

“You,” Came a wheeze behind him. “Did not run that fast last time I checked.”

Hunter whirled around, seeing Luz, hunched over with her hands on her knees as she attempted to catch her breath. There was nobody else with her.

He resisted the urge to groan, which was an impressive feat, instead only sighing as he took off in a brisk walk once more.

“Then either learn to keep up or go explore somewhere else.” He called behind him.

“Every time,” Luz muttered, though she did hurry after him. “At least Rascal appreciates me.”

His palisman, possibly to just spite him, chirped in agreement, poking its head out of his hood.

“Get your own palisman.” He taunted, waving it off. “Or are you still behind on that?”

“For your information, I have…” Luz trailed off, mouth clicking shut until she went right back to talking. “I am working on it. You didn’t even want him!”

“And yet, I still got a palisman before you.” Hunter said, looking over his shoulder and sticking his tongue out. “Kinda sucks, doesn't it?”

“Do you actually hate me, or are you just being annoying?” Luz squinted, waving her hands around. “Because I genuinely haven’t been able to tell, and it’s almost been two days.”

“What, you usually get people to love you after the first six hours?” Hunter snarked. “And don’t flatter yourself, you're a minor annoyance at best.”

“I’m touched,” Luz rolled her eyes. “Really, hadn’t known you cared that much. Didn’t think it was physically possible for you.”

His cardinal lightly bit his ear and pulled on it before he could make a retort, the words dying in his throat. He grumbled and flicked said ear, turning away from Luz as he continued stalking through the hallways.

He peered into a dark passageway for a moment before continuing on, and he and Luz slipped into an unspoken routine where she looked into the hallways on the left, and him on the right.

His cardinal, at one point, had flown out of his hood and was flying further down a few hallways ahead of them, giving them a once-over before flying off to another.

“Does Little Rascal know Raine?” Luz asked after a moment, watching the palisman dive through another hallway.

“Yeah, Raine spoiled the privileged brat.” Hunter huffed, choosing to ignore Luz's "there's another thing you have in common" comment she probably thought he didn't hear. “Left bird seed for him all the time and would leave notes about things both of them weren’t happy about, but they’d phrase it like I was disappointing my palisman specifically.”

“Aww,” Luz cooed. “That’s adorable! Is that why you owe them?” She asked, popping up beside him. “Because they didn’t rat you out and Rascal liked them?”

“I, well, no, not exactly.” Hunter’s ears flicked back. “It’s...part of the reason, I suppose.”

“Then what was--”

There was a sudden, sharp call from up ahead, and both of them snapped their heads towards the noise.

“Red?” Hunter exclaimed, already racing off towards the hallway his palisman had flown down.

“Red? You named him Red?” Luz called a moment later, running after him.

“It’s one of the names!” Hunter called over his shoulder. “I’m cycling through them!”

“But Red?”

Hunter skidded down a sharp turn in the newest hallway, one hand braced against the wall as he looked at whatever had startled his palisman.

The cardinal suddenly popped up in his view, chirping incessantly before darting out of reach, further down the hallway. Luz caught up a second later, noticing the bird's odd behavior as the two looked at each other.

They made a silent agreement, and followed after it.

There were low lamps along the walls, getting only marginally brighter as they followed the palisman, which could either be a good or a bad sign, but at least it was a sign.

Hunter rounded the last corner first, pausing when he saw what he’d been led to.

Cells. Rows and rows of old, dingy cells in even worse condition than the ones in the Conformatorium. The lights casted creeping shadows across the cells, nearly hiding them from view. There were cracks in the ground, signs of a fight and a struggle, that only got worse and worse further down the corridor.

He held out an arm to stop Luz as she came around the corner right behind him, and she bumped right into it. She looked ready to retort something, but stopped when she saw what the cardinal had led them to.

“Get your glyphs,” Hunter said, clutching his staff as a faint red glow emitted from it.

Luz did as he said, pulling out glyphs to hold in her hands and double-checking where the others in her pockets were as Hunter began to stalk down the hallway. He carefully stepped over the cracks as he slowly checked each cell he came across.

“Red? Buddy?” He called, voice echoing. “Where’d you go?”

There was a cheep from up ahead, and the palisman flew into view via the lights from the lamps, flying around Hunter’s head before darting off again.

“Hey, little guy, wait up!” Luz called, running after it.

“Luz!” Hunter hissed, racing after her.

The cracks in the ground grew in intensity as they continued, and he could see holes in the ground that a whole foot could fit in now. He eyed the bars to the cells and wondered how useful they really were.

The cardinal was chittering like a madman somewhere up ahead, and he could see a faint red blur flying around near the end of the hallway, in front of a cell that, unlike the others, had two lamps beside it, giving it more light.

Luz got there before him, skidding to a stop and approaching the cell door, grabbing a bar and peering in.

“Get back!” Hunter demanded, finally appearing at her side and grabbing her arm, yanking her away. “You don’t know what kind of prisoners they have in here--”

And he looked into the cell, and his reprimand died in his throat.

There was a figure at the back of the dingy cell, sitting with their back leaned against the wall with legs sticking out, slumped over like an old doll haphazardly put away. Their face was hidden from their position, and their hands were limp at their sides.

Dark, blackish red thorns were wrapped around their body, the majority coming from their wrist, where a coven branding would be. They pulsed and glowed faintly like veins that had been turned inside out and placed on top of skin instead of under it.

Hunter couldn’t even tell if they were breathing, if they were alive at all.

His palisman had gone silent, landing on his shoulder as it, too, took in the sight.

“Hunter?” Luz worried, watching him. “Is that...Raine Whispers?”

“Yeah,” He said softly, never taking his eyes off them. He hesitantly lifted one hand from his staff to grip at a cell bar, swallowing thickly. “That...that’s Bat.”

