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lovehungrybean · 5 hours

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yard work - chapter 13 (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her. warning(s): a homophobic character saying some homophobic shit. listen, it's set in 2004 it was inevitable.

warning(s): derogatory slurs! several of them!

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / chapter 8 / chapter 9 / chapter 10 / chapter 11 / chapter 12

It was Friday. The last day of school, the night of the talent show, and just a few days before Christmas. They'd be passing out the candy cane-grams. There'd be some assembly, probably.

Your leg jittered restlessly while you tried to focus on your bio paper. What kind of sadistic fuck assigned an essay on the last day before break? The biology teacher, apparently. He had a superiority complex, you were sure. Allergic to happiness.

Your mind kept drifting back to the photo album. Surely, Regina had it. You'd put it in her locker on Wednesday, so she'd have found it first thing Thursday morning. You hadn't dared to take a peek in her locker, afraid Gretchen would sniff you out again.

Something had clearly gone down between them. Gretchen didn't sit with them at lunch, instead opting for her boyfriend's clique. She didn't seem to fit in too well and Jason didn't seem too pleased to have her there. Karen and Regina sat by themselves, conversing casually.

Cady had been banished somewhere. You'd heard talk Aaron had dumped her. You knew Janis and Damien weren't talking to her after she turned her back on them. Since the whole Kälteen bar shebang and the subsequent smear campaign Regina had doled out, she hadn't been exactly welcome at any table. From what you understood, Gretchen and Cady were on speaking terms, but Karen and Gretchen weren't, but Cady and Karen were. It was all terribly confusing.

You had a table for yourself. Some of your old friends crowded the ones nearby, quite pointedly not sitting with you. You were no longer cool, it seemed. Easier to focus on your paper, you told yourself. The cafeteria was serving chilli today. The slop was slightly too watery and the meat was a mystery, but it'd do. You'd run out of food at home. You'd wanted a goddamn Christmas dinner and a good slab of ham got pricy. Couldn't rely on Mrs George for a feast this time around.

"Hey," Someone called near you. You looked up, surprised somebody was talking to you. A boy, more specifically a jock judging by the varsity jacket. "You good?"

"What?" Your brows furrowed. "Yeah?"

He smiled smarmily. "Cool."

And he walked away. You kept looking as he went, staring after his back. His buddies were looking your way, the same kinds of grins on their faces. That was odd. Didn't bode well.

It didn't take long for you to find out why. The period following lunch was when Damien would be visiting classrooms as Santa Claus, handing out candy canes.

He walked right up to you with a grin hidden under the fake Santa beard, wiggling his eyebrows all the while.

"The whole bag..." He drawled. "Impressive."

Confused, you peered into the sack. A couple dozen candy canes filled it, apparently all for you. You picked one out, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach as well as the snickering of the boys in the back rows.

Dyke. The message was just one word. It was clearly assigned to you, your whole name displayed proudly. Your body went numb, hands holding the candy limply. There was no signature to show who they were from. People were staring at you. Damien had lingered awhile to see what'd been written to you. The grin behind his beard had turned into a shocked scowl.

"What... What do they say?" Cady, of all people, the nerve of her, asked. She was seated a few rows from you.

"Alright, Mr Leigh, thanks for-" Ms Norbury tried to intervene.

"Dyke." You read out loud. Then you pulled out another. "Lesbo." And another. "Carpet muncher." The boys had trouble holding in their laughs. Another. "Queer." There were others you didn't deign to read out loud. Freak. Pervert. Degenerate. Homo.

If not for a few people finding all this amusing, it would've been dead silent in the classroom.

"These were supposed to be checked before handing out." Ms Norbury strode up to you and promptly confiscated the candies. Her face was set, expression severe, as she regarded Damien sternly.

"I- that wasn't my job. I don't know how, how they would've..." You watched Damien try to put it together.

"Well, is it really offensive if it's true?" Dylan, if you remembered correctly, piped up. He was a sporty guy, decently popular but nothing special. Now, though, he might as well have been an A-lister with how utterly low you'd plummeted.

Murmurs spread out around you. Damien and Ms Norbury retreated to a corner of the classroom to figure out how in the hell this had happened. People were looking at you. Your skin was crawling. It couldn't be Janis who told. She was in the same boat as you and she didn't have the power to do something like this. To make the committee ignore hateful messages meant some strings had been pulled. The only other person that knew, that could realistically do this, was Regina.

You bit your lip, closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Okay. You got the message. The album had been too much. This was a sign to stay away, to forget all the sentimentalities you'd had.

"Hey, calm down now, we'll figure this out- hey!" You didn't pause to listen to Ms Norbury when you booked it out of the stifling classroom. You couldn't bear to be there any longer.

You hid in the bathroom. Both hands held against your mouth so you wouldn't make a noise, you cried long and hard. Your breathing was choppy and laboured, and in no time at all your nose was blocked off entirely. Your eyes stung and your vision blurred.

The bell rang and pretty soon people came into the bathroom. You refused to get out, pretending to take the longest shit ever. It didn't take very long for the people coming in to discuss what had gone down in one of the junior calc classes.

It spread like wildfire. You were pretty sure the boys had nicked some of the candy canes from Ms Norbury since you could hear people reading the notes out loud, the rustling of the plastic covering.

"Who even is that?"

"Who cares? A total freak is what she is. Oh my gosh, Steph, do you think..."

"What?"

"Do you think she used the girls' bathroom? She's probably spread her diseases all over the seats! We're all gonna have gonorrhoea!"

You wanted to sink into the ground and never see daylight again. By the time the bell rang again, signalling the start of the next period, the rumours had inflated and grown disproportionately in severity.

Apparently, you were riddled with sexually transmitted diseases, preyed on freshmen and sold them hard drugs, behaved creepily in locker rooms, and had had a stint with Cady Heron while she was still with Aaron Samuels. You guessed that last one had to do with the time you'd dragged her into the janitor's closet to yell at her about the Kälteen bars.

In short, you were fucked. Your life was fucked. You'd hoped, so hoped, that even if you wouldn't get everything you wanted, you'd get some. You wouldn't get a high school girlfriend, wouldn't have slumber parties, wouldn't be normal. You wouldn't be Regina's friend. Fine. At least you could've had a quiet life, gone to community college and worked at the shop, had some buddies, and maybe lost your virginity one day. Not even that now. Not even a little bit of that. Your future in this town was just no longer there. You had nothing. You were nothing.

You skulked out of the bathroom once you were sure there'd be nobody in the halls. You got into your car and drove home. Just as you'd slumped down onto the couch, the house phone rang. Groaning, you went to answer. If it was your dad, missing it would mean there'd be hell to pay.

"Hello?" Your voice was croaky. It hurt to talk.

"Hi, sweetie! You don't sound too good." Mrs George's chirp greeted you. "I assume you had to leave school 'cause of that. I just happened to see you drive by. Rick got called to work last minute and Kylie's got tutoring till late. Come keep me company?"

"I'm not feeling too well, I'm sorry..." You said, holding the phone to your ear while your other arm wrapped around your body. You tried to breathe deep and not burst out crying, again. Your eyes felt swollen shut.

"Oh, I'll come by with some soup, then," She sounded so genuinely concerned.

You bit your lip. Tummy rumbling in its emptiness, you decided now would be as good of a time as any to bite the bullet.

"Actually, uh, if it's not too much to ask, and um- I-" You took in a shuddering breath. "You don't have to say yes, it's totally okay and I'm sorry if this is, like, too much-"

"Sweetpea, just ask." She chuckled.

"I don't have any food. Or, like, I have ingredients for Christmas 'cause I wanted to make dinner for myself, but I guess I forgot I have to eat before then too?" You tried to laugh, but the sound was strained. "Um, could you take me to the soup kitchen downtown?"

You could've driven yourself. You could've, in that you were capable of driving yourself, but with how your vision was impaired, how your body ached with loneliness, and how you weren't sure you wouldn't just impulsively drive into oncoming traffic, you doubted you would've survived the trip.

"No." She said bluntly. You flinched, feeling the refusal like a knife to the gut. "No, absolutely not. We are going grocery shopping and getting you food to last the rest of the damn year. I'm picking you up."

"Mrs George, I don't have money-"

"You shouldn't be spending your hard-earned money like that. Doesn't your dad send you enough to cover utilities?"

"He sends me grocery money. I gotta pay for gas and stuff on my own."

Mrs George's resounding silence spoke volumes of her opinion on that. "I'm coming to get you. I'm buying you groceries and then we're gonna meal prep. Okay?"

"Okay."

When Mrs George saw you, her determined attitude shifted to that of maternal worry. You fought hard not to break down, though all you really wanted to do was curl into her and cry your little heart out.

She drove you to Whole Foods, a place way out of your budget. But she insisted, so there was little you could do. She took you from aisle to aisle, prattling on and on, chatting about this and that. You listened mostly silently, humming here and there.

She picked out a lot of canned stuff, like beans and tomato purée. All that stuff was made to last forever, so you wouldn't always have to buy fresh ingredients. She bought all your favourite snacks, which she somehow remembered. When you commented on that, she just pointed at her temple with a knowing grin. Mothers never forget, she'd said.

Once you were all done, the cart was quite literally overflowing. The total nearly made your stomach drop out of your ass. Mrs Geoge simply flashed her black card and, without even a wince, paid the price. The receipt was, like, three feet long.

Carrying it all to her car was a daunting task, but a worker did come to help you. A young man, probably home from college, was all too eager to carry the bags for Mrs George.

The way he was blushing all the way up to his ears, the way she was amused by him but not receptive, made you think about what Regina had said months ago. You'd been on your way to her nail appointment and she'd gone on a tangent about how women died at menopause.

Mrs George was thriving. She was above it all. Her worth, or mortality, wasn't determined by the men around her. She'd been cheated on, continuously neglected by her husband, and put down by her teenage daughter, and still, she was beautiful. She existed independently.

In short, you were right and Regina was wrong. You saw things how they really were. She saw things tilted to the left, through a warped lens. The confirming of this brought you no comfort, she'd already ruined you and there was no redeeming herself after this, at least not for you.

"Phew, what a trip, right?" She nudged you with her elbow as she buckled her seatbelt.

You nodded along, voice still weak. You buckled in as well.

"I'll pick you up for the talent show." She said as she turned away from the parking lot. "Oooh, we should have a night in. Order some pizzas and slob around the couch. How's that sound?"

"I don't think I should go to the talent show."

"Oh, why's that?"

"Just... Something happened at school. I don't wanna go."

Mrs George frowned and glanced at you. "Honey, you know you can tell me anything. I still think you should come."

"Everybody hates me." You faced the window and crossed your arms. Very mature.

"I'm sure that's not true." She sighed. "I'm not supposed to tell you, but Regina's got something prepared for you. I think you should go see her at least."

Your face twisted in anger. "Something prepared for me- like she prepared something for me today? I don't fucking think so."

"Language." She said and you grumbled. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing. It's nothing." You rubbed your hands down your jeans. "It's not gonna be good. She's gonna humiliate me."

"It's supposed to be a surprise, but I can guarantee that she's not going to humiliate you."

"What do you know?" You turned to her with narrowed eyes.

"I've been hearing her practice, is all." She responded, tone much too light.

You studied her face carefully. "Fine."

She smiled, seemingly relieved. Then, as if to cut the tension in the car, said:

"Oh, and by the way, I'm filing for divorce." With a giddy smile on her face, she blurted it out. You just stared for a while, almost suffering whiplash from the sudden change in topic.

"Uh... Finally." You laughed a little as you said that.

"Yeah!" She laughed with you. "It's been a long time coming. I just needed to sort some things out. Emotionally and financially. I had to get rid of some investments so I wouldn't have to pay alimony."

Your jaw dropped. The Georges were, like, filthy rich. Rich beyond reason, excess income to a ridiculous degree. You'd always assumed it was Mr George's money. How archaic of you.

"I... I kinda wished you'd done it sooner." You looked forward again. She was driving carefully since the snow made the roads prone to ice.

"Me too. The girls... They... I thought that having two parents would be the most stable, safe environment for them. I was wrong."

"Yeah." You swallowed. "Um. Since we're, like, just saying things. I'm, by the way, gay. Like, a lesbian."

"That's wonderful, honey!"

"Yeah." You couldn't say you agreed.

"Should we go get you a haircut?"

"I don't need to look any more butch than I do."

"I don't know, I think you'd look dashing." She feigned light-hearted. "Regina might like it."

"Mrs George!"

Notes: More drama! Yay! Do y'all think Regina did it?

Taglist posted separately. Please comment on the taglist post to be added on there :)

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lovehungrybean · 14 hours

Text

Regular Customer

Yandere!Love Quinn x Reader age gap, kidnapping

As per usual, around half past twelve, the door of Love’s bakery would chime, and in would walk her favorite customer. Love’s face would beam in excitement, a welcoming smile plastered across her face. You slid up to the counter and returned her smile. Before you could mutter a word, she was already making your coffee just the way you liked it.

"How are you, Love?" you inquired.

She stopped facing the coffee machine only for a second to look over her shoulder. Her eyes were longing to admire your face, but she swiftly looked away as you were already looking at her.

"I’m hanging in there. Henry is doing well, though. He’s with my mom since Joe’s at work," she explained.

She wanted you to know every little detail about her life. She figured if you knew everything, you were somehow indirectly part of her personal life itself. She handed you your coffee, and as you tried to hand her money, she shook her head and pushed it away.

"Come on. You have to let me pay at least once."

She shook her head stubbornly, but your hand was stubborn too, not refusing to move. Eventually, realizing she wasn’t going to take it, you shoved it in the tip jar and headed out the door.

"See you tomorrow!" She called out as the door closed.

Her heart was left beating irregularly. The rest of the day, there were mediocre customers, none of whom radiated like you. Whenever you weren’t around, she was desperate for you to be. As she arrived home, she was met with a familiar darkness and cold. A household where love used to be so vibrant and alive was now devoid of anything.

Joe was gone. Love knew he was out preying on some woman, as if he didn’t have a wife at home. When they first moved and Joe started obsessing over Natalie, it hurt, but now she didn’t feel anything towards him except resentment. She headed upstairs to Henry’s room and saw her mother putting him to sleep.

"Thank you. I really appreciate you being here," Love said.

Dottie placed a hand over her heart and said, "Of course, anything for my grandson."

Love was surprised she didn’t get a snarky remark as she walked Dottie out. She checked the time. It read 9:37, and Joe still wasn’t home. Love didn’t really care, but it felt like time went by so slowly when you weren’t near.

She sat on the couch with her head in her hands, thinking about all the things she wanted to do with you. She wants to hold your hands and kiss your sweet lips. She wants to buy a house and grow old with you. That’s when she decided tomorrow was going to be the day she did something about it.

The next day, Love was noticeably nervous while serving customers. Her hands were shaking so rapidly that she even dropped a cupcake. When she had no one to serve, she kept an attentive eye on the clock. It was four in the afternoon. Where were you? She began to feel anxious, like something bad had happened to you. Just as her nerves were beginning to boil over, you walked in.

"Y/N! You’re here!" She practically shouted, her hands slapping down onto the counter in excitement.

"Yeah. Here I am," you said in a questioning tone with an eyebrow raised. "What has you so excited?"

"Just my favorite customer," Love said, already about to go make your regular.

You gently grabbed her by the wrist to stop her. She felt her heartbeat begin to rise as a faint pink blush covered her pale cheeks. Your touch was so light yet had such an effect on her. At this very moment, Love was practically putty in your hands.

"I think it’s a tad bit late for coffee, and you’ve probably been working so hard all day. Why don’t we sit down?"

The light pink hue on her cheeks had grown into a blazing red. She felt as though she was going to pass out. That was until you let go of her wrist. Now that she’s felt your touch, she can’t go back to not having it. You pulled out a chair for her, and she quickly scurried over like a lost puppy.

"Thank you," she muttered.

What was happening? Love was usually so outgoing and boisterous. How had you made her so shy?

"Love, I’ve been thinking," you started, but took a deep breath to release your nerves. "You’re a beautiful, mature woman, and admittedly, I’ve developed some feelings for you."

At this very moment, Love felt her world light up. You were going to be the one she came home to, cuddled to sleep with, and folded laundry with. You were the one. She immediately reached over the table and grabbed your hand, just enjoying the warmth it expelled.

"And that’s why this is so hard,"

Both Love’s smile and mood dropped. She felt your hand loosen from her grasp, though Love didn’t let go.

"You’re 28 and I’m 19. This will never work. Besides, you’re a married woman with a child."

Y/N, we can make it work!" Love cried, practically begging for you to stay with her: "I don’t even love him!"

"I think that's a problem for you to figure out with him. I just wanted to stop by and tell you that this is the last time you'll see me. I want these feelings I have for you to go away, and that can't happen if I'm seeing you every day," you explained.

You tugged your hand out of her tight grip. Love knew she had to think fast. She couldn't let you go, not now and not ever.

"Wait Y/N. Let me at least give you a goodbye gift. How about a box of treats?" Love suggested, seeming much less sad than she did a few moments ago.

You figured that the idea of her giving you a parting gift made her happier and filled her with some sort of closure, so you obliged. As you nodded, she walked over behind the counter, her steps much more buoyant than before. In a large box, she placed a mélange of Danishes, cupcakes, tarts, and just about every other pastry available.

"What do I owe you?" you asked, taking your wallet out of your pocket.

"Nothing, silly. This is a gift." Love giggled childishly and handed you the heavy box of treats.

"Thank you, Love, You've always been so kind to me, and I'm sorry I ended our friendship." You apologized, a sad glint masking your eyes.

"I'm sorry, too,"

"For what?"

Just then, you noticed she only handed the unusually heavy box to you with one hand and had the other positioned behind her back. Before you could connect the dots and save yourself, she took a rolling pill out from behind herself and hit you over the head with it.

When you awoke several hours later, you were lying on a hard floor with a single, thin blanket underneath you. In confusion, you looked up and saw that you were trapped in a glass cage full of baking supplies. That's when everything came rushing back to you. You touched your head and winced as you pressed the gauze.

Although severely panicked, you tried to think rationally and push open the door. But, unfortunately, Love wasn't stupid, and she wouldn't make such a foolish mistake. Next, you tried to open the box that you can only assume Love would give you food and other small necessities through. This time it actually worked, but the opposite side wasn't openable. Lastly, you began to look through the nooks and crannies of the cage, hoping to find a key. Though when you found nothing, you knew it was helpless. You sat back down and pondered your options.

"Speak of the devil," you mumbled under your breath as you saw her peek out from behind a wall.

"Hi sweetheart!"

"Love, where the fuck am I?" you yelled, raising your voice at her for the first time ever.

All Love could do was smile and place her hand on the glass.

"Look, I know this isn't ideal for you, but it's either this or you leave me forever, and I couldn't deal with even the thought of that."

You didn't say anything and only looked at the floor.

"I promise, once I know you won't try to leave me, I'll let you out. Once that happens, we can raise Henry together." She swooned at the idea of becoming a family.

"What about Joe? How could you betray him like this?"

"Don't worry about Joe; he's taken care of, and I didn't betray him. I was once in love with him too, but once he saw the side of me that you're seeing, he didn't reciprocate my feelings anymore. He moved on and began preying on other women. I knew I couldn't win him back, but then you started coming to my bakery, and all the feelings I once felt for him, I began to feel for you," she explained.

"I don't blame him for wanting to leave once he saw this. I want to as well."

Love frowned. "I'll come back when you've adjusted better."

She began to grab her belongings.

"Wait, Love,"

She turned around, expecting an apology or a love proclamation, but that was wishful thinking.

"Do you have anything for me to eat?" You asked.

She scoffed in response and stomped away and up the stairs. You sighed and began to accept your fate.

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lovehungrybean · 14 hours

Note

love quinn x fem!reader where reader celebrates valentine’s day with love like she baked and prepared dinner just like love had taught her before and reader paid attention to make this day special for her. everything is a surprise btw but as we know love she was starting to freak out a bit thinking reader is being distant and secretive but all turned out well. anyways lots of fluff 💖

-🎈

banana pancakes [love quinn]

love quinn x fem!reader

warnings: a few curse words

mediocre author's note: hey guys! happy belated valentine's day, hope it was full of love in all different forms. love you guys!

Your location was off…why was your location off? Your location was never off. Love swiped out the app, only to re enter it seconds later. It had to be some kind of tech issue right? Your location wasn’t actually off…right? Wrong. Sure enough your location was still off.

Love let out a huff, as she shut off her phone, throwing it onto the metal counter in the kitchen of Anavrin. The brunette closed her eyes, resting her head on the cool metal door of the fridge, as she took deep breaths. ‘I trust her’ she repeats to herself over and over in her head, like a troubled school child writing ‘I’m sorry’ on their paper repeatedly. It was odd to her. It was Valentine’s Day, the day of love, and you were completely ignoring her. Only sending a ‘Happy Valentine’s Day’ text to start off her morning.

Everything seemed fine then, so what changed?

You were stressed, like really stressed. It was your first actual Valentine’s Day with someone you truly love. You wanted to make something perfect for the first time. The only problem? You can’t cook to save your life, despite Love teaching you her favorite recipes.

“Oh for fucks sake!” You yell, opening your apartment door to let all the smoke out of your house before you set off the fire alarm. You take a deep breath, resting your head against the cool metal rail, as you try to get your shit together. This needs to be perfect. Everything needs to be perfect.

Your head snaps up, as someone’s voice calls your attention. “Hey Gordon Ramsey, I see cooking is going super well for you. A solid five Michelin Stars!” your sometimes favorite 15 year old teases from right next to you.

“Not now, Ellie. I keep fucking up the recipe and Love gets off work in like 3 hours and nothing is ready,” you vent to the brunette, as you begin to pace the small pathway between apartments.

She rolls her eyes at you, “Dude, chill out. You’re stressing out about this way too much.”

“I’m sorry, I just want everything to be perfect.”

“And that’s the problem,” she shows herself into your apartment.

You scoff, rolling your eyes, “Sure Ellie, you can come in,” you say before mocking her voice. “Oh gee thanks Y/N. You’re the best.”

You follow in after her, a fearful expression on her face as she looks at the steak you attempted to cook. The entire piece burnt to a crisp, she cuts into it, nibbling a tiny piece out of the corner. Her mouth immediately opens, dropping the tiny piece onto the dirty counter. “I didn’t think anyone could be this bad at cooking,” she admits, grabbing a glass of water to wash down the taste. “Like, I actually think you used sugar to season the steak and not salt.”

“Ellie, if you’re just gonna sit here and tell me how shit I am, you can just leave. I already know all of that,” you swing the front door open, gesturing for her to leave.

“Oh stop that ‘poor me’ bullshit,” she tells you, causing your eyebrows to furrow at her sudden tone. “This is why nothing is working out. You’re trying to be perfect. It doesn’t have to be perfect. For some odd reason that I don’t understand, Love is madly in love with you, and no amount of shit steak can change that. So shut the fuck up and just stop trying so hard!”

Then it all clicks in your head. One of your first dates, she mentioned the simplicity, yet perfect bite of roasted chicken. Nothing too extravagant or special, but a dish that is strong with flavor, yet still feels like it's made by someone who cares. You snap your fingers together, “That’s it, Ellie! You’re a genius! C’mon, we gotta stop at the store!”

“We?”

You smile at her, a cockiness written all over it, “Yes we, you just got hired to be my sous chef,” you grabbed your keys, immediately ushering her out of the apartment, and to your car.

“Oh fuck me,” she mumbled.

Cooking for Love was supposed to be therapeutic, a way to ease her mind. Unfortunately, for the vegetables she’s cutting right now, it means that they’re receiving a brutal chop. Especially since you left her text message on read, asking what your plans were for tonight.

A low whistle fills the kitchen as Forty walks in, eyeing his twin, “What did those poor poor celeries do to you?” She shot him a glare without another response, causing him to nod, “Don’t want to talk about it, got it. Let’s talk about something else then. What did Y/N get you for Valentine’s Day? I know she’s got her gift-giving science down to perfection. I told her multiple times to start a business doing that, I’d invest in it, she would make some serious money! I mean can you imagine all the lousy excuses for husbands going to her to buy a gift for their-”

Forty was abruptly cut off when Love’s knife slammed down onto the metal counter. His eyes wide as he stared at his fuming sister, “It’s 8, I’m off now. I’ll see you later,” she responded in a monotone voice, storming out towards her car with one destination in mind. Your apartment. Whether you were home or not, she’ll let herself in and wait for her, so you could explain yourself to her.

“God, I hate that you dragged me into this,” Ellie speaks up, through the soft music playing from your speaker. She wiped down the counter, as you set the table with cheesy decorations.

You shrugged, smirking at her, “If I remember correctly, you butt in yourself. I think it was something about a five Michelin Star rating?”

