#coming to you live from texas where the news is just a middle finger being shoved right up your ass
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Of Fighters and Fighter Pilots | 652 | strawberryspitt
Summary: "Bradley knows the entire team thinks it’s unhealthy. They just don’t get it, not yet."
Field Day | 810 | xo_em / @jakeseresins
Summary: “Where are you taking me?” Bradley exclaims as Jake pulls him along by the hand.
“You said you wanted to do Texas things,” Jake laughs. “So I’m showing you a Texas thing.”
We Could Try | 1,072 | xo_em / @jakeseresins
Summary: “Jake, what the hell. It’s like four in the morning-“
rose quartz | 1,100 | levivi
Summary: He inspects his boyfriend carefully.
Bradley looks nervous, probably unnoticeable to anyone else, but Jake’s not just anyone else. He can see it in his eyes, in the slight tremor of his fingers splayed over his thighs. His heart squeezes.
all the things i wish i had told you | 1,118 | dames_for_jamesbarnes / @qvid-pro-qvo
Summary: “It’s not like you, to turn in early,” Bradley counters. Hangman stops again, turns and glares, brow furrowed deep.
“Been a long time since you could claim to know me, right, Bradshaw?”
Bradley and Jake have a past. Bradley wants a future.
Bleeding Hearts Beat Too Fast | 1,136 | theincredibleprincess
Summary: When he looks at the scene before him, Bradley sees a part of himself that he had tried to destroy a long time ago.
After an unlikely candidate helps Jake through a bad situation, they get to discussing fathers- the best that ever died and the worst that ever lived.
if someone was going to break me (i’d want it to be you) | 1,162 | tearsricochets
Summary: There’s a kiss being placed on his neck, and he sighs when he realizes it was right on one of the multiple marks Bradley had littered him with that evening. “Should I leave?” he asks, while tightening his arms around his waist.
(‘Should I leave?’ he asks. Like Jake would ever make him leave. No, that’s Jake’s job.)
He doesn’t say that, instead answering: “Ask again in five.” Because he’s weak, and he’s always got to have an escape route planned, a way out of the hole he’s dug for himself once again.
Please see below for more recommendations!
I Could Be (Someone) | 1,226 | xo_em / @jakeseresins
Summary: “Why are you leaving?” Bradley demands breathlessly, his face positively flushed from the argument they’re currently embroiled in.
Wintersong | 1,320 | xo_em / @jakeseresins
Summary: It had been noisy, this trip, in the best way. All of them gathered together up in the mountains for the holiday, forgoing their normal family obligations in order to nurture this small and fragile family that they’d chosen for themselves.
A Sip of Eternity | 1,360 | xo_em / @jakeseresins
Summary: He knows if he just asked, Jake would give him anything.
the beginning, and the middle (not the end) | 1,405 | cloudburst
Summary: But hell, he wasn’t about to tell his fellow pilots the good news that Hangman had finally settled down – in a manner of speaking – and finally met the one. That last part not being an exaggeration had him turning mid-air, flown through the jetwash, unrecoverable spin.
He couldn’t pull the fucking eject.
coming up for air | 1,472 | vannral / @vannral
Summary: "The horizon blurs into blue and bone white. It’s so light it burns Jake’s eyes. The entire cockpit is eerily silent, except for the thundering in his ears.
’fly, fucking fly like your life depends on it – fly FASTER, THEY’RE GONNA DIE – !’"
In which Jake shares a room with Rooster on the carrier, he has a nightmare about not reaching Mav and Rooster in time, and Rooster comforts him. And ends up sharing the bed.
no need to pray, no need to speak | 1,491 | dalearden / @dale-arden
Summary: Taking the very last moment he has, Bradley closes in again on Jake but this time it’s so he can rest his forehead against the man who has been his lover and his rival all at once, his heart doing jumping jacks in his chest as he tries to have one more chance to just breathe.
Jake matches him, beat for beat, and Bradley has to close his eyes against the tidal wave of overwhelming sorrow that makes him feel, pressing a hand to Jake’s chest as he murmurs a promise he knows he can’t keep but which he feels he has to make all the same because what if, what if…
All the Sky Above | 1,574 | xo_em / @jakeseresins
Summary: It’s Maverick who calls him, waking him from a dead sleep at 11:28 pm on a Tuesday night, to tell him that Jake has flipped his car on the freeway.
With His Head Held High | 1,762 | dalearden / @dale-arden
Summary: Jake was born and raised in Texas and he knows a thing or two about guns. When Hard Deck is raided by a band of thugs and all inside taken hostage, Jake gets his hands on a rifle that Penny keeps under the counter and shows them exactly why they shouldn’t mess up with his Team. And Rooster may or may not get hard by seeing how precise Jake’s aim is.
Perpetuatin' Prophesy | 1,775 | ForASecondThereWedWon / @forasecondtherewedwon
Summary: Rooster blinks at him.
“My socks are wet,” he says.
Or, Rooster and Maverick bail out of the F-14. Jake finds them in the water.
this world is only gonna break your heart | 1,817 | youlookgood / @sereshavv
Summary: And maybe it's that tether pulling him along again. Maybe it's the fact that in the morning, when he puts on that helmet with H_NGM_N printed across the front, he'll be thinking about how appropriate it all is that the tether holding him to Rooster might just be his noose.
But he's a twisted up mess inside, and he could never wish for a universe in which he didn't love Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw with his entire being.
Their game has always been a wicked one, and now it's dead ash by Jake's own hands.
Maybe his dreams are true.
Maybe the world really is on fire.
still waters | 2,012 | Notchka88
Summary: Rooster is an even-keeled, laidback kind of guy. Except when it comes to Hangman, maybe especially then.
In which someone mouths off to Hangman and Rooster loses it.
Feel the Heat, See the Light | 2,173 | ForASecondThereWedWon / @forasecondtherewedwon
Summary: “How long do you think we can do this?” Jake wonders aloud.
Make the tension last? Bradley silently guesses. Stick to our respective sides of the bed? Pretend the fact that we took off across state lines, just the two of us, is something we can go forever without acknowledging?
cancel out the darkness I inherited from dad | 2,174 | multifandommonster / @mitthrawnu
Summary: “Don’t say that shit,” he whispers, void of any kind of venom. It's a shameful, humiliating emotion. “Don’t say that, Bradshaw, not– it’s not funny.”
“Okay,” Bradley replies, oddly calm. Closer again, Jake notices. “I won’t, Jake. I know you don’t regret it.”
angel, can't you see who's in front of you? | 2,185 | dames_for_jamesbarnes / @qvid-pro-qvo
Summary: “What about yours?” he finally asks, nodding to them. Seresin blinks, cocks his head, and Bradley gestures with an open hand. “Your wings.”
The other man blinks. Raises a brow. “I’ll show you mine because you showed me yours type of thing?”
Bradley snorts. “Something like that,” he admits, raising his brow right back.
Bradley and Jake accidentally find each other after the Mission. And maybe realize that even though they've flown together, they've never really seen each other.
(how good it is) to be your lover today | 2,464 | multifandommonster / @mitthrawnu
Summary: He doesn’t have an extensive morning routine; his pales in comparison to Jake’s several-step process to keep his skin young, Rooster, some of us don’t want sunspots by age forty, but Bradley just laughs. Jake’s gotten him to use moisturizer and sunscreen, that’s as far as he intends to go. He’ll wear his age the way his dad should’ve been able to.
my stubborn pride laying on the floor | 2,751 | multifandommonster / @mitthrawnu
Summary: He didn’t consider the reality, he didn’t really think at all– now he’s shaking against the sink in their locker room, vision blurring with tears as he tries to steady his hand. “C’mon,” he murmurs, shaking his head in an attempt to clear the fog settling into his awareness. “C’mon, fuck–”
“As I live and breathe,” a voice interrupts, and Bradley nearly drops the needle with the sigh that makes its way out of him.
i'm just gonna call you mine | 2,869 | ginnydear
Summary: “Oh, you better watch it there, sugar, because I feel an unnecessary roughness penalty in my future,” Rooster replies, watching as Hangman’s dimples appear. He salutes Rooster.
“You’re on, sweetcheeks.”
it starts with a sarcastic sweetcheeks. (or, five moments from within canon and one from shortly thereafter)
in sickness and in health | 3,063 | res_judicata / @res-judicatas
Summary: “I want a small wedding,” Jake mentions casually as he brews the coffee.
Bradley hums in acknowledgement as he scrambles the eggs, “that’s fine with me,” he slides the chopped tomatoes into the hot pan with a sizzle, “so, that would be your extended family, Mav, Ice, the peanut gallery, maybe a handful of our academy buddies-”
“No,” Jake shakes his head, “bare minimum,” his voice is suddenly serious, “it’s not a spectacle, you know, all that matters really is that you’re there,” a rueful tilt to his lips, “and I’m there.” He clicks his tongue, "and someone who can make it official... that’s all I need.”
Grit Your Teeth Another Time | 3,323 | Thee_Maxwell
Summary: Hospitals and death weren’t strangers to Bradley Bradshaw, and they always seemed to go hand-in-hand. So he wasn’t particularly thrilled to find himself under watch in the medbay of the aircraft carrier.
Or
It hits Bradley what almost happened on the mission (and Jake helps him feel better).
Take Him Off Your Hands | 3,554 | electricghosts
Summary: Bradley got orders to Texas while his friends were stationed on the other side of the world. He also never wanted to speak to Maverick again; he was completely and utterly alone. After four long months of moping around and feeling sorry for himself, he finally goes out to have a beer and is greeted by a group of partiers with funny nicknames. One in particular sticks out; an overconfident blonde in a ten-gallon hat by the name of Hangman. Liquid courage and channeling his late father’s charm might just be the key for Bradley to land himself a cowboy.
cowboy, take me away | 3,668 | ginnydear
Summary: jake has a cowboy hat he doesn't just let anyone wear. bradley takes that as a challenge.
never had a heart to mend | 3,735 | un_familiar
Summary: Bradley won’t stop looking at him with concern, laying kisses on his bare back and asking softly, “Are you okay,” until Jake wants to scream You know what you’re fucking doing to me, but he can’t or he won’t and he’s never felt this helpless in his life. The best he can manage is a soft, “Just tired,” turning back into Bradley’s embrace and thinking God, just let me keep this.
Life in Technicolor | 3,933 | AnadoraBlack / @anadorablack
Summary: “Hey Mav?”
“Mmh?”
They are sitting on the beach outside their house, feet buried in warm sand as they are watching the sun set. Bradley is leaning on his godfather’s shoulder, trying to imagine what it would be like to see something else than all the – admittedly lovely – shades of grey that make up his world.
“When do you think I’ll get my colours?”
Mav wraps an arm around his shoulders affectionately. “I only got mine when I was twenty-three, you know. You’ve got time, you’re only fourteen, kiddo…”
The brown-haired teenager at his side shrugs again.
He doesn’t want to admit that he’s anxious to know what it feels like.
To get one’s colours.
To find one’s soulmate.
Can't take my eyes off of you | 3,976 | FlowersOnMyMind / @flowersonmymind1016
Summary: An Alpha at the Hard Deck won't leave Rooster alone. Hangman steps in. Oh, and did I mention that Hangman is close to his rut?