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oreoambitions · 3 years

Text

Parts 1-3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 5.5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 // Part 10 // Ao3 Kara has been away for too long. This is what she thinks to herself as she hovers over the edge of National City's furthest flung suburb, her eyes on the horizon, her hands doing a rather unsuperherolike fidget of their own accord. She was only supposed to be gone for a couple of hours. A couple of days maybe. Long enough to cool down, to get her anger under control, to make sure that Lena would never have to see her like... that. Only a couple of days has become a couple of weeks and now Kara doesn't know how to come home. "Rao," she whispers. Immediately she feels foolish - as if Rao has answered her these past weeks - but in her solitude she's grown used to speaking in prayer, and so she finishes the thought anyway. "Where am I supposed to be right now? What am I supposed to be doing?" Probably her life is in shambles. Probably she's been fired from CatCo and there are a stack of unpaid bills cluttering up the mailbox of an apartment that probably doesn't belong to her anymore. That's going to be a mess to sort out and there's no getting around it. And then there are the personal relationships she's abruptly abandoned for a month and a half without explanation. Alex will be worried sick, and angry, and rightfully so. What will J'onn say? Nia? Clark? And then there's Lena. Kara's hand moves to the thin red thread would tightly around her wrist. Ever so gently, careful not to wear it thinner still, she brushes her fingers over it. She'll have to talk to Lena. Soon. Today. The thought makes her stomach twist and seize and roil with feelings she has hardly begun to name, let alone master, but Rao, if she stays away until she's mastered them all she's starting to think she might stay away for a lifetime. But at least the anger is under control. That's the most important thing, because the truth is there is no returning to National City, no returning to Lena, without facing Sam. It's doubly true now that Sam has taken up the cape to protect the city that Kara has come to think of as her own. She has to admit, however begrudgingly, that Sam has done a good job. The city below is peaceful in that loud, chaotic way that cities have about them in the late afternoon: a dog shouts out on 4th street; someone's car won't start on Tulare; highschool students pour out of a bus downtown full of the laughter and the posturing of youth. All is well. Certainly things are better than Kara has any right to expect them to be, and that's on Sam. Sam, who made headlines when she stepped in to make it clear that Supergirl's absence would not be taken advantage of. Sam, who said she'd never wear the cape because she was afraid of what it would mean for Ruby. Sam, who should have rightly been on Argo right now claiming her birthright and her heritage. Sam, who had an obligation to protect Lena and chose to bind her irrevocably to Kara in a marriage of obligation instead. Perhaps the anger is not so under control after all, but up here there's no one to see Kara's eyes flash or her fist clench, no one to hear her heartrate pick up or the sharp breath she forces out between her teeth. Up here it's okay. It's only down there she has to worry about control. But first before control, before the appearance of reconciliation, before Kara figures out how to get Sam on board with the plan she's hatched for finding Lena a way out of this mess, first before anything, Kara is going to have to talk to Alex. Hell hath no fury like an older sister abruptly abandoned and left to fret and worry for nothing, and the longer Kara puts this off the worse it's going to be. She takes a deep breath and wishes, not for the first time, that life came with a rewind.

There isn't really any such thing as taking the long way when you're a Kryptonian under Earth's yellow sun, but Kara makes an effort. She loops around the city twice, trying not to think about how uncomfortable it will be if she runs into Sam out here doing a similar patrol. She hovers over the L-Corp building long enough to determine that Lena is, in fact, not at work on a Saturday — probably Jess's doing, for which she’s grateful. Then she drifts gently to Alex's neighborhood, to her street, to the fire escape, to the back window always unlatched when Kara is on patrol just in case Supergirl should need to stop by unseen. Kara, of course, is not so much on patrol as officially missing, so she hesitates there on the fire escape before reaching out to tug gently gently gently on the window. It's almost a surprise when it slides open. Alex is home but the shower is running and Kara, feeling an odd sort of nervousness wash over her, slips through the window quietly. Maybe it would have been better to come through the front door, or to call ahead, or maybe it would be better to announce herself now, but now she's here trembling in Alex's kitchen and she's let herself in this way a hundred times and it's always been okay. Only this time it's different, and all Kara can think about is how angry Alex is going to be when she sees her and- The bathroom door flies open and Alex comes barreling out into the kitchen in a towel, dripping wet, the shower still running behind her. They stand there for a moment, Kara rubbing the edge of her cape between her fingers, Alex stock still as though she's seen a ghost. "Kara," she breaths. And then, "Shit, I'm sorry. Let me-" She reaches for the cupboard, then the fridge, then steps back. "Are you okay?" "Yeah," Kara says. She draws in a deep breath to spit out the explanation she's rehearsed a hundred times: I'm sorry but I was losing control and you have to understand that Sam and Lena were together the whole time and I was jealous, so jealous, but I was mostly so angry that Lena trusted her and then she put her into this awful position with the vows, and it put me in an awful position too, and I just couldn't stay and I- But Alex is nodding. "Let me just put a shirt on, okay? Don't- Just don't go anywhere. Help yourself to anything in the fridge. Two seconds." She starts down the hall and then turns back, her fingers up for emphasis. "Two seconds." It's more like forty seconds and the shower is still running and Kara is too uncomfortable to fetch anything from the fridge. All her rehearsed words have died in her throat and she's left standing there teasing a thread out of the edge of the cape and feeling like somehow this is all wrong. Kara’s imagined this encounter a thousand times but never like this, and to compound it all, something in this place has shifted. Maybe it's just the time Kara's been away but something here feels... different. Forty seconds isn't long enough to put a finger on it and Alex is back in the kitchen in a t-shirt and boxers and demanding a hug before Kara can quite track what's changed. There's an almost physical relief when Alex collides with her and for a few seconds all else is forgotten. "Are you mad at me?" she whispers into Alex's hair. "Yeah," Alex whispers back. "But it can wait." And then, as she pulls away, "Cocoa?" Alex doesn't wait for an answer. She's busy at the stove in an instant, milk out on the counter, hot chocolate mix out of a glass bottle measured by the heaping quarter cup, and Kara's offers of assistance are shooed away with a gesture so reminiscent of Eliza that she might have giggled if she hadn't been feeling slightly sick. She settles into a chair at the kitchen table instead. The cape has found its way between her fingers again; that loose thread is becoming more prominent by the minute. Then the shower shuts off and Kara glances up at Alex. "Is someone else here? I'm so sorry, am I interrupting? I can go if-" Alex silences her with a hand. "It's fine. You're not interrupting. It's just... it's my girlfriend." "Girlfriend?" The guilt sickens Kara a little further. She's been gone too long. She's missed too much. "Actually," Alex says, stirring the hot chocolate mix into the milk on the stove, "I was meaning to talk to you about it before everything happened with the wedding. It wasn't official but we'd been intimate - sorry, TMI, I know - and I thought it might be going some place. But then with everything happening it never felt like the right time, and now..." "Well who is she?" This explains, at least, what feels different about the apartment. And it seems obvious now that Kara knows what she's looking for: an extra pair of shoes by the front door, a jacket over the back of the couch that doesn't belong to Alex. But it's familiar. A jacket Kara's seen before, now that she's thinking about it. "Do I know her?" "Yeah. Actually, we should probably talk about-" Sam steps into the kitchen slowly, so softly that human ears might not have picked up her approach. She's wearing one of Alex's long sleeved tees pulled down too far over her hands, an anxious gesture Kara has seen mirrored in Lena a thousand times, and it sends an instant flash of something awful through her chest. "Hi Kara," Sam says softly. The rage hits Kara before her mind can catch up. Alex and Sam were intimate before the wedding. Alex and Sam were intimate before the wedding. Alex and Sam were- Which means- The kitchen table cracks under Kara's fingers but the words don't come. What is she supposed to say? Hi Alex, I really missed you, by the way your girlfriend is possibly cheating on you with my wife who, funny story, is only actually married to me because your girlfriend manipulated her into a binding religious marriage, potentially in order to free herself up so that she could be official with you. Any chance she's mentioned any of that? No? What comes out of her mouth is: "How dare you." Sam crosses her arms, those sleeves still pulled down around her fingers, takes another step into the kitchen. "I think I know what this looks like," she says. "And it's not. It's not what you think." Kara doesn't know what she thinks. Something about Sam's anxiety and the confusion on Alex's face is sounding an alarm, and it’s an alarm that sounds an awful lot like doubt, but the anger is louder. Anger, in Kara's recent experience, is always louder. And now it's building behind her eyes, and she knows it shows because Sam starts to move between her and Alex and somehow that makes it all worse because now it's the shame that's louder and Kara can hardly hear her own thoughts over all that noise. "I have to go," she chokes out. "I'm sorry. Alex, I-" I'll call, she wants to say. "I'm sorry," she says instead. She can smell the milk burning on the stove as she leaves, can hear Alex calling after her, demanding Sam go after her, demanding she come back. "Let her go," Sam murmurs. Kara passes out of earshot. Well, not really. But she's got enough distance that she can put it out of her head. Enough distance that she can, if she chooses, listen to nothing but the wind, and her shame, and the hammering of her own heart.