She was about to retort when your front door burst open and a seething Love stepped foot into your apartment. You and Ellie stood there wide eyed, not quite sure what happened to make the sometimes intimidating brunette mad. The two of you were bracing yourself for the burst of anger, but it never came. The girl’s frown slowly turned upward into a soft smile.

“Surprise?” You said, smiling sheepishly at her. You interlock your fingers together, guiding her to her seat at the table. “I made some roasted chicken, and I know you could tell a lot about a chef by their roasted chicken. I just want to say, my roasted chicken will probably tell you I’m a shit chef. But uh, I tried to follow it exactly like you make it, with the potatoes and carrots and reduction, whatever that is. You’ve made it a few times, so I tried to copy from memory.”

Love smiled softly, as you pulled out her chair. “I was trying to make everything perfect, you know? I mean I even turned off my location to go to your favorite donut shop, but they were sold within like ten minutes of opening, and as soon as I got to the front of the line they were closing. So, that threw out the idea of surprising you at work. I almost set fire to my apartment a few times. But I think it turned out okay,” you drift over towards the kitchen, nervously rambling, as you pull out a small little plate of banana pancakes. “I know these aren’t super fancy pastries that you usually bake, but I remember you telling me that you and Forty would make these all the time when your mom was on this no sugar kick. You said it used to be your favorite breakfast and dessert when your were younger, so-”

You’re immediately cut off when Love grabs the hem of your shirt, attaching her lips deeply onto yours. Your hands fly to the back of her neck, fingers lacing into her hair.

“I’m gonna throw up,” Ellie says, blowing her cheeks up to mock the vomit. The two of you back away from each other, chuckling.

You let go of Love, walking over towards the kitchen to find a few small plastic containers. You start packing some food into the containers, before handing it to Ellie, “Thank you my sous chef. It was lovely working with you,” you chuckle as she rolls her eyes, trying to fight off a small smile on her face. “I packed enough for both you and Deliliah. Thank you again, really.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get all sappy on me, Chef Ramsey,” she takes the containers from you gratefully, as she bids a goodnight to Love.

“I love you Ellie!” You exclaim before she leaves. She raises her middle finger towards you without another response. You turn back to Love with a wide smile, “That means she loves me.”

Love chuckles, shaking her head, at your goofy antics with the young girl. “Sure it does,” a fake pout crosses your face as you stand in front of her with your arms crossed. Her hands find your waist pulling you to sit in her lap, “It’s okay though because I love you. Very very much…this was really thoughtful of you Y/N, really.”

You smile softly, kissing her gently, “I love you more,” you cut a piece of the chicken, giving her a piece with skin, potatoes, carrots, and dipped into the reduction. Just like how she would always tell you to eat it, “Here, try.”

You watched in her anticipation, biting your bottom lip. Her eyes were neutral as she chewed on what she usually calls the perfect bite.

“So?” You ask as she finishes chewing.

A wide smile spreads across her face, nodding, “It’s perfect. You are perfect.”

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lovehungrybean · 2 days

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She’ll Live

Pairing: Gretchen Wieners x fem!reader

Summary: A game of truth or dare reveals that Gretchen’s feelings might not be as unrequited as she thought.

Contents: insecure!Gretchen, jealous!Gretchen, talks of not being good enough, starts off kind of angsty but gets fluffy by the end, one (1) use of y/n

Word count: 1.1K

Note: Never struggled so hard to write a kiss scene like I did here. I’m not really proud of how this ended, it’s kinda rushed but it is what it is.

— — — —

Gretchen Weiners is having an existential crisis.

Okay, so that’s an over-exaggeration, but she is freaking out.

Why?

Because Regina’s talked a group of them into a game of truth or dare. Which isn’t actually a problem because Gretchen loves truth or dare, it’s the perfect opportunity for her to get dirt on her classmates, the problem is who is playing the game.

There’s her, Regina, and Karen, obviously, a bunch of jocks from various different sports teams, some random people she doesn’t know or care about from other schools that got invited.

Oh, and her crush is playing too.

You’re sat across from her, nursing a drink while whispering and giggling with Regina next to you. The two of you are very close, too close for Gretchen’s comfort actually, and the fact that you’ve already been dared to take your shirt off so you’re sitting in just your bra and bottoms showing off so much skin Gretchen can’t help thinking about how soft it’d feel under her fingers and under her lips, thinking about how your skin would taste on her tongue and how many licks it would take to have you shuddering underneath of her begging her to go lower and lower until her face is pressed against your pussy-

A loud laugh pulls Gretchen from her head and her breath catches in her throat at her thoughts, ridiculously wondering if someone can read her mind and knows the dirty things swirling in there about you.

It’s a ridiculous thing to think as that’s obviously not possible, but the alcohol is getting to her and making her think crazy things that would never happen — like her having a chance with you.

It’s wishful thinking, but you’re clearly attracted to Regina, and how could she ever stand a chance against her?

She couldn’t even stand a chance against Taylor Wadell for Jason so she knows she doesn’t have a chance against Regina for you.

It’s fine, though, she’ll live.

“Alright, y/n, truth or dare?”

Gretchen watches as you smirk, gesturing up and down your body. “Dare, obviously.”

“I dare you to kiss the prettiest girl in the room.”

“Trying to see some live girl on girl action are you, Shane? That’s disgusting.” You down the rest of your drink before shrugging, shaking your head in amusement. “Very well.”

Gretchens’ heart crumbles knowing she’ll have to sit and watch you kiss Regina and act like it doesn’t bother her when it really does. It always bothers her, no one she likes ever gives her a chance, no one she likes ever likes her.

She knows that’s not something that can be helped, not something she can control. She knows she can’t make you like her like that, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt her to want you and know she’ll never have you.

It’s fine, though, she’ll live.

She’ll move on, eventually. Maybe her heart will latch on to another person who wants someone else instead of her, maybe she’ll finally find someone who does want her, maybe she’ll be stuck harboring a crush on you for the rest of her life like she’s been doing since the sixth grade.

But it’s fine, though, she’ll live.

A shadow falls over her and then you’re on your knees in front of her, eyes shining brightly as you stare at her. “Hi, Gretchen. Can I kiss you?”

Her cheeks flush and she’s glad this is her fourth drink because she can blame the redness in them on the alcohol coursing through her system and not the fact that your question is everything she’s ever wanted to hear from you.

“W-what?” She stutters.

“I have to kiss the prettiest girl in the room,” you explain to her, head tilting ever so slightly as your lips curl into a half smile. “So is it okay if I kiss you?”

This can’t be real.

She’s dreaming. She has to be.

Gretchen can’t help it, her eyes shoot over to Regina expecting to see the blonde glaring at her, subtly daring her to try if she wants to, but instead she sees Regina smiling at her.

“Gretch?”

Her eyes turn back to yours and immediately drop to your lips. She stares at them, wondering if they’re as soft as they look before she swallows and nods her head in agreement. “That’s fine,” she says, and she prays you can’t hear the way her voice rises in pitch over the music.

You lean in and brush your lips teasingly against hers and Gretchen can’t help the soft sigh that escapes at the contact. You cradle her face in your hands, stroking your thumb softly along her cheek and pull her face closer to yours, this time fully connecting your lips in a proper kiss and, holy shit, it’s like fireworks going off.

Gretchen’s lips are so, so, soft against yours, softer than you ever imagined, and they taste sweet like cherries which admittedly you don’t like the taste of, but on Gretchen’s lips the taste is amazing.

You have no idea similar thoughts are going through Gretchen’s head.

You break the kiss for but a moment, taking a breath of air before diving back in and swiping your tongue along her lips in a request for entrance which she obliges eagerly, a shiver rushing down her spine as your tongues battle for dominance.

“Hey, we’re still in the middle of a game, you know.”

Gretchen breaks apart from you this time, her chest heaving as she processes the prior moments.

You got dared to kiss the prettiest girl in the room and you kissed her over anyone else.

You think she’s the prettiest girl in the room.

The knowledge makes her heart flutter and she can’t stop the smile that rises to her face.

“Alright, Gretchen,” you call, voice raspy from lack of oxygen and Gretchen flutters her eyes open to see you still in front of her, a blissed out smile on your face. “Truth or dare?”

Gretchen wants to kiss you again. She can say dare and you can give her the same one then she can feel your lips against hers once more. She licks her lips at the thought; she really wants to, but even drunk she doesn’t have that type of confidence.

So like a coward, she takes the easy way out. “Truth.”

“Do you wanna go on a date with me?”

Her brain short circuits and her cheeks flush an even deeper shade of red. “I… I’d love to.”

Gretchen doesn’t remember much after that, but when she wakes the next morning in Regina’s parents spare bedroom with her head on your chest and your arms wrapped around her waist, the sunlight peeking through the blinds casting an ethereal glow on your skin, she knows that when she says it this time, it’s true.

She’ll live.

And she’ll live in happiness with you.

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lovehungrybean · 8 days

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I promise I am Angel aka Natsxsddiction and that this is my second account idk any other way to verify that other than linking yall to my A03 lol

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lovehungrybean · 8 days

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Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story Chapter 1

Natasha Romanoff x Black!Fem! Reader

Note: This is a repost from my since deactivated account Natsxaddiction. I will be adding the shorter stories to here; 20 chapters or less - sorry TLH fans =(

Chapter 1/20 (A completed story)

Summary: Natasha and Reader are married. They get into an accident where Natasha suffers serious injuries including amnesia. Natasha no longer remembers her life with reader and their children. All she remembers are her days loving Bruce.

W/c: 4.2k

There was doubt in her face. You could see she didn’t trust you. As she blinked rapidly to adjust to the harsh lights of the hospital room you could tell something was wrong. Your heart ached at the way her hands gripped the ventilator down her throat. It’s been helping her breathe for this long. Her eyes widened in panic as she clutched at the offending object. You placed a hand on top of hers hoping your familiar touch would be calming. Instead, you saw her flinch as her eyes flew to yours. There was something there that you hadn’t seen in a long time, if ever. Natasha was scared. She was terrified even. She doesn’t know who you are.

“Natasha, baby, don’t rip it out.” You say softly to her despite the lump in your throat. She’s shaking. She stops to look at you for a second before attempting to remove the tube again. You sigh and press the call button for a nurse or doctor. Natasha shakes her head, her eyes pleading for you to help her, as she attempts again. There’s a panic rising between the both of you for many different reasons. She doesn’t know who you are or where she is. You are coming to the realization that your wife may not remember you. You’re going to need an explanation and fast.

There’s a knock on the door and then a nurse with a tight bun and scrubs is entering the room. She gives you a soft smile before it disappears. Natasha is awake. She’s awake and she’s scared. She walks over to the IV hooked up to Natasha’s hand and inspects it.

“Hello, Mrs. Romanoff, you’re in New York-Presbyterian Lower Manhattan, you were in an accident,” The older lady explains to Natasha. For a second Natasha relaxes before she glances at you. How does she know she could trust either of you? “You suffered from a few injuries. Nothing you won’t recover from. I know you want this out and the doctor will be able to do that later. Are you in pain?” Natasha hesitates like you know she will. You can see the imperceptible way her hand twitches. She nods reluctantly. The nurse, Alicia, nods and administers more of the pain medicine that would allow Natasha to sleep peacefully and pain-free. You both wait with bated breath for the redhead to relax. She finally does and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“She’ll be fine, Mrs. Romanoff,” Alicia pats your arm sympathetically. You nod. You’re not so sure if that’s true.

You don’t mention Natasha’s panic at seeing you. You don’t mention the distant look in her eyes when she looked at you. As if you’ve never met. As if she’s never loved you. The stinging tears it brings to your eyes make you wonder if it’s your mind playing tricks on you. When she wakes up later you’ll know the truth.

It’s been exactly a week since the accident. You remember it as if it were yesterday. An idiot drunk driver collided with your car on the passenger side. The one that Natasha was on. Your car was completely destroyed though you don’t really care. You could buy another one. You couldn’t get another wife. The woman lying before you was…is your everything. While you and the drunk driver left the accident with minor injuries Natasha wasn’t so lucky. She retained a traumatic head injury resulting in a coma, one fractured rib, and a broken wrist. Somehow you feel lucky that she even recovered.

You had been on your way to your daughter’s very first dance recital. It was her first recital before Thanksgiving break. You were running late, driving through the roads with care, but still excited to see your baby girl dance. Natasha was buzzing with excitement and pride as she toyed with the radio from her seat. She was a bit annoyed by your tardiness but hadn’t said as much. Nothing could ruin the night, well except almost dying in a car accident. One that’s seemingly changed your life forever. Now you’re here in a hospital room with your wife asleep in a bed not knowing what will happen next.

You pull your phone from your pocket to send Melina another text. She and Alexei are keeping the girls for you. They’re Natasha’s parents that she gained from her mission from The Red Room. You let her know Natasha woke up. She replies with praise before telling you they will come to see you both as soon as they can. The girls miss their Mama just as much as you’ve missed your wife. This past week has been hell. No one knew when Natasha would wake up. If she would wake up.

You could only hope to move past this now that she has.

You tuck your phone back into your pocket and pray that Natasha wakes up again.

*****************

You don’t realize you’ve fallen asleep until you hear the rustling of the bed. Natasha’s awake. Your eyes snap open to watch her. She struggles for a bit before dropping her hands against the bed. She’s given up on trying to take the tube out though you’re sure she could if she truly wanted. You lean over to put yourself in her line of eyesight.

“Natasha,” Green eyes meet yours. She furrows a brow. She clearly wants to ask you something. “Hey, I don’t know how much you remember about what the nurse told you but you’re in the hospital.” You gently tell her about what’s happened to her. She listens with rapt attention before her eyes scan the room. She lifts her uninjured hand to scratch at the tube before she drops it again. Her red-painted nails press firmly against the sheets. “I can call someone to take it out for you.” You don’t wait for an answer, not that she can. You grab the call button to press it. “Someone will be here soon.” You sit in silence until Alicia makes her appearance again.

Alicia slowly helps Natasha to remove the ventilator. Your eyes fly to the ground to avoid seeing her in so much pain. You can hear the small grunt of pain she emits though Natasha quickly tries to hide it. You glance up again to find that Alicia is putting Natasha through a swallowing evaluation. The water that’s been waiting by her bedside is given to her. Natasha swallows harshly before sitting back against the raised bed.

“Where’s everyone?” Natasha rasps. She clutches her throat again before looking around.

“Your throat may be a little raw, take it easy,” Alicia explains. “Your wife would be happy to tell you where everyone is. She hasn’t left your side this entire time.” Natasha glances at you. She’s sporting a look of confusion.

“Wife?” That one seriously hurts and she looks to the nurse for assistance. “I’m not married. Whatever sick joke this is I will find out.” There’s an edge in her tone. She’s almost menacing. “Who sent you?” Her next words are directed towards you. You’re aware she’s fighting the pain in her throat to ask you this.

“No one sent me, Natasha.” You say firmly. “I’m here because I want to be. I’m here because I’m your wife.” Natasha shakes her head. You raise your hand to place it over hers and she snatches it away as if she’s been burned.

“Where’s Bruce?” She asks. Bruce? You haven’t seen that man in years. Why was she asking about him? “Where’s Steve? Who. Sent. You?” She asks again. She’s not buying anything you’re telling her.

“Natasha-”

“How about we give Mrs- Ms. Romanoff a minute,” Alicia suggests. Something angers you about the slip-up. She’s asking you to leave the room. It’s clear Natasha needs a minute and as much as you’d like to stay you know you need one too. “I’ll be out there soon to talk to you.” You nod dejectedly. You rush out of the room to throw yourself against the wall. Your breaths come harsher as you try to figure out what that was in there. The look in her eyes. The way she talked to you. You’re almost sure if she had one there would be a knife to your throat.

You’re just about to send a message to Melina to tell her not to bring the kids today when Alicia interrupts you. You put your phone away before you can finish the message.

“It seems that Mrs. Romanoff doesn’t remember a few key details about herself,” Alicia informs you. “I’m going to have to call Dr. Brent in here to assess her further.”

“Does she have amnesia or something?” You question. Alicia frowns.

“I can’t really say but it may appear so.” She can see the scared look on your face. What would that mean for you? What would that mean for Natasha? For the girls? You let out another harsh breath.

You can tell Alicia wants to comfort you but you barely know her. Her job extends to Natasha’s care and she’s done that and more. You thank her. You wait for her to walk away before turning back to Natasha’s room. The doctor would be here as soon as he could. In the meantime, you have to try and deal with things.

You prepare yourself with a deep breath and a shake of your hands to rid yourself of the nerves. You almost felt ridiculous. This was your wife for goodness sake. The one you’ve spent six and a half happy years with. You knock gently, deciding against barging in when you’re surprised by the sight in front of you. Natasha is standing from the bed, and clearly in pain, searching for her clothes.

“Nat, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” You say. She doesn’t even bat an eye as she continues to put on her pants. You’re not sure how she’s even found them but that doesn’t matter now. You step a bit closer to her, bracing your hand behind her back in case she falls, and again you plead for her to sit down. “Natasha, you’re hurt.” You tell her.

“It would be better for you to let me leave now before the team finds you,” Natasha mutters. She’s in such a different headspace. One she hasn’t been in for a while and you’re a bit unsure how to get through to her thick head. Something angers you about the way she winces when she tugs the pants onto her hips. Her ribs haven’t healed yet and she shouldn’t be walking until the doctor assesses her.

“Natalia, sit down now.” Your voice is low and firm. It’s one you’ve only ever reserved for the bedroom but at this moment you know it’s gotten to her. She pauses to look over at you. You used her birth name. She eyes you and for a moment you think she’s going to listen.

“Who do you think you are?” She frowns.

“Your god damned wife, Natasha.” You say exasperatedly. Before she can protest you continue. “I’m not some spy sent to kill you. I’m not a member of the Red Room and I’m not working against you. I’m an Avenger. I’ve seen you through your worst and dammit it may be worse than this if you don’t sit down and allow your ribs to heal.” Natasha blinks slowly. You’re prepared to fight her on this. She sits slowly and you can see the pain etched across her features. There’s something akin to regret on her face as she tries to shift into a comfortable position. You move towards her without realizing it as your hands grip her hips to help her onto the bed. She doesn’t push you away this time but you can feel how she tenses under your fingers.

You move back to find she’s eyeing you questioningly.

“You don’t have to believe me but please, don’t hurt yourself trying to run away.” She’s shocked now. “I can call Tony or Steve if you want and they can come here.” You try again.

“And Bruce?” She asks quietly. You’d left his name out on purpose.

“And Bruce.” You sigh. You’re not really going to call him but you needed her to calm down.

Natasha’s forest-green eyes scan your face. She’s trying to remember you. She can’t and she’s frustrated by this. Despite your firmness, you’re being kind to her. She doesn’t know your angle or motive. You don’t move as she continues to rack her brain for memories of you. It’s painful to see that she can’t find a single one.

There’s another knock at the door that breaks her from her trance. Both of you turn to look at Dr. Brent as he enters. He’s 6’2, blonde, and blue eyes rivaling McDreamy’s. He comes into the room with a soft smile.

“Hello, Natasha, I’m Dr. Brent I’ve been the one looking over your case for the past week,” He introduces himself to her. “I am under the impression that you’re a bit unclear about what’s happened?”

“Bingo,” Natasha quips and you resist the urge to snort. Despite the situation, she’s resorting to her usual sarcastic nature.

“Okay, I’m going to run a series of tests to assess the situation for an answer.” He says. He puts on gloves and steps over to the opposite side of Natasha. You move to hold her hand only to stop yourself. Natasha hates doctors and needles and pretty much anything to do with hospitals. You know how stressful it can be for her but you’re not sure if you should touch her. You’re afraid of setting her off.

He assesses Natasha’s pupils, her heart rate, her ability to remember commonly known facts. When he asks her to repeat a series of words he asked her minutes ago she does so with a hint of boredom. You watch in trepidation as he moves on to asking her about the last thing she remembers.

“It was during Ultron,” Natasha says. “Some robot Tony created went rogue so we needed to hide out.” She’s keeping out a few key details.

You know from the times she’s told you that she and the rest of the OG members took cover at Clint’s farmhouse. It was there she also suggested to Bruce that they run away together. It wasn’t her finest moment though you doubt she thinks that now. Dr. Brent takes down a few notes and promises to take a look over her brain scans.

“What does it look like doctor?”

Dr. Brent glances at Natasha.

“Don’t hold back, Doc, she’s my wife, remember. Anything you say in front of her you can say in front of me.” You don’t like the way Natasha throws out that line so easily. Like she doesn’t believe it. Like she doesn’t care about your feelings at all. To her, she doesn’t.

“It looks like a form of retrograde amnesia. Usually this type is when you can recall recent events and not things from years ago. For Natasha, it seems that she can’t remember her life from the past few years at all. Her recent is not as we think.” He explains. Natasha frowns. She doesn’t believe any of this that’s going on.

“And when would she get her memories back?” You ask. You’re afraid of the answer.

“Only time will tell.” Dr. Brent informs you. “There is no cure. As her brain heals there may be memories that come back piece by piece or she may not get them back at all. What we can do is be patient. Remind her of the time, date, and place. Treat her with kindness.” You nod. You could do that.

“When can I go home?” Natasha asks loudly.

“Once we’re done running the tests I see no reason why you can’t go home in the next few days. For now, we need you to sit tight and allow your body to heal.”

Natasha Romanoff sitting tight? Ha! Natasha was a busy body. She was always on even when you weren’t. She rarely allowed herself to recover from her injuries and you’re sure this won’t be any different.

“Thank you, Doctor.” You say. This would certainly be a trying task.

The Doctor finishes up a few more tests with a promise to come back later to check up on both of you.

“Are you hungry?” You ask her. Natasha’s pout and folded arms don’t hide the fact that she wants to say yes. She shakes her head no. “Can you bring up the lunch meal?” You direct your question to Alicia. She nods and quickly exits the room. There’s a silence between the two of you. Natasha is watching the exit closely while you watch her. You’re not really sure what to do or say.

“You must be curious.” You break the silence.

“About?” Natasha tilts her head.

“Everything,” You wipe your sweaty palms against the fabric of your jeans. Natasha’s eyes rake your body in interest. Amnesia or not she’s attracted to you.

Natasha opens her mouth to speak but is interrupted by a swing of the door opening. You curse at the lost opportunity of her opening up. You panic when you realize exactly who has interrupted. All you see is a flash of brown hair as they whip past you. Before you can stop her, your daughter is climbing onto the bed to settle on Natasha’s lap.

“Mama!” Olivia cheers. She bounces in place as she inspects Natasha. “You’re not sleeping anymore.” Olivia smiles.

“Mama! Mama! Up.” The other little one is not too far behind as she walks into the room with Melina and Alexei hot on her heels. She races to the other side of the bed, raising her arms towards Natasha, and looks up at her expectantly. You can see the rising panic in the other woman as she places her hands against her chest to keep from touching Olivia. You don’t know if it’s more distressing for her to see her parents or her children. You choose to diffuse one situation before the other.

“We’re very sorry, Y/n, we tried to call you before but they were so excited to hear that she was awake.” Melina has the decency to look guilty.

“Why isn’t she talking?” Olivia asks. Her big brown eyes blink up at you. Natasha opens and closes her mouth like a fish out of water. You move swiftly to remove her from Natasha’s lap to place her on her own two feet.

“Liv, remember how Mama was hurt in the crash and she hit her head?” You kneel to be on her level. Olivia nods glancing at Natasha. “Well, she still has to get better so we need to give her a bit more time. I know you and Lily are excited to see her but it’s still a bit much for her.”

Olivia may be young but she’s not stupid. She nods dejectedly. She knows this means they would have to leave. You can see her bottom lip tremble as tears threaten to fall.

“Hey, hey, little mouse, it’s going to be just fine, we just need to give Mama some time.”

“But I miss her,” Olivia frowns. There’s going to be a lot of tears if you don’t think fast.

“They can stay,” Natasha is the voice to speak. You give her a surprised look before she nods. You thank her silently before turning back to Olivia.

“Mama says you can stay but you have to be gentle.” You tug a still excited Lily into your embrace so that she’s aware of what you’re saying. You move your hands in a series of motions. She still has a pacifier pressed into her mouth but she says a meek yes around it.

“They need to leave,” Natasha says. She says it with such finality. She’s referring to Melina and Alexei. You look over to them apologetically and Melina raises a hand. She knows it’s not the time to be pleading her case with Natasha. Not when she’s this delicate.

“I’ll bring them out to you when we’re done.” You inform them. They nod and leave the room.

Olivia turns back to Natasha. This time unsure of herself. Your heart breaks as you realize she doesn’t know what to do. Natasha has never reacted to them in this way. Everything is riding on her as she looks over to the girls.

“You can climb up here, Myshka.” Natasha encourages her. She’s caught onto the nickname you used for the little girl. Olivia looks to you for reassurance. You give her a nod. She slowly climbs into the bed and settles on Natasha’s side. Natasha is a bit out of her element but she doesn’t flinch away this time.