5 Times Hangman Took Care of His Team + 1 Time Someone Took Care Of Him | 4,016 | dalearden / @dale-arden
Summary: The Daggers and the rest of the Team stay together for the long leave post mission. That includes Hangman although he is still treated a bit as an outsider. They get into all kind of crazy shit and Rooster starts to notice things. That Jake is the one who starts cleaning after drunk Payback threw up all over the bathroom and knows exactly what cleaning products will do the trick. That when Fritz is arrested for disturbance, he knows how to talk to the cops to get him released. That he can patch Fanboy like a professional medic after the guy got into a fight. That he can cook a meal from nothing, mend clothes and knows everything about meds. Turns out Jake had to take care for his family as the only responsible person since he was 5 years old. First his alcoholic parents and then his dying grandmother. Jake won’t let anyone in, but he will take care of them as much as he can. Rooster wants to change it.
The Way to a Man's Heart | 4,028 | dalearden / @dale-arden
Summary: Jake Seresin is a pilot, currently on medical leave from Naval duty as he recovers from injuries sustatined in an ejection during a training exercise. He's grumpy and bored when he takes a chance on a random coffee shop on a rainy afternoon and meets one Bradley Bradshaw, manager and possibly world's best barista. Bradley wastes no time taking such a pretty broken bird under his wing, winning Jake over through pastries and charm and also by being insanely hot. Then therer's an attempted robbery on the premises, and everything accelerates.
Pressed Sunflowers | 4,030 | Sceld
Summary: His smug expression is the final nail in the coffin for Jake, who is doing a fucking terrible job at hiding his outright shock.
“You’re… Good at that,” he says slowly, pretending it’s not doing something for him.
or;
Jake spends the night at Bradley's place and learns more than he anticipated.
wish I knew how to hold you | 4,661 | Ravens_Words
Summary: Bradley bullies Jake's flight information out of Javy, and it's much easier than he thought it would be. Probably because he doesn't want his best friend to be alone.
"Bradshaw," Javy says before he hangs up, "you- I know he doesn't make it easy, but take care of him, will you?"
He hesitates, takes a deep breath, "sure."
For the first time, he wonders if he made a mistake, bit off more than he can chew.
Jake goes back home, Bradley goes with him. It goes about as well as one can expect.
we're not finished here | 4,991 | haridwar
Summary: Jake finds out Maverick has a son in the middle of dogfight football.
in five years time | 5,178 | ginnydear
Summary: Jake’s been planning his five year anniversary gift for Bradley since the day after their four year anniversary.
Taking The Long Way 'Round | 5,278 | DancingDisaster / @dancingdisasterisms
Summary: This probably wouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone, but he and Seresin hadn’t exactly hit it off when they first met. That said, they did hit it off eventually, and they did it with a bang so resounding it probably should’ve devolved into a fist fight.
By the end of the week, Bradley realized there was one small potential problem with the first close friendship he’d managed in years: he thought Jake was beautiful.
Well fuck.
“It’s not like he doesn’t know, Javy.”
“I think you’re underestimating Bradshaw’s tendency towards obliviousness here, Jake.”
i'm coming back to his side to put it right | 5,455 | emozionedapoco
Summary: He can shoot enemy airplanes out of the sky but he can’t for the life of him find some fucking t-shirts. Yeah, that’s doing wonders for his ego.
His eyes catch something on a rack near a wall. They’re not t-shirts but shirts and he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s noticed them for, but he gets closer anyway. His instincts usually serve him well.
i come from where the rivers meet the sea | 5,864 | luciferinasundaysuit / @vinnylecavaliers
Summary: Phoenix pinches the bridge of her nose. “One night. One night without whatever all this is. My kingdom for one night.”
“There’s no all this!” Rooster protests. Like a liar.
Hangman takes his arm back, slides off his chair and goes back to the dart board. Rooster tries not to feel cold.
“Of course not, Rooster,” Hangman says, just short of condescendingly. “I could never bring a yankee home, and I respect you too much to hit it and quit it.”
watching, waiting, still anticipating love | 5,861 | iridescent
Summary: Bradley’s fingers caress the keys deftly, coaxing a bittersweet melody from the depths of the piano’s body.
Then he starts singing, a few lines here and there almost like an afterthought. His voice is low and husky, lends itself naturally to this sort of soppy and overly sentimental love song. He doesn’t seem to notice Jake being there at all.
Despite himself, Jake is transfixed.
But Here I Am, Loving You More Than You’ll Ever Know | 5,872 | thatsquirrelfromiceage
Summary: The sound of Rooster’s voice may as well be another explosion, another heavy breath set free from the bottom of his stomach. It’s the moment he begins to understand what his mother wanted when she clutched and prayed to her rosary beads every night. Another reminder that he’s coming home. He’s coming home.
my heart is out, my guard is down | 5,886 | blood_mocha_latte / @blood-mocha-latte
Summary: “Hey!” He yells, giving Seresin what he hopes is a suave ‘yep, ‘tis I, your saviour’ look.
Judging by the look on the other man's face, he fails.
“Are you alright?” Hangman shouts back, stumbling even closer. Bradley scrubs a hand down his face, stepping towards him.
“Yeah! Are you–” Seresin shoves him into the snowbank with his good hand, face screwed up in what seems to be an odd mixture of worry and anger.
“What the fuck were you thinking?!” He’s still yelling, but his voice cracks on the last word and he coughs, spitting concerningly black spit to the side. “I died for you, moron!” He’s still angry but his voice is shaky, and quiet, and Bradley thinks rather disjointedly that he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Hangman actually distressed before.
the blond devil before me | 6,174 | closet_monster
Summary: Bradley Bradshaw had a type, and Hangman had always wanted to be it.
On This Day, This Accursed Day | 6,452 | Sceld
Summary: “Bradshaw,” Jake says with a grin. Rooster groans. “As I live and breathe.”
“Hangman,” Rooster replies loftily, “You look…”
He pauses for a second too long as his eyes stall on Jake’s shirt.
“My eyes are up here, Rooster,” Jake teases, grateful the way his heart is pounding doesn’t transfer to his voice.
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happy wip wednesday! does anyone else find it difficult to piece a story together sometimes when you have the beginning and the end pretty much set in stone? I explained to @roseapothecary the other day that it’s like I have a bunch of wires in a knot, I know where both ends are, but now I’m just trying to work from the middle. anyway, that’s where I am currently.
here’s some more of my about time au!
“TK, come on in.”
He drops his bag to the floor and folds himself into one of the chairs, watching his dad as he takes a seat across from him. “What was that about?”
“Well,” he begins, leaning far enough back in his chair that it tips. “That was someone from the DOJ and Deputy Fire Chief Radford from down in Austin.”
“Texas?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s a long way out,” TK muses. “What did he want in New York?”
His dad goes quiet for a moment. He leans forward now, pushing a business card across the desk and folding his hands in front of him. There’s a quick half-twitch of a smile before he starts. “A few months ago one of their firehouses lost nearly an entire team to an explosion at a factory fire,” he explains somberly. “They asked me to go to Austin. Rebuild the house they lost, since I’ve done it before.” He makes a gesture toward the house surrounding them, the reason it's here, its history.
With a slow exhale, TK takes the card and sits back. It reads Deputy Fire Chief Alden Radford in bold red letters across it, his contact info below. He flicks the card between his fingers. “That’s…wow, Dad, that’s quite a bit of recognition.”
His dad offers another half smile. “Yeah, maybe.”
“You’re not actually thinking about going, right? It wouldn’t make sense.”
“Why wouldn’t it make sense?”
“Because this is home,” TK states, like it’s the most obvious thing. And he and his dad both know it’s the damn truth.
His dad agrees. “I told them my life is here. You’re here,” he emphasizes. “But…”
“But?” TK’s heart thuds. “What do you mean, ‘but?’”
“In light of recent events, it might not be the worst idea to make some changes.”
“What—wait, Dad. You’re seriously thinking about moving to Austin? After—after what I just did? You’re just gonna leave? Again?”
“TK, I wouldn't be leaving you—”
“It’s not like you know anyone down there! I mean, you said it yourself: your life is here.”
“Well, if I did, I’d know one person,” he says calmly. “You.”
“What?”
“I think you need a change, son. Both of us. It would be good for you to get out of New York, get away from all these triggers.”
“So send me to the Hamptons or something!” He exclaims. “You have pull out there. Call Captain Whatshisname—Josephs!”
“I really think this would be good for—”
“—Dad—”
“—you if you could just listen to me for a second—”
“No!”
TK slams his hand on the desk hard enough to rattle the old melted piece of the South Tower on its little pedestal. He rocks back, a hand over his mouth, before grabbing his bag and shooting to his feet.
“I’m sorry, I…I’ll be right back,” he grumbles, ignoring his dad’s protests as he darts out of the office.
He makes a right, then one more and hits the supply closet, throwing the door open and diving into the cover of darkness.
He swears he’s having a mild panic attack. Too much has happened recently for his dad to just pull the goddamn rug out from under him, yet here they are. Why would he want to leave New York? Their entire lives are here, his mom is here, everything TK knows is here.
This is home.
And then, like a slow wave, it hits him. TK has felt so out of place these last few weeks, not knowing what to do with himself, feeling lost and truly a little hopeless. At first he chalked it up to losing Alex, then being unable to work until being given the all clear, but the sleepless nights that followed where TK pieced together that the only future he saw in this city was with Alex made him deny everything.
That is, until now.
TK thuds the wall with his fist before slumping into it.
New York is home, that’s never going to change. But maybe this will be good.
Pushing himself away from the wall, he takes a steadying breath. In the last two weeks, TK has only traveled the one time. While he and his mom talked extensively about time travel and its consequences and joked about the whole (fictional) space-time continuum thing, he’s been too afraid to do it again. He’s done his own research, too, the whole thing helping to keep his brain occupied, but all of it was fiction. He supposed it makes sense, really. Time travel is pretty sci-fi.
But he needs to redo this conversation; he can’t get the look on his dad’s face out of his head, and while his heart is going a million miles a minute at the prospect of actually leaving home, he probably could have reacted better, tell his dad that he supports him, whatever decision he makes.
He’ll go back five minutes, that’s all. Just to the top of the conversation before he blew it out of proportion.
He closes his eyes and…that’s it.
For a second, TK wonders if it worked, but when he finds his dad seeing the deputy chief and the woman from the DOJ off again and it’s pure confirmation.
“Jesus,” he mutters to himself. He’s still thrown off by this whole thing.
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Slashers w/ an afab s/o that was sexually assaulted/raped and they encounter her rapist/abuser ty ly man <3
The Slashers with a S/O who had been Sexually Assaulted:
Thomas Hewitt
Thomas just holds you as you tell him about your assault, listening intently.
It hurt him to know that somebody hurt you like that but all he wanted to do was comfort you.
Lots of cuddles and sweet tea for the two of you that evening.
He couldn’t help but ask himself how somebody could ever hurt you. You were just so lovely, he couldn’t understand how somebody could mistreat you.
Apparently even a deserted town in the middle of Texas wasn’t far enough, because you completely froze when you saw the familiar face among the newest group of victims.
You instantly told Tommy because he instantly sensed that something was wrong.
Thomas is angry that your abuser is even here.
You were supposed to be safe here, he wanted to keep you safe.
Whether this person was your abuser or not, he wouldn’t be leaving the Hewitt residence, but Thomas doesn’t feel bad about it at all in this case.