#packing can wait #THIS WAS SO HARD TO WRITE #interpersonal drama is NOT my forte #Fake Marriage AU

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cafeinthemoon · 3 years

Text

The Home I Crave - Chapter XV

Chapter: 15/?

Wordcount: 2900

Title: Hand Signs

Fandom: Naruto

Pairing: Tobirama Senju X reader

Previous chapters

1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5 . 6 . 7 . 8 . 9 . 10 . 11 . 12 . 13 . 14

Symbols: ⭕ . ➕ . 💛

Warning (s): none

N. A.: Yeah I think I owe you apologies for taking this long to post this chapter, but here it is, finally! I was feeling so upset and guilty for not writing as much as before, but it's simply because I haven't had time to sit down and work on my stories. These days have been rough 😣

You didn’t remember well how things happened after the man left your door. You only remembered seeing Tobirama turning to you and saying something, trying to raise his voice above the storm’s sounds, but it wouldn’t let you understand the exact words. You probably stood up and took the first clothes you could find, but you weren’t sure how; even less passable of an explanation was how your husband could find time to put his full armor before you two left the room, all your package except for the weapons being abandoned there as well as your hopes of having at least one pacific night before going back on your journey.

Somehow you reached the first floor, from where the people of the tea house were trying to leave as fast a possible. The ninjas you saw when you arrived at the place came to speak to you. They were in three.

You two turned to them and the one who seemed to be the leader of the group introduced himself:

- I am Yuuta from the Land of Wind– and turning aside to indicate his partners – These are my brothers, Yuji and Yoko. We understand that you two are shinobi like us. We’ve heard about the ditch and thought we could work together to help the people who live here.

There was no time to think about the strangeness of the situation or to have suspicions about the group. You felt a sort of regret for the bad impression you had of them at first, because they seemed to be honest people now that you paid close attention to them.

Apparently Tobirama had the same opinion, judging by his response when he spoke for you two.

- We are shinobi from the Leaf Village. I am Tobirama Senju and this is my wife, Y/n from the … clan. We are going to the village near this tea house to help the people there.

- I am used to work in rescuing missions and it would be of great help if some of you came with me – you completed.

Yoko, who was the only woman among them and seemed to be the youngest sibling, replied that she had experience in rescues too. You and the three ninjas had a quick conversation and it was decided that Yuuta and Yuji were going to help the people of the inn while you and Yoko were going to the village. However, when Yuuta asked Tobirama to stay at the inn with him and his brother, the Senju refused.

But it was the explanation given by him for such refusal that left everyone stunned.

- I will be more useful if I’d go with the women because I have a plan to stop the flood. However,I need to see the territory to make sure it will work.

The entire group stared at him in silence, but none of them dared laugh at him or question his attitude: it was clear that Tobirama was not joking, neither he was the type who needs to justify himself to others, even more if he just met them. That was not a man one wouldn’t take seriously. You yourself were caught in surprise, but you had the same reasons as the others to keep quiet as well.

In the end, Yuuta and the others nodded and the group was divided and you three were running toward the small village that was said to be near the tea house.

***

Now that you had some time to pay attention to your thoughts, you were running without talking, trying to process everything that was said during the conversation with the three shinobi of the Wind. So, Tobirama had a plan to help the villagers – perhaps a plan that started to take form when you were still in the inn’s room and your husband was talking to the man at your door – but whatever he wanted to do, it sounded absurd even to his standards. You started to think if all the Senju people were like him or if he was the one who differed from the rest of the clan.

Above these valid questions, an intrusive thought that you’ve been trying to suppress just took over your mind: you couldn’t forget the involuntary way in which you turned your head away from the group when you heard him introduce you as his wife. If that situation happened just a few days before you’d surely be irritated: he haven’t done anything that served as a proof that he acknowledged you as his spouse, so why would he call you his wife in front of those strangers? Well, after the things you’ve been through in that journey, it didn’t seem appropriate for you to just get angry. The truth was that you didn’t know how to feel about it.

If things stopped at this, you would be okay. Problem was that it didn’t: soon, you were remembering the dream you had just before the knocks on your door woke you up. The strangest part of it was that you weren’t sure of when exactly you fell asleep – was it before or after the… kiss? You firmly believed it was before. Just the diligent manner in which he left your side on the bed to answer the door showed that the kiss was not real. It couldn’t be.

But it felt so real. Almost as if you’ve been wanting it for days. Thinking of this made your face warm up despite the cold drops of rain falling on it.

Yoko’s voice brought you back to the present moment, among the sound of the raindrops on the trees above and the soaked soil swallowing your feet.

- Y/n-san, do you know this village? – she was asking – Any information about its geography can be useful for us to form a rescue plan!

You took a second to understand what she was saying under that storm, but once you did you tried as best as you could to explain that you’ve never been at the village.

- I’ve been in that tea house before, but I’ve never visited the village itself! I don’t know what we’re going to find there!

- So what now? – there was preoccupation implied in her tone.

- Supposing that the village’s territory is similar to the inn’s, with a flat ground and enough open space, things can be a bit easier – you knew it was a shot in the dark, but you wanted to avoid causing desperation in your new partner – It means that its people have a good chance to escape just by running. I’m a Doton user. I can stay behind and build barriers to delay the flood while you lead the way for them!

Fortunately for you, Yoko agreed with your suggestion.

- Right!

However, that was not the end of the conversation or your worries. The girl didn’t forget that Tobirama took a difficult – almost impossible –task for himself that would separate him from the rest of you, and decided to question him about it.

- And what about you, Tobirama-san? – she spoke to the man who was slightly ahead of you – What exactly are you going to do?

Tobirama replied your question as if the answer was something obvious.

- I am going to check the flood’s path and think of a way to stop it.

You opened your mouth and the storm drops that entered it almost made you gag.

- Listen, I know you are a master of Suiton, but I think that’s a bit extreme!

That time he looked at you while speaking.

- I do not plan to use mere Water Style to solve this, y/n-san. I will explain when we get there!

***

The village, just as the inn’s owner informed you, was so close to the tea house that you reached it in less than two minutes.