“Mama, you’re okay?” Olivia asks.

“I’m okay,” Natasha confirms. She’s a natural actress and can put on a front for the kids. Even if she doesn’t remember them she doesn’t want to hurt them.

“I thought you died and left us,” Olivia says. Natasha looks to you for help.

“Mama is fine,” You assure her. Olivia fiddles with her fingers before looking her over again.

“When can you come home?”

“After the doctor has checked her,” You say.

“Mama,” Lily whines from your arms. She gives you the sign for ‘want’ before stretching her arms out for Natasha. Natasha opens her arms and allows Lily to fall into them. She brushes a hand over her curls, exposing the cochlear implant, she inspects it before looking at you. You’ll explain it to her later. Lily settles in her arms happily. If Natasha is feeling any pain she hides it so she doesn’t startle them.

“We drew pictures for you,” Olivia informs her. “And we also stayed with Nana and Pop-Pop.” She begins to tell Natasha about her entire week. Natasha listens with rapt attention. Though she doesn’t remember them her motherly instinct is strong. It has always been.

“Oh yeah?” Natasha asks. She’s genuinely interested in what the little girl has to say. She’s somehow multitasking as she listens to Olivia while keeping Lily from pulling at the fabric of her gown. You cringe. In your haste to get them to settle for her, you weren’t expecting this. Lily is asking to nurse. Something you’re one hundred percent sure Natasha isn’t comfortable with. Natasha catches on, redirecting Lily’s tiny hand into her own.

Lily sighs, clearly frustrated, but resigns to laying her head against Natasha’s chest. It’s another hour before they fall asleep in her arms. Natasha hasn’t moved an inch since then. You’re sure this can’t be comfortable.

“Is it true?” Natasha asks. She sounds different. Not like earlier. She’s afraid of the answer. She wants to believe that the little girls in her arms are hers.

“Yes,” You confirm. “They’re yours. Ours.” You correct yourself.

She’s afraid to ask the next question but she finds her voice.

“How?”

“A human trafficking bust in Brazil,” You start. “It had been going on for years until we got to them. The only reason we were asked to step in was that the facility somehow kept going under the radar for S.H.I.E.L.D. They were using the kids for experiments and pretty much everything else.” You know she’ll understand the implications of that. You clear your throat. “Their mother, she was seventeen, had just given birth to Lily, and was holding onto a starving Olivia when you found her. It’s why she’s still so small.” Natasha brushes her fingers across Olivia’s now chubby cheeks. Olivia’s eyelashes flutter but she never opens her eyes. “You tried to save her too but she died before we could get her to a hospital. All of the other children were saved but you wouldn’t let go of these two. Lily was just a few days old and Olivia was just shy of her second birthday. You pleaded with me to keep them and we signed the adoption papers as soon as we could.” Natasha raises her head for the first time. Throughout the entire story, she’s been staring at them in awe. Like she doesn’t believe it.

“We found out Lily suffered from severe hearing loss due to an infection.” Natasha glances at her ears. “ I know it’s a lot to take in but I’m not lying to you. I wouldn’t. Not about this.” Her eyes shone with unshed tears that she quickly tried to hide.

“How old are they now?” She finds herself asking.

“Olivia is three almost four and Lily is eighteen months.” You inform her. They’re so young and not understanding of their world yet. Not understanding the gravity of Natasha’s amnesia.

“I don’t remember.” She frowns. “I don’t remember any of it.” She’s becoming upset.

“Nat, it’s okay, we can figure it out.” You try to keep her calm. “We can figure it out just please bear with me.” You plead for her. “You don’t have to believe I’m your wife. You don’t have to believe that any of this is real. Just don’t run away. Don’t hide.” Don’t try to find Bruce you want to add but you keep it to yourself. She nods tiredly.

“Melina and Alexei are here,” She says suddenly.

“They are,” You reply.

“I haven’t seen them since I was eleven years old,” Natasha whispers brokenly. She looks down at the girls sleeping peacefully in her arms. You say nothing. “I’m not leaving them.” She says resolutely.

You believe her. What does this mean for the future?

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lovehungrybean · 8 days

Text

she cared (she was just scared)

Summary: You and Emily have known each other since you were fifteen. Back in Rome, she had a hard time fitting in and you were one of her friends, along with John Cooley and Matthew Benton. She was closer friends to you first but she and Matthew spent more time together months before he died. When Matthew passed away, him being a mutual friend of yours, it somehow felt that your connection with her died too. Genre: Angst (with happy ending) Pairing: Emily Prentiss x female reader Warnings: mentions of abortion, homophobia, catholic/religious guilt, implied suicide of minor character Word count: 7.4K

A/N:

This is basically inspired by Criminal Minds S4E17 Demonology and Kat Victoria's song called "Scared". Sorry for any and all grammar, spelling and other writing mistakes. I've been dealing with writer's block recently and I finished this fic just to keep my gears going. I'm not really satisfied how this fic turned out but I hope it's okay enough to read lol.

All likes, comments and reblogs are welcome. Thank you :)

AO3

You and Emily have known each other since you were fifteen. Back in Rome, she had a hard time fitting in and you were one of her friends, along with John Cooley and Matthew Benton. She was closer friends to you first but she and Matthew spent more time together months before he died. When Matthew passed away, him being a mutual friend of yours, it somehow felt that your connection with her died too.

You haven’t seen Emily since Matthew’s funeral. You saw her sitting in the last row during the funeral mass. You tried to find her after but she was already gone. You and John stayed a bit longer when everyone had gone home, reminiscing about your friend who had gone too soon.

Since that day, it wasn’t just Matthew who left you. Your friends drifted away one by one. First came Emily. Then, eventually, John became too busy to hangout. Matthew took a part of you and your friends with him.

So you learned to be on your own.

Your friends didn’t keep in touch with you and you are with them. But you wish they had. It was a short-lived friendship but it was the best year you ever had.

It was a month later that you found out through one of your teachers that Emily and her mother flew back to America. She didn’t say goodbye; not to you or John. But the next day, you found an envelope with a picture of you, Matthew, Emily and John posing just outside of the church during the first fall of snow. It was taken five months before Matthew passed. There wasn’t a note or anything at the back of the photograph but it’s safe to say it was from Emily. It was her camera that you used.

It was during the first year of college that you saw Emily again. She looked different now. She had thick eyeliner, black lipstick and a leather choker on her neck. Her dark hair was all over the place and you’re absolutely sure, her fashion choices would send her mother into a coma (if she wasn’t already in one yet). Emily looked different but you’re sure it was her.

Your eyes met for a brief moment until she looked away and asked two muscular men behind her to help her carry her suitcases. You looked the other way too.

You finally reached the women’s dormitory after being lost on campus for fifteen minutes. It wasn’t that far from the university apparently. You just sucked at following people’s directions.

Once everything was settled at the lobby, you hiked to your room. Just your luck, the elevator was under maintenance and you had to drag two suitcases and a duffle bag all the way to the third floor using the stairs.

When you reached the third floor - second room to the left, you kept mumbling to yourself - the door was already open. Your roommate probably already beat you there. You just hope she would be friendly and not hoard all the living room space.

You stopped at the door upon seeing a familiar figure. Emily was already setting up her desk in the first room. Her suitcases were open in her bed. She must have sensed you standing at the door. Emily glanced at you. She didn’t smile so you didn’t either.

“Do you need help?” Emily asked. “I hope you don’t mind that I already took this room. I don’t like the sunrise.”

“It’s fine.” You replied, lifting your bags to your room. You started unpacking your things.

Both of your doors remained open. There was unsettling silence in the air as the two of you finished unpacking. You didn’t know why. You two were friends - good old friends - and you should be catching up after not seeing each other for a long time. Instead there’s this.

You wanted to ask Emily a lot of things. You wanted to start at her interesting goth phase; although no amount of make up could mask her big brown eyes. You also wanted to ask her how she’d been; tell her you tried to write to her but you didn’t know where to send it, so the letters piled up and hidden in the pockets of your suitcase.

You felt a poke on your shoulder. “Do you mind if I put up a curtain?” Emily pointed at the big window in the middle of the living room. “My migraine can get bad if there’s too much light.”

“Go ahead. It’s fine.”

“Can you help me?”

“Sure.”

You stepped on the table to reach for the rod. Emily’s hand landed on your leg, supporting you. You put up the curtain. The room went dim but definitely much better for the eyes now. Emily guided you down.

“Thanks, Y/N.” Emily smiled.

“Emily,” You called her. You leaned against her doorframe. She glanced at you. “H-how have you been?”

Emily sat on her bed and continued folding her clothes. When she didn’t speak for two minutes, you gave up on waiting for her reply. You were about to leave when she spoke again.

“I’m sorry,” Emily blurted out. “For not saying goodbye in Rome.”

“It’s alright,” You lied. Of course, it wasn’t alright. She was your friend and she left you. “Your mom travels a lot so…”

Your eyes met Emily’s. She was always hard to read and until now, it’s true.

“It wasn’t just that.” Emily sighed, running her hands through her hair but caught up in the knots. You suppressed your chuckle with a bite of your lower lip. “When Matthew died, I was all over the place. He was my friend and I had a hard time accepting he was gone.”

“So did I.” You mumbled. “And I was your friend too.”

“I know. I’m sorry I wasn’t there, Y/N.”

You didn’t say anything. You sat on your bed and continued unpacking. And as you do so, the silence lingered in the air again.

—

Surprisingly, Emily’s goth phase in college only lasted the day she moved in your dorm. You bet yourself it would last longer but the next day happened. You saw the ambassador’s car in the parking lot and recognized the two armed men in black waiting outside your dorm room; the same ones that helped Emily with her baggage when she moved in. It was Emily’s mother. You never met her in person before but Emily had one family picture of her in her wallet during her stay in Rome.

One of the bodyguards requested that you wait in the lobby and you did. They were too intimidating for you to do otherwise.

Emily didn’t speak to you about it but after the surprise visit from her mother, everything changed. She didn’t wear short skirts with fishnets again. Instead, Emily either wore light-colored blouses or plain long sleeves polos and jeans. She no longer wore makeup except for the lip gloss. Not that Emily needed it anyway. She was always beautiful in a way that makes you wonder why God has favorites.

The sullen look on her face was consistent for almost a week. You wanted to ask if she’s okay. Few attempts were made but Emily had walls higher than the Great Wall.

You have known Emily for only a year during your stay in Rome. It wasn’t a long time but at least, she was more open then, more trusting and carefree. You wonder what happened to that girl you used to know.

—

You met Jennifer Jareau in one of your classes. She was kind and bubbly and lets you borrow her notes when you’re late in class. You two clicked so fast and became inseparable. She insisted you call her “JJ” instead of “Jennifer”.

JJ sat next to you in the cafeteria. She laid her tray down; mac and cheese, sliced apples, orange juice and a small bag of Cheetos.

“Do you want to go to a party tonight?” JJ asked, munching on the Cheetos first. “Derek invited me and he said I could bring a plus one.”

“Derek Morgan? You’re friends with him?”

JJ nodded. “We have two classes together.”

“Don’t tell me you’re crushing on the freshman manwhore.”

JJ rolled her eyes. “He’s actually a good guy. Just very flirty.”

“Where’s the party?”

“Palm Paradise. It’s not that far from your dorm.”

“I don’t know where that is. Is it a bar?”

“Yeah, a big one.”

“Oh, I don’t like big scenes.”

“Come on, I’ll be with you the whole time.” JJ tugged your arm, pleading, “Please.”

JJ was looking at you with her best puppy eyes with a matching pout and you couldn’t say no. “Fine. Just stop looking at me like that.”

“God, you’re so easy.” JJ smirked. “I’ll pick you up at 7.”

—

You and JJ arrived at Palm Paradise together. The place was already filled with college students, most of whom were freshmen. The loud music and smell of booze filled the air. You tugged JJ’s arm and pointed at Derek Morgan dancing with a blonde. JJ called for him and immediately ran to greet JJ and then you. Derek introduced his best friend, Penelope. You doubted they’re just best friends though because for the five minutes that you’ve known them, they already flirted at least four times.

You were sitting on the couch with a cold beer in hand. JJ was sitting beside you and gossiping with Penelope.

The floor was crowded with drunk dancing and grinding college students. You got startled when the crowd roared when a girl with a long red wig and thick glasses stood on the table and lifted her shirt up, revealing a crimson bra.

“Damn, she’s hot.” JJ whispered in your ear.

“And drunk.” You chuckled.

When the girl clumsily alighted from the table, her wig and glasses fell. Then, you met her gaze. You know who those eyes belong to. You couldn’t be wrong.

Emily.

“Hey!” Emily stumbled towards you, clearly intoxicated. “You are here too!”

“S-so are you.” You took her arm and guided her to sit on the couch. “You are so drunk.”

“‘m not.” Emily slurred. She tried to stand up but quickly fell back to her seat. She laughed. “It’s spinny.”

“You know her?”

“Yeah, she’s …” You glanced at Emily whose eyes were closed and head was thrown back at the couch. “She’s my roommate.”

Emily reached for your hand, giggling. “You are so pretty! Why do you always frown?”

“I don’t frown.”

JJ took a quick look at you. “You’re frowning now.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, take her side.”

Emily suddenly pulled your hand causing you to trip over and fall on her lap. JJ and Penelope pursed their lips to suppress a grin.

“What are you doing?” You asked Emily who only smiled drunkenly. Despite being roommates, this was the closest you and Emily have been for the past few weeks and you’re suddenly aware of the pounding in your chest. “Do you need to go home?”

Emily shook her head, still with a tipsy smile on her face. She fiddled the collar of your shirt. “Only if you -” She leaned in, bumping your noses together. “- are coming with me.”

“Y/N, I think she’s drunk. You should take her home.” JJ said.

“But -”

“I’ll be okay. I’ll hang out with Penelope.”

“She’ll be safe with me. I won’t leave her, I promise.” Penelope assured you.

“Okay, leave me a message when you guys get home.” You stood up and put Emily’s arm on your shoulder, guiding her as she stood up. “Let’s go, drunkie.”

Dragging an intoxicated Emily home was harder than you thought. She threw up twice on the sidewalk before even getting in the cab. You had to keep supporting her as she walked too because she kept tripping. But the worst part of it all was that Emily was a flirty and touchy drunk. During the short cab ride, Emily couldn’t keep her hands off your neck, running her fingers up and down your collar, and squeezing your bicep. She kept whispering sweet nothings in your ear and the fluttery feeling in your chest was getting out of hand.

When you reached the dorm, Emily was already passed out so you carried her on your back, praying over and over that she won’t throw up on you. The elevator ride was quick but the walk to your room wasn’t. Emily’s head kept sliding on your shoulder and she’s falling so you had to make a few stops.

You laid Emily down on the sofa when you finally arrived at your dorm room. Her bedroom was locked and you contemplated on whether to just leave her passed out in the living room or not.

“Emily,” you whispered, tucking a hair behind her ear. “Emily, do you have your key?” Her only answer was an annoyed groan. You sighed. How many drinks did she actually have?

You carried Emily on your back again and transported her to your bed. You figured that tomorrow would be a hell of a hangover and she would be more comfortable here than the sofa. You tucked her into your bed and you left her a glass of water and ibuprofen on the bedside for when she wakes up.

You settled on the couch tonight.

—

Emily woke up to a throbbing migraine. The sunlight didn’t make it any better.

Sunlight?

Emily scanned the room. There were movie posters hanging on the wall, a stack of books on the desk and a pile of mixtapes neatly arranged on the shelf. This was definitely not her room.

She drank a glass of water and ibuprofen on the bedside table.

Emily breathed out loud when she realized she’s in her dorm and didn’t end up somewhere unsafe. She found you sleeping soundly on the sofa. Emily accidentally hit her knee on a table beside the sofa. The curse that came from her lips jolted you awake.

“Hey, you’re up.” You said groggily, sitting up. “How are you feeling?”

“Like there’s a rammer inside my head and it’s moving on its own.”

You laughed at her creativity. “Yes, well, alcohol does that.”

“I don’t remember most of what happened. Did you bring me home?”

You nodded. “I had to carry you on my back. You passed out.”

Emily grimaced. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay.” You assured her.

“Did I - did I do something embarrassing last night?”

You smirked. “You bet.”

Emily groaned, head on her hands. “I’m never drinking again.”

“You flashed the entire bar.”

“I did?!”

“You did.” You laughed. “You got up on the table and pulled your shirt up. The red bra looks nice, by the way.”

Emily checked the bra underneath her shirt. “Oh, fuck.” She sighed, disappointed and embarrassed about her actions.

“Everyone was drunk, anyway. They probably won’t remember.”

“You weren’t.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t. And JJ and Penelope.”

“Who?”

“My friends.”

“Oh.” Emily’s face turned red. “I-I’m sorry.”

You took Emily’s hand and squeezed it. “It’s okay, Emily. It’s not bad to have fun.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. You haven’t seen her smile in a while.

—

Everything changed between you and Emily since the party. She talked to you more. She smiled more. She no longer avoided your presence despite living in the same apartment. It felt like you were friends again just like before when there were four of you. Except now it’s just two.

Emily was pulling an all-nighter at the living room. She was walking back and forth, reading passages and repeating it back to herself to memorize. You tried not to distract her by tiptoeing quietly to the kitchen to make some midnight snacks.

You made two sandwiches; one for you and one for Emily. You left hers on the center table and she mouthed a thank you and you nodded in return.

You left your bedroom door open just enough so you could peer at Emily. You watched her walk back and forth. The bags under her eyes were visible. She’s been pulling all nighters three times a week for a month now. She's obviously exhausted. Midterms were coming and Emily Prentiss was nothing but an overachiever.

After an hour, Emily finally rested on the sofa. She stretched her legs, placing her feet on the center table. Her breaths were loud and erratic.

“You should take a break. Get some rest.” You told her worriedly.

“I’m okay, Y/N. I only have one more chapter to read.” She replied, eyes closed. “Why are you not sleeping yet?”

Because you weren’t.

“Not yet sleepy. I had coffee.”

“You don’t drink coffee,” she snorted.

There was that fuzzy feeling in your stomach again because Emily remembered. She remembered that you didn’t like coffee. It’s silly to feel pleased about that.

Emily eventually fell asleep on the couch around 3 a.m. You found her textbook snuggled to her chest and she was clutching her notes in her hand. You snatched a blanket from your room and tucked her in.

You were going back to your room to sleep when you heard Emily talking in her sleep. It’s hard to make out what she was saying. It went on for a minute until Emily started frantically shaking her head and the mumbles grew louder. Emily was calling for your name, then Matthew, then John.

“Emily,” You tapped her shoulder. Nothing. “Emily, wake up.” You stroked her face gently as you tapped her leg. “Emily, wake up.”

Emily’s eyes snapped open, face now covered in cold sweat. She looked around, suspicious that whatever it was in her nightmare followed her here.

“It’s okay, you’re safe, Em.” You promised her, squeezing her arm. “Do you need anything?”

Emily took a couple of deep breaths. “Can you … can you stay?”

“I’m not going anywhere. Do you want to sleep with me tonight?” You cleared your throat. “I mean, sleep in my bed with me. Sleep sleep, not sleep sleep.”

If she didn’t just have a bad dream, Emily would have laughed. She only nodded.

You woke up the next morning with your head on Emily’s chest and her arms wrapped around you. Her breaths were synchronized with your own like a lovely duet. Her scent filled your head.

—

Emily sleeping with you in your room had become a routine. Sometimes you slept in hers too but she insisted that your mattress was far more comfortable.

“I thought you hated sunlight.” You murmured one night, your backs facing each other. “But you liked sleeping here.”

“I don’t hate you.” She murmured back.

I don’t hate you.

You wanted to ask Emily what it meant because when it came to her, things were rarely black and white. Did it mean she liked you? Love is the opposite of hate, after all, so did that mean that she loved you? Or is it just something she said without thinking and didn’t mean anything by it at all?

You wanted to ask her but there’s something caught up in your throat and you decided not to.

Emily was the one to fall asleep first. You lied in bed unmoving, staring at the window, crescent moon peeking into view.

You felt Emily’s arm wound around your stomach. She pulled you closer to her, hugging you. You could feel her breathing on your neck. She was still sleeping soundly.

You decided you can worry about this some other time. Because right now, it felt right.

—

“Hey, angel.” JJ was standing outside your door, holding takeouts and a notebook. “I thought I’d drop by and let you borrow my notes. Also I bought you chicken soup.”

“You didn’t have to, JJ.” You smiled and let her in. “Can I get you anything? Water? Juice?”

“No, I’m okay.” JJ placed a hand on your forehead. “You’re still burning up. Have you taken your meds yet?”

“I just did. Waiting for it to kick in.”

JJ was telling you about something funny that happened in Professor Rossi’s class when Emily came in with the biggest smile on her face but it was suddenly gone when she spotted you and JJ sitting on the couch.

“Hi,” JJ waved at her and Emily waved back with an awkward smile. “I just dropped by to bring my notes to Y/N and give her soup.”

“That’s … thoughtful?” Emily raised her eyebrow, confused as to why was your friend telling her that.

“Yeah, she told me she was sick -”

“You’re sick? You said you didn’t have classes.” Emily quickly placed a hand on your forehead then to your neck. “You’re hot.” She glared at you when you wiggled your eyebrows. “Do you want me to take you to the hospital?”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve got my meds and my soup.” You grinned. “Thanks, Jay.”

“You’re welcome.” JJ stood up. “I gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow? Leave me a message, okay?”

“I will.”

JJ hugged you and kissed your cheek. You glanced at Emily, clenching her jaw, one eyebrow raised. “Get better fast.” JJ ruffled your hair before leaving.

When you turned around, Emily was glaring at you, arms crossed. You stared blankly. She didn’t say anything and marched to her bedroom. Before you could ask what’s wrong, she already slammed the door.

Emily didn’t crawl to your bed that night nor did she talk to you the next morning. But she left you cooked meals in the kitchen until you felt better.

—

It was five days later when Emily started speaking with you again. Truthfully, you were getting tired of the quick, sidelong glances she was throwing at you the past few days. You tried to make conversation but she quickly hid in her room every time. She didn’t even ask to sleep in your room when you heard her kicking and crying during another nightmare and you were there to wake her up.

Emily was cooking breakfast in the kitchen and asked if you wanted to have some. You nodded, smiling. You didn’t know what you did wrong but at least she’s not ignoring you anymore.

She prepared a plate for you; pancakes, bacon and hash brown. She poured orange juice on your glass. “Here you go,” she said, sliding the plate towards you. “I couldn’t make the pancakes round so you’re gonna have to forgive me.” You both chuckled.

You and Emily ate in silence. It was so quiet that you could hear her every time she chewed on the pancakes and sipped her coffee.

“Emily?” You finally broke the hush. Emily hummed. “Are you mad at me?”

She glanced at you and huffed. “No. Why would I be?”

You shrugged. “Then, do you like me?”

“Of course,” Emily answered without hesitation. “Of course, I like you. You’re my friend.”

You felt a pang of disappointment. “Not just as a friend, Emily.”

There was no reply.

“Emily?” You tried again.

“Why’d you ask?”

“Just answer me.”

You weren’t angry at her. You just wanted answers. You were tired of thinking and wondering why everything felt different one day like you were friends again, and different the next day like you don’t know each other.

She let out a loud exhale. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“You … you're someone I want in my life for a long time. I don’t want to lose you.”

You knitted your brows. “Why would you lose me?”

“I - I don’t know. It’s what always happens to me. I can’t risk having stupid feelings for my best friend, for you.”

You let out a bitter chuckle. “Having feelings for me is stupid?” You asked, obviously offended by Emily’s choice of words.

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Do you need to look up synonyms for stupid?”

“Y/N, please -”

“I never should have asked. Let’s just forget this happened.”

“Y/N, that’s not what I mean. You know that.”

“No, I don’t!” You couldn’t control the frustration in your voice anymore. “I don’t understand why you keep pushing and pulling me around. You already did this to me when we were in Rome. When anyone came near me, you drove them away. You called me amore mio for months but got awkward the minute I called you mine. You almost kissed me once when we sneaked out for John’s birthday. You told me then that if I was a boy, I’d be the love of your life. Did you know it was killing me, Emily?” Your voice was already trembling and your lips quivering. You blinked a few times to stop the tears that were threatening to fall. Emily’s eyes remained on you. “It was killing me because I would have loved you so much if you had let me.”

Emily reached out for your hand but you were quick to retract it. You wiped your cheeks of the wet proof of the agonizing pain you were feeling.

“I won’t bother you with my stupid feelings anymore.” You muttered before storming back to your room.

—

The days passed by excruciatingly fast. You only had two weeks to study for your upcoming finals and the lack of sleep every night and the intense headaches weren’t helping your cause.

Your dorm room has been quiet since your fall out with Emily. You did your best to avoid her at all costs. When she’s in the kitchen, you’d stay in the living room until she’s done and when she’s in the living room, you’d sprint to the kitchen. You caught her glancing at you a few times but you quickly averted your eyes each time.