They hurt you and now he’s going to hurt them. Still, he makes it quick but not before reminding them why they should have never touched you, no matter how long ago it was.
Once he’s finished with his ‘work’ for the day, he cleans up and heads straight to the bedroom where you are already waiting.
He pulls you into an embrace that makes you feel safe, silently promising that he’s never going to let anyone hurt you again. They’re never going to touch you again.
Michael Myers
Affection with Michael can be a tricky thing, even trickier when he is the one attempting to initiate it.
But when you tell him about your assault for the first time, you could see his mind working overtime.
Too many thoughts bounced around his head. The anger he felt that somebody hurt you, his protectiveness over you, he surprising amount of empathy for you, and the undeniable need to...comfort you.
He doesn’t speak but you didn’t expect him too. He just wraps his strong arms around you and holds you against his chest. He hopes you understand what he’s trying to tell you.
You’re not going to encounter your abuser again. Michael has already gotten all information he needs and is slipping out that night to hunt them down.
He just can’t leave this be.
Anyone who thinks they can hurt you, lay a finger on you, or even look at you funny, needs to be taught a lesson.
Plus, Michael never wants you to have to see that person again. The part of him that feels the need to protect you is just too strong.
Jason Voorhees
Jason’s glad that you trust him enough to share this with him but he’s also heartbroken for you. He couldn’t imagine how anyone could ever hurt you.
If you cry, he’ll wipe your tears. If you need him to hold you, he already is.
He’s heart aches for you and he just wants to comfort you, he wants to make you feel better.
He wants to be there for you, to be good for you.
He vows to protect you. Well, he already vowed to do that but his protective over you does increase a little.
At least your safe now. Nobody’s going to hurt you here and Jason will always be looking out for you, protecting you and loving you. You have nothing to worry about anymore.
Until a new group rolled into the camp and you instantly recognised one of their faces.
Jason noticed your change in demeanour and instantly worried.
Then you told him that one of those people were your abuser...and he was even more determined to dispose of every last one of them.
He’d take you back to the cabin where you would be warm and safe. You were always his first priority.
And that night he would do what it is that he does.
Getting rid of the group staying at the abandoned camp, disposing of their bodies.
He’d return to the cabin, placing down his machete and removing his mask, before pulling you into a hug.
Their gone now and can’t ever hurt you again, it’s okay now. Jason would do anything to protect you, just wanting to love you and make sure you’re safe.
Will happily spend the rest of the night cuddling with you, for as long as you want, just after he’s cleaned himself up.
Brahms Heelshire
Brahms is absolutely heart broken for you when you first tell him about your assault, which in this case is like an ex-partner.
You’ve been so good to him since you came to the house, how could anyone ever hurt you. How dare anyone hurt you?!
Don’t you worry, Y/n. You’re here now, with Brahms, you’re safe and he won’t let anything bad happen to you.
Plenty of cuddles are called for for the rest of the day.
The way you both encounter your abuser again is probably when they show up to the house with the intention of seeing you, and Brahms is not against killing them at this point.
They had the audacity to come into his home, and to see you again?
He just wants to protect you and he can’t help the anger he felt, knowing what they had done to you.
And the chances are that he will kill them if you don’t find another way to handle the situation. It’s not like he can call the police or just politely ask them to leave.
For your sake, Brahms will try to stay calm. But if your abuser isn’t leaving, even after meeting Brahms, he will have to take care of the situation.
Bo Sinclair
When you tell Bo about your assault, he isn’t too sure how to react. He hadn’t been expecting that.
He’d sigh, carefully guiding you onto his lap so that he could better hold you, gently apologising for your experience even though he had nothing to do with it.
He often struggled with keeping his anger at bay and regulating his emotions but he knew that he needed too right now.
He could be angry about this another time, just not in front of you.
Right now, he would just hold you and comfort you, letting you talk about it if that’s what you want to do.
If you encounter your abuser again when they are passing through Ambrose. Well, they won’t be passing through.
Anyone who passes through the town adds to the wax figure collection anyway, so this person is just unlucky that Bo already has a personal vendetta against him.
And he makes sure to let them know that this is what happens when they hurt somebody that he cares about.
Of course, your abuser will not be added to the wax collection, he doesn’t want you having to see their face ever again. Bo will have Lester dispose of their body.
But if you encounter your abuser when you and Bo are going into another town to pick up supplies, Bo knows he can’t deal with it the way that he wants too.
That doesn’t stop him from being forwardly intimidating and threatening towards them.
Holds you close and away from them, getting you away from them as fast as he can but not before clearly threatening them if they ever even so much as looked at you again.
Bo keeps you close for the rest of the trip, reluctantly apologising for possibly making you uncomfortable even if you hadn’t expressed that to him.
He won’t mention it again unless you do, just asking you if you’re alright. Even offers to take you home, you can pick up supplies another day.
Vincent Sinclair
Vincent is quick to pull you into an embrace when you open up about your assault for the first time.
Just wants to comfort you right now.
All he wants is to be there for you and make you feel better. But he knows that he can’t change anything and he probably can’t just make you feel better but he wants to at least make you happy with him.
He’s there if you ever need to talk, always ready to provide cuddles and love.
You and Bo usually meet the groups that Lester brings into town, being the only two who can gain their trust and make them comfortable.
You didn’t tell Bo why you couldn’t help him with this group, but you told Vincent as soon as you got back to the house.
Vincent just took the time to comfort you and calm you down, letting Bo deal with the group. There wasn’t much he could do right now anyway.
And you were more important than them.
But when the time comes that he has to help Bo deal with the group, he won’t feel bad about that happens to the person that hurt you.
Of course, your abuser will not be added to the wax figure collection, he doesn’t want you having to see their face ever again. Vincent will have Lester dispose of their body.
Lester Sinclair
Lester just wants to comfort you in this moment. Letting you tell him about your assault as he hold you, dragging the blanket off of the back of the couch and wrapping it around your shoulders.
He just wants to be there for you in that moment.
He wants you to know that he’s there for you and you can rely on him whenever you might need him.
You’re living with him now, just outside Ambrose, what are the chases of you running into them again? You’re safe, he promises you’re never going to see them again.
The two of you encounter your abuser when he’s driving nearby the town. Lester just thought it was a random passer-by, until you pulled him aside and told him other wise.
He can’t deny his anger and will straight up ask you if you want him to ‘get rid of the problem’.
He also feels bad because he promised you wouldn’t have to see them again but here they were.
But, despite his anger, if you didn’t want him to kill them, he will accept it. Either way, they’re going to die. One of the twins will just do it...
He’s very hostile on the drive into Ambrose though, pretty much threatening them before kicking them out of the truck once they were near the town.
But if you give him the go ahead? He’s on it.
The brothers already kill innocent people. Why wouldn’t they be even more dedicated to killing somebody who deserved it?
Lester won’t even consider sending your abuser to his brothers. Definitely will not be added to the wax museum. Into the pit of roadkill they go!
Bubba Sawyer
Even more cuddles than usual.
Don’t worry, he’ll protect you. You’re here with him now, you’re safe, and he’ll look after you! Nothing is going to hurt you now!
Of course he’s generally mad that somebody ever hurt you. But anger doesn’t even surface in him because he’s more concerned about your well being.
If you’re abuser never comes around, he simply doesn’t care. It’s more important to show you lots and lots of love.
But apparently it’s a very small world and eventually one of the groups of victims included your abuser, and you instantly told Bubba.
He would just keep you away from them, letting you stay in the bedroom, leaving you with a sweet kiss, silently promising to take care of everything and to keep you safe.
The family will go about their business as usual, Bubba dealing with you abuser personally and making sure that they never hurt anyone else ever again.
He doesn’t even kill them in anger (though of course he is angry) he kills them as a duty to you.
As soon as everything is dealt with and quietened down, Bubba makes an effort to clean himself up before hurrying back to the bedroom.
He’ll tell you what happened if you ask but gives you a tight hug first.
Everything is going to be okay now, Y/n, they can never hurt you again!
Billy Lenz
Billy’s heart aches when you tell him about your assault.
But you opening up to him about something so difficult might encourage him to open up about his own abuse and assault he experienced when he was younger.
It’s a very emotional moment for both of you.
Lot’s of comfort required in both directions.
Billy never leaves the house with you so if you run into your abuser then and tell him after you’ve returned to the house, he is so worried.
Are you okay? Did that touch you? Do you just need some love and support right now?
But if your abuser comes to the house with the intention of seeing you or hurting you again, Billy can not let that happen.
He will kill them and deal with the clean up all on his own.
He has to protect you, Y/n!
Asa Emory (The collector)
When you tell him about your assault, Asa listens carefully, takes in every word and just lets you get it off of your chest.
He doesn’t react much, never really allowing himself to get over emotional. Even though he is furious with this person.
He’ll hold you and comfort you, stroking your hair, kissing your forehead, whispering words of love and assurance.
But you’re not going to encounter this person. Tell him who it was. A name, a description, a place or time, give him all the information you know and he will deal with this.
One night, instead of going to the hotel, he targets the person who did this to you.
And he won’t make it quick either, they don’t deserve a quick death. But he’s also not going to add them to his collection, they aren’t worth that.
Afterwards, he comes homes. Already clean and acting like he was coming home from work rather than committing a murder.
In an uncharacteristically affectionate act, Asa pulls you into a hug and kisses the top of your head.
He won’t tell you want he did unless you ask but the gesture alone tells you that he has done something. It’s reassurance, a promise that they can never hurt you again.
Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull)
Jesse will hold you as you tell him about your assault, just listening to whatever information you want to share with him. And he won’t push you on the details.
There is no way you’re encountering this person again. Not a chance.
As soon as you’ve told him about this, he plans on tacking them down. And when Chromeskull set his mind to something, there is no way his target is escaping him.
You already know that he’s going to want to kill who did this to you, you had to know that when you told him. You know who Jesse is, what he does, and you know that he hates the thought of anyone hurting you.
Give him a name and he’s on it. You don’t even know their name? He’ll find out anyway. Not task is too difficult for this man, not when it’s so important to him.
He’ll go out on one of his ‘business trips’ and return to you as quickly as possible.
As soon as he returns home, he’s sweeping you up in his arms. And you just know what he’s done. If you ask, he’ll be honest, he’s not hiding this from you.
But don’t worry, now that he’s here, nobody is ever going to hurt you again.
Otis Driftwood
Otis is furious when you tell him about your assault, even if it was well before you met the family. How dare somebody even lay a finger on you?
But he pushes that anger down to focus on comforting you. This isn’t about him and he knows that.
He’s noticeably gentler with you for the rest of the day. His way of showing you that he cares about you.
It’s not something that he thinks at the time, more of a realisation he has a few days later. But he realises that it’s even more of a miracle that you’re with him. You know he’s not a good person, you know about everything he’s done, but you still trust him enough to never hurt you. Even after what you’ve already experienced...you really are special to him.
Otis will actively seek out whoever did this to you to kill them. And, obviously, drag it out a little. He wants them to hurt.
If you want to be a part of that, he’s happy to do that.
He’ll find them, bring them back to the house, and let you get your revenge. Or just let you watch him work if that’s what you’d prefer.
Understands if you don’t want to take part in that but you have to understand that you can’t stop him from doing what he has to do.
That person can not be out there, having gotten away with hurting you. He just can’t allow it.