It was smaller than you imagined, though. It was formed by one large, main street that had its lines defined by groups of small, modest houses on both sides. These houses had their doors and windows all open, and the villagers were reunited outside them.You didn’t need to look for too long to see terror in their eyes. An old man was holding his cane so tight that his fingers were becoming pale; no so far from him, a woman was trying to calm down a child crying and asking what why was everybody so scared. Others were trying to run with packs on their backs, trying to reach the grove’s path. Among all those people there were some animals, faster than their owners in leaving the place to hide among the trees.

Tobirama, you and Yoko looked at each other but didn’t say anything. You just walked ahead and when the people noticed your presence, they opened the way for you without questioning your reasons to come. You knew what this reaction meant: it only showed how rare was for them to see shinobi in their territory.

Before any of you could ask who was in charge there, a man ran toward you, screaming:

- Who sent you three? The village is doomed! Soon this place is going to be under water!

You asked if anyone was missing.

- No, we are all here – the man replied – Except for Toji, who ran to the inn to alert the people there.

You were thinking of what to say in response when Tobirama took a step toward him and spoke in his commanding voice:

- We are shinobi from Konoha and we’re here to stop the flood! – and elevating his voice for the others to hear – All of you! My partners, y/n-san and Yoko-san, will guide you through the grove! Our other friends will meet your group in the middle of the way and help you! Do as they say and everyone will be safe!

You didn’t know it was possible for someone to obtain such power of influence on people they didn’t even know in so little time until you saw the people’s reaction to your husband’s words. Once they heard his voice, they gathered around him, their desperation soon replaced by a serious attention; they stopped pushing and stumbling on each other he gave his instructions. Their eyes turned to you then, and you did your best to calm them down: as your experiences in rescuing missions told you, that was the crucial moment when you had to make sure the victims would trust your leadership.

- Prioritize the women, the children and the elderly! Those ones who can carry children, do it! Do not take unnecessary weight with you! Follow the same direction and do not push each other! Yoko-san will go ahead of you, and I will be right behind you!

You pointed the grove’s path and felt relieved when you saw the people obeying your command. With words like “Do not look back” to the people, you went to the end of the line and saw Tobirama going to the end of the street, now empty. Instead of staying with the last people of the group, you followed him. You needed to ask what exactly he was going to do, because yes, you already knew he had an established plan, but you would feel safer if he shared its entirety with you.

Before you could say something, he turned and asked you:

- Y/n-san, do you have any Doton technique that is able to open a large crack or a ditch in the soil, one that could divide this ground from side to side?

You swallowed your surprise for receiving this very specific question and said that yes, you knew such technique. As well as its level of danger.

- Of course. But this is not a simple technique. It requires great quantity of chakra and might not work well if you’re not familiar with it. The ditch could end up not being deep or large enough.

Your reasons apparently were not enough to scare the Senju, however.

- Do not worry about it. This is exactly what I need right now. Tell me the signs.

You swallowed and told him the signs. His eyes followed your movements without blinking, and when you finished he thanked you with a nod. He made the signs of his Shadow Clone technique and created two other versions of him, each one with a pair of kunai that carried the mark of his Hiraishin. He also marked the Clones themselves with the seal.

As if he understood that you wouldn’t leave until he said something, he didn’t deny an explanation of his plan.

- Me and these two Clones are going to take positions at the points where the flood is going to pass. Each of us are going to use your jutsu to open ditches on the ground. They will contain part of the water and diminish its force. If it shows to not be enough to completely stop the flood, it will at least minimize the destruction in the village’s ground.

So he was really going to try what you suspected: to stop the water all by himself. Within the little time you had at the moment, you thought of it. If this have happened just a few days before, the first and only thing you’d think would be how ambitious, even pretentious of him to try such plan without help. But now that you’ve seen a bit more of Tobirama, something like that coming from him didn’t sound so absurd. No, it was exactly the kind of thing you should expect. You also remembered when he manifested an interest in seeing that village’s structure when you were talking to the inn’s owner. Of course: he lived in a village, one that he helped to build and worked to protect. It was only natural for him to be willing to do something for the people of this one when it was in his power to do it.

You stood for a moment.

- Tobirama.

That was the first time you called him by his name. It was enough to make him turn to you again; his Clones followed his move.

- If your plan doesn’t work as you expect, do not stay here.

There was no disdain for your preoccupation in his reply. Still, the respect for your worries didn’t stop him from exposing his belief in the plan’s success and reminding you that you didn’t know everything he could do. Not yet.

- It will work. Thanks to your technique.

And without waiting for a response from you, he turned to his Clones and sent them ahead. They used their kunai and teleported themselves to somewhere out of your sight.

***

When you went back to the group of villagers and explained your husband’s idea to Yoko, you sensed that she was as shocked with his plan as you were, but she was better than you in handling her surprise.

With the shock came the question you never felt you were ready to answer.

- Well, that’s an audacious thing to try. But do you trust him with this?

You nodded without thinking too much of your own fear. Yoko was not your only company; the villagers were there, looking at you – and you knew that in times like that, the wrong word could mess up with the best plans.

- I will go to the end of the line now. Just follow the plan!

The girl didn’t waste time with discussions or doubts.

- Right!

With these matters solved between you and her, you ran back to the end of the line.

But you wouldn’t stay with the people for too long. Patiently, you waited until the last villager entered the woods, far enough from the flood’s way, to go back to Yoko and talk to her apart from the folks.

- Listen. When you asked me if I trusted my husband’s plan, I said yes. And I really do. But I can’t go with you and leave him behind.

The woman’s reaction was nothing like you expected when you said that. Instead of minimizing your worries or suspecting from you, she put her hand on your shoulder, speaking in an assuring, whispered tone;

- Of course you can’t. Don’t worry. I’ve been living among men for a while. I know how stubborn they can be sometimes – she then looked over her shoulder, to a spot above, in a tree; there was a bird looking down at you, one of the species used to send messages – Besides, my brothers are close now. They can help me with the people.

You put your own hand on her shoulder to express your support and gratitude.

- Right. I’m leaving, then. Thank you.

She laughed.

- Just go!

You looked behind you, to the deep grove, eager to cross those trees again and terrified by what you could find after them. However, you were on a rescue mission, not only for the people of that village, but for him and yourself. You still had to leave that place and follow your journey; you still had to reach your family’s compound. And you wouldn’t do that if you stood there. The flood was coming. There was no time to waste.

You took a deep breath and forced your feet to move.

#tobirama #tobirama x reader #tobirama senju #tobirama fanfiction #tobirama fanfic

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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years

Text

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 19 | S.R.)

Summary: Reader and Spencer share the night together following her doctor’s appointment. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Fingering, penetrative sex, degradation, daddy kink, Adults w/ Age Gap (10yr), spitting kink, unprotected sex (creampie), vague mention of subdrop, aftercare included Word Count: 6.2k

MASTERLIST

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There was something about the BAU bullpen that felt like another world. The open layout and the way it could shift from frantic rushing to bored silence in seconds sometimes made me feel like I was the most normal person contained within its walls. It was a rare sight, to see me there, and for good reason. I didn’t like to be there, considering most of my time there had been spent being questioned about homicide.