JJ came over to study with you two nights before your finals. She was running on coffee and you on energy drinks. Penelope was supposed to go study with you too but sleep seduced her early.

“Where’s Emily?” JJ asked.

You only shrugged in reply.

“Are you in a lovers' quarrel or something?”

“No, we’re not lovers.”

“Ah, but you guys fought?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it, JJ.”

“You like her, don’t you?”

Aside from being a good people reader, JJ has this crazy instinct. You hate it sometimes.

“Still don’t wanna talk about it.” You said. JJ respected that but you knew she would ask again one of these days.

JJ concentrated on one subject and made an outline to share with you once she’d finished. You did the same on a different subject that you shared. You exchanged notes and bounced different ideas and knowledge with each other. Eventually, the caffeine wore off. JJ drifted off, curled in a fetal position on the floor. You followed her five minutes later.

—

Emily had been spending more time at the library and coffee shop to study. She couldn’t concentrate at the dorm and being in close proximity with you. Every time Emily sees you, the gnawing ache in her chest grows. And no matter how many times she had gone over head about what’s the right thing to say, she couldn’t trust herself to not fuck it up and mess things up even more.

She came home around midnight. She unlocked the door and opened it as quietly as possible, as she was afraid she might wake you. She knew you liked studying in the living room because your room felt small.

Tonight you weren’t alone though. Emily saw a friendly blonde lying on the floor with you. You weren’t cuddling, Emily was somehow relieved of that. But there was a tightness in her chest that she couldn't get rid of. Her jaw clenched at the sight. She’s not mad at you or her. There was a part of her that wanted to come in between the both of you just so there will be space. It was too close and Emily envied that. It wasn’t long ago that she was the one lying beside you. In your bed. With her arms wrapped around you.

Emily missed you.

When Emily lied in bed, she tried to redirect her thoughts on the topics she memorized in hopes of reciting them again but the thought of you occupied her mind. Every toss and turn in her bed, there was you; in Rome, in your bed, in her bed, in the kitchen, in the living room, at the campus.

For the first time in a long time, Emily allowed her mind to travel back to the Catholic international school in Rome where she first met you.

The uniform was ridiculously prude; skirt too long, vest too thick, socks too high. You stood out to Emily on the first day back in class after a week break in November. The pink streaks underneath your hair caught the headmistress’ attention and lectured you in front of the class. She asked you to dye it back to your natural hair color. You argued that your hair can’t affect your studies but the headmistress was firm and asserted that it was a matter of discipline, that if you couldn’t obey authority then you’d grow up to be a badly behaved person and bad people do not go to heaven.

After the first period, Emily saw you in the hallway. You were talking to two boys and judging by their uniforms, Emily guessed they were a year older. You were too busy ranting to the boys and rolling your eyes to notice that you were leaning against Emily’s locker.

“Excuse me. I just need to get to my locker,” she spoke. You glanced at her and apologized. The three of you moved aside and got back to your conversation. After Emily dropped her books to her locker, she spoke again, “It’s not true, you know.”

Your eyes met Emily’s, bringing your conversation to a halt. “What is?” You asked.

“You’re not gonna be a bad person just because you have pink streaks on your hair.” She pursed her lips. “Or that you’re not gonna go to heaven.”

“Exactly!” The taller boy tapped Emily’s shoulder in agreement. “I told you, Y/N.” He turned to Emily. “What’s your name?”

“Emily. Emily Prentiss.”

“John Cooley.” He and Emily shook hands then he pointed to the other boy, “This is Matthew Benton.” Matthew waved his hand. “And you two have been acquainted, I suppose?”

Emily nodded.

“Thanks, Emily.” You uttered. “Do you want to join us for lunch?”

Emily smiled. “I’d love that.”

Emily learned that you’re neighbors with Matthew and John. She didn’t like hanging out with boys but they eventually grew on her and so did you. Due to being raised by her mother, Emily has always been a strict rule follower, no matter how ridiculous the rules are. But Emily found freedom in you, Matthew and John. Emily wasn’t afraid of herself, of being herself.

You were on vacation with your family during the Easter break. John was on a trip with his father. Matthew’s family devoted their time to church and stayed home. She only had Matthew to spend time with during the break.

“Matthew,” Emily gripped his arm. “Matthew, I need your help.”

“What is it?”

“I … there are two things I want to tell you but promise me, you won’t tell anybody else. Not even Y/N or John.”

Matthew looked at her with deep concern in his eyes. “You’re scaring me. What is it?”

“I think I’m in love with her.”

Matthew huffed a laugh. Even without mentioning your name, Matthew knew. It was obvious. “You think?”

“I… I don’t know. Isn’t it wrong to feel this way?”

Matthew sighed. “You know what I think? I think love is only wrong if it’s not true.”

“But … we’re both girls. That’s forbidden.”

“Emily, the world is big. You won’t be confined in that school forever.”

Emily knew that. It probably won’t be long before she has to transfer again. But if she accepted this now, if she accepted this part of herself, everything would change. And although change was the only constant thing in her life, she wasn’t ready for this one yet.

“What’s the second thing?”

“I’m pregnant.” Tears welled up in Emily’s eyes, hands shaking both from the snow and the panic coursing her veins. “I… I don’t want it. I just … I tried because I wanted to know if it was possible that I’d be attracted to a boy but I’m not.” Emily buried her face on her palms. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing is wrong with you, Emily. Nothing.” Matthew hugged her tight, telling her everything’s going to be okay and promised that he will help her.

He accompanied Emily to the church for some advice. The priest told her she wouldn’t be welcomed back to the congregation if she got an abortion.

Matthew had always found reason through his faith in God. His family was devoted Catholics and so was he. But there’s only much faith he can put in God if his own people wouldn’t even at least try to understand his friend. If God’s love is unconditional, shouldn’t it manifest in his church and its people?

Four weeks into the pregnancy, Matthew found an abortion clinic. He held Emily’s hand, promising he would be waiting for her, that everything will be fine.

Everything was fine now but Matthew was gone.

Emily wondered if she told you everything, would you still accept her? Would everything be different? Would you hate her?

—

The semester ended yesterday. You were packing your things to go back home and take a well-deserved break. JJ had already gone home last night and Penelope went home with Derek, leaving you the last to go.

Well, except Emily.

Her bedroom door was open. She wasn’t packed yet and it looked like she wasn’t planning to. She had Chinese takeout boxes laying on her bed. You could hear the movie she was watching but couldn’t make out what language it was. Most probably French. Emily loved watching French movies.

It’s been weeks since you last spoke to each other. You avoided each other long enough for it to be a routine. It felt like you’ve been living with a ghost.

You took a deep breath and softly knocked on the door. Emily looked up to you and paused her eating. “Hey, what’s up?”

“I’m going home.”

“Oh. Uh, take care.”

“Thanks.” You forced a smile. “When are you leaving?”

“For what?”

“For the semester break.”

“Uh, I have no plans. My mother’s in Ukraine.”

“So you’re staying here?” Emily nodded. “The dorms will close next week though.”

“I’ll figure it out.”

You didn’t know what came on to you when you blurted out, “You can come home with me if you want. My parents just moved to our farmhouse.”

Emily stared at you for a minute, contemplating whether you’re joking or not. “Are you sure?” She asked. She was skeptical knowing what happened the last time you talked.

“I’m still mad,” You reminded her. “But I don’t want you to be alone.”

“Are you leaving now?”

“I can give you an hour to pack.”

Emily felt the tightness in her chest loosen out of the blue. Now that you’re talking to her again, she can finally breathe. “Okay.”

—

You and Emily arrived at your parents’ house just in time to watch the sunset. The view was magnificent from the driveway.

“It’s beautiful,” Emily breathed, looking up at the heavenly hues of the sky. “Was it always like this?”

“Yes,” you answered. “It’s more beautiful after the rain. Sometimes a rainbow appears.”

Emily’s eyes glistened as the sun set. For a moment, you forgot that you’re not exactly on great terms with her yet.

Your father was the first one to greet you the moment you entered the living room. He ran and lifted you in a tight hug. “I missed you, kid!”

“I missed you too, pa.”

“Who’s this?”

“Pa, this is Emily. She’s my friend.”

“Nice to meet you, sir.” Your father and Emily shook hands. “The view outside is just gorgeous.”

“Well, I hope the inside won’t disappoint you.”

Emily chuckled. “Your home is lovely, sir.”

“Well, look who it is!” Your mom quickly descended the stairs.

“Ma!” You ran to your mother and she welcomed you in a tight embrace. “I missed you.”

“Always a mama’s girl that one,” your father whispered to Emily and she grinned.

—

It only took ten minutes for your mom to figure it out.

“I know that look.” Your mother told you when you were alone in the kitchen. She was cooking your favorite stew while you were preparing the ingredients for your mother’s cookie recipe.

“What look?”

“The look.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ma.”

“I saw the way you were looking at her through the window. It’s the same look your father and I give each other.”

“You mean cheesy and disgusting?” You smirked. To your surprise, your mother smacked the back of your head. “Ouch! What was that for?”

“Tell her you like her before I smack you again.”

“Stop saying nonsense, Ma. I don’t like her.”

“Keep telling yourself that and you’ll lose your chance.”

“I already told her,” you confessed defeatedly. “She doesn’t like me that way.”

“Are you sure? Or was she just scared?”

You shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. If she doesn't want to be with me, it’s fine.”

“She’s here with you now.”

“It’s different, Ma. She’s got nowhere to go. We’re not together together.”

“Ah, you kids.” She shook her head in disappointment. “Making everything complicated.”

“And it’s not like homophobia has gone extinct, Ma.”

Your mother sighed and pulled you for a hug. “We will love who you love, honey. I don’t fucking care about what the world says.”

You smiled against her chest. “Fucking thanks, Ma.” That earned you another smack. “You said it first!”

—

It’s been seven days at your farmhouse. Your mother and father taught you and Emily all about gardening. You were impressed by their growing orchard on the back of the house. To think that they had just retired from being federal agents four months ago and started this whole thing a month after retirement.

Emily had an easy time adjusting and getting along with your family. Aside from your parents, she also met your parents' orange cat, Denver. Denver didn’t like to cuddle with you but would snuggle with Emily. You didn’t take it personally. Emily was simply a cat person. She used to feed the stray cats outside your school when you were in Rome.

“Emily’s nice.” Your father said abruptly one night when you were on the couch with him and your mother. Emily called it a night and headed to the guest room. She was tired from all the gardening with your parents.

“She is,” your mother agreed.

“Stop it. Both of you.”

“So when did you start dating, honey?”

“Pa, we’re not dating.”

“You’re not?” Your father looked at you unbelievably. Then he turned to your mother. “They’re not?”

“You know kids these days. It’s never simple.”

“Stop talking about me as if I’m not sitting right here.”

“Our daughter is hopeless.” Your mother sighed.

—

A knock on the door startled you awake. You opened the door and Emily was standing there with bloodshot eyes. She obviously had another nightmare and from the looks of it, it was worse than what you witnessed before.

“Are you okay?” You ran your hand up and down her arm. “Do you need anything?”

“Can I stay with you tonight?”

“Sure,” you replied unhesitatingly.

You took the left side of the bed and Emily on the right. You put a long pillow in between.

“Y/N.” It was weak and soft but you heard her call.

“Yeah?”

Emily swallowed hard. “Can I … can I talk to you about it?”

You turned the night lamp back on and set it to dim light then you turned around to face Emily. She was picking on her nails, a bad habit she had since you’ve known her. You gently stroke her wrist to get her to stop. She did. She intertwined your hands together instead.

“You can tell me anything and everything, Em.” You squeezed her hand. “Even if it didn’t feel like it recently, I’m still your friend.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I had a dream about Matthew.” Emily let out a shaky breath. “He blamed me for what happened to him.”

“It wasn’t your fault. Matthew was a troubled boy.”

“And that’s because he met me.”

“Emily, you can’t think that.”

“But it’s true.” She insisted. “I want to tell you for so long. It’s eating me up.”

“So, tell me. I’m right here. No matter what.”

Her grip on your hand tightened as if pleading you not to run, not to leave.

“I got pregnant in Rome.” Emily confessed, almost in one breath but you caught it. Your hand still hadn’t left hers. “It was with a boy I experimented with so I could forget about the way I felt about you. I wanted to know if I could still be attracted to a boy and I tried. It happened but I felt so bad about it the next day and I never saw him again.”

“Did he force you? Did he do something you’re not comfortable with?” Emily shook her head and you sighed deeply in relief.

“I told Matthew about it during the Easter break. I asked for advice at church and the priest told me that getting abortion was a wrong thing and I won’t be welcome to come back to the congregation. But Matthew … he was angry. He started questioning his beliefs. He said that if God’s love is unconditional, why is it not manifested in the church and its people?”

“And he was right, Emily. Religious people are the most hypocritical of them all.”

“Matthew found an abortion clinic. He stayed with me until the procedure was done. He cared for me and I killed him.” Emily sobbed on the pillow separating you.

“You didn’t kill Matthew, Emily.” You reassured her, stroking her face. “Look at me. You didn’t kill Matthew. He was ill. His family was overly strict and religious. When he started questioning the congregation, his family was embarrassed. They didn’t like Matthew asking questions and having his own opinions. They didn’t listen to him. All that family cared about was worshiping the Lord and guilt tripping everyone else that didn’t align with their so-called beliefs. Matthew was different from them. He was a much better person than both his parents combined.”

“You - you’re not angry?”

You shook your head. “I just wish you had told me back then. I could’ve been there for you. Just like Matthew was.” You removed the pillow in between. You wrapped your arms around Emily and pulled her in, taking her in as close as possible to you. Whatever you felt during your fight had vanished completely. There was just Emily.

Emily, who had a hard time fitting in when she was fifteen.

Emily, who told you you’re not going to hell just because of the pink streak in your hair.

Emily, who became your best friend..

Emily, who you adored wholeheartedly and loved intensely.

Emily. Emily. Emily.

Her name was your lifeline.

“I love you, Y/N.”

It wasn’t said casually nor carelessly. It was anything but those things.

It wasn’t spur of the moment. It was the moment.

It was deliberate, careful. It was a confession, a promise.

Most of all, it was the truth. And the truth was liberating.

“I tried to stop myself from feeling this way but I can’t. I don’t want to fight it anymore. Amore mio, my heart is yours,” Emily took your hand to her chest, where her heart is caged and beating just as fast as yours were. “It’s yours to keep; yours to break; yours to make whatever of it.”

“And mine has always been yours, Emily.”

You can’t really tell since when. Loving Emily was the most natural thing. You couldn’t even remember a day that you didn’t love her since you started loving her. You just do.

Emily was tired of overthinking it. She leaned forward and closed the gap between your lips. Her hands gently cupped your cheeks. Your hand rested on her shoulder.

Emily was kissing you.

She was finally kissing you.

Passionately.

Tenderly.

Slowly.

Desperate I love you’s exchanged between both of your lips.

This couldn’t be wrong, Emily thought. Not when it was the most right Emily ever felt in her life.

143 notes · View notes

lovehungrybean · 10 days

Text

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (8/?)

Part summary: Leigh heads off to Palm Springs with Danny, while you grapple with what to do about your feelings for her.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader, temporary Leigh x Danny | Word count for this part: 5.000+ | Warnings : Slight angst | Author's Note: No, I did not forget about Danny still not being honest with Leigh and R not tattling on Danny. Just let these loose ends dangle for a while. Anyway, enjoy! :)

The morning after you gave Leigh a puppy for her birthday, your phone is flooded with texts from her, filled with questions ranging from vaccine schedules to the best chew toys. She shares a story about how Rogue, their previous dog, had always been Matt’s, and how she often felt left out of his care. Now, with Logan, she feels a full sense of ownership and is eager to get everything right.

You still flinch slightly whenever she mentions her late husband. It’s as if she forgets that you and Matt had something significant too, as if you weren't once the secret he kept close. Sometimes, you wish you could just erase his presence, simplify everything about your relationship with Leigh.

But you recognize that it’s selfish to wish him away, because Matt was a significant part of Leigh’s life, a major influence on who she has become. And who she is today is a lovely person—someone you've come to admire very deeply.

[6:20 AM] Leigh: Logan’s an angel, slept through the night.

[6:35 AM] Leigh: So, house training... how do I make sure Logan doesn’t turn my bed into his personal bathroom like he did five seconds ago?

You grimace at the message, picturing the hassle of laundering the sheets and possibly needing to call a cleaning service for the mattress.

[6:54 AM] Leigh: And shots? Rogue was all up to date because Matt was on it, but I’m clueless. Where do I start?

As you work your espresso machine, a grin spreads across your face, the kind that makes you feel like a complete fool but in the best possible way.

[6:56 AM] You: Good morning! You’re lucky I don’t bill for text consultations 😆

You typically charge $18 for a twenty-minute chat with a client.

[6:58 AM] Leigh: Oh. How much do I owe you? I want to pay.

Your smile falters a little at her missing your joke.

[6:58 AM] You: I was just kidding. Your texts are more than welcome, Leigh.

Feeling bold, you follow that up with something you've been wanting to make clear since last night.

[6:59 AM] You: This is what friends are for, right?

Waiting for Leigh’s reply feels like an eternity, and you're about to send another text to walk back your hint at friendship when your phone vibrates.

[7:00 AM] Leigh: I’d feel better paying. Can I drop by the clinic later?

Reading her message, you're hit with a rush—excited at the thought of seeing her, yet downhearted she's talking about paying, as if that's what's between you. But then, those little typing dots appear. You're practically holding your breath.

[7:00 AM] Leigh: We’re friends, which is why I’m paying.

It's a good thing you don't have a roommate, or else you'd never get away with grinning like an idiot at your phone. It's a bit ridiculous, you think, how high school this all feels—waiting for a glimpse, a moment, anything.

[7:01 AM] You: Absolutely, come by anytime. Looking forward to it 🙂

You hit send and lean back, trying to act like you didn't just have a mini celebration over a text.

And then, spurred by Leigh texting you first thing in the morning, you decide to add her on your social media accounts. You spend an extra fifteen minutes getting ready that morning, simply because you lingered longer in the shower, listening to songs that remind you of Leigh and how this crush is dangerously close to becoming something uncontainable.

[10:13 AM] Notification: Leigh accepted your friend request.

As it turns out, Leigh is a serial texter.

It’s odd, really. For someone who might come across as reclusive and somewhat untouchable, she is surprisingly talkative over text. The messages start coming in more frequently after this morning's exchange, just moments after you've finally left home to drive to your clinic. What's even more interesting is that this time, they're not about Logan.

And they’re all unusually random and unrelated to one another: memes that make you laugh out loud, articles on topics ranging from the philosophical implications of artificial intelligence to the best way to juicing recipes. You find yourself waiting for these messages, eager to see what tangent Leigh's mind has wandered off to now. You get into it, dissecting the articles she sends over with the seriousness of a scholar. You type back your thoughts, trying to sound as insightful as possible, maybe even a bit witty, hoping to impress her. You imagine this might be her way of initiating deeper, intellectual conversations between you two.

So, when you send back a paragraph or two analyzing the latest article she's shared, maybe touching on its impacts on modern society or offering a counterpoint to the author's thesis, Leigh's responses aren’t what you expect. Instead of engaging with the discussion, she sends a simple thumbs-up emoji or, even more baffling, a random factoid about her day, like her opinion on the Kani salad from a sushi bar near the Beautiful Beast gym.

[12:15 PM] Leigh: [sent a photo] Just some store-bought crab sticks and diluted mayo. Don’t try it. Their saké though is 👌👌👌

You wonder why she’s having Japanese rice wine this early in the day.

[12:22 PM] You: Thanks for the heads up. I know a place for authentic Japanese food. You want to check it out with me some time?

Your text remains unseen for the rest of the afternoon.

You find yourself staring intently at the wall clock in your clinic, keenly aware of each minute slipping by, and with it, the dwindling chance of Leigh arriving before the doors lock for the day. As it nears 8 in the evening, Suzie is already wrapped up in her end-of-day tasks across the lobby. Leaning your cheek on your palm, you watch blankly as she meticulously arranges her desk, perfectly aligning each item, then moves on to gently pull the blinds closed on each window.

Suzie’s not blind. She throws you these knowing glances every time you let out one of your heavy sighs. Finally, after you've probably sighed loud enough to be heard next door, she stops what she's doing and plants herself in front of you.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

You try to look puzzled. “Nothing. Why?”

Suzie rolls her eyes. “Please, you’ve been mooning over that clock and sighing like you’re carrying the world on your shoulders. What’s up?”

You crack a smile, partly at her description, partly from being caught moping like a lovesick teenager. “It’s just… I thought maybe Leigh would come by. She said she would,” you say, wincing at yourself when the last part comes out a bit whiny.

Without missing a beat, Suzie pivots from her closing duties and makes her way over to you.

She’s not delicate with you this time. “You’re doing that thing again. Waiting around for something that’s probably not gonna happen. It’s not doing you any good.”

You know she's hitting the nail on the head, but it's tough to swallow.

Suzie continues, “You're young, you're attractive, and it's honestly weird that you're pining over your ex's ex. At first, I thought it was kind of adorable, in a bizarre, romantic-comedy kind of way. But now, it's like you're always hung up and disappointed.”

“Thanks for saying I’m young when I’m five years older than you,” you say with a sheepish smile, hiding your disappointment that she isn’t saying the things you want to hear, such as the possibility that Leigh just got busy.

Suzie shakes her head in disapproval. She's fed up, and her next words aren't going to be sugar-coated. “Snap out of it!” she barks, the command hitting you like a cold splash of water, and you jerk back in your chair, wide-eyed. Seeing you shrink back, quivering, she softens a bit and shifts back to the harmless receptionist you’re used to.

“Look at me, Y/N,” Suzie says, ensuring she has your full attention. You manage to meet her gaze, even though your eyelids feel heavy. “It's not fair to Leigh, either. You're giving meaning to everything she does—or doesn't do. It's putting her in an impossible situation. And honestly, it's not fair to you. You're missing out on your own life, waiting for someone who... well, who might never show up the way you want her to.”

Suzie knows she’s being tough, but sometimes love means being the friend who won’t let you settle for anything less than you deserve.

“I hear you, okay? It’s just… it’s the way I’m wired. I latch onto a person like a leech, refusing to let go until I see it through,” you mutter, shielding your face with your hands, a bit ashamed to even say it out loud. You get so tunnel-visioned, missing out on maybe better things and experiences because you're stuck on one track. You fall hard for your choices, never by chance.

“Good. You know what’s wrong with you,” Suzie says softly.

You let out a weak chuckle, the sound tinged with a bit of self-mockery. You're half-hidden behind your hands, peeking out at Suzie as if she's got all the answers. Suzie pries your fingers away from your face and then pinches your cheek so hard, you start to whine a bit.

“Ow! What was that for?” you protest, rubbing your assaulted cheek.

“That's for being a pathetic little bitch.”

“Excuse me, I'm still the one signing your paychecks,” you shoot back, trying to sound offended but it’s hard to keep a straight face.

“Sure thing, boss,” she laughs, and you join in.

“Okay, so what do you suggest I do then?” you ask as the last of your chuckles die down.

“Go on a date,” comes her swift response. “All that stuff they say about love finding you when you're not looking? Biggest lie ever.”

You look at her curiously, assessing her physical features. “W-With you?”

“Dude, no! Not with me!” Suzie exclaims, laughing nervously. “I mean, sure, I'd take you out if you weren't my boss, but I don't see that happening anytime soon unless you fire me.”

“Got it, got it,” you say, still chuckling. Suzie realizes too late that you were just teasing her and huffs. “Not with you. But seriously, go on a date? Just like that?”

“Yeah. Just meet someone.”

“You make it sound like it’s easy.”

“Because it is,” she says with a shrug. “Here. Give me your phone.”

Leigh doesn’t know what to do with the fact that you may or may not have feelings for her.

So, she does what she does best: Pretend.

Leigh pretends you’re not EspressoEyes. In her mind, it could just be a coincidence, and you might not be the person who wrote to her advice column. Without any concrete evidence, she holds onto this notion, using it as a shield to fend off the uncertainties and doubts that would follow if she believed otherwise.

Leigh pretends because she needs your help to figure out how to care for Logan. Because maybe she wants to be friends. When you join her for a run, you don’t press for conversation, a rare companion who's not afraid of silence. Having you around feels like having Matt around, in a way that she's reminded of him when you talk about the same things you like, the same books you've read, and the same music you listen to.

Leigh pretends it doesn’t bother her in case you are EspressoEyes. She’s no stranger to turning heads as she walks down the street, accustomed to the attention. There's a certain power in being desired, and Leigh revels in it. But the idea of you liking her doesn't quite make sense to her; it's like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. It’s not because you’re a woman—she’s been with women before. What Leigh can't wrap her head around is that you, of all people, could actually be into her. After all, she hasn’t exactly been her most charming self since you two met. Even her best friend is keeping a cautious distance. She’s been wearing down the people closest to her, those who are supposed to like her the most.