The same thing goes for if you both just accidently encounter them. Otis is going to kill them and you can join in or he can send you off with Baby to distract you. It’s up to you and he’s not going to hide it from you.
Afterwards, Otis gets a little emotional. More so than you’d expect.
He’ll find you and pull you into a tight embrace. He’s never going to hurt you, he promises you that. You can trust him, please know that. He is going to protect you.
Baby Firefly
As you tell her as much as you want to tell her about your assault, she’ll lay with you and stroke your hair comfortingly, wiping any tears that roll down your cheeks.
She seems genuinely sympathetic and listens intently to everything you say.
She is very soft with you in that moment. Her voice softer than you’ve ever heard it, eyes sincere rather than playful. She truly cares deeply about you.
And that day is all about you and making sure you are alright.
But the next day, she still wants to kill the son of a bitch that hurt you and is honest and unashamed of that.
Wanna go kill them together?!
You do? Great! She’s already dragging you out of the door.
You don’t? No worries, she’ll handle it. Wink.
And she’s going to enjoy it.
If you don’t want to hear the details, she doesn’t really understand why you wouldn’t but she respects it and won’t tell you anything other than “they can’t hurt you again” and you know exactly what that means.
On the other hand, if you want all the details, she is happy to give them to you. Warning, it gets pretty graphic. But she’s proud of what she did, she won’t ever feel bad for hurting that person.
Baby wants to make you feel better after this whole awful thing though,
So you can either have a quiet night in the house together or she can take you out on the town to cause some trouble. The choice is completely yours.
Yautja (Predator)
When you first tell your mate about the assault you experienced, he doesn’t go straight to anger, knowing that probably wouldn’t help.
Of course he is angry though, he furious that anyone ever dared hurt you.
But right now, you needed his support and he wanted to provide that.
He wants you to feel safe around him. He wanted you to know that he would do anything to protect you.
Will provide a lot of cuddles.
Any Yautja would see it as their duty to kill your abuser. Not only because they hurt you (though that plays a huge part of it for your mate) but because they simply don’t deserve to love.
They’re not worthy, they’re weak, and they will be dealt with appropriately.
If you’d like to stay for that, you’re welcome too.
But he completely understands if you don’t want to see that stuff.
It’s also very unlikely that you’re going to be able to talk them out of killing them.
To be honest, it’s unlikely that the two of you encountered them anyway. Your mate probably snuck out at some point and dealt with it without your knowledge. You didn’t need to know the grisly details.
All you had to know was that you were safe now, he would keep you safe.
#thomas hewitt x reader#michael myers x reader#jason voorhees x reader#brahms heelsire x reader#brahms x reader#bo sinclair x reader#vincent sinclair x reader#lester sinclair x reader#bubba sawyer x reader#billy lenz x reader#otis driftwood x reader#baby firefly x reader#yautja x reader#predator x reader#slashers x reader#slashers#slasher#my writing#asa emory x reader#the collector x reader#jesse cromeans x reader#chromeskull x reader#slasher x reader
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Curriculum Vitae: Chapter Seventeen
Gif: @javier-pena
curriculum vitae noun cur·ric·u·la vi·tae Latin. the course of one’s life.
Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader (fem; no y/n)
Word Count: 3.4k
Rated: E | Warnings: NSFW – semi-explicit sexual content, l*ve m*king. Feelings. Domesticity. 18+ only.
Chapter Summary: In this chapter, Javier returns to Los Angeles to spend New Year's Eve with you.
A/N: My plan to have this chapter our at the start of the month didn't pan out, but here is the NYE chapter. Finally! I hope that you all enjoy it and are having a wonderful start to 2021. Thank you, as always, for reading and supporting this story. Sending lots of love!
Read on AO3
CV Masterlist | My Masterlist
… . …
Chapter Seventeen
As you stood outside gate C14, you tightened your grip on Sunny’s leash. With a wagging tail and shining eyes, she pulled in every direction, determined to greet every passing traveler.
“Hey,” you whispered, “I know you’re excited but be good before they kick us both out.” You weren’t exactly sure if she was supposed to be there but sometimes it was better to ask for forgiveness rather than permission. She made a displeased whining noise as she sat down next to you. “Don’t you want to see Javi?” Her ears perked up at the familiar name. “I thought so.”
You glanced back at the gate through the crowd of people. There was still no sign of any disembarking passengers. You took a deep breath and tamped down your own excitement, deciding to crouch down next to Sunny and pet her rather than stare at the empty gate. Your affectionate touch calmed the both of you.
So when she yipped again, you knew exactly why.
Glancing up, you found Javier scanning the crowd and his eyes were drawn to Sunny’s bark. A grin broke out on his face that certainly matched yours.
The two of you met somewhere in the middle. You don’t even remember making the conscious decision to move toward him. It was just instinctual. Like the way you threw your arms around Javier’s neck and his wound around your waist as your lips met in one long deep kiss that left you weak in the knees. You leaned into him, knowing he’d keep you steady, and savored the way he hummed in pleasure against your lips.
“Hi,” Javier breathed as he rested his forehead against yours. You traced the curve of his smile with the pad of your thumb as you cupped his cheek. It was one of those perfect ones that crinkled the corners of his eyes and left him looking years younger. And so damn happy.
“Hi,” you echoed, unsure if you could find another word in that moment. But maybe you didn’t need to say anything else. It was enough just to feel his arms around you again.
“I missed this,” he murmured. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too, Javi.” Your eyes fell as you took him in. Long-sleeved plaid shirt tucked into his well-fitting dark wash jeans and paired with his signature boots. You ran your hands over the soft material covering his chest. “You didn’t have to come back,” you whispered.
“I wanted to.”
“What about your dad?”
“He has plenty of family to spend the night with. He was fine with me leaving early.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah,” he answered, rolling his eyes. “When he found out you were spending New Year’s Eve alone, he smacked me upside the head and told me to get on the next plane to LA.” You made a surprised noise that quickly turned into giggles. “Don’t laugh at that. That’s not funny,” he said with a smile of his own.
You laced your fingers with his and kissed the back of his hand, trying to hide your grin. “It is, actually.” Your smile fell. “Still, you didn’t have to come back just for me.”
“Yes, I did. I wouldn’t have been happy knowing you were alone. I’m right where I want to be.” His grin widened and you felt a quiet laugh in his chest. “I don’t think you were the only one who missed me.” You followed his eyes to find Sunny, tongue out and tail wagging, with two paws on Javier’s hip as she vied for his attention. He let go of you only to kneel down to greet her. “Si, si, te extrañé,” he shushed as he tried to calm the excited dog. Your heart soared as he planted a kiss on the top of her head.
“Should we stop by baggage claim?” you asked.
“Nope.” He stood and swung a worn leather duffle over his shoulder. “Let’s go home.”
You tried not to read much into his turn of phrase as he slung an arm around your shoulders and guided you out of the busy terminal. “So,” you decided to prod as you waited at the crosswalk leading to the parking garage, “you told your dad about me?”
“Well, he figured it out.” He continued only at your confused expression. “He said I was happy.”
You kissed him. “I’m happy too,” you said, slipping a hand in his back pocket and squeezing his ass through his denim jeans. That earned you a wolfish grin that brought out that lone dimple just for you.
… . …
“It looks like 1985 in here,” you commented as soon as Javier could even set his duffle and your overpacked tote on the kitchen counter and flick on the lights. “Well, at least the parts you’ve unboxed.”
“Didn’t want to get too settled.” You peered over your shoulder at him with a bit of a scowl. All he could offer in response was a shrug as he slid your coat off your shoulders and hung it next to his. “I didn’t know if I would last the first week of classes let alone the first month.”
“You absolutely did. You survived the whole fall quarter.”
“Only because of you.”
Two fingers gripped his chin and turned his face toward yours. Your eyes locked onto his. “You’ve got to start giving yourself some credit, Javier. You’re a damn good professor. Whether you like it or not.”
“Wouldn’t you rather inspect what I have decorated?” he asked, placing two hands on your hips and spinning you around. “I know you’re dying to.”
“Maybe a little,” you admitted with a light laugh. With a firm hand on the small of your back as he pushed you further into the apartment. “Bedroom and bathroom are that way,” he said, pointing down the dark hall.
You gestured to the closed door on the opposite side of the living room. “What’s that room?”
“Empty spare bedroom.”
“God, I hate you. You have a gorgeous two-bedroom apartment in Brentwood, and you don’t even appreciate it. An empty room, boxes still unopened. Why don’t we ever come here? Your place is so much better than mine.”
“It’s fucking depressing,” he scoffed.
“I could help you make it feel like home.” You meant that innocently. He could hear it in your tone. You were probably only referring to adding a few throw pillows or candles or something like that, but already just having you there felt different. He’d thought he was going back home to Texas, but the truth was he felt more at home now just by being with you. “Yeah, I think you could.” You might’ve responded, but something caught your attention.
Almost reverently, you picked up a framed photograph off the lone bookshelf in his living room. “Your mother?” you asked quietly. He didn’t have to look at the photo to know which one you were drawn to.
“Yes,” he answered as he moved to stand behind you. Wrapping his arms around your shoulders, he pulled you back against his chest so he could peer down at the black and white photo in your hands. He was maybe five. Just a gangly boy with limbs too long for his own good and a cast on one arm from when he’d fallen off his new bike. That younger version of him sat his mother’s lap in front of a birthday cake lit with thirty-some odd candles. Much like the way he held you in that moment, his father stood behind the pair with his arms around his wife. She wore a dazzling smile that his aunts swore he inherited from her. If he remembered correctly, his father was behind the camera, muttering something that made them all laugh at the time.
“She was beautiful,” you commented. Lost for words, Javier pressed a kiss to your temple. But the mood clearly shifted. “And you were adorable.” Your eyes narrowed as you looked back at him. “What do you think happened?”
Javier grinned at your dig. “She would’ve liked you.”
You reached for the only other framed photograph. A more recent shot of Javier and an equally mustachioed blond man sitting together at an open-air bar, both looking unusually relaxed and happy with a beer in one and their arms around each other’s shoulders. One of the rare moments like that in Colombia. “This must be Steve,” you observed.
“His wife sent me that as a housewarming gift.”
“That’s so nice of her. You need something to cheer this place up.” Still clutching the photo, you turned in his arms. “Do you– I don’t know if I’ll ever get to meet them, but do you think they would like me?”
He almost laughed at your question. It was genuine on your part but so absurdly unnecessary. “Mi compañera,” he murmured as he pressed his lips to yours, “they already do. They were surprised though.”
“Do I want to know why?” you smirked. He had a feeling you already had some inclination as to why that might’ve surprised his closest friends.
“No,” Javier laughed. He watched you as you smiled at the photo, tracing a fingertip along the image of him. A strange feeling gripped his chest. It was as if you were trying to know that version of him. “You never talk about it. I know you don’t like when others ask you about your time in Colombia, but you never even mention anything that happened down there to me.”
“You don’t want to know about any of that.”
“Why not?”
Because you won’t like me, his traitorous brain supplied. He let you go and joined Sunny on the couch. “Want me to put on the Times Square thing?” he asked instead.
“Yeah sure. I don’t mind either way,” you responded lightly. He cringed inwardly at how habituated you were to him deflecting your questions. Shaking his head at himself, he dug the remote out from between two of the leather couch cushions and switched on the television despite having no intention to watch.