But it wasn’t like that, not that morning. I’d finished my doctor’s appointment early enough that I could hopefully locate the elusive Dr. Reid before he took off for lunch. And sure enough, just as I excitedly bounced over to his desk, I heard the ever-excited, yet comforting squeak of my boyfriend as he returned with a freshly poured cup of coffee.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he practically yelled through a smile, rushing over to drop the mug on his desk. He couldn’t do it fast enough and barely made it. Once the mug was barely safe on the desk, his arms raced to wrap around me.

I giggled at the enthusiasm, considering it’d only been a couple hours since I saw him. But I was ecstatic to be with him and share the news I’d tucked away to keep safe on the way over. It was too much to bear by myself for long, and I knew he would be happy to help carry the load.

“I finished my appointment early and since I was in the neighborhood, I wanted to come see my boyfriend and give him the good news in person.” I explained. Spencer eyed me cautiously, careful not to get too far ahead of himself. I looked back with what I’d hoped was a cheeky grin, but I had a feeling it just turned into a goofy, toothy grin. Just as Spencer figured it out and his eyebrows shot up, another voice joined us.

“Mia stellina!” Rossi boomed, the bass carrying through the room like it always seemed to. It was the kind of joyful exclamation that demanded your attention, no matter how dark the circumstances surrounding you were. I knew that from personal experience.

I laughed again as he enveloped both me and Spencer in a hug that the latter only kind-of-sort-of cringed away from.

“Reid didn’t tell us that you were coming in today! I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

I snorted at the implication, stepping back to buy back my breathing space. “You’re never a bother, Rossi.” And I meant it, even if he had just interrupted mine and Spencer’s very important conversation. I could table it for a moment, though. There hadn’t been many chances for me to talk to Rossi since the hospital. Although he'd visited less frequently than Derek or Hotch, he'd still come by often enough for me to miss him. He was, by far, the most unique member of the team. People always assumed it would be Penelope, but I stuck with my contention that it’s the quieter ones you have to keep an eye on. Not that Rossi didn’t love to talk, and especially when it granted him the ability to name-drop.

“This is why I like you,” he casually reminded, waving off a slightly offended Spencer on his side. “And I trust that Reid already told you about the plans for next weekend.”

As soon as I turned to look at Spencer, he immediately looked away.

Luckily, Rossi wasn’t obtuse and quickly recognized the display of guilt. “I stand corrected.”

“What plans?” I butted in before either of them could speak. Spencer grimaced at the monotone, as he was fully aware of the level of annoyed it signaled.

“I told him to extend you an invite to the next family dinner, but it seems like he’s selfishly planning on keeping you all to himself.” Rossi’s playful tone was his way of requesting I give Spencer a break, but I wasn’t in the mood for forgiveness just yet. After spending months trapped in my bed, I was always looking for an excuse to talk to anyone that wasn’t my roommate. And when it came to the team... I mean, they were like his family. It made sense I wanted their approval, right? Or was I really, honestly just seeking the approval of men like Hotch and Rossi because of my “daddy issues?” And oh, god, I didn’t want to delve into that psychology.

“How rude,” I deadpanned, instead, elbowing Spencer’s side just enough to elicit a pained exhale and an explanation.

“I was going to tell her. I was just waiting until we actually knew when it was going to happen.”

“He’s lying,” I told Rossi, earning a very adamant, denial from Spencer in the process that I brushed off. We both did. The pout that immediately followed was harder to ignore, but I could be strong.

Honestly, it was just funny to see him in this environment. When he was alone with me, he was usually the one in charge, but at work, Spencer was hardly that. It was the only chance I had to tease the ever living shit out of him with little chance of immediate consequences.

“Yeah, he’s lying,” Rossi easily deduced, waving a dismissive hand at Spencer before continuing, “But luckily, you were here. And whenever it happens, I hope that you’ll be there, too. It’s important for you to have a chance to socialize with us outside of the job.”

I smiled, finally looping my arm around Spencer’s to hopefully ease the pain caused by being ignored. Rossi, however, didn’t seem to be on the same wavelength, considering he gave another quick quip. “Hopefully you’ll bring the kid with you,” he teased as he turned away, pointing to the notably older and larger man at my side.

“How am I the kid in this scenario?” Spencer muttered under his breath, the pout still on his face, and still just as cute.

“Will do, Rossi,” I happily chirped.

“Thank you, stellina.” Rossi said with a wink, casually bringing both hands to his lips to blow each of us a kiss.

Once Rossi was fully out of earshot, Spencer sighed in resignation. He had complained before about the fact that the team had immediately felt comfortable with me, contrary to his own experience. But of course, it wasn’t fair to compare. I'd come into their lives piggybacking on their close relationship with him. Spencer didn’t see it that way, though.

“Why do you get a nickname?” he grumbled, dropping his head to the side to rest atop mine.

I didn’t let him rest there long, pushing him back away from me so that I could stand before him again. With my fingers under my chin, I flashed the brightest smile I could while dramatically emphasizing, “Because I’m a little star.”

Spencer looked down at me with a gentle adoration, his hand coming up to brush over my cheek. My face followed after him, desperate for any contact he could offer in the sterile environment. It didn’t really make much sense how touch starved I was; it wasn’t like he hadn’t touched me over the past couple months. Or even that he'd touched me any less-- if anything, it had been more.

But then again, how could I ever get enough? I was certain Spencer would call me spoiled, and in many ways, I was, but I didn’t care. If I could find a way to bottle up the way I felt when he held me, I would. Lord knows there were so many times when I'd needed it and he wasn’t there. I wouldn’t ever admit that to him, though. What would be the point?

He couldn’t always be there. Sometimes he would have to leave.

Unaware of the dramatic monologue in my head, my boyfriend sighed. His lips pursed again while he watched my eyes soften the longer that he held my face. “You certainly are little,” he concluded. I knew he wanted to say more but feared doing so might lead the conversation down a path less suited for work. Although, what I had planned wasn’t exactly work appropriate, either.

“You know we’re definitely going, right?” I replied, peeking my tongue out from behind my lips.

With a loud groan, he took his hand back like the question had burned him. “Fine,” he conceded before quickly shifting the conversation, “but I’m more interested in what you came here to tell me. How did your appointment go?”

“It went very well. I got wonderful news,” I beamed. There were many idiosyncrasies of Dr. Spencer Reid that I absolutely adored, but one of my favorites happened to be the one where his eyebrows jumped halfway up his forehead, his eyes going wide with a curious glint. Just like they did then.

“Does this news mean you’ll be staying at my place tonight?”

“It can…” As I spoke, I wrapped both of my arms around his arm and pulled him down to whisper in his ear, “unless you want to take a long lunch break and get a head start.”

“Someone’s eager,” he replied with a snort that didn’t sound nearly as promising as I’d hoped.