And this bewilderment doesn't sit well with Leigh. She is someone who thrives on understanding, on knowing where she stands with people and why. So, when pretending isn’t enough, she does what she does second-best: Avoid.

She must have been waiting in her car outside your clinic for the better part of the evening, debating with herself about what to do next. She's parked just out of view, positioned so she can see the clinic entrance without being too conspicuous. She hasn't eaten dinner yet, her stomach growling, but she remains glued to her spot across from where she knows you're waiting for her.

Ever since you subtly asked her out through text, she’s been on edge, second-guessing her actions (texting and sharing posts on the internet with you all morning, what was she thinking?) and wondering what they might have meant to you. Leigh didn’t mean to leave you hanging—she did come to your clinic, sort of. She remembers typing out a response to you, something witty and non-committal, but her finger hovered over the ‘send’ button before pulling back. It felt like too much, too soon. She needed time to think, to figure out why the idea of checking out authentic Japanese food with you left her feeling so conflicted inside.

Leigh's guilt gnaws at her as she sits there, wrestling with how to extricate herself without causing further confusion—or worse, hurt. Eventually, it all comes to a head. She finally gives in, typing out a message to you on her phone with a shaky urgency.

[7:53 PM] Leigh: I'm so sorry, something came up. I can't make it to the clinic after all.

Your reply comes quickly, much to her astonishment, especially since she hadn't opened your message all afternoon.

[7:54 PM] You: It's fine, don't worry about it. I can have Logan's supplies delivered to your place if that works better for you.

Reading your text, Leigh bites her lip, another surge of guilt washing over her. Your kindness, your willingness to accommodate her, only complicates this predicament further.

[7:54 PM] Leigh: Yes, that would be great, thank you.

[7:54 PM] Leigh: How much do I owe you?

As she starts nibbling at her cuticle, Leigh is eager to resolve at least the financial aspect of her obligation. Though she knows she owes you so much more than just Logan’s supplies.

[7:56 PM] You: Like I said, it's on the house. But just this time ☺️

It’s still too generous. But Leigh knows better than to argue further, concerned that insisting might hurt your feelings.

[7:56 PM] Leigh: Thank you. I won’t forget this.

[7:57 PM] You: 😊😊😊

Leigh sighs, remembering her promise that you could visit Logan anytime. She hopes you won’t take her up on that offer too soon, at least not until she has a chance to sort herself out.

Danny isn’t too bad once you get to know him. That's what Leigh learns after more than two months of dating him.

Initially, Leigh wasn't sure what to make of Danny. Their shared wit and sarcasm often put them at odds, like two alphas vying for the upper hand, each one not willing to back down, always aiming for the last word. Yet, in their calmer moments, when the competitive edge fades and they're just enjoying each other's company, Leigh finds something unexpectedly comforting about being with him. He has this confidence about himself that Matt never had, knowing exactly what he wants—and that's her. His straightforward approach makes everything about being with him feel predictable. And lately, she's starting to see predictability as a good thing, a sign of stability. This is a welcome change from the uncertainty that often left her anxious about the future. Plus, all these traits spill over into the bedroom, making the sex between them feel effortless and satisfying in a way she’s never experienced before.

Despite all this, there are days when Leigh finds herself merely tolerating Danny's affections. A part of her remains tightly locked, still bruised from losing Matt, and she's not sure if those doors should—or even can—open again. To compensate, she often says yes when she can, whenever her mood permits her to be giving and amenable.

And it is exactly why she says yes when Danny asks her to go to Palm Springs with him this weekend.

The getaway feels like an extended lazy morning where the concept of time blurs into insignificance. They drift from one hotel restaurant to another, luxuriating in the art of doing absolutely nothing. This routine isn't new to them; it’s the same one they slip into whether they’re at Danny’s apartment or Leigh’s place—only now, the scenery is different, and the sheets they tangle in are expensively soft, boasting a thread count far beyond anything either of them owns at home.

They're lounging by the pool, sipping Margaritas—Leigh with a book in hand and Danny absorbed in his phone—when your name comes up in conversation.

“So, how are things between you and Y/N?” Danny asks, not looking up from his phone.

Leigh stiffens slightly. She carefully moderates her tone, her face schooled into an expression of indifference as she marks her page and looks over at him. “What about me and Y/N?”

“I don't know... are you guys friends now?”

If Leigh weren’t so preoccupied with her own personal concerns about you, she might have recognized the underlying worry his question poses. What he's actually trying to figure out is whether you've come clean to Leigh about his role in Matt’s secret affair with you.

“Yeah, I guess we are,” she says. To say otherwise would be a lie, because you’ve been nothing but good to her. Danny seems satisfied with this answer, nodding before returning his attention to his phone.

“Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering,” he mumbles. He's back to mindless scrolling, but Leigh can sense the tension from two feet away.

“No, tell me,” Leigh insists, placing her book on the side table between them with a definitive thud. Danny mirrors her actions, setting his phone face down and turning to her with a seriousness that clashes with their otherwise relaxed afternoon.

“I just don't get why you'd be friends with Matt's mistress,” he blurts out suddenly.

Leigh is taken aback. They've never fully discussed what transpired between you and Matt, so she hadn't realized he was paying such close attention to her interactions with you. Believing that he wasn't privy to all the details, she quickly jumps to your defense.

“Y/N didn’t even know Matt was married to me,” she explains, trying to clarify the misunderstanding and protect your integrity.

“Yeah? And you just took her word for it?” Danny doesn’t bother to hide his skepticism, and it irks Leigh more than usual. She doesn't understand why every conversation with Danny has to turn into a challenge or an argument.

“There’s no evidence to suggest otherwise,” Leigh replies, her voice tightening as she struggles to keep her frustration in check. “I mean, I even went through your phone to see what Matt had been saying to you, and there was nothing there indicating that Y/N knew he was married.”

Danny feels a lump form in his throat. Fortunately for him, Matt hadn't mentioned anything in their texts about Danny being Nick either. He has been debating whether to disclose his role in everything to Leigh. But things between them have gotten serious, and Danny's not so sure he should come clean. Part of him wants to delay—perhaps until they are married with kids, when he's more certain that Leigh won't leave him over a past mistake.

“Look, I'm not saying don’t trust her, but... she used to be in love with Matt, right? You don't think there's a chance she resents you even a little?”

Leigh stops for a second, Danny's words prompting her to consider aspects she hadn't really thought about before. Wrapped up in her own insecurities, jealousy, and pain when she discovered the truth about you, she had never stopped to consider your perspective—how you might have felt learning that the man you had feelings for was married. Did you feel just as fooled and stung as she did? The thought bounces around her head for a moment. From what she can recall, nothing in your behavior has ever suggested that you're a bitter ex. But then, what if you're just exceptionally good at masking your feelings?

Do you really like her, or is it all an act—a scheme?

But then, she remembers the night you gave her Logan, how your smile was nothing but warm, your eyes bright with something that, looking back, Leigh realizes might have been admiration. Not even Danny looks at her like that, whose gaze is always bridling yearning and a desire to possess. Leigh shakes her head, almost laughing at the thought of Danny being right about you.

“Danny, honestly,” Leigh finally says, trying to put an end to the discussion, “if what you're saying is true, I can handle it myself.” It seems the quickest way to close this topic, knowing that debating it could easily consume their entire afternoon and completely derail the purpose of their vacation.

“But doesn't it hurt, having her around? Like a reminder that Matt went for someone else?” He's playing on a different fear now, not questioning your integrity, but poking at the scars Leigh's tried so hard to heal.

Leigh wants to admit the pain never went away. She’s merely learned to co-exist with it. It's like the weather for her: on some days, her mind is a landscape of clear skies, but when the storm hits, it's relentless. For now, she chooses to keep this pain private, unwilling to give anyone the leverage to use it against her or even attempt to fix her. It's her burden to bear, and hers alone.

“No,” Leigh answers, reaching for her book again. “I don’t see it that way anymore.”

Leigh ends her nearly year-long social media hiatus by posting a series of photos from her Palm Springs vacation with Danny. Sharing such personal moments publicly is uncharacteristic for her, especially given her minimal online presence over the past months. Maybe it felt like sending a message to everyone that she’s doing okay. That they can go back to seeing her as just Leigh again—a single, actively dating woman in her early thirties—not as the young widow she was in her late twenties.

Danny's friends are the first to swarm the comments. They tag Danny, peppering the feed with teasing remarks, their comments ranging from jokes about the desert heat to compliments on the couple's sun-drenched physique. It's all typical, light-hearted friend banter, until one comment sharply disrupts the mood:

“Yo, isn't that your brother's wife?”

Leigh deletes the comment within seconds of seeing it.

A few hours later, you ‘like’ her post. Leigh's eyes fix unblinkingly on the notification. She's been idly wondering if you'd seen the post, and now, you’ve confirmed it yourself. But what does that ‘like’ mean?

Is it a nod of approval, a silent indication that you're happy for her? Regardless of what it means, Leigh discovers she was sending another message—one that’s exclusively for you. It tells you that whether you're EspressoEyes, whether you harbor any feelings for her or not, it no longer matters.

She's with Danny now.

Returning from Palm Springs, Leigh feels different—like she’s turned a corner or something. She feels refreshed, and she wants to take on something, such as Drew’s grievances about her advice column. She picks one to start with, something about anniversary ideas, and she's got the perfect story for this.

It was one of those anniversaries with Matt, the kind that stands out from the rest of his surprises because it's so quintessentially him—albeit a little nerdy. He took her away from the city's glare to a secluded spot where the sky was a blanket of stars, untainted by artificial light. After laying out a rug for them to both settle on, he began the painstaking process of setting up a rather complex telescope. It took him nearly an hour, but the wait just made the moment even more special. With the telescope finally ready, Matt pulled out this old, crinkly constellation map and started hunting for one specific star. It was one of the last times Leigh remembered them being truly happy—deeply in love, free from the shadows of Matt’s depression, Leigh’s instinct to fix things, and the small lies that slowly eroded their relationship.

When he finally located it, he excitedly guided her to peer through the telescope. There it is—a tiny speck of light, but it's theirs. Matt turned to her with a bashful smile and revealed that he had 'bought' that star for her.

Leigh shares this story with her reader, emphasizing that it's about understanding what truly moves your partner. For her, it was that star—simple, unexpected, and insanely romantic. She tells her reader to find that one-of-a-kind thing, that personal touch that says “I love you” in a way that can only come from them. Just like Matt did with a star and a starry night.

It's only after she closes her laptop that Leigh realizes tears have been streaming down her face.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

It takes a moment to recognize who you've just bumped into. This encounter isn't as jarring as the last; it’s merely a brush of shoulders as you both maneuver to avoid incoming traffic. That ‘incoming traffic’ turns out to be none other than Leigh Shaw.

She's beaming up at you, and it looks genuine despite the sparse interactions since she last canceled on you. You’re still catching your breath, your heart racing from the speed of your run and something else entirely.

“At least I didn’t make you crash on the pavement this time. I'd say that’s significant progress,” you quip, drawing a soft laugh from Leigh. Last week, you made the firm decision to compartmentalize your feelings for Leigh, resolving to see her strictly as a friend. Yet, when faced with reality, such resolutions seem trivial, particularly when that reality includes Leigh smiling at you with her effortlessly charming grin—a smile that, despite your best efforts, still sends a familiar flutter through your stomach and makes your knees feel like they're made of something much less solid than bone.

“Speaking of progress, Logan’s due for his vaccines this week, right?” You remember the schedule clearly, not just because you’re good with dates, but because Logan has become somewhat of a shared responsibility between the two of you—or at least that’s how you still see it.

“Oh, right. I promise I'll swing by. No bailing this time,” she says, chuckling, but there’s a serious undertone that tells you she’s committed to making good on her word this time.

“You better not,” you tease, “Can’t have Logan missing his shots. He’s still very young, and it’s critical we build up his protection against—”

“I won’t, Doctor,” Leigh cuts in, giving you a playful salute that makes you blush. “So, where are you off to after this? I was actually about to grab some donuts for breakfast—”

Leigh pauses mid-sentence as a woman appears at your side. She’s stunning—slightly taller than Leigh, clad in a sports bra and tight yoga pants, with sneakers on her feet. An absolute goddess; even Leigh can’t resist a quick, appreciative glance.

“Who's this?” the woman asks with a British accent, adding the perfect touch to her 5-foot-7 frame.

“This is Leigh,” you introduce quickly, noting the surprise in Leigh's expression. “Leigh, this is Sara.”

“Lovely to meet you,” Sara says warmly, extending her hand. Leigh shakes it, though her movements are somewhat mechanical. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh?” Leigh’s smile is strained. “Nice to meet you, too.”

You quickly steer the topic back to Leigh's breakfast plan, asking where the donut place is. “It's just down that street,” Leigh points vaguely, but then stops short. Almost as an afterthought, she adds, “Actually, I just remembered I've got to pick up something from the laundromat.”

You frown, thrown by her sudden change of tune. “Are you sure? We could grab a bite after the run.”

“No, really, I should get going. Maybe next time!” Leigh replies hastily, already stepping back, her exit swift and decisive. As she hurries away, you're left there, watching her leave, trying to figure out what flipped her mood from happy to wanting to escape so quickly.

“Shall we?” Sara nudges you gently, already jogging in place.

You give Sara a nod, but as you start running, you can't help but sneak one last look back. Leigh is quick to put distance between herself and the park. With a sigh, you turn your full attention back to Sara, who’s already picking up the pace, chatting about a new trail she wants to try next weekend.

“Let's go,” you mutter, mostly to yourself, as you push your legs to match her pace.

Meanwhile, Leigh walks briskly to a different restaurant, forsaking her initial craving for donuts. She can’t quite explain why she fabricated an errand; all she knows is that she needed to get away from you and Sara. Earlier, she couldn't help but notice how close Sara was standing to you, assessing you with a look that seemed a bit too interested. Leigh keeps turning over Sara's words in her mind, puzzling over what she meant by saying she'd heard a lot about her from you.

Why were you talking about her with Sara? Who exactly is Sara to you? Just a friend, or something more?

And what Leigh finds even more perplexing is why she's so troubled by needing to know the answers.

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lovehungrybean · 10 days

Text

Look at Her

Summary: You and Natasha are about to take another step in your relationship.

Features/Warnings: Fluff, so much fluff. Mentions of childbirth, pregnant!reader

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff/Reader

Notes: This is me, offering up fluff and happiness after the sadness of the fic I posted earlier. Natasha deserves a slice of happiness too.

Loosely based on ‘Lady’ by Brett Young

Word Count: 1121

Your scream pierced the air as another pang of pain rolled over you. Natasha held your hand as you squeezed it tight. She hated that you were in so much pain. She had tried to talk you into an epidural, but you refused. You had a plan, and come hell or high water you were going to stick to it unless it was an emergency. Nat remembered the first time you’d heard the baby’s heartbeat.

The doctor’s office was warm and inviting. Natasha wasn’t sure what to make of the doctor you had chosen. You had wanted to experience pregnancy. Natasha wasn’t one to deny you. You were eight weeks along. Your last appointment had been too early to hear the heartbeat. She was nervous and excited. It didn’t feel real yet, despite the test showing you were pregnant.

Keep reading

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lovehungrybean · 10 days

Text

The End of the Year (Hermione Granger x Reader)

A continuation of the multichapter fic, The Durmstrang

It felt like it was only yesterday when you decided to transfer from Durmstrang to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a transfer that brought you to the woman you were hopelessly in love with, Hermione Granger.

Now however, you had no idea where your relationship stood, or if she felt the same as you did. You could only hope she felt the same way as you did, but would you find the courage to tell her how you felt before she left on the Hogwarts Express and off to her home for the Summer?

Disclaimer: SO, I took a crazy long writing hiatus, my writer's block literally took over, I recently picked up writing again, and realized I forgot to update this fic for a crazy long time, but I'm back and hoping to get this one wrapped up, please let me know what you think and I'm so sorry for such a long delay!

Snogging with Hermione in the Astronomy Tower during your free period had become a regular thing, almost resulting in the two of you being caught.

What bothered you, and what bothered Hermione as well was not knowing what exactly the two of you were.

Was it a fling?

Was it a relationship?

Neither of you knew, but as the days of the semester grew fewer and fewer, you knew you needed to find out.

It wasn’t until the last week though that you found the courage you needed to ask Hermione what this was, and if she wanted this to go further.

************************************************************************

Hermione couldn’t believe the year was at its end, couldn’t believe that the year she’d spent with you was coming to an end, but it was, though she had your guarantee that next year, she’d see you at Hogwarts again.

What wasn’t guaranteed though, was what was going on between the two of you.

Hermione had wanted to know since it started, wanted to know what the kisses you first shared in the Astronomy Tower meant, though the longer it went on, the more fearful she grew.

What if you didn’t want what she wanted?

What if you didn’t want her as much as she wanted you?

Hermione lets out a soft sigh, drawing the attention of her fellow Gryffindor's sitting around her in The Great Hall.

“What’s wrong?” Ron asks, shoving as much food in his mouth as he can.

Ginny rolls her eyes.

“Honestly Ronald.” She smacks him in the back of the head, eliciting a snigger from those nearby.

“Oi! I could’ve choked.” He downs his Pumpkin Juice.

Ginny scoffs.

“Don’t eat like a troll then, you git.”

Ron mumbles.

“You’re a git.”

Harry shakes his head, turning away from the bickering siblings, his blue eyes landing on the Gryffindor in front of him.

“Thinking about Y/N?” He asks, smirking when Hermione’s cheeks flush.

“No.”

Ron waves a fork at the girl.

“I seen you two heading to the Astronomy Tower the other day, what was that about?” He asks dumbly, completely missing Hermione’s blood red cheeks, meanwhile Ginny grins, as does Harry.

“Yeah, what WERE you two doing Hermione?” She teases, earning an eye roll in return.

“N-Nothing, h-had a free period.” She mumbles, unable to look across the table at her friends.

Meanwhile, you’re heading down the grand staircase, your face buried in your Charm’s book.

You blindly make your way towards The Great Hall, somehow making it to the Gryffindor table and taking your seat beside Hermione, unaware that your friends had been discussing what had went on between you and Hermione in the Astronomy Tower.

“Mione, can you help me?” You ask, not looking away from your book and Hermione nods, leaping up from the table and grabbing your hand, dragging you out of The Great Hall, leaving a smirking Ginny and Harry behind.

************************************************************************

As the days went by, the end of the Semester neared, with exams going on, Hermione and you hadn’t had much time to talk, let alone meet in the Astronomy Tower.

In reality, while there, you spent a lot of your time just talking, just being alone together without any eyes on you.

SOMETIMES that alone time included snogging as well, but you’d keep that between you and Hermione, though considering you hadn’t spent much time alone together, you were missing her dearly.

You yawn, rubbing your face before stretching with a lengthy groan.

You had ONE day of exams left and you were doing everything to make sure Hogwarts had a REASON to welcome you back with open arms, though you knew for a fact you were coming back.

“Hey mate.”

You jump, glancing behind you, smiling when Harry and Ron jump onto the couch, sitting on either side of you.

“Hey.” You sigh, slamming your book shut.

“Still studying?” Harry asks and you nod, earning a snort from Ron.

“Just wing it like I do.”

Ginny rolls her eyes as she passes by, smacking him in the head with whatever she was holding.

“Bloody Hell!”

You slap a hand over your mouth, but are unable to hold back your laughter, tears forming in your eyes as you laugh at Ron’s misery.

“Quiet you, git.” He growls, though he can’t help but smile as well, Harry’s lips splitting in a grin as well.

T0he portrait swings open, revealing a disheveled Hermione Granger, the intellect having been in the library until it had closed.

Hermione feels brief annoyance at the sound of laughter, but as soon as she realizes who it is that’s laughing, that annoyance melts away, the girl instead leaning against the wall to watch you.

She can’t help but grin when you playfully shove Ron, the boy shoving you back.

It’s in that moment, seeing you so carefree, so happy makes Hermione realize that she doesn’t just care for you as more than a friend.

She was completely and utterly in love with you.

Your eyes finally find Hermione’s, a grin stretching across your face as you wipe the tears from the corner of your eyes.

Hermione smiles back, hugging her books to her chest.

She could only hope that you felt the same.

************************************************************************

That hope dwindled away when the final day of the semester came, and you’d remained silent, the courage you THOUGHT you had at the start of the week ebbing away.

It wasn’t until you were walking to the Platform to see your friends off that you realized you were moments from running out of time.

It’s only when your feet hit the platform that you realize you have to make your move now, your father and the things he’d taught you be damned.

You clear your throat, grabbing Hermione’s wrist.

Hermione turns to you, brows furrowed.

“Are you alright?” She asks, worriedly and you nod, swallowing hard.

“Ye-Yeah, I am...” You shuffle nervously from foot to foot, your father’s voice screaming in your head, repeating the same mantra as always.

You give your head a shake.

“L-Look.” You clear your throat.

Hermione’s head cocks to the side in confusion.

“Hermione, if I didn’t do this, I know I’d regret it for the rest of my life.”

Hermione’s heart skips a beat as you lean in, her brown orbs widening.

You stop midway, giving her the chance to close the gap between you, giving her the chance to make the final move.

If her lips met yours then she felt the same way you did, if your lips met, it meant your father was wrong, and that everything you were told was wrong.

Though there was a chance she might no-

Your thoughts fall silent as Hermione’s lips meet yours, the woman’s fingers tangling in the fine hairs at the base of your neck as her lips glide against yours.

Nearby, Harry, Ron and Ginny as well as a few other Gryffindor's watch the scene gleefully.

The two of you part, your eyes wide and cheeks flushed as a grin stretches across your face.

Hermione giggles, leaning in to rest her forehead against yours.

“I suppose that’s a way of coming out to the school.” She shrugs, cheeks bright red and you chuckle.

“I suppose it is.” You grin, the same charming smile that you’d directed her way when you sat down beside her in The Great Hall at the beginning of the year.

Hermione licks her lips.

“Does that mean...?” She starts and you smile.

“Maybe I’d like to snog you in more places than the Astronomy Tower.” You shrug, earning a playful slap in the chest.

You shake your head, wrapping your arms around her.

“I wanted to do this in 4th year, but Victor got to you first.” You roll your eyes, the girl in your arms giggling.

“And now?” She whispers hopefully and you smirk, glancing around.

“Well, I don’t see Victor, do you?” You ask, the girl shaking her head.

“No, I don’t.”

You grin, leaning in to press another kiss to her lips, though you’re jumping moments later when the Hogwarts Express’s horn blows loudly.

Hermione shakes her head with a grin.

“I have to go.” She frowns, though it passes for a moment, when you kiss her forehead.

“I’m sure we’ll see each other over Summer. Send me an owl?” You smile, the girl nodding.

“Of course.”

Hermione presses another kiss to your lips before she glances over her shoulder and Harry, Ron and Ginny, the three grinning widely.

“Shut up.” She mumbles, turning to give you another squeeze and a quick peck before she makes her way towards the train, her friend’s in toe.

“Oi! We’ll see you at the Burrow later this year, yeah?!” Ron yells and you nod, sending the four a wave.

“You can count on it.”

Your eyes remain on the group until they disappear into the train, your smile widening when you catch Hermione’s brown orbs behind the glass of one of the many train’s windows.

You place your fingers to your lips before blowing at the girl, whose blush you can see through the train’s window.

Your hand rests over your heart as you watch the train pull away, the last thing you see being that of Hermione’s chocolate brown orbs as the train rolls out of the Platform.

In that moment you knew, transferring to Hogwarts had been the best decision you’d ever made.

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lovehungrybean · 10 days

Text

It’s okay to need help

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Snapping at your wife was the last thing you wanted to do, but between the pressures of financial disputes you do. You both seek to make things right.

Warnings: arguments, slight angst, hurt/comfort, this was supposed to be way more angsty but I’m weak. Wife Wanda fluff

Word count: 1.1k

A/n: Honestly just a short little drabble and writing practice, I might do more writing prompts. This little thing took a toll on me and I’m suffering through writers block 😞 reblogs are SUPER appreciated please yall 🙏

Your eyes burned and you weren’t sure if it was from the dim kitchen lighting or the tears prickling inside you.

Papers were messily scattered across the table, their contents a jumbled blur that you couldn’t bring yourself to focus on. Not while your mind was elsewhere—with Wanda.

Wanda who wasn’t sitting with you like she always was when going over expenses, stroking your shoulders to relieve some of the tension, laying her head to rest on you while her lips pressed delicately against your cheek. You missed your wife, by gods you did. But you were stubborn.

Instead of apologizing, you’d gaze over longingly hoping she’d somehow see you—read your mind and spare you just one look, but her attention remained focused on the television, curled into the couch; playing her comfort show.