A moment later you joined him on the couch, dropping down next to him unceremoniously as you draped an arm around him. “Don’t mope,” you compelled with a kiss on his cheek. He turned to you with a raised brow. “And don’t look at me like that.”
Javier held your gaze for a long time, entranced by the soft look in your eyes and the way your fingers played with the ends of his hair at the nape of his neck. That seemed to bring him back to the present moment. “How does pizza sound?” he asked instead of a reply.
As expected, you smiled and nodded happily.
… . …
Much like your own at home, Javier’s kitchen table was covered with stacks of books, papers, and folders. Rather than clearing it off, the two of you sat on the floor around his coffee table eating pizza slices straight from the box. With the television muted in the background, you talked quietly, mostly recounting the little things that had happened while you were apart. You asked him more questions about his family, and he seemed keen to answer. You’d learned to savor every bit of himself that he elected to share with you.
After dinner, you wandered over to the unsurprisingly well-stocked bar cart, fingers dancing over the crystal glasses and bottles of whiskey and tequila as you contemplated pouring a couple of drinks. Until you noticed something amongst the mess on his kitchen table.
You picked up a book with dozens of sticky notes peeking out of it and flipped through the pages.
Talk about this in lecture.
Assign this chapter next quarter.
Fuck. She’s brilliant.
The notes went on for pages and pages. When you finally lifted your head, finding him across the room through watery eyes, Javier looked like a boy caught red handed. His wide brown eyes locked on to you as he gauged your reaction. “You’re reading my book?” you asked, voice barely more than a whisper.
He nodded quietly. “I finished it. It’s amazing.”
“Ja– Javi.” You attempted to speak but his name was just a broken sob.
He was on his feet in an instant. With a hand on either arm, he attempted to soothe you. “Don’t cry.”
“I’m not crying,” you insisted as you roughly wiped at your cheek with the back of your hand.
“Honey,” he chided as he pulled your hand away and replaced it with his own, cupping your cheek and wiping your errant tears with his thumb. “Why does that upset you?”
“I’m not upset.”
“You’re crying.” He would think that. He’d never seen you cry before. You’d cried from laughing at something he’d said on more than one occasion. There were a few tears once when you were frustrated. But nothing like this.
“That– that doesn’t mean I’m upset. It’s just– That’s–” you tried to collect yourself as you fisted the front of his shirt with one hand and pulled him closer. You took a deep breath and met his gaze. “That’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
The scrunched up look on his face was almost comical, and you would’ve laughed any other time. “That is?” he asked, dumbfounded. Before he could say anything else, you slotted your mouth with his, kissing him with everything you had. “Of course I read your book,” he assured you, kissing you over and over again. Your body practically melted against his. “You’re fucking amazing, mi compañera” His hands moved to your face, wiping away the tears. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re... you’re crying again. What’s wrong?”
“I think I–” You stopped yourself. Or rather the words threatened to choke you, so you swallowed them down and hid them away. Instead, you caressed his face as you looked at him through half-lidded eyes. “I need you.”
Javier hesitated, watching you for a moment longer, eyes smoldering as they bored into your soul, before his mouth met yours with renewed determination.
You didn’t even bother looking around Javier’s bedroom as the two of you burst through the door. The two of you were a mess of limbs desperately trying to strip the other of their clothes. He walked you back toward the bed until your calves hit the frame.
“Why are you still holding this?” he asked, prying the book out of your hand and tossing it on his nightstand. He lifted your thick knit sweater off your body and over your head with ease and his hands quickly found the button of your black denim jeans while you worked on his shirt buttons.
As soon as your clothes had fallen aside, he laid you back in his bed, letting you rest against the pillows as he eagerly kissed a frenzied path down your body.
“Javi, wait.” He froze above you with concern in his eyes “Please be gentle with me,” you asked softly.
The implication was clear. And it weighed heavily between you.
Javier nodded once, almost imperceptibly, and you relinquished yourself to him. He changed course, and his lips found yours once more. While he kissed you, his fingers gently prodded you, stretching you out and readying your body for him. You whimpered against hip lips, wanting more than anything to feel him inside you.
“Shh, baby,” he shushed you huskily, intertwining your fingers in a tender gesture, “I’ve got you now.” You spread your legs wider, aching for him. Only him. And mercifully, he lined himself at your entrance, dripping with your desire, and slowly thrust forward, filling you to the hilt and stealing the air from your lungs.
As he moved inside you, every kiss, every touch seared your skin with invisible brands that would mark you forever as belonging to Javier. And you let him.
Neither of you said much of anything, preferring to simply breath each other in. You let the moans and mewls falling from your lips fill the room as your bodies rejoined and relearned each other. Hand in hand and warm skin on warm skin.
Until a wave of euphoria pulled you asunder and you came hard and shaking beneath him.
“You’re so beautiful. So fucking beautiful.” You only heard his murmurs of praise as you broke the surface and came up for air. He kissed away the teardrops streaking your cheeks. You tried weakly to apologize for crying again. “It’s okay,” he assured you, “I feel it too.”
You gaped at him as you watched him move above you, still buried deep inside you, chest heaving and some unspoken emotion drowning his eyes. You wanted him to feel everything that you did in that moment. Wanted to make him to feel the same sticky sweet pleasure
With little resistance, you pushed Javier onto his back and straddled his hips. He looked divine beneath you. His hands reverently caressed your back as you settled on top of him before snaking around your body to hold you tightly against him. You pressed your forehead to his as you rolled your hips, sliding up and down his cock and coating him with your creamy pussy.
Only when his chest hallowed with a broken, desperate groan did you finally take pity and sink down on him. You caught his sharp exhale with your lips. You focused on kissing him, pouring all your affection into him, and he slowly rocked up into you. It was unrushed and unhurried, as if the two of you had all the time in the world. Maybe you did.
“I need you to cum with me. Right now.” His fingers found your clit, coaxing a second climax from you.
“Let go for me,” you whispered against his ear.
Javier shattered beautifully under your touch.
… . …
Javier pulled back the bedsheets for you as you slipped back into bed next to him after spending way too long in a steaming hot shower together. “Did you bring these for me?” he asked, fingering the fabric of your satin sleep shorts with a lopsided grin. Dozens of little embroidered dogs dotted the fabric.
“Yes,” you chirped. “They always seem to make you smile.”
He shook his head at you. “No, honey, you make me smile.”
When he said things like that, he took the breath right out of your lungs. The rest of the world faded away and nothing else mattered. It was only the two. It was then that you noticed the time on the clock behind him. Time hadn’t stopped after all. In fact, it was 12:01 on the dot.
“Happy New Year, Javi,” you said with a smile. “I think this is going to be a really good year.”
“I do too,” he agreed. He cupped your cheek and guided your lips to his for a midnight kiss. “Happy New Year, baby. Now c’mere.”
You laughed as Sunny responded to his command. She seemed to appear from nowhere only to hop up on the bed and lay half on top of him with her head on his chest. “Yeah, you too,” he smiled, scratching behind her ears. You indulged for a moment, hoping you could commit the scene to memory. But Javier looked like he was on the verge of sleep, so you switched off the small lamp and happily curled up next to him. He draped an arm across your waist as you looked up at him. “I fucking missed my girls,” he mumbled before drifting off into a dream. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you watched him in the faint moonlight.
You weren’t sure if it was the holiday season or that magical stroke of midnight, but as you gazed up at him, you realized you didn’t just want Javier to be your yesterday, today or tomorrow. You wanted him to be your whole future. You wanted to spend your whole life with him because…
Your heart belonged to Javier Peña. You loved him. Truly, deeply loved him.
That thought didn’t scare you as much as you thought it would.
... . ...
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... . ...
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will you do an oompaville x reader.? like maybe one where you’re at a wedding with him and he asks you to dance.?
Omg an oompaville request!!! I'm so grateful dear! Thank you so much for your lovely request, please enjoy the one-shot 🥰
Perfect Sync
Pairing: Oompaville (Caleb) x Reader (Gender Neutral)
Warnings: None
Genre: FLUFF, RPF (Real Person Fic)
There are certain pros and cons to being so distanced from your extended family. And I mean DISTANCED, in all capitals. I actually live in a completely different state on the completely opposite side of the US and yet I still somehow got an invitation to my cousin's wedding. To be fair, it's not that surprising, seeing as how she's the only cousin I have comprehendible memories with from my childhood. She's a really sweet girl - no, woman - and it kinda sucks that we haven't had the chance to catch up in so long.
Among the many other cons is the fact that I don't know a single person at this wedding. Not. A. Single. Person.
Sure, there have been several elderly and middle aged couples who've approached me, claiming they know me and given me a huge hug, asking me how my parents were doing. Speaking of my parents, they are a pair of sneaks who avoided coming to the wedding themselves saying they were stuck with a stomach virus while they're actually vacationing in Canada. How wonderful of them, don't you think?
They are chilling in Canada and I'm over here boiling and sweating over my third, possibly forth glass of champagne of the evening, not to mention the wedding hasn't even properly started yet. Count on me switching to whiskey when it does.
Sitting at the table I was pointed to upon arrival, I let my gaze skim over the immense garden decorated with beautiful flowers, fairy lights and handmade décor pieces. Each table and bar is under a white tent, just like the one I’m currently sitting under. It’s a beautiful sight and I can only imagine it’s only gonna get even prettier when the sun finally sets completely and all these fairy lights come on. That’s one of the few good things about my attendance at this event today. The ‘good’ things have been so little in number I can probably count them on the fingers of one hand: 1.I briefly saw and chatted with my cousin who was practically trembling out of excitement, anxiety and happiness. Good for her; 2. I’ve downed so many drinks that would probably cost me a fortune at a club or bar and I’m decently buzzed. Very cool; 3. I made friends with one of the bridesmaids because I had time to kill - turns out she wanted to be at this wedding as much as me: not at all; 4. I caught a whiff of the dinner which was still being cooked and damn am I excited about it; 5. The garden is absolutely breathtaking and it’s a sight worth sticking around for. See, as I said, few enough good things to be able to count them on the fingers of one hand.
And what about that cute guy from earlier?, my subconsciousness nudges me teasingly, causing me to almost evidently roll my eyes.
The hot guy being referred to right now is the one I damn near ran over when I was pulling up to this fancy estate. In my defense, I’m still getting used to the rental car I got when I landed in Texas two days ago, and plus he came out of literally nowhere. Luckily, he wasn’t mean or upset about it, took it quite lightly which was relieving and surprising.
Not gonna lie though, he was really cute.
I see the people all over the garden hurriedly take a seat when it gets announced that the newly weds are about to have their first dance. I cross my legs, finishing the champagne in one go before I can focus my attention on the lovely couple that’s just stepped out of the mansion-like house and onto the soft grass of the lawn, slowly making their way towards the center where they’re supposed to have the dance - aka where everyone will be dancing afterwards too.
Everyone but me, I’ll be busy chilling by the bar, hopefully in the company of that bridesmaid who I can crack jokes with without feeling guilty.
The two dance in perfect sync, their movements almost mesmerizing to the human eye. I’m no professional dancer but I don’t have two left feet either, yet I’m still amazed by this perfection before me. I bet all the cash I took with me from New York - which is a lot, I expected to spend a lot - that they’ve practiced this more than once. Or at least I hope they have as to make me feel better about my own skills - or the lack thereof.