“Can you blame me?”

Before I could sulk too hard, he poked me on the forehead and chuckled at the resistance I gave to the action. “Lunch, unfortunately, would not give me enough time for what I want to do to you,” he practically purred in a barely-there whisper against my ear. “When I get home, I want to find you on my bed with nothing on. Do you understand me, little girl?”

“Yes.” I had to stop myself from making too much noise, but a pathetic whimper slipped out before I could stop it.

“Good girl,” he whispered with his retreat, “I’ll see you then.”

Suddenly, I couldn’t wait for the hours to pass me by. I couldn’t stay at the BAU for long, recognizing a sudden shift of energy as JJ began rushing them into the office right before I left. At first, I thought it was a case, but Spencer assured me it wasn’t. He promised me that he would be home that night, and that I didn’t need to worry.

But the hours did not fly by; they took their sweet fucking time. I didn’t even bother waiting in the bed for most of them. I honestly spent nearly 8 of them rifling through the shelves in his living room, looking for a book that was both from this century and actually in English.

After I’d rifled through his cupboards and realized that he didn’t have any food, I went to the grocery store and bought food, returned, unloaded the bags, cooked and ate dinner before I came to one simple conclusion:

Spencer Reid was a filthy goddamn liar.

That was my admittedly grumpy thought when I finally crawled into his still empty bed in his even lonelier apartment. His pillow smelled enough like him that I could hug it and pretend that I wasn’t waiting for someone who was probably not going to come back anytime soon. I thought about going home, but I decided being lonely in his bed was better than being alone in my own.

My temper tantrum kept my face sulkily buried in his pillow, so when my phone started to ring, I didn’t notice it. I didn’t notice much of anything, and before I knew it, I’d drifted off into a world where Spencer could keep his promises because his job didn’t suck.

Of course, even in my sadness my mind drifted to other memories spent there. I’d fallen back into the loop of memories of the last time we were together. I could almost feel his breath against my thighs and his hands raking over my hips. And like it always seemed to, reality and fantasy began to blur. Spencer’s hand on my thigh felt so hot, I was burning beneath it. My whole body tensed, my back arching in the hopes of finding him.

I wasn’t sure which woke me first, the low, gentle chuckle, or the whisper in my ear.

“Maybe I should change your nickname to Aurora.”

I sat up before I even registered the words. Reacting to his voice alone, my arms were already around him and dragging him back down before he could say anything else.

“You’re home!” I shouted, groggy but happy to not be alone. If I’d looked at the clock, I would have seen the hands pointing to the early hours of the next day, but it hardly mattered anymore. All that mattered to me was that he was there, in my arms.

“I guess it’s my fault for not specifying that you should be awake when I got home.”

Answering him with a sloppy, sleepy kiss on the lips, I relished the way he couldn’t stop himself from laughing through it. “I’m awake now,” I answered with a very poorly timed yawn. It luckily didn’t dissuade him, and his hands quickly worked up over my hips and beneath the sheer negligee I’d worn to bed hours earlier.

“What’s this? I could have sworn my instructions were to not wear anything,” he chastised with a smile.

“I don’t follow instructions. You already knew that,” I mumbled back. It wasn’t until I ran my hands through his hair that I realized that he’d already stripped down to nothing before waking me up.

How considerate.

His curls seemed so much longer than before, and the movements seemed to distract him enough to grant me some mercy. We both knew why I didn’t want to be naked yet. And it really was a ‘yet.’ I truly believed that I’d eventually be able to own my body again, but that point just seemed so far in the future. Spencer didn’t want to push it. Not that night.

“I’ll let it slide this time.” He shared the words with kisses over my jaw and neck, his hands growing hungrier by the second. They skipped straight from my hips to my chest, grabbing hold of my breasts through the thin fabric. He was almost out of breath already when he murmured, “Before we do anything, you have to promise me you’ll stop me if it hurts.”

“I know, Spencer,” I droned, but he kept going.

“I mean it. Any sign of discomfort, you have to tell me.”

“I know!” I shouted with a laugh, struggling to push him away while he continued to cling to me. Finally having managed to do it, I promptly fell back onto the pillow. As I rolled my body over to lay flat, I managed to grab hold well enough that I could pull him over top of me. “Don’t ruin the mood!”

He stopped to admire the sight before him. All I could see, though, was the way he looked at me. The rest of the world seemed to fade away, and I wondered what he saw when he looked at me like that. He looked at me like he loved me so much he wanted to break me. I wished he would.

“How could I ruin anything when you look so fucking perfect laid out in my bed for me?” He growled, his nails dragging over the sensitive skin of my chest.

I couldn’t tell if it was his intention or some kind of Freudian slip, but I was reminded of the day I marred his chest with a necklace-shaped mark in a very similar fashion. The memory made me giggle. “I’m not so innocent.” The understatement of the century.

“Maybe not, but there are still a lot of things I’ve yet to show you.”

I was waiting for the but. I knew it was coming.

“But for now, we’re going to go slow.”

And there it was. I thought to myself how ridiculously unfair it was that having a good boyfriend meant actually being able to rely on them to take care of you. Even armed with the knowledge of my masochistic tendencies, Spencer was too scared to seriously hurt me. Thankfully, though, he wasn’t scared enough to stop him from sliding his hand up my thigh and slipping his finger into my drenched heat.

“The question is how slow?” he teased, recognizing from the rocking of my hips that I was more than prepared to have him then. “How much should I torture you, little girl?”

“Please,” was the only word I could whine at first, but I still saw too much restraint in his eyes. I knew that if I didn’t convince him now, I might be there for hours before he gave me what I wanted. It wasn’t the worst idea, but judging by his already bloodshot eyes, I figured I might as well speed things along.

“Please, daddy,” I whimpered much louder, tilting my hips up to present myself to him. I could feel his erection pressed against me, his palm pressing down as he struggled to decide if he even wanted to keep me in place. I could see that desire to destroy me return to his eye with a vengeance. He knew that I was challenging him, but then again, when did I not?

“Take care of me,” I begged. That was the way I succeeded in breaking Spencer; in turn, he would break me.

He grabbed my legs so quickly and roughly that I was almost dizzy with it. Wrapping them around his own hips, he lined himself up and began dragging the head of his cock over my sex. Low and wildly shaking, Spencer’s words were only barely audible over the sound of the blood rushing in my veins.

“Are you ready?” he asked, like my answer would ever change.

“Yes!” I shouted, nodding like my words wouldn’t be enough.

Spencer had barely waited for the confirmation. Inch by inch, he slowly stretched me open like it was the very first time he touched me. His movements were so precise, so gentle and undoubtedly tender, that I thought I might actually cry.

I had almost forgotten what it felt like when he touched me like that. I would never admit it to him, but with every passing second, I could feel the love rushing back to me. That connection that had felt strained was reinforced and reasserted.

He just felt so fucking good. And apparently, Spencer had similar thoughts in mind.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his head falling forward to knock our foreheads together. There was clearly so much effort going into not hurting me that I just found myself hoping he was still enjoying it. That train of thought made it more difficult when his next question came. “Does it hurt?”