It drove you crazy how desperately you wanted her to see you, but you knew that wasn’t fair of you to ask.

Arguments with Wanda felt like the ground crumbling beneath your feet, threatening to swallow you whole at any moment. The sight of her tear-stained cheeks tore at your soul, and you hated the way it was your fault. Hurting her was a vow you promised never to make, but relationships wouldn’t be without their faults, no matter how hard one tried.

In those initial months of calling Wanda your wife, every moment felt like peaceful bliss, a love so pure you thought how could loving her possibly be a sin in God’s eyes? Then the bliss turned to ignorance, somewhere along the lines.

Fights became frequent, and crying did too.

And hell, you figured maybe after marriage there wouldn’t be so many. For years, you shared a room in the compound, and you knew each other's routines by heart, you knew Wanda. But in the compound, there weren't any expenses, not like now, now that you were sitting at the kitchen island with an abundance of bills that only seemed to keep stacking up. And up. And up.

Waves of stress fell on your shoulders as you stared, wondering how you got into this financial state. Never had you once felt as useless as you had now and it was only digging into you further, on the verge of crushing the sanctuary you had built with Wanda; that was threatening to crumble, and you knew you couldn’t do this anymore. Not when your heart ached so badly for your wife.

Setting aside your previous frustrations, you pushed your chair out and let the papers fall from your hands, figuring you’d deal with them later. You sucked in a breath, trying to regain some composure but with Wanda? Collecting yourself was pretty impossible.

Crossing the living room you cautiously approached your wife, slowly sitting beside her but still she didn’t turn to acknowledge you. She lay with her back facing you, tucked into a small crimson blanket.

You smiled fondly, recalling how you had gotten the blanket because it reminded you of her, one that she promptly stole, with the excuse of it smelling like you bringing her solace when you weren’t around. The sight of her like this shattered your heart.

With a sigh, you inched closer until you were pressed against her back. When she didn’t tense, you wrapped your arm around her waist, pulling her close. Wanda sighed as you peppered kisses against her skin, first on her cheek and then her neck. The act wasn’t sexual of any kind, but loving lingering ones you knew she loved, needed, and craved after every argument.

Knowing that she preferred your touch, you gave yourself to her, smiling when her fingers interlaced with yours. She still needed you just as much as you needed her.

A beat of silence passed as you relaxed further into each other, and your eyes momentarily strayed away from the TV to shift into a seated position. You knew you had to say something before things got harder.

Before Wanda could question you spoke up:

“I’m sorry Wanda, I never meant for things to get so…heated.” You murmured sincerely, running your fingers through the loose strands of her hair and Wanda sighed.

Leaning against your side, Wanda mimicked your position, bringing her knees to her chest.

She gave you a halfhearted smile. “I’m sorry too, I should’ve come to you first before calling Tony for money this month. I messed up.”

You denied it with your head, bringing her into a warm embrace, and kissing the crown of her head. “No no, you did nothing wrong. Your intentions were good and I shouldn’t have shouted that way. I just…it’s difficult for me, you know?” Your explanation came slowly, averting her gaze, and Wanda gripped your shirt tighter. “I don’t like asking for help.”

The confession fell flat on your lips, leaving a bitter aftertaste in your mouth and you felt silly. But instead of ridicule, you were met with the soft touch of Wanda’s hands, cupping your cheeks as if to reassure your embarrassment. Her thumbs felt good on your skin and slowly coaxed you to look at her.

You opened your mouth to speak but before you got the chance Wanda was bringing your lips together in a slow tender kiss and you sighed. No matter how long you lived you were certain of one thing: you’d never tire of the feeling of Wanda’s lips on yours.

When the need for air became overwhelming, you reluctantly broke the kiss, shivering at her touch. Her forehead resting on yours, breath fanning your lips.

“It’s okay to need help, detka, and we need help.” She affirmed, gently squeezing your hands while stealing kisses between each word till your frown disappeared.

You rolled your eyes affectionately at her actions, not being able to frown anymore and finally pulling her into a longer kiss, something you both craved.

“I’ll talk to Tony tomorrow.” You tell her, and her lips purse in hesitation.

“Dorogaya…if you’re not ready—“

“I’m ready Wanda, I don’t want to be worrying about how much we spend anymore. I want to focus on more important things, like us. I mean you still want kids right?” You asked tentatively and Wanda stifled a laugh at how stiffened you were.

“Yes Y/n, I still want kids with you.” Wanda chuckled softly, shaking her head. “But I’m serious, and kids are far from where we are now. Are you absolutely sure?”

“I’m sure.” You nodded.

Still, Wanda pulled away from you, studying your expression. When she found nothing, she softened, giving you a supportive nod and a big grin. Your smile widened, and you advanced on her the next second earning a squeal, peppering her face with kisses and laughing along with her.

All you could think of was how grateful you were to have a wife like her.

Change was hard but with Wanda, the weight felt easier to carry, and with time you’d learn you wouldn’t have to bear that alone anymore. There were still things you had to fix and you wouldn’t rest until you made things right with your wife but for now, you had a phone call to make. Within weeks you’d be changing jobs and attitudes. Things wouldn’t always be an easy route but you’d sure as hell try harder. For her.

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lovehungrybean · 14 days

Note

Cassie x reader w/ reader saying no 4, after catching Cassie doing her unhinged morning routine? (thank you!)

4 - "I love your body. Everything you hate about it is what drives me crazy."

sorry the ending sucks, my brain is empty rn 🏃🏻‍♀️

You push the bathroom door open, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes before stopping dead in your tracks.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Cassie is standing in front of the mirror, her hair wrapped around a curling ribbon and patches under her eyes, a dozen different make up tools and products scattered on the counter before her.

She jumps at the sound of your voice, her head snapping in your direction. Mouth slightly agape, her face mirroring your surprised expression.

"I-I'm sorry, did I wake you up?" she stammers.

"No. Are you on drugs?"

"What?!" she exclaims, her tone of voice now sounding hurt. "Why would you say that?"

"Cassie, do you have any idea what time it is? Care to explain why you're doing a full morning routine in the middle of the night?"

Cassie simply shrugs it off and attempts to grab another tool, but you're quick to grab a hold of her wrist before she can reach it, turning her around in the process.

"Don't be ridiculous. Just come back to bed, you can do this in the morning." Cassie finds herself tearing up a little when you cross your arms in annoyance, her voice wavering as she responds;

"Just give me five more minutes. I'm almost done."

That's when you sense that something is wrong. You remain silent for a moment, trying to figure her out. Then you approach her slowly, cautiously reaching a hand out to cup her face, thumbs lightly caressing her cheeks as your features soften.

"Hey. What's wrong?"

"I don't want you to see me like this."

"Like what, Cass?"

"Like... this." she waves a hand in front of her face, still avoiding your gaze. Because of that, the room falls silent once more. Then you take a breath as if to say something, but Cassie speaks out before you can.

"You're always complimenting Maddy. Her make up, the texture of her skin, the way she dresses." you frown in confusion, your eyes kind and concerned as you wait for her to continue. "And you're right. She's pretty, smart, confident, and I'm just... me." she murmurs the last part. "She’s so much better than me so I thought I should-“

"Cassie." you cut her off and move behind her, pulling her into your chest so that you're both facing the mirror.

"I think you're the most beautiful girl in the world." you say. Cassie laughs humorlessly, staring down at her hands which are trying to hide her body. "I'm serious." you insist. "Maddy is pretty, that's true. But she's not the girl i'm in love with." you slide your hands along her shoulder, slipping her bathrobe down so that you can you bring your lips to the crook of her neck and trace soft kisses all the way to her shoulder. "I’m not interested in her or any other girl. The only girl I’m interested in is the one in my arms right now."

Cassie looks up to glance at her reflection in the mirror, and you can tell by the way she quickly looks down that she's judging herself. As if reading her mind, you bring her hands down to her side and address her concerns.

"I love your body. Everything you hate about it is what drives me crazy." your lips continue their path, slowly making their way back and forth along her neck and shoulder. "The curves of your hips. The birth mark on your thigh. You're beautiful just the way you are."

Cassie turns around in your arms after a few seconds of silence to just bask in your words, her eyes filling with tears as she cups your face and rests her forehead against yours.

"I love you."

You press a gentle kiss to her lips, keeping her close as you whisper; "I love you too."

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lovehungrybean · 16 days

Text

a prince’s desire

so sorry if this sucks lol I just got really high and wrote this in like 2 hours lolol

pairing: rhaenyra targaryen x fem!pregnant!reader x daemon targaryen

description: after being reunited with her lover, rhaenyra takes her back to dragonstone to join her family and requests that daemon take her as a second wife. now, over a year after the wedding, rhaenyra wants nothing more than to see her wife pregnant, and daemon is more than happy to oblige.

warnings: SMUT, pregnancy, reader gets pretty depressed while she's preggo, mentions of masturbation, angst, slight canon divergence, alcohol consumption, mentions of (consensual) adultery turned polyamory, mentions of death (adult and children :((( ), polygamy, swearing, all other canon warnings (incest (i try my hardest to not lay this one on thick bc ew), violence, sexism, etc)

words: 5K

date posted: 27/03/24

previous installments: a princess's order a lady's demand

After his third marriage, Daemon Targaryen had absolutely no intentions of taking another wife. His history with married life had not necessarily been a good one; Rhea Royce had been nothing but a royal pain in his ass; He’d been happy with Laena, though her life came to an end far too soon; He did love Rhaenyra, though ambition and pride often came between them. Mistresses, sure–Daemon was a rather insatiable man, and Rhaenyra had been almost consistently pregnant during their early years of marriage, but he’d never even once considered that he might have to stand through yet another wedding ceremony, especially one that had been arranged and encouraged by his still living wife and future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

He hadn’t been at all surprised when Rhaenyra confessed to him that she had once loved her childhood friend, nor that she did not think that she would ever truly be able to move past the conflict between them or love another quite the same. Of course, she loved Daemon, and even Laenor and Harwin to some degree, but none would ever stand up to her very first love that she’d allowed to slip through her fingers like running water. He was equally unsurprised to find that she’d not returned to their rooms on their first night back in King’s Landing, nor that she would return in the early hours of the morning with a familiar glow that he’d only seen on her after their own late night activities, especially since he’d caught wind earlier in the evening that Lady Y/n Y/l/n had returned to the capitol a widow.

There were things that he had expected from this relationship; The two would fuck, of course, to make up for lost time, they would spend the majority of their days strolling through the gardens as they had done when they were girls, and Y/n would perhaps even return to Dragonstone with them as her mistress. Daemon could not exactly blame his wife for her affections, Lady Y/n was undeniably beautiful, and he would certainly take her to bed if he were ever given the chance. She could remarry, of course, she was still young and she’d already proven herself to be fertile, even if the children had not survived infancy. Any man would be a fool to turn her away, which is exactly why Daemon found himself standing before her on the black-sand shores of Dragonstone, a chalice between them and blood dripping from either of their lips. Rhaenyra had watched on with glee, rushing forward the moment that the ceremony had been complete to engulf her new wife in a tight embrace, sealing their own union with a firm kiss.

Daemon had not been included in the wedding night activities, though he had been invited to watch, which he did so from the balcony of their chambers in order to give them their own space. Rhaenyra’s body had been glowing in the candle light, curves and smooth, milky skin on display for him and their new wife to admire as they both had time and time again in the past. Daemon could not tear his gaze away from their new wife’s figure, no matter how hard he tried. He blamed it on the novelty of having a new wife, especially one that he was not even able to touch on their wedding night, and he might have reacted the same way if he were to see any woman naked for the first time. He stroked himself on the balcony, low grunts leaving his lips as her moans reached his ears, eyes tracing over her breasts, the pudge of her stomach, the curve of her spine, and–oh… he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a woman’s core glisten like that before, nor had he ever heard such a prominent squelch as the Targaryen princess dipped her fingers inside. He’d always known she was a beautiful lady, but now, oh now he was able to understand to some degree why Rhaenyra was so strongly under her spell.

Just over a year had passed, and Daemon had still yet to enjoy his newest wife to the extent that he would have liked. He did enjoy getting to know her personally, finding her much more amusing than he had expected, and they often found themselves sitting together in the evenings while Rhaenyra was busy with her royal duties. They had kissed each other on several occasions, and she had once allowed him to kneel beneath her skirts one evening after a tad too much wine, but nothing further had developed in their physical relationship.

She had fit into their family easier than any of them could have expected. She was good with the children, taking them all under her wing as if they were her own, though her relationship with both Rhaenyra and Daemons older children was a bit strained in the beginning. Children were a bit of a sore topic for her; She rarely spoke of her own late children, but both Daemon and Rhaenyra could easily tell how broken she was over their deaths. She and Rhaenyra had bonded even more after Rhaenyra had lost her own daughter in labour, all three parties agreeing that Rhaenyra would not have any more children.

That did not change the fact that both Daemon and Rhaenyra could tell that Y/n longed to be a mother once more. She honoured her own boys on their name days, and on the anniversaries of their deaths, but none of Rhaenyra’s children saw her as a mother, nor did she expect them to. They both noticed the way she had this longing stare in her eyes each time that one of the younger children called for their mother, or as Jacaerys and Lucerys slowly grew into young men, as her own children would not be much younger than they are now had they survived their sickness. It was just after the one year anniversary of Daemon and Y/n’s wedding that Rhaenyra proposed to him that they offer Y/n the chance to have another child, as many as she was willing to carry, but of course it would ultimately be her decision; Neither of them were very fussed either way, they both already had a small militia of children of their own, but they would be happy to welcome more into the world, especially if it meant that she would be tied to the Targaryen bloodline through more than marriage.

They waited a while longer to bring this to her, but Rhaenyra had been subtly encouraging her to spend more time with Daemon, and even suggested that they might begin sharing a bed with one another from time to time, whether it be on their own or with Rhaenyra present. She assured her that he was in fact attracted to her, pointing out how she is the one that he stares so longingly at when he watches them together. It was not that Y/n had been opposed to this, she was equally as attracted to Daemon as he was to her, but she had not been with a man since her late husband, and she had not expected to ever take another man to bed again now that she and Rhaenyra were officially together.

The conversation was finally brought to her a month after she and Daemon spent their first night together. They had been intimate, but she had still not allowed him to be inside of her, instead opting to pleasure him with her mouth, hands, and breasts. Rhaenyra whispered in her ear during supper one evening, suggesting that they invite their husband to join them that night, which she excitedly agreed to, completely unaware of what sort of proposition they would offer her, and she was especially surprised at how quickly she consented to their idea.

Rhaenyra had knelt behind her that night, both straddling their husband’s hips as the blonde gripped her wife’s waist to aid her movements, guiding her with every bounce of her long cock and whispering praises into her ear between kisses on her neck. Daemon had been uncharacteristically happy to sit back against the headboard and watch as his wives moved in unison over him, grunting as the tight squeeze of her velvet walls around him. He could hardly pull himself away from her lips, eagerly swallowing every one of her sweet moans as he emptied himself inside of her, sighing as she slumped back against Rhaenyra as she reached her own peak.

They had continued this for months until the maester finally confirmed that Y/n was with child, her skin glowing in delight at the thought of having a child to raise with her husband and wife. By the fifth month of her pregnancy, her stomach had swelled enough to show through her heavy gowns, and her hormones had taken full effect of her everyday life.

If it weren’t bad enough that she was constantly fatigued, or that her feet and back ached, or that her breasts were swollen and tender to the mere brush of her gown against her sensitive nipples, she had also grown to be absolutely insatiable. She found that her thighs were constantly slick with her arousal, and that she was able to bring herself to orgasm in the simplest ways, even by just sitting on certain pieces of furniture. Daemon and Rhaenyra could no longer enjoy bedding her on the same night quite as regularly as before, all because of how regularly she was mewling for them; Daemon had even jokingly suggested that they encourage her maids to pleasure her throughout the day so that they could keep up with her, only to be met with Rhaenyra’s palm slamming into the back of his head. It even came to the point where Rhaenyra felt the need to consult the maester about how regularly all three of them were being intimate together, who advised that, as her pregnancy developed, physical intimacy may result in causing her pain.

Instead, Rhaenyra encouraged her to participate in some “self-care” routines, as she had called them, telling her that pregnancy could cause her to think poorly of herself in many ways, so she thought it best that she take long, hot baths under the candlelight, drink honeyed wine and have her maids soak her in scented oils before taking the initiative to pleasure herself as much as she desired. Daemon had not been so keen on this idea, considering that he was constantly finding her with her hands between her thighs and not allowing him to cut in until she had finished, meaning that she was incredibly sensitive and could not take quite as much as she used to be able to before she began this routine. Even Rhaenyra was beginning to regret it, easily noticing the way that her maids now stared at her longingly, likely having seen and heard her in the throes of self-pleasure more times than they had with her husband and wife involved.

When Rhaenyra brought up her annoyances with Daemon, he had been quick to point fingers, claiming that it was entirely her fault that Y/n had not been seeking them out as much. They both came to the conclusion that they needed to get her out of this habit as quickly as she had gotten into it.

“My love,” Rhaenyra smiled sweetly as she entered her chambers, finding her settled in the bathtub with rose petals floating in the water around her. The water rippled around her rounded belly and breasts as they poked out into the warm air. Rhaenyra thought that she had never looked so beautiful in her life, with the exception of their wedding day. “How do you feel? The maester told me you had a bout of sickness after supper.”

The woman opened her eyes, smiling sleepily at her wife as she knelt at her side, one hand dipping in to feel the temperature of the water, “‘M fine, Nyra. I do not think that mutton agrees with our babe.”

The Targaryen woman laughed, “I’m sorry, my love, I know how you enjoy mutton so. I will instruct the cooks to avoid it until the babe arrives then.”

“It’s alright,” Y/n stroked a hand over her belly, “I would give anything to keep her happy.”

“Her?” Rhaenyra asked, settling her hand on the bump as well, “You expect a girl?”

“I do,” Y/n beamed, “I will be happy either way, but I have a feeling. I know how you long for a daughter, as well.”

Rhaenyra flushed, “You are too kind to me my love. I will be happy with our child regardless of gender, so long as they are a part of the one I love the most.”

Y/n giggled, “Do not let our husband hear you speaking like that.”

“He knows his place,” Rhaenyra chuckled, fingers wandering up to brush against the tender flesh of her breast, smirking to herself at the moan that fell from her wife’s lips at the smallest touch.

Rhaenyra turned her head, finding her maids looking bashful in the corner of the room. They had been witness to Y/n’s pleasure before, but never at the hand of one of her spouses.

“Out,” She commanded, “I will finish my wife’s bath on my own.”

They all hesitated for a moment before nodding, curtsying to both women before rushing out.

“Nyra,” Y/n scolded, “I was about to begin my “self-care”.”

“I can care for you, my heart.” The silver-haired woman cooed as she lowered her hand below the surface of the water, taking little care for the sleeve of her gown as her fingertips found the slick button between her thighs.

“It was your idea, Rhaenyra.” Her voice sounded firmer than before, and her once sleepy eyes had grown hard and accusing.

“A stupid one, I must admit,” She sighed, rubbing small circles into her clit, “I miss how insatiable you once were, how you begged for me to touch you, how you begged for our husband’s cock.”

A flash of sadness appeared on her face as sprung to her waterline, “You were tired of me, you do not want me.”

Rhaenyra stopped her movements, “What?”

A soft sob left her lips, “You asked me to take care of myself. I thought it might have been because you and Daemon were busy, but then I came to your rooms one night and–”

She didn’t need to finish for Rhaenyra to understand. She and Daemon had found it difficult to keep up with their wife’s libido, but once she had begun taking care of herself, they still had their own desires and spent many nights together. Rhaenyra felt stupid for not seeing how this would feel to their wife, let alone now that her emotions were heightened. She had not considered herself unattractive until Rhaenyra asked if she mentioned that self pleasure was beneficial for helping her bodily insecurities, only to find that she and Daemon were continuing to fuck without her on the regular.

Y/n pushed her hand away, sitting up and pulling her knees as close to her chest as her stomach would allow, “Leave me.”

“My love–”

“Please,” Her voice cracked, “Send my handmaidens in, I want to go to bed.”

“Y/n, please let me–”

“Go!” She shrieked, tears now falling down her cheeks readily as she pushed herself out of the water abruptly, “Get out!”

The door burst open, her handmaidens appearing in the room with worried expressions at the sound of their lady’s screaming. They rushed forward, helping her step out of the tub and wrapping her in her favourite silk robe.

Rhaenyra watched as she stumbled away, ignoring the water dripping from her as she crawled onto the bed, the most heart-wrenching sobs leaving her lips. The Crown Princess did not want to leave, longing to go after her and make her understand, but the guilt that began to force itself up her throat was too much to bear. Without another word, she pushed through the doorway and into the corridor, rushing to find Daemon.

Y/n did not leave her chambers for three days. She had breakfast, tea, and dinner in her rooms with no company except for her handmaidens. She refused to allow Rhaenyra or Daemon in to see her any time that they had come to visit, even when they each tried to assert their rank over her handmaidens. She was now almost seven months into her pregnancy, and she was continuously wondering to herself how she had let herself be talked into another child. She wept day and night, countless apologies leaving her lips to her late children, begging for their forgiveness and cursing Rhaenyra and Daemon for bringing her walls down so much that she had allowed herself to be in the position to potentially lose yet another child.

On the fourth day, Rhaenrya had decided that enough was enough, and used the secret passageway into her wife’s room. When she found her, she felt her heart clench in her throat, finding her still in nothing but the silk robe that she’d left her in four days earlier, curled in a ball on her favourite sofa and staring blankly out the window. How had she allowed herself to hurt the one person she loved above all else again after vowing to protect her heart with her entire being?

“My love,” Rhaenyra called out, closing the hidden door behind her. She frowned when she was met with complete silence, “My love, can you hear me?”

“What is it, Your Grace?”

Rhaenyra cringed, having only heard Y/n speak to her so formally when she was truly angry with her. “The maester told me you have not slept or eaten in two days. It is not good for the child.”

Y/n scoffed, “The babe.”

“It is not good for you, either, my love.”

Rhaenyra knelt in front of her, hands cupping her cheeks and grimacing at how cold she felt. Rhaenyra had gone to Daemon that night, her pale cheeks flushed red and wet from her tears as she paced for hours, wondering how they would be able to make things right with her–how had she let this happen? How could she make her feel unloved by the two people who loved her more than anything?

“Please look at me,” She whispered, head ducking to meet her hollow gaze. “I’m not sure how I can make you feel how deeply angry I am with myself. I am so, so sorry, my love.”

Y/n sniffled, but did not respond.

“May I explain myself?” Rhaenyra waited for her weak nod before she continued, “I did not mean to make you feel unwanted, by any means. You are sweet, and good, and beautiful, and I could never imagine a world where I would not want you. Daemon and I–we cannot excuse ourselves, but we can explain. We were concerned for you, for how often we were bedding you. The maester told us that we could hurt you, which is why I suggested what I did. I did not mean to imply that we did not want you. In fact, we wanted you so deeply that we turned to each other for the first time in so long because we thought you were more comfortable with taking care of yourself.”

Y/n shook her head, “I only did it because that’s what I thought you wanted.”

“I could never not want you, my beautiful wife.” Rhaenyra pressed a kiss to her clammy cheek.

“I must admit,” Y/n laughed bitterly, “I began to believe after some time that I had become a concubine for you both.”

“I do not think it is custom to love one’s concubine, my sweet.” Rhaenyra chuckled, then turned sombre when she took note of her expression, “My love, else bothers you?”

“I do not want to have another child,” Y/n whispered, “I feel almost as if I am betraying my boys. I will love this child with all of my heart, and nothing makes me more happy than to be tied to you both through blood, but I will not have another.”

Rhaenyra sighed, “I am sorry if you have felt pressured by us.”

“I haven’t,” She shook her head, “But I have done some thinking over the past two days. I have been happy here, and I do want this child, but I’m not sure that I can handle another. This child is a sibling, but to have two, it feels like I am replacing them, and to me they are completely irreplaceable.”

Rhaenyra kissed her head, “You will not have to. I will speak to Daemon, and the maester. We will make sure that this is your last pregnancy.”

“You don’t think that Daemon will be upset with me? He won’t want any more children?”

“If he is, then perhaps we would need to rethink how many people we want in this marriage, don’t you think?”

This made Y/n giggle, and it was like music to Rhaenyra’s ears. She finally leaned into her, wrapping her arms around Rhaenyra’s middle and nuzzling into her neck. Rhaenyra gladly held her, running her fingers through her hair affectionately as she began to notice her breathing grow heavier.

“You must be tired, my sweet,” Rhaenyra turned her head to look at her, “Why don’t you have a bath while I go find you some supper, then you can rest.”

“Will you stay with me while I sleep?” She murmured.

Rhaenyra kissed her lips softly, “Of course I will.”