“I take it you’re a lot less dangerous when you’re not behind the wheel.“ A quiet comment emerges next to my ear, loud enough for me to hear but hushed as to not disturb the couple nor the mob of people watching them in awe.
My eyebrows shoot up. I’ve maybe heard that voice only once before but that teasing tone made me blush like mad earlier and that’s hard to forget. I have a hard time forgetting embarrassment.
Biting my lip, I slowly turn to face him, “I can’t guarantee, there are plenty of sharp objects around after all.“
There’s that same wide smile I saw earlier when my entire life flashed before my eyes. His probably did too but unlike me, he didn’t show it.
“Some luck I have sitting next to you then.“ He chuckles, handing me a glass of whiskey. I take it hesitantly, giving him a suspiciously raised eyebrow. “You look like you could use one.“ He shrugs, taking a sip of his own. When my expression doesn’t change and I don’t make a move to ingest the beverage, he rolls his eyes, “Yeah I’m someone you’re seeing for the second time in your life, and yeah you might think I could want revenge for my nearly damaged health, but I don’t. And if you don’t want the whiskey...” he reaches to take it back but I quickly put it up to my lips and take a long sip, causing him to smile. “There you go!”
Oh boy does the taste of whiskey hit different after sipping on champagne for hours. I nod to him in gratitude. “Thanks, I strongly appreciate this.”
He nods back, his smile now a smaller one but still preserving the same amount of joy as when it was a full-blown grin, “I’m Caleb, by the way.”
“Y/N, nice to meet you.“ I reply, feeling the tension in my shoulders easing and the embarrassed blush fading. This guy just has such a chill aura, it’s nice being in his company. Hell, I’ll even go as far as to say if I simply had to almost hit someone with my car today, I’m glad it was him.
As more and more people emerge from their seats, heading hand in hand to the dancefloor to join the newlyweds, I finish my whiskey and am contemplating on going to get myself another but before I can decide, Caleb arises from his seat as well. He takes a stand in front of me, offering me his hand, “Well, there’s very little damage you can do you me out on the dancefloor, right?” He chuckles when he sees he’s made me blush again - third time today, damn it - but then he assumes a more serious facial expression, his smile never faltering though, “Care to accompany me for a dance, Y/N?”
I pretend to think the offer over, weighing my options and its pros and cons when in reality I dam near accepted the same second he asked.
“Hmm, ok...“ I say finally, resting my hand in his, “That is, if you promise not to step on my feet. These are some expensive shoes I’m wearing.“
He lets out a genuine laugh as he leads us to the dancefloor, one that I’ll admit is hella contagious, “Says the person who almost ran my ass over earlier. Am I not expensive, huh?”
I give him a confused look, hiding fits of laughter, “I don’t know, Caleb. Are you?”
He shakes his head, “Nah, best offer you’d get for me on Craigslist is like, a dollar? Two if you’re lucky.”
And that’s all it takes to break the dam holding back my laughter, sending me in fits of giggles as we start dancing. My laughter ends just as quickly as it starts though when I realize how in-sync our dancing is. Perfectly synchronized.
Huh, wonder why, that annoying voice pokes at my peace again. But I don’t let it get to me. Not now at least. I’m just gonna enjoy this moment, dancing with a practical stranger, gazing into his warm and welcoming eyes.
Suddenly I need another hand to count the good things about this wedding since I have to add three new points: 6. Almost hitting Caleb with my car; 7. Officially meeting Caleb; 8. Dancing with him.
Dancing with him in perfect sync
Oh, shut it, I don’t wanna start blushing again.
#oompaville#oompaville fanfiction#oompaville fanfic#oompa#oompaville fic#oompaville fluff#oompaville imagine#oompaville x reader#oompaville x you#oompaville x y/n#fic#fanfic#fanfiction#fandom#fan#fluff#x reader#request#reader#requests open
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Chan’s Room. (pt.2)
Mia + Chan
chan invites mia back on his weekly vlives.
here’s for the anon who requested mia on chan’s room! hope you guys enjoy and please feel free to leave some feedback because it is always appreciated!
italics = english
[9th Member of Stray Kids]
“Today we have a special guest with us today. You guys have been mentioning this person for quite awhile now. And well I listened!” Chan chuckled to himself at the last part.
He looked over at Mia, smiling wide as he motioned for her to come over. She jumped into view right behind Chan and yelled out, “surprise!” wrapping her arms around Chan from behind after. “I’m back.” She laughed to herself before taking a seat right next to him.
“Yes, our lovely, Mia is back everyone.” Chan wrapped his arms around Mia’s head, bringing her in close as he began to ruffle her hair too. “Everyone has been wanting you to be in Chan’s room again.”
“How nice.” Mia giggled. “I think the last time I was here was your first year doing this?”
“Oh, so its been quite a while since you’ve been on here.”
“Yeah! Only because you failed to invite me back!” Mia turned to face the camera. “Everyone, Channie doesn’t want me on here.”
Chan let out a laugh. “Hey, untrue!” He smiled. “You just happen to always be busy, or sleeping.”
“I like to sleep.” She nodded.
Mia went closer towards the device to read some of the comments with Chan. It was a mixture of a lot of things, majority were just happy to see Mia back on Chan’s room. “Hi, everyone.” She giggled. “Mia we missed you. Oh! I missed you guys as well. Time to make this Mia’s Room.”
“Definitely not happening.”
“Shoutout to Texas, hi, Mia.” The girl gasped when reading the comment. “Texas! I miss Texas, hello to you guys!”
After a couple of more minutes of reading comments and talking to Chan, it was now time to start playing some music. And of course, Chan let Mia choose the first song to play. “You have a song in mind?” He questioned her. Mia quickly nodded her head, typing away on the keyboard to search for the song, picking Telepatía by Kali Uchis to play.
“This song has been one of my top songs I have been playing.” Mia smiled. “It has a good vibe to it. Especially when I’m listening to it while laying in bed.”
“This is a really good song, a recommendation for our Stays.”
Mia nodded her head as she smiled, Chan lowering the volume on the music.
***
“Who has been caring or looking over for you these days?” Chan questioned. They were now in the middle of conversation, taking a small break from the music.
Mia thought for a moment. “Well, all of you guys seem to always look after me in different situations, but Jisungie has been the main one.” She nodded. “Yeah, these days its been Jisung.”
“Every time he wants to go out to like the stores or to go eat, he always asks me first.”
“I’ve noticed that too.” Chan softly chuckled. “You two are always hanging out together.”
“Yes!” Mia smiled. “We always like to be with Flash. And for those who don’t know, Jisung and I have a pet guinea pig named Flash.”
“Such a cute little fella.”
“Very. I can’t believe we’ve had him for so long now. Who knew a little fur ball could bring me such joy.” She grinned.
“What made you get a guinea pig instead of a dog or something?”
Mia shrugged her shoulders. “I thought a dog in the dorms wouldn’t work out maybe, and it would be a huge responsibility. I mean a guinea pig is too but it seems a lot easier. Plus when I saw him I fell in love and needed to take him home with us.”
“He’s so tiny and cute.” Mia giggled.
Chan laughed a little as he stared at the comments. One in particular catching his eye. “Mia share a TMI.” He looked back at her, Mia raising a brow.
“TMI?” She questioned. She began to think of some things she could possibly share about herself.
“Although our Stay knows you, there’s still some things they may not know about you. You’re never one to share anything personal. Even I still learn new things about you.” Chan laughed at himself on the last sentence.
“Well I can share that I have known Minho way before debut.”
Chan snapped his finger. “Oh yeah, I remember you mentioning that. How was that? Where did you guys meet?”
Mia cleared her throat. “Storytime.” She wheezed. “Um, it was back when I had entered World of Dance Korea. Dancing has been something I’ve always been passionate about so when I saw they were wanting new dancers I decided to join. Minho had already been there before me. So I was a newbie basically.”
Chan nodded his head as he listened to Mia’s story. “Did you know the language at the time? Or were you learning Korean?”
“It was between I was learning and knowing? I guess you can say. But anyways, I remember Minho being in dance crew and I was just a soloist dancer so when it came time to perform I did a solo performance. And right when I walked off the stage, Minho approached me first and was like “wow! you really did amazing up there, are you new?””
Mia stopped letting out a small chuckle. “But then he realized I was a foreigner so began stuttering and was like “you” and then pointed at me saying “good.” With a thumbs up.” She laughed. “But he was relieved when I began speaking to him in Korean. So it all worked out in the end.”
“Did you guys see each other again after that?l
“Si, (yes).” Mia nodded. “We ended up going to the same dance studio so we saw each a lot often. He was kinda happy to see me again. And after that we became really good friends and well now we’re here. Crazy to think about really.”
“Yeah, who would of thought you guys would end up in the same group together.”
“Exactly.”
***
“We have a lot of fun stories of our predebut.”
Mia nodded her head at Chan. “Yeah, we did.”
Chan began laughing. “You and Changbin really disliked each other at the time. But not just you two, I feel like almost all of us got into arguments and such.”
Mia laughed hysterically at the thought. “Oh yeah, let me tell you about the time it was me, Changbin, Felix and Jisung.” Mia thought some more. “And Seungmin! We all went to an arcade and there was a laser tag section and the boys thought it was a good idea to put Changbin and I in one team and the rest were in their team.”
“I like where this is going.”
“Long story short I had tripped on something so obviously I fell and Changbin was right behind me-“
“Did he fall on top of you?”
“No. Even worse, Jisung was coming up to me and since I’m on the ground he thought it was a perfect opportunity to shoot at me but, Changbin literally grabbed my leg and dragged me away from Jisung. We were losing so Changbin didn’t want Jisung to get me.”
Chan let out a loud laugh, beginning to laugh hysterically. “Wait, wait. So he literally dragged you on the floor?”
“Yes!” Mia exclaimed, she started laughing when seeing Chan bounce in his seat and clapping. “He literally dragged me across that floor until we were in a hiding spot.”
“Did anyone see you two?”
“Oh my god yes. These group of people saw us and kept laughing.” Mia giggled. “And after, Jisung was telling the others and it was just a whole mess.” She shook her head. “We lost either way.”
Chan began laughing harder than usual at Mia’s predebut story, holding onto his stomach as he did so. “Remember that one time you fell off the bunk bed?”
Mia looked at Chan confused but burst into laughter once she remembered what he was talking about. “Oh yeah!” She exclaimed. “It was in the middle of the night and I had to use the bathroom but I was half asleep. So then I thought I was already at the bottom when in reality I was only halfway there so I jumped off and well... it wasn’t a pretty ending.”
The two began laughing out loud hysterically at the story. There was just too many stories to tell from their predebut. It was definitely all fun for the most part.
***
It was getting towards the end of Chan’s room when Chan was in the middle of playing one more song of Mia’s choice. The girl had chosen LMLY by Jackson Wang. “When I first heard this song, I instantly fell in love. It’s so catchy and good. Jackson really did a great job with it. I always love his music.”
“Very enjoyable to listen to, this song is great.” Chan nodded while lowering the volume on the music. He smiled as he looked at the comments, knowing what they wanted since he was going to end the live soon.
“Have you seen my rooms lately?” He questioned Mia
“Some, I saw last week’s with Jisungie and Changbin.”
“So you know what I do in the end?” He smiled while Mia nodded. “We have to give our Stays a hug.”