“No, it feels so fucking good,” I sobbed, and it was the truth. My hips, though already growing tired thanks to the months of disuse, struggled to try and take more of him. And even when he was fully inside me, I still cried out to him. “Please, Spencer!”

“Be patient,” he said with a grunt, his hips pulling back just enough for him to slam into me with more force. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

The words made a swarm of butterflies burst through my lower half that already felt so full with him. The statement just sounded so perfectly selfish in a way I’d been dying to feel for months. I wanted him to reap the rewards he’d so obviously earned. I wanted to give them to him, really, but I just couldn’t make it too easy. It wasn’t our style.

“So it’s not about taking care of me anymore, is it?” I pouted, although my lips quickly parted again as Spencer increased his pace in response.

“Are you not satisfied, little girl?” he teased, reaching up with one hand to wrap around my hair, forcing my head back among the pillows while he started to drive into me at a reckless pace. “Do you need me to fuck you harder?”

“Yes!” I yelled, my hands reaching for him, digging into his skin and bringing him closer to me. “I want it. Give it to me.”

Whether he sensed the desperation in my voice or simply couldn’t hold it back any longer, Spencer showed an uncharacteristic level of mercy on me. He barely protested at all before giving into my demands. Holding my head back in that same craned position, he laid sloppy kisses over my throat before whispering, “My little girl gets whatever she wants.”

There were no more words on my mind besides his name, which I recited over and over like a prayer. Each time he filled me, my eyes could barely stay open and my lips were nearly bruised from my constant biting. It was easy to forget that the rest of the world existed— that it was past midnight on a weeknight and everyone in the surrounding apartments would probably fucking hate us.

But Spencer didn’t seem to care either. Well, that’s a misstatement. Spencer definitely cared about my volume, but he didn’t care about other people not being able to hear it. He made that quite clear when he gripped my lower jaw in one hand and pulled it down, forcing my mouth open for him.

He had that look in his eyes again. The one that told me there were entire worlds in his mind that I hadn’t seen. Deeply hidden desires lurking just under the rippling surface. I wondered how far they went and just how much Spencer would hurt me if I could convince him to.

“Tell me what you want,” he ordered through clenched teeth, his jaw tensed and eyes still burning. There was a hurricane happening behind those hazel rings, and I wanted him to let it out.

I didn’t know how to ask him to do that; to convince him to break me even while I lay before him already broken and barely keeping it together. I did the only thing I could think to do with his hand still holding my mouth open to him and presented my tongue to him.

Spencer tried to remain composed and stoic as ever, but his body betrayed in him the same way it always did. His eyes. From the second they flickered down to see what I was asking for, his pupils blew out and swallowed the comforting toffee color of his irises.

With an even darker tone, Spencer chuckled, “You’re a filthy, greedy bitch.”

It’s hard to explain how much the words filled every part of my body. The way goosebumps rippled over my skin and an undeniable, almost unbearable heat burned at my face. It only got worse when Spencer finally did as I asked, gathering the saliva in his mouth just to drop it into my own.

The second it hit my tongue, I felt so irrefutably his that I was high with it. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I swallowed between hungry gasps for air. And when it was over, I presented my tongue to him again.

I did so good, sir. Please tell me that I’m good, sir.

There were no words, but Spencer praised me in his actions. He lowered his mouth to mine, his tongue sliding against mine until our mouths were connected in the basest manner. For all the destructive power he held, he kissed me so softly. He still kissed me like he loved me.

Neither of us lasted much longer. Spencer’s hand slid from my jaw to rest on my neck, and a moan tore through my chest. Even though he applied no pressure, the casual reminder of what he could do to me was all that I needed. I lost myself in the bliss of him, my hands tangled in his hair and holding his mouth against mine even when I couldn’t kiss him anymore.

His eyes watched me, still covered in the blackness of his pupils and that animalistic desire to claim me however possible. I watched those eyes the entire time I came, wanting to both grant him the submission he deserved while also selfishly wanting to see the control I had over him, too.

Spencer kept his eyes open as he followed after me, unable to resist the calling of my body, begging him to mark, use, and fill it however he pleased. I watched his eyes roll back ever so slightly, his breath hitching as he pulsed inside me in tandem with my walls that held onto him for dear life.

I was his. I'd known that before, but how easily I’d forgotten. How quickly I’d let some stranger and some lead lay claim to me and make me believe that I could be anything but Spencer’s beautiful little girl.

When all semblance of fight left our bodies, Spencer still managed not to collapse on top of me. Apparently not even me letting him spit in my mouth was enough to convince him I was alright. I wrapped my arms around him and tugged him down on top of me, feeling the comfortable weight of him holding my chest down to more manageable breaths.

That was all there was for a while; our heavy breath breezing over sweat-covered skin as we lay tangled together under the sheets. I soaked in the feeling of slightly uncomfortable bliss, enjoying the way that we didn’t care if it wasn’t perfect because it felt close enough to us.

“I missed this,” Spencer said under his breath. It was a rare showing of selfish honesty— the first time he’d admitted to me that he had been having to hold part of himself back for months. He hadn’t been able to love me like he wanted, either. He might have been worried that I would take it the wrong way, but in reality, I had never felt so relieved to hear it.

“Me too.” I returned, trying to assuage his guilt as much as I could. I knew it wouldn’t do much, but I needed him to understand how grateful I was to share the moment with him.

Then again… They do say that laughter is the best medicine. So with a bit of a giggle, I mumbled, “Not so much the next part, but this one, yeah.”

With a small, sleepy chuckle, Spencer slurred against the pillow, “You’re such a romantic.”

“Says the asshole who doesn’t have to get up,” I reminded him. I struggled to move underneath him as he seemed to drop even more dead weight on top of me.

Like I said: Asshole.

“I wish you didn’t have to get up. I don’t want to let you go yet.”

I rolled my eyes, continuing to push at his stubborn shoulders while huffing back, “It’ll only be a few minutes, Spencer. The bathroom is right there.”

Nuzzling his face into my neck, he mumbled back, “Too long.”

“I can never tell if you’re more of an old man or a big baby.”

“I don’t know, let’s stay here and talk about it for a long time,” he answered with a laugh. I hated the fact that I laughed too, my attempts to shove him off finally ceasing. He pulled his head back, looking at me with all the love in the world.

I wasn’t ready for him to look at me like that. I couldn’t explain why, but the idea of him loving me still felt so terrifying. That fear was compounded by the realization that he might see it.

“Get up, idiot,” I replied to hide that emotion. It also helped to distract me from my own thoughts, and I ended up biting on my bottom lip to stop myself from smiling. It didn’t work.

“You’re so mean to me,” Spencer whined as he slowly removed himself with a small grunt.

“Only when you deserve it.”