When Y/n woke up, Rhaenyra was still at her side, her long fingers stroking Y/n’s swollen belly over her thin nightgown.

“Good morning, my love,” She greeted with a small smile.

“Evening, you mean,” Y/n had not even noticed that Daemon had occupied the space behind her in the bed until he spoke up, his own hand reaching around to lay on top of Rhaenyra’s on her belly.

Y/n leaned back into him, sighing at the warmth being emitted from his firm chest, “How long was I sleeping?”

“Almost a day,” He kissed her temple to soothe her as she cried out in surprise, “But you needed it.”

“It’s true,” Rhaenyra affirmed, “You were awake for two days straight. I’ll call your ladies, you must be starving.”

“I am,” Y/n trailed a finger up her arm, “But not for food.”

Rhaenyra shook her head as Daemon chuckled at their wife, “My love, you are very weak right now–”

“Neither of you have touched me in almost two months,” She whined, “Please.”

The two Targaryens shared a glance over her shoulder, Daemon shrugging in response to Rhaenyra’s concerned look.

“Alright,” She finally conceded, “But you must lie there, let us take care of you.”

The woman eagerly nodded, excited whimpers falling from her lips from the slightest drag of Daemon’s lips against her jugular, his fingers pulling the strap of her nightgown down over her shoulder to expose one of her tender breasts. Rhaenyra was quick to pull her into a kiss, tongue forcing itself past her wife’s lips and swallowing every sound she made, her nimble fingers twisting her perky nipple gently.

Everything moved in a blur for Y/n over the next few moments, somehow finding herself now on her back, knees bent as her nightgown was rucked up to settle over her swollen belly, Rhaenyra wasting little time in dragging her tongue torturously through her folds, which had already been dripping with her sweet nectar from the moment that she had woken up. Her cheeks felt warm, embarrassed at how sensitive and wet she’d been before either of them even touched her and at how quickly she was able to feel herself at her peak.

At her side, Daemon was needy for her attention. He tucked two fingers under her chin, quickly turning her head to capture her lips in a warm and messy kiss. Her own eager fingers quickly found the laces of his breeches, tugging at them until they were just loose enough to slide her hand inside and take hold of his rapidly hardening member, their sighs of pleasure being lost in one another’s mouths as she slowly pumped him until he was completely hard, whining in protest as he pushed her touch away.

“Patience, sweet one,” He tsked at her, instead turning his attention to suckling at her breasts, tugging her other strap down to release both of her heaving tits to his mercy.

The wave crashed over her before she could comprehend it, eyes rolling back as neither of them made any move to slow or stop their ministrations as they each licked and sucked at her most sensitive parts until she was trembling with aftershocks.

“Do you think she is ready for me?” Daemon peered down at Rhaenyra, who had continued to lick at her clit softly.

She grinned up at him, “More than she’s ever been.”

He chuckled, reaching his hand down to feel her wetness for himself with a wicked glint in his eyes, “Perhaps we should deprive our needy little wife more often if it means she will always be this responsive.”

Rhaenyra frowned, “You are bold to assume that either of us will be able to resist for so long ever again, husband. I’m certain that I can’t.”

“Perhaps I merely need to be reminded, I may not have my wits about me.”

Within seconds, his clothes had been completely removed and was was dragging her by the ankles until her bum was hanging off the edge of the mattress and he was pressed tightly between her legs. Meanwhile, Rhaenyra had helped her slide her shift off over her head, leaving her completely bare to her husband and wife.

Her back arched off of the bed as Daemon notched the head of his member against her entrance, easily slipping inside with a drawn out moan, eyes closed as he relished in the feeling of her silky walls throbbing around him.

“See how he desires you?” Rhaenyra whispered to her, “You make him weak, he belongs to you. We belong to you.”

She nodded, watching in awe as Rhaenyra’s slender neck was engulfed by their husband’s fingers, his meaty fist forcing her to meet his hard kiss as his spare hand slid beneath Y/n’s hip and flipped her onto her side, barely missing a beat as he threw her top leg over his shoulder and sped up his thrusts.

Rhaenyra grinned into the kiss, reaching up to slide her middle and index fingers into her wife’s mouth, slowly thrusting them in and out until they were dripping with her saliva. Carefully, she moved them down and began circling them around her untouched hole, feeling the snug ring of muscles tighten and release under her touch. The sloppy juices of her release had dripped down and provided an extra lubricant as one of her long fingers dipped inside, stilling for a few moments to allow her to adjust to the intrusion before she pressed the second in as well. Her movements were slow, not wanting to force the tightness of her ass and further than she already was, especially with the force of Daemon’s thrusts into sweet cunt.

Mere moments passed before her second release began bursting out of her core and splashing against Daemon’s stomach, the warmth of her juices bringing him to his own climax. She allowed him to keep forcing himself into her abused hole before she was pressing her foot flat into his shoulder to push him away.

“Look at her,” Rhaenyra murmured to him, smirking down at her wife’s trembling body, “Look at how needy she is for us. We belong to her, but she is ours alone.”

Daemons slowly allowed his cock to slide out of her, falling down to poke at her asshole as Rhaenyra pulled her fingers out. The future queen slid from the mattress, disappearing out of Y/n’s sight as Daemon huddled overtop of her, pressing warm kisses across her neck and chest. He pulled back as Rhaenyra reappeared next to her, wiping her hands clean with a wet cloth before she made quick work of wiping the pregnant woman’s sensitive cunt clean as Daemon readjusted his breeches as she moved across the room to sit by the burning fireplace.

Rhaenyra helped her wife move back up to lay against her pillows, tucking her in beneath the soft sheets. She crawled in next to her, pressing her lips to her forehead and chuckling when Rhaenyra felt her tugging at her skirts.

“I am alright, my heart,” She pushed her hands away, “You should rest. We will call for your supper.”

Y/n nodded, a touch disappointed that she hadn’t been able to taste her wife’s delicious cunt, but her sadness faded as she felt her eyes fluttering shut, lulling her into a deep sleep as she huddled closer to Rhaenyra’s chest.

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lovehungrybean · 16 days

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Gaze of the Moon (HOTD One-Shot)

Rhaenyra Targaryen x GN!Reader / requests are open

Summary: You and your wife, the Princess Rhaenyra steal a moment of peace together as you prepare for the coming birth of your child.

Fic type: fluff, romance, reflection

A/N: I had intended for this to be fem!reader x Rhaenyra but it wound up GN. This is also for @hotd-bigbang's March 11th prompt.

HOTD: (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Did you know of that tale?" You asked softly, brushing your wife's hair back behind her ear as she lay against you in the moonlight. "About the second moon who cracked open from the heat of the sun and let the dragons out?"

Your wife let out a deep breath, the back of her skull pressing into your shoulder as she leaned back against you to peer out at the sky- up at the full moon above. She was gorgeous tonight. Radiant, round- both wife and moon.

The silver rays caught in Rhaenyra's loose hair, free tonight from tight braids and silk ribbons. The way you knew she preferred it. She'd been a wild child who'd grown into a proper lady, though you knew she yearned for the freedom of manhood. If she were a man, things would be easier. You both knew this but didn't care to dwell on it. There was no changing what was.

Rhaenyra hummed, eyes catching in the moon's gaze.

"I'm sure I remember my father telling me such a story once," she affirmed softly, lip twitching ever-so-slightly into the ghost of a smile. Your wife spent so much time stone-faced under the watchful eyes of the court vultures that even in the privacy of your own quarters she sometimes had trouble letting the cracks through. You treasured each of them like jewels as they deserved to be. "I used to stay up late into the eve and watch the moon- waiting for her to split and for the night to grow dark save for the fire of dragon's breath,' she admitted, eyes drawing closed as she thought on the memories.

"Perhaps one day, my dear wife," you said, pressing a kiss to her head before allowing your own to lean back against the cold, stone wall behind you. "Tell me, what is High Valyrian for 'moon'?"

You'd been learning her family's language for some time now, and you were certainly getting there. It was just that you preferred to hear the words from Rhaenyra's tongue. And truly, who could blame you when her voice had such royal lilt? Her voice was a balm for the mind. Or your mind, at the very least. You could listen to her speak for an age and then some.

"Hūra," Rhaenyra replied, a soft knowing smirk on her lips. You repeated it back to her, testing the syllables on your tongue. You liked the way it sounded, the way it felt. You reached a hand around her to brush over her swollen belly, round with child.

"If we have a daughter," you said thoughtfully, "Hūra is a nice name, do you not think?" Your fingers danced over her belly, and you both let out a laugh when you felt the babe kick from within her. Rhaenyra's hand joined yours, squeezing comfortingly. You hastily added, "It is not a traditional name, but I like it."

"Princess Hūra Targaryen," Rhaenrya breathed, opening her eyes to peer at her belly. "It does have a ring to it," she agreed, "and if the little one's restlessness is anything to speak of, the babe likes it, too."

You both lapsed into silence for a while, enjoying the light of the moon, the glint of the stars and the sounds of the night. It was quiet at this hour. Your favourite hour. What else could you possibly want for than this? A loving wife in your arms, a babe on the way, a flask of wine to share and the gaze of the moon on you?

"I suppose it is only fair you get to name one of our children," she said after a while. You'd almost thought her asleep in your arms with how quiet she'd been. "Why not the first. Get it out of the way, hmm?" She teased. "What if the babe is a boy?"

You chuckled softly, flicking at her arm in reply to her jape.

"Thank you, wife. Your generosity knows no bounds. I do not think the bairn is a boy, but if he is, I am quite fond of Vēzos. Best keep with the theme."

"One has to wonder where this sudden passion for celestial names has come from, my love," Rhaenyra mused. "Perhaps we will have twins. The Maester did say it was a possibility. Hūna and Vēzos. Moon and Sun-" Rhaenyra shifted uncomfortably as the babe wriggled under her skin. "I like it."

"Strong names," you added, brushing your fingers through her hair softly, aiming to detangle the few knots that caught in your fingers. "Compassionate names. Perfect for bairns destined for greatness."

You suddenly found yourself hoping for twins. A boy and a girl. Siblings to grow up together and protect each other from the horrors that lay dormant in the realm. You could picture them, age three or perhaps four, playing hide and seek in the gardens. Ages ten and four by their mothers' side on the throne. Ages nine and ten crowned joint heirs to the throne. Ages four and thirty sitting side by side on the throne. Ruling, together. Sun and Moon, over their kingdom. Their birth-right. Protecting each other and keeping each other in check. What was best for the kingdom.

The thought filled you with pride. Oh, yes, you hoped for twins. It wouldn't be long now until Rhaenyra was due. Within a month, most likely. It was part of the reason you both were staying up late at night and enjoying the peace. Once Rhaenyra commenced and completed her labours, there wouldn't be much room for peace and quiet.

And yet, you couldn't wait. You didn't like the thought of your lady-wife in pain, but the thought of your quiet chambers filled with the sounds of a babe or two growing big and strong was perhaps motivating enough for you to bear the thought of her pain. You'd be by her side no matter what, of course. Fuck the Maesters and midwives. This was your wife, your babe. You would be there to support her until she asked you to leave.

"We should retire to bed," Rhaenyra broke your thoughts as she began shifting to stand. "We both need our rest for the day to come. I believe we are making arrangements for catering after the birth."

Ah, yes. The feast the King was insisting upon for the birth of his Grand-Sire. As the birth grew closer, more plans needed to be set. Catering, colours, floral arrangements, gifts for the babe. So many things that Rhaenyra and yourself were set to arrange. You may have enjoyed setting the festivities up, but Rhaenyra would be more than happy to sit out if she could.

You hadn't told Rhaenyra yet, but you'd made arrangements with the cooks to send for the ingredients to make Rhaenyra's favourite sweets. Ones she had not had since she were near a babe herself. The rest of the food, however, you both needed to settle on. A job for tomorrow, quite clearly.

You supported her as she stood, following behind. You stretched out the muscles in your arms and legs, creaking with complaint. You could only imagine how Rhaenyra felt. You left the balcony door open to the bedchambers as you helped your wife shift out of her gown.

Once she was settled into the sheets, Rhaenyra let out a sigh of relief. The bed took the weight off her body and allowed her to settle in. You followed, pressing up against her back to keep her warm against the slight chill of the night.

Rhaenyra took your hand and rested it against her belly. You felt any of your remaining troubles melt away for the moment and pressed a kiss to the back of Rhaenyra's neck.

"Good night, my love," you whispered softly, rubbing your thumb over the silky material of her nightdress. "Sleep well, little one."

You drifted off to the sound of Rhaenyra's soft breathing and the quiet chatter of insects out in the gardens below your balcony, dreaming of the bairns to come, and a life well lived.

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lovehungrybean · 16 days

Text

Bruises (pt 2)

part 1

Summary: Regina continues to give you special treatment after your fight with Shane, and the truth of why is revealed.

wc: 1.7k warnings: mentions of the fight, none really, just a happy ending :) pairings: regina george x reader

After the fight you had with Shane, Regina had been all over you. You weren’t sure why, you’re weren’t concussed nor did you need help with anything, but who were to you complain.

It was a week or so after the incident and you were sitting with your usual friends in the cafeteria for lunch. Regina and you had spoken a lot since then, but you weren’t expecting to see her standing behind you when you turned around.

“Regina, hey.” You smiled up at her. Your friends stared at you with wide eyes.

She looked down at you, trying her best to keep a neutral face. “Come sit with us.” A few people gasped and she shot them a glare before looking back at you, her face softening immediately. No one else could see past her scary façade except for you.

You glanced back at your friends and they nodded. You stood up and grabbed your things. Regina’s hand twitched and she had to stop herself from grabbing yours and pulling you with her. Instead, she just walked away, expecting you to follow.

Of course, you did. Regina sat in her usual spot, the seat next to her open. You smiled at Gretchen and Karen, and at the unfamiliar face sitting in between them. “Hi, I’m Cady.” She smiled back at you.

“Y/N, nice to meet you.” You were always polite. That was one of the many things Regina had come to adore about you - except in this moment. She didn't know why but you being so nice to Cady bothered her on another level.

She pushed down the strange feeling and patted the seat next to her. "Sit here, Y/N." You obliged and sat your stuff down before sitting next to her, leaving a bit of space between the two of you.

Lunch went normally. Well, as normal as it can get while sitting with the plastics. You had to admit, it was fun hearing all of the drama that Gretchen had info on. You were a little surprised, however, that Regina hadn't talked as much shit as you used to hear about.

Something about her had changed in the past few months. You wondered if Cady had anything to do with it. She seemed like a sweet girl, maybe she was rubbing off on Regina.

"Y/N?" Regina placed her hand on your arm and you looked at her. "You coming today?"

You blinked a few times and glanced down at the feeling of her skin on yours. You looked back up to meet her eyes. "Coming to what?"

"My house, silly. Were you listening?" She smiled at you and ran her hand down your arm before putting it back in her lap.

"Oh, yeah, sure." You nodded. The last time you had been to Regina's house was last year. Regina was sure you needed some sort of glam makeover, so she dressed you up like her own personal human Barbie.

She was sitting in front of you, practically on your lap, while applying a heavy layer of makeup to your face. You kept flinching away when she attempted eyeliner, so she reached out and firmly gripped your chin.

She finally finished and smiled at you. "There. Perfect." She had already dressed you up, putting you in one of her famous pink sweaters and a short white skirt. "Go look in the mirror."

You obliged and got up from her bed. You stared at yourself in the mirror, unable to hide the unsatisfactory expression on you face. You frowned at yourself.

Regina came up behind you in the mirror and her smile faltered. "You don't like it." She said a little sadly. You shook your head. "But you look so pretty."

You turned to face her and sighed. "It's not me. Like, at all." She studied your face for a second before walking over to her vanity and grabbing makeup remover and cotton pads. She came back over and stood close to you.

She began to gently remove the makeup from your face. "You should've said something before I started." She said quietly.

You closed your eyes, letting her get the eyeliner off of you. "You seemed so excited, I didn't want to ruin your fun."

She stopped her movements for a second before starting again. You assumed it was to get more makeup remover on the pad, but really, she found herself staring at you, feeling a little bad for making you uncomfortable. "You shouldn't let people walk all over you. You aren't doing yourself any good." She said quickly before silence washed over you.

The end of the day had been approaching too slowly for your liking. Sure you were excited to go, but you were nervous as hell. You quickly grabbed your things from your locker and left the school, heading over to Regina's iconic pink Jeep.

She sat in the front seat and Gretchen, Karen, and Cady were all piled in the back. Regina spotted you from a small distance and crooked her finger, summoning you over to her. You picked up your walking speed and stood near the driver's side door.

"Passenger side, get in." Gretchen shot Regina a look, shocked that she was letting you sit up front, but she ignored it. You silently got in the car and glanced back at the girls, shooting them an apologetic glance.

The car ride to her house was awkward. You all sat in a strange silence. The girls were fed up with Regina's special treatment of you, while you were simply confused.

You all eventually piled into Regina's house and were headed upstairs to her room when you heard a gasp behind you. You spun around and Mrs. George stood with a smile on her face. "Y/N Y/L/N, is that you?"

You smiled at Regina's mom and walked back down the stairs. She immediately hugged you. "I haven't seen you in forever dear, where'd you disappear to?"

The two of you let go. "Been busy with school and hockey, I guess." You glanced back at Regina, and it wasn't visible, but you could tell she felt guilty.

"Mom, we have things to do." The blonde rolled her eyes. You said goodbye and went upstairs with the rest of the group.

Regina sat on her bed, Gretchen and Karen crowding by Regina's vanity, while you and Cady stood there awkwardly, unsure what to do. Gretchen came over and grabbed Cady, shooting you a small look of contempt.

You stood alone for only a second before Regina beckoned you over with the curl of her finger. You obliged, like always, and sat on the edge of her bed.

"How's your face healing?" She asked quietly.

You shrugged. "I mean, it doesn't hurt that bad anymore, so I guess it's healing fine." Regina nodded at you and moved her hand up to your face, gently running her thumb over the scab on your cheek.

A heat flooded your cheeks and you couldn't help but lean into her touch a bit. The moment was sadly cut short when Gretchen started speaking and Regina dropped her hand back to her lap. "So, do we need to update Shane's status in the burn book? After what he did to Y/N, I think we should."

Karen nodded along and I noticed the confusion on Cady's face. "Burn book?"

Gretchen and Karen went in depth with showing Cady every page in the burn book. You shot Regina a glance. "You still have that thing?"

She almost looked ashamed. Almost. "Yeah, guess so." You just sighed and pulled out your phone.

The sun was setting. Cady had already left, and Gretchen and Karen were leaving. They said their goodbyes and disappeared out of Regina's room.

"Regina?" You spoke up the second you two were alone. She hummed as an answer and you continued. "Why've you been so nice to me lately?"

Regina's body tensed up. "I told you before, you fought my ex and I wanted to make sure you were fine."

You shook your head. "I don't think that's the whole truth." You spoke softly.

There was silence before Regina sighed. "Fine. I lied. Not about the whole making sure you're okay thing, but the reason why I care so much."

You scooted closer to Regina on her bed and reached out to grab one of her hands. "Then what's really going on?"

She glanced at your eyes before dropping her gaze to your hands. "It is my fault that Shane fought you. I never told anyone the truth about what happened when we broke up. He didn't cheat on me and I didn't end things with him." She took a deep breath.

You stayed silent, letting her continue. “He broke up with me. He said I liked someone else and-“ She shook her head. “I didn’t admit to it, obviously, but I didn’t deny it either.”

You gently ssqueezed her hand and spoke softly. “Gina, I- I’m sorry.” A small look of confusion flashed behind your eyes. “But I don’t get what that has to do with you protecting me?”

She stared down at her lap. “Because it was you. He said I liked you.” Her bottom lip trembled a bit. “I tried so hard not to, but clearly it didn’t work.” She let out a shaky breath.

You stated at her with wide eyes. Regina George liked you? “Is this some sort of prank or something. Did Gretchen and Karen not actually leave? Are they outside, because-“

“No you idiot.” She placed her hands on your face and pulled you towards her, finally connecting your lips together like she had been longing to do for forever.

It took you a second to process what was happening, but when you did, you kissed her back hard. You put your hands on her waist and pulled her onto your lap. She gasped softly and you took advantage of her parted lips, slipping your tongue past them and brushing it agains hers.

You groaned at the taste of her mouth and you gently squeezed her hips. She giggled and pulled away. "Call me an idiot but I'd fight any of your exes any day if it means I get this." You smiled at her and she lightly pushed your shoulder.

She leaned forward and tucked her head against your neck. "It feels really good to get that off my chest."

You ran your fingers gently up and down her back. "I'm glad you finally did."

taglist: @reneeswif3

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lovehungrybean · 17 days

Text

II HANDS II HEAVEN 4

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha Romanoff and Reader reluctantly team up for a couples retreat mission. Despite initial resistance, they find themselves drawn together by unexpected circumstances and shared experiences.

W/c:4k

Hour 15 - Welcome to Jacksonville

“So live your life (eh-eh-eh)

You steady chasin' that paper

Just live your life (oh, eh-eh-eh)”

“Ain’t got no time for no haters,” You sang the lyrics to the TI and Rihanna song, as you eased the car into a parking spot with precision. Your voice filled the car's interior as you continued to hum to the music. With one hand casually resting on Natasha's passenger headrest, you backed into the first available spot.

Natasha seemed none the wiser as she slept peacefully beside you. She had learned to tune you out three hours ago. She stirred beside you, her peaceful slumber interrupted by the cutting of the car's engine. Blinking groggily, she glanced around the unfamiliar surroundings of the parking lot.

"Why are we stopping?" Her voice held a trace of confusion as she sat up, her gaze flitting around. "Where are we? Is this a mall?"

With a casual shrug, you unbuckled your seatbelt, a playful smirk playing on your lips. "Do you always wake up this disoriented?"

Natasha's brow furrowed slightly, a hint of irritation creeping into her voice. "I wouldn't be disoriented if you didn't keep making unnecessary stops."

You shrugged, unfazed by her annoyance. "Relax, it's just a quick pit stop. Thought we could use a little break before we hit the road again."

Natasha sighed, her frustration evident as she glanced out the window. "Fine, but make it quick. We have a schedule to keep."

“You’re coming aren’t you?” You turned to her as you slid out of the driver’s seat.

Natasha followed suit, stepping out of the car with a grimace. This heat was atrocious. "I suppose I have no choice," she replied.

You walked ahead of her, straight through the mall, and into the adult equivalent of a candy store; Jared's Jewelry.

Natasha frowned as she observed you eyeing the necklaces on the counter. "Jewelry shopping?" she questioned, a hint of skepticism in her voice.

"Wedding band shopping," you clarified, tapping your left ring finger for emphasis. "Married couples with no rings?"

“Right,” She mumbled. This mission hadn’t been as meticulously planned as others. The dealings mostly relied on you both to be sufficient spies that could handle things like this on your own.

“We’ve been married two days and you’re already forgetting the important stuff,” You joked with a headshake. “Oh, I like this one.”

“$2,000?” Natasha tilted her head. She squinted her eyes at the price. This was a part of life she never had to pay much attention to.

“You're right too cheap,” You nodded in agreement. Natasha was just about to protest when a man with an unidentifiable accent approached the both of you.

The man, dressed in all black like a worker, approached with a friendly smile. "Can I help you ladies find something?" he asked in his accented voice.

You immediately shared a knowing gaze with Natasha. His accent was most certainly fake. Maybe as a way to keep up appearances in such a high-end store.

“Yes, my wife and I are looking for wedding bands,” You begin to play the part of Alexis. Half ditzy and overexcited. “Can you show me a better selection or is this all you have?”

“Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?”

“Surprise me,” You gestured to the entirety of the store.

The worker, Jimmy, nodded and led you to several pieces, showcasing them with pride. However, none of them seemed to be quite right. Natasha's annoyance grew evident, but you seemed to be having too much fun, trying on different pieces and admiring yourself in the mirror.

“What do you think of this one?” You looked at Natasha as you gently tapped against the glass. She inspected the jewelry piece and shrugged. She did not like it.

“How about this one?” Natasha pointed to a wedding band set near the area she wandered off to.

“Oh, that one is beautiful,” Jimmy praised as he opened up the glass casing for you to get a closer look. He picked up the ring, passing it over to you while watching the both of you closely.

You eyed the wedding band set that Natasha pointed out, examining it with interest. It was simple, yet elegant and beautiful, just as she described. You reached out to touch it, feeling the smooth material against your fingertips.

“How many carats?” You asked aloud. “It’s pretty.”

Jimmy described the wedding cushion band, "It's a 2-carat total weight round diamond set in 14-karat white gold. It's one of our finest pieces, quite exquisite, if I may say so."

Natasha's eyes widened as she realized how expensive it was, almost saying no. But before she could voice her concern, you rushed in, saying, "I'll take it."

“That’s a $4,000 ring,” Natasha pointed out.

You shrugged casually, "Yeah, so?"