Mia began grinning as Chan talked. “Today you guys will be getting a hug not only from me but also from Mia.” He looked back at the girl. “First time hug from Mia!” Chan exclaimed. “You wanna do the honors and hug first?”
“Sure!” Mia stood up quickly going in to give a hug like Chan always does. She began giggling when she sat back down. “That was nice, hope you guys liked my hug.”
“A big hug from Mia and now a big hug from me.” Chan said, going in for a hug as well. He sat back down, “hope you guys enjoyed today’s live and getting to see Mia again, she will be back again, hopefully?”
“You know it!”
The two said their goodbyes before Chan ended the live completely. “Thank you for coming.” He looked back at Mia, seeing she was a bit spaced out. “Mia?”
“I just thought of something.”
“What is it?”
Mia couldn’t help but let out a small snort. “I basically put my whole boobs in front of everyone’s faces with that hug.”
#stray kids au#kpop oc#kpop oc au#kpop au#kpop female oc#stray kids imagines#female kpop oc#female oc#stray kids 9th member#stray kids oc#stray kids 9th member au#bang chan au#stray kids scenarios#skz au#stray kids fluff#stray kids female oc#kpop fluff#female additional oc#kpop additional oc#stray kids fanfic
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Forever & Always An Outsider (Cordell Walker x Daughter!Reader)
[Walker-Masterlist]
Summary: Your dad came back. Finally. But what would he do if he found out how you had been treated? That his family failed to accept your rightful place with them. Your life needed change before you were too far gone.
Words: 2,495
Warnings: language, angst, feels, suffering in silence, losing yourself, most of the Walkers are assholes (I love the actors & their characters, this is just fiction!), I’m incredibly proud of this one (pls tell me what y’all think - requests for Walker & more are open!), (Y/A) = your age, (Y/E/C) = your eye color
If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤
You were (Y/N) Walker. Through & through. Worthy of that last name. Emily not being your biological mother should not matter, right? It was her who raised you with Cordell. It was her who tucked you in at night. It was her who was there when you woke up in the middle of the night, screaming, because nightmares invaded your peaceful slumber. It was her who you called mom. So why the hell were you different? Why were you not treated the same way Stella & Augie were?
It was not your decision to be the child of one of Cordell’s one night stands. Neither was it your decision to be abandoned by the same woman who had carried you inside of her body for nine months. And it sure as hell was not your decision to be laid at the front porch of the Walker property. A note the only explanation who you were & why you were brought here in the middle of the night. A paternity test later & it was confirmed. You were Cordell’s daughter. Not even once did Emily think any less of you. The same thing for Cordell. Because you were their daughter. Fully. You were their child, as much as Stella & August were. You cried when you received the news of your mother’s passing. Just as much as the rest of the family. Cordell’s decision to leave was just as hard for you as it was for everyone else.
Daily calls had been left unanswered. Who could you possibly talk to if not your dad? Who would listen to your complaints, your pain, your grief, if not him? The years growing up had never been easy for you, there was no denying that. Yet, the second you were left alone with Cordell’s parents & your siblings, your life turned into living hell for you. It had never been kept secret that you were not Emily’s biological child. From early on, the both of them tried to explain your situation to you so you did not feel like they were keeping important information from you. Acceptance was what you needed. But it also was what you did not get. As a kid, of course you would never mention being treated differently. After all, it was your normal. It was something you got used to. Your parents seemed oblivious to the dirty glances that your grandparents threw your way. They did not notice that they spent more time with your siblings. Growing up in such a household, where support was only partly given, changed you as you got older. You were (Y/A) years old now. Old enough that the realization had kicked in. The reason why they treated you like an outsider was simple. Because you were one. An outsider.
You could not hide the disappointment you felt towards your dad when he returned. He left you. During a time where it felt like your head was underwater. Where you felt like you were drowning. And everybody watching you did not lift a finger to help you out of the dark & endless water surrounding your weak & broken body. No. They were busy dealing with everything on their own. Leaving you out entirely. Your dad was back. Finally. And as much as you hated him for leaving, your relief was bigger than the negativity that had been eating inside of you. Again, a person you connected to on a deeper level was with you. The only soul who accepted you. As you were. No friendships ever ended working out. The relationship with the rest of your family did not need any more discussing.
All those months of you keeping to yourself did not change a single thing. Your voice had only been used when someone had explicitly directed their words at you. Why bother talking to them? The only thing you had ever received was weird look after weird look. Hell, you had months alone to grieve. The hours you had spent crying in your room, all alone in the middle of the night, had not helped dealing with your loss. It was true, you were not the only one in this family who had lost someone. The difference was that you were the only one who had been left alone. Because the moment Cordell left, your support system went with him. The one thing you had never learned was being alone & staying alive.
An unnatural feeling was inside your home the day your dad arrived here. If you took a sharp knife, you could cut the tension precisely. But Cordell tried. His efforts did not go unnoticed by you. A small smile, a simple touch. Your way of acknowledging his attempts. The change in your family was noticeable. Connecting with his parents, with Stella & Augie, was not easy. Not at all. You, on the other hand, you were a changed person entirely. Not the funny, joyful girl you had once been. More like a closed book, encrypted with a lock. The key long gone, getting rusty at the bottom of a deep, lurid river.
Conversations over dinner were held briefly. Your dad being the only one to start them by things he remembered you guys liked. The burning need inside of you to talk to him was pushed down further. The looks you would receive were not really what you anticipated. But nobody knew. The silent battle you had been fighting for the last months had been ignored. Had your dad been here, he would have noticed something was off. Right away. A look in your (Y/E/C) eyes was all it took. But that was the past. This person had died a long time ago. Worrying was all that could be done for the time being. If you were to talk, you would come to him yourself. No need for him to force you into a situation you were highly uncomfortable in.
The bags under your eyes were present. The light in your eyes completely gone. Like the last ounce of strength had been sucked out of your body. Your clothes did not fit the way they used to. Loose hoodies, even looser pants. Your form slowly disappearing. Not only feeling like you were unseen, but actually becoming invisible. There was not a single moment of the day where you were fully awake. You had not been sleeping much. Something your dad could relate to. Most nights, he spent in company with a bottle of whiskey. The only friend to numb the pain for a little while. Alcohol was not your solution. Did not mean that yours was any healthier.
It had become a routine for you. Waiting until the house was sound asleep. Your mind the only one being awake. Your thoughts the only ones running miles & miles per hour. Eventually, you always found yourself seated outside, on top of the roof. Being a bit closer to the stars aligning the night sky. Being a bit closer to her. Others might find it silly. You talking into the night, waiting for some echo of the past. Waiting for a sign that she heard you. Your complaints. Your pain. Your grief. Your love. Spending hours crying. Begging for her to make it stop. Begging for them to love you the way she used to.
The cold breeze hit your exposed skin. A sign that your body still reacted to certain things. Texas nights were chilly. A nice contrary to the heat that dragged itself through most days. A hoodie would do. Some sweatpants. But you needed the goosebumps. Needed them to remind you that you were still here. Still breathing. You owed it to your mom. To keep fighting. Because she did not have the chance to anymore. Tears were threatening to escape your glossy eyes. You would not let them fall. Deep down, you knew she would want you to be strong. Not to cry over her. Because of her. But it was so hard. Each day, the weight got heavier. Each day, you lost yourself a bit more. There was only so much a single person could take. To you, it felt like the limit was almost reached. Soon, you would overflow. Who knew what would happen if you let it get that far?
“Your mom used to love that place.” a soft but deep voice interrupted the peaceful silence that encircled your body. Looking over your shoulder to find your dad standing only mere feet away from you.
“Really?” the pain could be heard through your small voice. Broad shoulders touched yours.
“She was up here when she needed time to think.” elbows propped up on his knees. You could brush him off. Pretending to be fine. Explaining that fresh air was all you needed. That you would head inside in a minute. Truthfully, you did not want to do any of this. The fight had been going on for too long. You were close to losing it. This was a sign that, maybe, you were not yet at the end. That, maybe, there was still enough time to get up & start anew. Talking alone felt like too much effort. It required too much strength. Strength that you did not have. Not anymore.
“Something happened to you while I was gone.” the statement left a tension between you. “I feel like I don’t even know you anymore.” his eyes took in your side profile. You did not dare to look at him. It meant risking to break into tears. The tears you had been holding in for so long.
“I don’t even know myself anymore.” as a father, hearing your child say such words, it broke his heart. Into a million pieces. The universe did not give him a break. First Emily. Now you. Yes, you were alive. But watching you disappear right in front of his eyes hurt just as much.
“Talk to me.” his words were not an order. If you wanted to, you could up & leave. Right this instant. Something told you to stay. He was here, after all. Your dad. And he cared enough to look out for you. More than the others had done these past few months.
“I always wondered if mom & you noticed.” your eyes were focused on a branch that wavered in the far distance. The leaves pushed from one side to the other, controlled by the wind. There was no interruption. If you needed to get something off your chest, then the most Cordell could do was listen. Making you feel as if you were not alone. As if he was not leaving you. Not again. Because he was not.
“Grandma & grandpa have never looked at me the way they look at Stella. At Augie. To them, I was never their grandchild. I was just there. I was never an equal. And I was fine with it, you know? Because I had mom. I had you. And that was all the support I needed. Then mom died. And you left. And suddenly, it felt like there was nobody I could talk to. Nobody who could hug me to make me feel at least a tiny bit better. They were this tight-knit group. And I was alone.” the steadiness, the monotony in your voice was scary. To you, it had been your normal for the longest time. Cordell knew that it was partly his fault. Leaving you during one of the hardest times in your life was plainly wrong. No apology could ever bring back the time you had lost.
“I’m sorry.” it was not much. Definitely not enough. Definitely not what you deserved. Yet, it was all that could be given to you in this moment. A strong, muscular arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his warm body. The heat of his form immediately transferring to your skin. His embrace was a safe haven. His cologne so familiar. You had missed him. So much. Only when he touched you were you overwhelmed by every single emotion you had ignored for the last couple of months. Silent tears made their way down your cheeks, leaving a salty taste at the corners of your mouth.
“It’s fine.” one thing had not changed. Always making sure that others would not worry about you. People knew you for your fierce & strong personality. It was not too late to get the old you back. With much work, much love & support, you could change for the better again.
“It’s not.” Cordell knew you were one to carry everything on your own. That trait was given to you from him. He recalled how Emily had mentioned it when you were a small child. The one thing you always did was putting others first, forgetting about yourself in the process. That was something the both of you had to work on. Something the both of you needed to improve. The start would make him talking to the rest of the family. Now that he knew about your daily struggles, he made it his job to do everything to change it. For your sake. Because that was what Emily would have wanted. It was what he wanted for you. All of your years, you had been nothing but kind & loving towards his parents, Stella & August. The kindness you shared with them was not necessary. You had been treated wrongly for years & Cordell blamed himself for being too blind to see clearly.
Again, silence enveloped you & neither of you talked. It was comforting. Him being back. Him wanting to help. He hugged you close to him. Squeezing your shoulders every now & then. A simple sign of letting you know that he was still here. With you.