Normally I would have eagerly gotten up myself, but I realized then just how painful it was to move. Spencer watched me with a massive, overwhelming guilt that formed before I could even think of how to prevent it. I decided it wasn’t worth it to try. It wouldn’t work. I just let him guide my legs off the bed so that I could shakily stand and shuffle off to the bathroom.

The best part about the time alone was being able to pull myself together and massage the angry scar tissue.

It won’t always be like this, I reminded myself, we can be beautiful again without it hurting.

That was the pep talk, anyway. It was the thing that got me back into the room and under the covers. Curling up by his side was like nature’s medicine. All of my muscles relaxed against him... until he turned around and ruined the perfect comfortable position.

Groaning in the least attractive manner, I pouted the entire time we readjusted. But despite my protests, Spencer looked as happy and comfortable as ever. Plopping my head back down on the pillow, I narrowed my eyes at his contemplation.

“What?”

“L’amor che move il sole e l’altre stelle,” he answered, which really only led to my confused face shifting to confused and incredibly turned on again. But one word in particular sounded familiar, as reminded by Rossi earlier in the day. Or rather, the day before.

“I recognize that last word. What are you saying about me, Dr. Reid?”

“It’s the final line in Divina Commedia by Dante Alighieri.” He was doing that cryptic thing again, having apparently not learned his lesson that I would always beat the answer out of him eventually, one way or another

Through a yawn, I mumbled, “What is that, Dante’s Inferno?”

“Well, Inferno is the first section, but I’m quoting Paradiso, which is the third and final installment of the overall work.” And apparently, he was also doing that thing where he taught me really interesting new things when I definitely did not have the brain capacity to understand or retain the information. We both knew I would have to Google it later, so there was no point in lingering.

“Okay, so what does it mean?”

Spencer paused, his gaze sweeping back and forth across my face like he was searching for the proper translation. Like the real answer he sought was something that could only be seen by his eyes. Eventually, he settled on a simpler and equally romantic response.

“It’s the way he describes the piece of Heaven he saw.”

But that still wasn’t good enough for my constantly curious self. It might have been the brat in me, but it was almost like he was avoiding the direct translation. Like I wasn’t smart enough to come to my own conclusion about it. “I’m going to keep asking until you answer me,” I droned, more reminiscent of a nagging two year old rather than a twenty year old.

“Spoiled,” he remarked, lightly tapping on my nose before he sighed. “It means ‘the love which moves the sun and the other stars.’”

I thought about the words for a minute. Or rather, I thought about trying to think about the words. Unfortunately, my exhaustion and blissed-out brain got the better of me, and the beautiful words whispered, in English this time, went in one ear and out the other. Spencer was giving me a smug little smile, like he could see my cluelessness written on my face.

“I like the Heaven explanation better,” I sneered, trying not to let him win this one just yet. But it was obvious from the way his smile grew that he’d already won.

“Yeah, I knew you would. You just had to keep asking.”

Snaking my hand around his waist, I pulled myself flush against him. “I’m a very curious kitten, Dr. Reid,” I purred, gently rubbing our noses together in a very successful attempt to distract him from gloating.

And in a brief flash of self-awareness, I realized how utterly normal I felt. It wasn’t just average; unlike the domestic moments we’d shared over the recovery, this one felt so... natural. There was nothing foreign about his hand on the small of my back, and the rhythm his fingertips tapped felt like a lullaby I’d heard a million times before.

“I wouldn’t want you any other way,” Spencer whispered, breaking me from the brief aside and back into the present.

“I’m pretty sure you’d have me in any form.” I didn’t laugh yet, but once Spencer joined in, there was no hope left for me.

“Yeah, probably, but you don’t have to point it out!” he whined.

I watched as the color started to form on his face, first starting with his ears and nose before spreading out across his cheeks. That blush, still visible in the dim light, was still one of the most beautiful things in the world to me. I never tired of it. Paired with his embarrassed giggles mingled with my own, I felt the undeniable and overwhelming emotion that could only be described as ‘love.’

When the laughter finally ceased, it was just the two of us in silence again, although now we were so close together that we might as well have been one person. It felt that way sometimes. Not like one might think— it was not the supposedly romantic but strangely depressing idea that we aren’t whole without another. It was more like knowing that I would never be more myself than I was when I was in his arms.

Comfortable. Safe. At home.

“Spencer?” I spoke before he could fully close his eyes that he somehow kept open for me.

“What’s up?”

“Thank you.”

That seemed to wake him up, which was not at all my intention. In fact, I'd hoped he wouldn’t respond at all and let the words stand. But he must have heard the hidden message behind it, the fear that all good things must come to an end.

“For what?” he asked. His hand on my back started to make soothing strokes under the negligee, reasserting his presence with me.

I considered answering. I thought about word vomiting all of my fears of inadequacy and broken promises and a future of settling for me. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t ruin the moment with such stupid things. The feelings would pass with enough time, right? I didn’t want to bother him with it. I didn’t even know if the problems were problems at all.

“I just wanted you to know that I’m happy and I love you,” I said, instead.

Spencer still saw that I was hiding something, but we were both too tired to push it. We could always talk about it in the morning if we remembered, which I was hoping we wouldn’t.

“I wish I could help you understand how much I love you,” he murmured, removing his hand from my back to trace my jaw. “I can tell you that I want to marry you and raise a family with you but… I don’t think it’s enough.

My stomach immediately dropped. It fell so hard that I actually flinched from his hand, my face twisting into an even more obvious grimace. If my hope was for Spencer to sleep, I’d made a grave error. He immediately shot up onto his arm, cupping my face and inspecting my eyes for any persisting sign of pain.

“What’s wrong?” he pressed, his eyes bouncing back and forth between my stomach and eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Nothing is wrong!” I squeaked, my hands flying to his shoulders to pull him back down. “I’m fine. I’m just tired.”

Our eyes locked in a challenge; a silent back and forth of wills and pleas. And eventually, Spencer started to lower back on the pillow. He’d let me win this one.

“It is past your bedtime,” he said with only a whisper of defeat in his voice.

“It’s past every normal human being’s bedtime, Spencer,” I said before turning away from him in the hope that it would make that concern in his eyes hurt less. It didn’t.

“And you think I’m the old man,” he joked back, snuggling up behind me and sighing into my neck as his hand rested on my hip. “Goodnight, little girl.”

So soon after he spoke, he was already asleep. Unfortunately, it wasn’t so simple for me. Even in his sleep, Spencer’s hands found their way to my stomach. His fingers spread over the expanse of skin like the scars didn’t exist at all. Like it was just as perfect a placement for him to hold onto me as it ever was before. Spencer had a tendency to hold me with so much love that I no longer felt capable of containing it.

It was... suffocating. It took my mind back to images of his blood soaked hands in much of the same position. His hands felt foreign again, and I felt even further away. Like Spencer wasn’t actually there, and neither was I. All that he was holding onto was memory instead of me.

He said he loved me, but he didn’t say why. The only answers my mind would consider were things that had already died months ago. Things that his hands and kisses couldn't fix.

I couldn’t ask him why. I was too afraid of the answer.

—————————————————

| Part 20 |

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