“Don’t you think that’s a little expensive considering the circumstances?”

“Let’s just say my billionaire daddy gave me his credit card,” You smirked cheekily, alluding back to Natasha’s insult a few hours ago.

Natasha's eyebrows raised, but she didn't press further. Instead, she nodded, acknowledging your response.

“In that case, let’s look for a band that compliments you blondie,” Jimmy encouraged as he led you over to yet another ring display. He missed the death glare Natasha was sending his way as he walked ahead of you. You couldn't help but snicker at her expense. Oh, you would love this week. “This time, I think the misses can pick one out. Since you did pick hers.”

You grinned mischievously, your eyes scanning over rings that were far from Natasha's taste. "Sure thing, Jimmy. Let's see if we can find something that screams her." Your tone was playful, knowing full well that the rings you were considering would likely get a less-than-enthusiastic response from Natasha.

“Don’t you dare,” Natasha murmured threateningly. She caught sight of the rose gold wedding ring that looked more like a toy than real jewelry. It was tacky and not as well made as some of the other rings you’d seen.

You chuckled softly, pretending to consider the ring for a moment before shaking your head. "Nah, too flashy for you, babe," you teased, using the nickname deliberately to provoke a reaction. "We'll keep looking." You shot her a playful wink before turning your attention back to the display.

As you browsed through the selection, your eyes caught on a ring resting in the display. It was a delicate white gold band, adorned with a single, shimmering diamond that seemed to dance in the light. The stone was elegantly set in a simple, yet intricate design that directly matched yours. They complimented each other in the best way.

"This one," You murmured, reaching for the ring with a sense of certainty.

"This is it," You declared with a smile, turning to Natasha to gauge her reaction. “It compliments your eyes. I can’t describe it but it’s nice. What do you think?

“I like it,” Natasha cleared her throat, hoping to ease some of the awkwardness between you. “It’s nice.”

“We’ll take it,” You turned to give the ring to Jimmy. “How soon can we take both home?”

“Within the next hour,” Jimmy suggested. “You said you’re paying by credit card? For you, I can have everything done within fifteen minutes. It simply takes insurance a while. I’ll give you a call when it’s ready?”

“That sounds lovely, thank you,” You stepped over to the register where he began to ring you up. “Oh, I think I left my credit card in the car. Babe, won’t you be a doll and swipe for me?” You looked at Natasha with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

Natasha's eyes narrowed at your request, but she begrudgingly reached for her wallet, swiping her card without a word. As the transaction went through, you couldn't help but smirk, knowing you had just added another layer to your playful banter.

"Thanks, babe," You said with a wink, accepting the receipt from Jimmy. "I owe you one."

“Uh huh,” Natasha nodded. “We’ll be back soon.”

Natasha followed you out of the store and down towards the food court.

“Oh, Charley’s,” You grinned. “Come, we must feast.” You waved Natasha over to Charley's Philly Steak.

“Thanks but no thanks,” Natraha shook her head. “This is a lot of grease and…”

“What type of health nut are you ?” You asked in disgust. You gave her body a once over before you sighed.

Natasha gave a wry smile. "Call me crazy, but I prefer to avoid coronary artery disease."

You chuckled. "Suit yourself. More cheesesteak for me." With that, you headed into the restaurant, leaving Natasha to ponder her choices.

You ordered the best cheesesteak on the planet, practically salivating at the menu as you stood in line. When it was time to get your food, you led Natasha over to a table to sit with you. She sat with a simple lemonade in her hand as she eyed your surroundings subtly. You had to admit the girl was good.

“You know I kind of like you,” You said to Natasha in between bites. “At first, I simply thought you were bitchy. Now I think of you as kind of hot and bitchy. It works for you. Also, the blonde does look good on you I must say.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, unamused. "Thanks, I think."

You grinned, undeterred by her lack of enthusiasm. "Hey, it takes a special kind of person to rock the 'hot and bitchy' vibe. Not everyone can pull it off."

Natasha shook her head, a small smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"Absolutely," You replied with a wink, taking another bite of your cheesesteak.

“You certainly have a way with words,” Natasha mumbled, as she watched you ogle a beautiful woman walking past the two of you. “Keep your eyes open.”

You glanced back at Natasha, a smirk playing on your lips. "Always do, especially when the view's this good."

Natasha rolled her eyes, but a hint of amusement danced in her gaze. "Just remember why we're here, okay?"

"Got it," You replied with a wink, turning your attention back to the task at hand.

“People say I’m a bit intense,” Natasha began. “They’ve never met you.”

You chuckled, acknowledging her remark. "Intense? Me? Nah, just passionate about the job."

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Sure, let's go with that."

“It gets me through the day to keep my mood lifted,” You said solemnly. “I spent so much time being serious. Stone-faced and unhappy. I like this version of me. It’s neat.”

Natasha regarded you with a hint of curiosity in her eyes. "So, you're saying the humor is a coping mechanism?"

You nodded a wistful smile on your face. "Something like that. Keeps me sane, you know?"

“I do,” Natasha agreed. “You’re not going to eat all of these,” Natasha said more so to herself than you as she grabbed a few fries from your plate.

"I knew you wouldn't be able to resist," You teased, nudging the plate closer to her.

“It’s halfway decent,” Natasha hummed as she chewed into a fry. “I’m not a stickler when it comes to eating. Just so you know.”

“I know,” You shrugged. Some things went without saying. If there was someone to truly judge her on certain habits she most likely gained from life growing up as a spy it wouldn’t be you.

“How old were you when you joined?” Natasha asked suddenly. “Your file doesn’t say.”

You chewed slowly, debating on whether you wanted to tell her or not.

“Fourteen,” You admitted.

Natasha's expression softened a hint of empathy in her eyes. "That's young," she remarked quietly, her tone more gentle than usual. She tried to imagine what a younger, spy you would look like. How would you have acted then? Were you afraid? Did you make friends? Were you allowed to have friends? She wants to know so much more. Though she figured you weren’t willing to tell her too much. You were only being cordial after all.

“It is,” You swallowed thickly. “I played basketball in school and I was recruited based on my JROTC background. I guess they saw something in me no one else did.”

Natasha nodded, absorbing your words. "They usually do," she replied, her voice carrying a weight of understanding. "Are you ready?”

“Yeah, I am,” You nodded. Anything to keep this conversation from going any deeper.

—------

The rest of the ride to Bay Harbor Island is done in relative silence. You and Natasha would share brief tidbits about the other, both made up and truthful, as you prepared to assume your roles. You could feel the hairs on your arms stand as you pulled into the luxurious resort parking lot. You wouldn’t even attempt to find a parking spot on your own, instead pulling up to the valet.

As the valet took the keys and you stepped out of the car, the weight of your assumed identities settled upon you. You straightened your posture, adopting the persona of Alexis, the confident and sophisticated woman you were tasked to portray. Natasha, too, seemed to slip effortlessly into her role as Joan, her demeanor shifting subtly to embody the elegance and grace expected of her character.

The resort exuded an air of opulence and sophistication, clear from the moment you stepped through the grand entrance. Freshly waxed marble floors stretched out before you, adorned with intricate patterns that spoke of craftsmanship and luxury. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings casting a warm glow over the lobby.

The atmosphere was alive with energy, as guests and staff moved through the various rooms. Busy chatter filled the air, mingling with the soft sounds of classical music that played softly in the background.

Natasha and you navigated through the crowd with ease, wheeling your luggage behind you as a busboy trailed dutifully after you. The occasional glance was thrown your way, but everyone was much too busy trying to check into their rooms to do much of anything.

As you and Natasha stood side by side, it was clear to you that each of you had your own way of assessing the situation. While you scanned the room for potential exits and assessed the number of staff and guests present, Natasha's focus was on the subtle nuances of the environment. She listened intently to the conversations around you, gauging the mood of the crowd and the flow of foot traffic with practiced precision.

Despite the amount of energy in the resort lobby, both of you remained calm and composed.

“I told you we should have gotten here earlier,” A woman’s gruff and irritated voice floated from behind you.

“Well, how was I supposed to know there would be people checking in on a Thursday?” The man argued.

You exchanged a glance with Natasha as the voices behind you caught your attention. It seemed like a typical couple's bickering, but something about their tone piqued your interest. They sounded tense as if there was more beneath the surface than just a disagreement over timing.

Natasha subtly shifted her position, her body language indicating that she was now paying closer attention to the conversation behind you.

“We're already late for check-in,” the woman continued, her frustration evident in her voice. “Now we're going to have to wait in line like everyone else.”

“Well, what do you want me to do about it?” the man retorted defensively. “It's not my fault the traffic was so bad.”

As you moved ahead in line, a couple with a restless golden retriever cut off your path to get across. Hoping to avoid them, you stepped back, slightly losing your balance only to have Natasha press her left hand against your lower back to keep you steady.

“Sorry!” The husband called behind him as they rushed outside the front doors.

“Jeez, they almost knocked her over,” The woman behind you whispered to her husband, their bickering long gone.

"Thanks," You murmured to Natasha, offering her a small smile of appreciation.

“Is this okay?” Natasha leaned over to speak closer to your ear. She was referring to her hand on your back. You’d mentioned before how physical touch made you uncomfortable. Given that physical touch would be a must to sell as a fake couple, you would have to get over it. It was kind of her to ask. You nodded in response to Natasha's question, grateful for her consideration.

"Yeah, it's fine," You replied softly, trying to sound as reassuring as possible.

You were finally up. The front desk attendant was a kind young girl with a slight gap in her teeth. She had the sweetest smile that you couldn’t help but match.

“Hi, my wife and I are checking in,” Natasha spoke. “It should be under the last name White.”

The receptionist nodded, typing on the keyboard in front of her. "Ah, yes, Mrs. White," she confirmed, her fingers moving deftly over the keys. "I have your reservation right here. Welcome to Shady Corners Island Resort." She smiled warmly, handing over the room keys to Natasha. "I hope you don’t mind. Seeing as you’re newlyweds we took the pleasure of upgrading your room to one of our over-the-water bungalows. Free of charge. It’s our last one for the weekend.”

"That's very generous, thank you," Natasha replied with a gracious smile, accepting the room keys. "We appreciate it."

“If you just wait right over there near the red bell a member of our staff will be able to lead you and one of the other couples over to the bungalow area,” She gestured to the right.

"Sounds perfect," Natasha nodded, gesturing for you to follow her toward the designated waiting area near the red bell.

As Natasha and you made your way towards the waiting area, you overheard the couple behind you whispering to each other.

"I wish we could get an upgrade like that," the woman muttered.

"Yeah, but didn't you hear? The last room got booked by that couple in front of us," the man replied, disappointment evident in his voice.

You exchanged a glance with Natasha, silently acknowledging the stroke of luck that landed you the upgraded room.

As you and Natasha settled near the red bell, the couple with the restless golden retriever approached and stood next to you. The dog, clearly still restless, tugged on its leash, occasionally letting out a low whine.

You couldn't help but wonder how the dog was allowed in such a busy and upscale hotel, but you kept your thoughts to yourself, not wanting to make any assumptions. Instead, you focused on maintaining your composure and waiting patiently for the staff member to lead you to your bungalow.

“White?” An attendant approached the two of you and you answered with an enthusiastic nod. “And, Corcoran?”

“That would be us,” The woman answered. Her hair was a dark brown, beach curled, and flowing down her back. Her features were pleasant enough, with soft curves to her face and a warm smile.

“Follow me,” The attendant gestured.

As the attendant led the way, Natasha eventually dropped her hand from your back. You tried to ignore the sudden absence of her touch, focusing instead on the picturesque view of the overwater bungalows ahead. The path to the accommodations wound through lush gardens and over small bridges spanning the peaceful ocean. The sound of gentle waves lapping against the wooden stilts beneath the bungalows filled the air, creating a serene atmosphere.

“302 Sunset Retreat,” The attendant offered to take hold of your key card to show you how to get in. He demonstrated how to use the key card to unlock the door, sliding it into the slot and giving it a gentle push. With a soft click, the door unlocked, and he pushed it open to reveal the luxurious interior.

Once inside, the bellboy followed behind with your bags, placing them neatly in the living area before excusing himself, leaving you and Natasha alone in the bungalow.

The interior of the bungalow exuded tropical luxury with a modern twist.

A plush king-sized bed adorned with crisp, white linens served as the focal point of the room. The large windows offered stunning views of the crystal-clear waters below.

In one corner of the room, a luxurious jacuzzi tub awaited, surrounded by lush greenery for added privacy. Nearby, a sleek waterfall shower, with glass doors, stood tall.

A top-notch mini-bar stocked with an array of beverages and snacks stood against one wall, offering indulgent treats for your enjoyment. Outside, a small patio beckoned with comfortable chairs, providing the perfect spot to sip a refreshing drink and soak in the breathtaking views of the surrounding lagoon.

The best part of the room was the cooler filled with champagne and wine. Along with the rose petals sprinkled over the tiny kitchenette counter.

“Nice,” Natasha sighed as she stepped into the bedroom area of the bungalow. “Bed-sharing.”

“I know so cliche,” You shook your head as you grabbed a bottle of water from the mini-fridge.

Natasha rolled her eyes playfully at your comment, her lips curling into a small smirk. "Well, we're committed to selling the whole 'newlywed' vibe, aren't we?" she quipped, her tone laced with sarcasm.

You chuckled, nodding in agreement as you twisted the cap off the water bottle. "Exactly. It's all about authenticity," you replied, taking a sip before gesturing towards the inviting bed. "Shall we test it out?"

“Test it out?” Natasha raised a brow.

“Must I be the beauty and the brains in this relationship?” You mumbled.

Natasha chuckled softly. "Careful, or you might bruise your delicate ego," she teased. "But sure, why not? It's been a long day." She walked over to the bed and flopped down onto it, letting out a content sigh.

“You’re lying on the bed with your outside clothes?” You asked incredulously.

“What? You said test it out?” Natasha frowned.

"Fair enough," You conceded, walking over to the bed and gingerly sitting down beside her. "But you're still breaking all the rules of hotel etiquette."

“I think we’ll survive,” Natasha closed her eyes. She needed a few minutes to process.

“It’s so boring already,” You groaned as you began to look through the drawers beside the bed.

Natasha sighed, a hint of irritation in her voice. "Can't you sit still for a moment?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, continuing to rummage through the drawers. "I'm just trying to find something to pass the time. Being cooped up in this room isn't exactly thrilling."

Natasha rolled her eyes, her patience wearing thin. "Well, try to contain yourself. We're here for a mission, not a vacation. Also, we’ve been here all of five minutes."

“Five minutes that I could have been in a bikini in the sun,” You said in a ‘duh’ tone. “Sun’s out bun’s out as they say.”

“Are you sure you don’t have ADHD?” Natasha began to ask as she squinted her eyes. Was she analyzing you?

“What are you a psychiatrist? I thought that was my cover,” You rolled your eyes.

"Who says I can't dabble in multiple professions? Besides, it's not exactly rocket science to see that you're a bit on edge like all the time,” Natasha pointed out.

You raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Is that your professional diagnosis?"

"Consider it a layman's observation," She replied with a grin.

“Well, how about we observe someone by the pool? Come on Tasha,” You whined.

“I thought I said no nicknames,” Natasha growled.

“It’s not a nickname it’s just a shortening of your name,” You shrugged. “Also, you told me not to call you honey or baby. Nowhere did you say I couldn’t call you Tasha.”

Natasha's expression hardened, her eyes narrowing. "Semantics."

You grinned mischievously. "Exactly."

She shook her head. "Let's just go observe by the pool, alright?"

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lovehungrybean · 17 days

Text

Protection In Order

Pairings: Sam Carpenter x Pregnant! Reader

Content: Blood and injury, Protective Sam

Summary: Ghostface strikes again except Sam is more protective over you due to carrying her baby...

WC: 1948

It had been 3 months since you met Sam, and 2 months since you got pregnant. At first, it was just a friends-with-benefits situation because Sam was scared of a relationship. In reality, she had a crush on you but was scared you’d become a bad person, a Ghostface. Once she knew you were pregnant however she immediately changed and made it official. If you were pregnant, you wouldn’t be able to be Ghostface she figured and that was proven in the third month of knowing you when multiple people were killed with Ghostface masks on the scene.

That made Sam keep around you. You were worried yourself, scared of your future. You held onto your stomach gently as you watched the news, Sam next to you. She had been attacked in the shop and ever since then, you were worried about her and everyone else. You didn’t even know who to trust now, you could only trust Sam. Now, you were all in the dorm except for Ethan who had a night class supposedly. You didn’t know if it was true but didn’t want to suspect him of lying. You liked him after all, he was… sweet in his own way.

Sam had an arm around you as she gently kissed your cheek, knowing you were nervous. “I will protect you, baby,” she spoke. She was gentle as she held you closer than ever, worried about your child as well. She kept rubbing your stomach as she watched Tara and Chad cook.

“I’m going to the bathroom baby,” you spoke with a soft smile, going over to the bathroom. Sam nodded. “Of course, I’ll go check on Tara,” she said, getting up and going to the kitchen. You went into Sam’s room, using her bathroom as you were thinking. After a few minutes, you walked out, seeing the 4 survivors in the kitchen. You decided to leave them to talk as they seemed to be talking about Danny calling Sam but you shrugged it off as you sat with Anika, who was just reading.

That’s when you heard moans coming from Quinn’s room. You couldn’t help but chuckle as you looked over, hoping she was having a good time even though they had just finished it seemed. Soon, however, the 4 came out. “Front door,” Sam announced, stepping in front of you. When you nearly reached it however the moaning stopped. “Ghostface is with her,” Sam spoke quietly to the others as you slowly backed up to the door. Soon however Quinn’s body was pushed into Anika. You froze in shock before Tara and Chad pushed you out the front door, presumably to help Sam not worry about you. You were more concerned about her now, but thinking the others would join in time you kept going and when they didn’t you were more concerned. Worst of all no one brought the front door key.

“My room!” Danny yelled from his doorway. You didn’t even think as you went in, Tara and Chad following nervously. He was holding a ladder, shouting across. That was when you realised it was Quinn’s room. Sam and Mindy were there, however. “Just climb across, I got your girlfriend,” he yelled across. Sam nervously looked at Mindy, who nodded at Sam to go first.

“Ok,” Sam finally conceded before she started to climb across nervously. She was scared of heights. “Come on baby,” you begged her to go faster. She looked over, into her eyes which made her quicker. She soon climbed through the window where Mindy started to climb after as well. Ghostface was slowly pushing the cupboard away slowly but surely. Once they were done though, he finally got through. He just glared before he started to walk out.

“Anika is dead,” Mindy cried out. You gently hugged her…

It was officially the trap time and Sam was more protective than usual, especially after Anika died. You were on the train as Sam was in front of you, Tara and Chad on your sides while Danny was behind. Mindy was with Ethan which you didn’t like though, you were assuming he was the killer after all. You couldn’t prove it though. You kept holding your stomach. When a person wearing a Ghostface outfit stared at you, that was when Sam got even taller and stood forward a bit.

When he passed though, she physically relaxed and looked at you. You just smiled and kissed her gently. “You’ll be a good mom,” Tara teased. Sam went bright red, as did you. “Thanks, T Bear,” Sam thanked.

You soon got out of the subway, meeting with Agent Kirby. “Hey, where’s Mindy?” Kirby asked, looking around at all of you.

“5 minutes away, she caught the other train,” Tara informed. Kirby nodded. “Come on,” she spoke and led you to the trap. She stopped you and Danny after however. “Woodsboro only,” she spoke.

“Understood,” Danny spoke with a nod. “My girlfriend is being with me, what if she gets attacked when we go inside?” Sam asked. Kirby sighed, knowing she would be protective over you due to you carrying her baby.

“Ok, only her,” Kirby spoke. Danny smiled at you all and nodded. “Be safe,” he spoke before leaving for the subway to help Mindy and Ethan when they would come.

You walked in nervous, Kirby talking about her only having the gun on her. You were following Sam around as she was holding you close. She was soon going over to the case. You knew she had seen Billy from the stare that she had, but you didn’t say anything. You accepted she still saw him. That’s when she went over to the statue, opened the door then reached inside, grabbing the rusty knife, still covered in old blood. “Are you sure?” you asked. “I want you to be safe,” Sam responded, kissing you. You nodded with a smile, but still unsure. You kept following her around before her phone rang. It was Detective Bailey. Sam was listening, putting it on speakerphone so you could hear as well.

“Hello,” Sam spoke.

“Sam, you need to get out of there! I learnt from the Atlanta Field Office that Kirby isn’t with the FBI anymore. Said she went mad,” Detective Bailey warned. You felt your anxiety spike. “Thank you for telling us,” Sam quickly spoke as she led you over to the trap where she saw the chain. “Shit,” she spoke and tugged on it, anger spiking up. “Stay close to me baby, I will protect you,” she spoke gently. You nodded, trusting her as you were nervous for everyone in there. Tara, Chad, Sam and you. Hell, even Kirby even if she was Ghostface. “Let’s find the others,” you spoke, looking at Sam. Sam nodded, agreeing. It was better to be in a group after all. You looked around the place, before going to the lobby. Starting to walk over, sudden screams were causing you to jump. That made you run over quickly, Sam in front as she soon saw what the cause was. It was Tara, safe and sound minus a wound near her spine and Chad who was being stabbed constantly. “Go, we have to go!” Sam yelled, dragging Tara as you ran away with them, Sam making you go in front due to the 2 Ghostface people being there. Tara was crying in pain. “The killer is Kirby!” Sam informed as they reached the main stage. “Are you sure?” Tara asked. “Yes! We are, Bailey called us,” you responded. Sam immediately jumped when Kirby came out, blood coming out of her shirt.

“We know you are Ghostface,” Sam informed, keeping the knife out in front of her, fear in her brain. She just wanted to protect you and Tara, she didn’t care about her safety and she knew Kirby had a gun.

“I’m not! I was knocked out and stabbed,” Kirby spoke, keeping some distance as she knew what Sam was capable of. That’s when Sam saw Bailey, gun up. “Watch out!” Bailey spoke, shooting Kirby. Kirby immediately went on the ground, bleeding before a smirk came on his face. “Watch out!” Sam repeated, both Ghostfaces running towards him. That’s when he looked at them both. “Good job,” he praised them, causing you three to be confused and look at each other. That’s when it hit Sam and she immediately put you in the middle between Tara and her so you didn’t get injured. She also handed you and Tara a brick for a security measure.

“So, you are one of the Ghostfaces. Is the other one Ethan?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow. That was the only one she was sure of admittedly. Ethan smirked, pulling his mask off, doing a speech that quite frankly… everyone ignored. You didn’t know who the other one was though, and it seemed like the others didn’t either. “And… Mindy?” Sam asked. You and Tara looked at her before the person took off the mask.

Quinn.

Everyone felt shocked as you all thought that she was dead. In a blur, you threw your brick at Detective Bailey, knocking him out as he was looking at Quinn before he realised you had thrown your brick towards his head. Meanwhile, Ethan quickly launched towards Tara while screaming, “I always wanted to stick something inside you!”.

Sam looked disgusted before she quickly went to protect Tara, you quickly grabbed another brick, getting nervous. Sam was wielding the knife at least before you realised Kirby was nearby. That’s when you grabbed the gun from her hand. She was unconscious from pain. Quinn unfortunately reached you before you could aim the gun, however. She had aimed for your shoulder and hit at least. “Sam!” You cried as Sam was pushing Tara towards a ladder, Tara starting to climb it. Sam rushed over immediately before she stabbed Quinn as well, aiming for the neck. Quinn immediately expected her coming over though as she started to sidestep, causing Sam to fall. You gasped, the gun still in your hand as you shot Quinn, protecting Sam.

Sam was proud of you. Luckily you shot her in the head, shocked at yourself. “Hand me the gun,” Sam spoke gently. You nodded doing as told, Ethan starting to charge towards you. His knife was aimed towards your stomach. Sam tried to shoot when the gun was already jammed. “Shit, she spoke before she started to charge towards him, stabbing his guts instead, hitting a vital spot already. Sure, she was stabbed but it was just to the side, not hitting a vital organ thankfully. She wouldn’t say i it did though, not until Bailey was dead. Sam handed you the knife. “You want to do the job?” she asked. You nodded as you took it. She smirked, watching you as she went over to Bailey and was holding his hands together so there wasn’t much he could do at all if he woke up. She was nodding as Tara had seemed to have escaped. She was nowhere in sight. You suddenly stabbed Bailey in the stomach, making him wake up.

“Goodnight,” you spoke darkly before you stabbed him in the heart. He let out a gurgle, blood dripping out of his mouth before he closed his eyes. You sighed, leaving the knife in his heart before you looked at Sam and smiled. She smiled back before she kissed you gently.

“I love you,” she spoke gently, holding you close as she had one hand around you and the other on your stomach. Suddenly the door was shoved open and police walked in. You didn’t care as you just held onto Sam.

You were safe.

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