“I’ll talk to them.” if it were not for the night to be so calm, you would have missed his words entirely. “I’ll make this right.” this was a silent promise. A promise that he would stay. A promise that you no longer had to keep your grief locked inside. A promise that your family would be just that. A family. A family who treated each other equally. Loved each other endlessly. Supported each other whenever it was possible. Maybe it was the scene you found yourself in. The almost black night sky, illuminated by the moon, by thousands of little stars. Showing you that there were a million small reasons for a light in a mass of darkness. Bits & pieces of hope. Maybe this was your sign. The sign you had waited for every night. The sign from your mom. Telling you that it was worth fighting for. Worth fighting for the little things. Because each of those were beautiful in their own way. Each of those deserved appreciation. Each of those could brighten up the dark life you found yourself in. And light was all you needed right now.
Published (03/26/2021) by Cathy
Tags: @fofisstilinski, @geekgirl007, @spnwoman, @acklessnackles, @the-soul-witch, @multifandomlover121, @missmaam123, @delicatecelebritiesarthairdo (thanks for your support <3/sorry if I mistakenly tagged you, please let me know if I did)
#cordell walker#cordell x reader#cordell walker x reader#cordell x emily#walker#walker 2021#cordell walker x daughter!reader#cordell x daughter!reader#daughter reader#daughter!reader#reader insert#reader imagine#imagine#fanfic#fanfiction#emily walker#Jared Padalecki#jared x reader#jared padalecki x reader#jared padalecki x daughter!reader#jared x daughter!reader#genevieve padalecki#violet brinson#stella walker#august walker#walker cw#walker cast#cw walker#supernatural#supernatural cast
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The Receptionist and the Profiler (Epilogue)
Chapter Eight: Epilogue
(Spencer Reid x f!Reader)
Series Masterlist
General Masterlist
A/N: Welcome to the final chapter of the series. this is just a summary of what Spencer and Reader’s life is like in the future. thank you so much for joining me on this journey. I’ve enjoyed it so much more than I thought I would. So without further ado, enjoy.
Working for the FBI made for a pretty wild life. Even though Y/N wasn’t an agent, her life had been caught up with work just like all the other agents’. It also didn’t help that her boyfriend was endangered practically every minute of every day. It was hard, but Spencer and Y/N made it work. Among the darkness, they created light for each other. Spencer was no longer dreading coming home to a quiet life of reading and rereading his favorite books. He had a partner, he had a lover, someone to depend on. She was there for him as he grieved the loss of his friend and coworker deeply and she was there when he struggled with his excruciating migraines. They walked through life together, facing the challenges head on.
Emily’s death had taken a toll on the both of them, but they were nothing short of relieved when they found out that she was alive and well. Many changes took place after that.
JJ had worked long and hard to turn into a profiler, the liaison had years upon years of experience before switching jobs which meant Hotch had to find a new communications liaison, but he didn’t have to look far at all. He had offered Y/N the job without a second thought. A lot of her job as receptionist covered a liaison’s job. She would often get numerous calls a day from nosy reporters and she’d have to shut them down. However, with the added responsibilities, she’d had to take classes and had undergone copious amounts of training with JJ and Hotch, but she found that she flourished in this new job, despite the hardships that came with it.
This meant that she had her own office now. Whenever Spencer wasn’t at his desk, he was in her office, and whenever she wasn’t in her office, she was at his desk. She often found that she missed her old job as receptionist, but nothing could replace the newfound feeling of making a difference in the world. She used to admire JJ’s ability to stand before nosy reporters and judgmental cops, and here she was, blowing herself (and the team) away with these hidden abilities.
Before, she was aware of the general gist of the job, she knew it wasn’t easy, but the team often kept the gory details to themselves around her. Now, she had to pick and choose the gore which constantly left her with the question of whether she’d made the right choice or not. The intensity of the job had slightly damaged her spirits, but thankfully she had an amazing support system. She couldn’t have done it without Spencer’s unending support, or Hotch’s for that matter. Before allowing Y/N to accept the job, Hotch had made sure to warn her about the horrors first. She assured him she was ready, even though sometimes she felt like she wasn’t.
On the somewhat bright side, this also meant that she was around during most, if not all cases. This had Spencer jumping for joy, but it also terrified him to his bones. All his emotions were always on overdrive when it came to her. He was glad that he didn’t have to spend so much time away from her, but it simultaneously meant that he was constantly worried for her safety. He never wanted her to go into the field, ever. No matter the amount of combat training she did with Morgan. She found that she preferred interviewing victims’ families and controlling the press to facing serial killers head on anyway.
Sometimes it was easier for her to control the press from Quantico, so it wasn’t uncommon for her to stay back during cases. One particular case had dragged on for much longer than any of them had expected. The whole team was gone in Wisconsin and Hotch had asked her to stay back and hold down the fort at Quantico. The team ended up staying there for two weeks. It was the longest she’d ever been away from Spencer. Nightly calls weren’t enough for them and Spencer truly hadn’t experienced such an emptiness without her before.
As he scooped her into his awaiting arms right outside the elevator when they finally made it back to the office, he breathlessly declared to her, “Marry me.”
She pulled back from the tight embrace to examine his features, “What?” She said, voice thick with confusion.
“I don’t want to be away from you for that long ever again. I don’t want to wait anymore. Marry. Me.” He enunciated firmly. She broke out into a grin.
“Okay, I will.” She laughed and he squeezed her once more, savoring her warmth.
“This isn’t the official proposal by the way, you deserve something far nicer than all this, but I just want you to know that I’m ready if you are.” Spencer clarified and she threw her head back with laughter. Spencer’s heart soared at the sound.
Spencer took that statement and ran with it. He teased her every chance he got. At one dinner date they had planned, he had the nerve to begin his sentence with her full name, her heart dropping to her gut.
“Y/N Y/L/N, would you do me the honor of...sharing this fine wine with me?” Spencer said smugly, resulting in a shocked, but somehow relieved scoff coming from her.
A different time, he decided to give her a false alarm during one of their daily lunch walks in the park nearest to Quantico. He knelt down to one of his knees in the middle of their promenade.
“Y/N Y/L/N, will you...wait for me while I tie my shoe?” Spencer asked with a face-splitting grin. This time, she didn’t hesitate to shove his shoulder slightly, causing him to lose balance and almost faceplant into the pavement.
At this point, she truly had no idea when he was going to pop the big question. Knowing him, it could literally be at any point in time. She had to admit, though, he kept her on her toes. A month later, she was sure he’d pop the question during JJ’s wedding reception because of the way he was staring at her all night. He’d looked dreamy in his tux to say the least. Y/N was almost too shy to dance with him because of how magnificent he looked. What she didn’t know was that he was thinking the same exact thing about her. She looked exquisite in the evening gown she adorned and Spencer was absolutely enraptured by her.
Being so surrounded by love and admiration, Spencer finally asked her to marry him the second they made it through her front door. They stood in the small hallway between the kitchen and the living room. She had just turned around from taking her heels off and was met with Spencer down on one knee, holding the most beautiful ring out to her in a navy blue velvet box.
“I had this elaborate speech planned, Y/N, I really did. I was going to talk about the stars, about the first conversation we had when I told you about the origins of yogurt, about how stupid we were for not realizing our love for each other earlier, but I realized that none of that matters right now. All I know is that this feels right, you make everything feel right. Will you marry me?” Spencer asked, his face incapable of hiding even a sliver of the adoration he felt for her.
“Yes, I’ll marry you in every lifetime and every universe.” She said, tears falling freely from her eyes. He sprang to his feet and wrapped her up in a long awaited embrace. He felt her body shake with wet laughter against his. He placed the ring on her finger and quickly kissed her passionately. Their giddy giggles flew through and around them.
Spencer knew she didn’t want a long engagement. Her previous engagement was hard enough of the both of them. Their jobs were just so demanding, it was hard to set a date and keep from pushing it back. Their wedding planner was beyond frustrated with them, but what can they do? They’re literally out there saving lives. And before they knew it, two years had passed them by and they were due to be married in two months.
But, alas, Spencer Reid seemed to have a knack for getting shot by unsubs right before weddings. While they were investigating a difficult case in Texas, Spencer was shot in the neck. Y/N was at the police station when she’d heard. She wasn’t sure who took her to the hospital to see him, everything was a blur since she got the call. She was plagued by the fear of losing him.
She’d overheard Alex Blake and JJ discuss how he’d always wanted children when she arrived at the hospital. In the back of her mind, she screamed that she’d give him all the kids he wanted, if the universe just let them breathe.
All too quickly, she was a sobbing mess in JJ’s arms. He’d gotten hurt before, he’d been in danger before, but she’d never been as close to it as she was then, it terrified her. Garcia had arrived and guided her to Spencer’s room. In another flash of events, there was a loud bang and Y/N had barely registered that a gun was shot inside the room.
The ringing of her ears subsided just enough to hear Spencer tell Garcia, “You saved my life, do you hear me?”
That was the second time his life was endangered in the span of two hours. Y/N looked her fiancé square in the face.
“I don’t want to wait anymore. As soon as you’re up and well, we’re getting married.”
Exactly one week later, they’d rushed through whatever they could rush through. Thankfully her dress was ready and altered, the cake was made to order, but sadly, they’d given up their gorgeous, gorgeous venue. Rossi was more than happy to offer up his backyard and the couple found it more than fitting to commemorate their love in the very location where Spencer had first confessed his feelings to her and where she’d returned them later.
Life truly came full circle as Spencer stood in the same exact spot where he’d confessed his undying love for her the very first time. Spencer did everything he could to keep from sobbing like a child as he saw the owner of his heart stand before him, just like she did that day, but this time adorning her white dress.
Being the romantic sap that he was, he recounted almost every milestone in perfect detail during his vows. Through the unrelenting tears, of course. Y/N’s words came out wobbly and wet, but she managed to get her vows out. There really was not a single dry eye in the small, intimate crowd. The entire team had watched them fall in love oh-so-gracelessly over the years.
Their ceremony was beautiful. It was different than JJ’s had been, it was more special to the two of them. Spencer was in nothing short of awe as he watched his wife sway with Henry wrapped up in her embrace on the dance floor. Henry’s little arms and legs were wound tightly around her, the bottoms of his shoes surely smearing dirt all over the back of her dress, but she didn’t care. Not when Spencer was looking at her like that. His throat clogged itself up as she caught his eye and smiled sweetly. The same thing was on both their minds, it was like an unspoken agreement had been made through some kind of special, invisible bond between them.
He couldn’t wait to have a family with that woman.
And they’d wasted absolutely no time. Three months after the wedding, Y/N announced that she was carrying a baby Reid. Tears and cheers erupted for them all. They had found the perfect little house with the help of Morgan. It was perfect for their growing family.
Pregnancy wasn’t easy on Y/N at all. Flying all around the country and helping catch serial killers was not an activity that pregnant Y/N wanted to engage in. The team had been more than forgiving as they dealt with her mood swings and crazy cravings. It also turns out that soon-to-be mama Y/N was especially helpful in chewing out unsubs in the interrogation room, but as useful as she proved to be, she couldn’t wait to pop the little peanut out.
Spencer and the team were rushing off the jet to the hospital as they’d heard Y/N had gone into labor. Spencer had only missed the very beginning and was by her side the entire time after that.
They welcomed baby Emelia Reid into this world on a chilly September night. Spencer was over the moon, he was borderline obsessed with looking at the baby and keeping a hand on her at all times whenever she was in the room with them.
He waited for his mother to fly out a few days later just to meet baby Emelia. He wept as he watched his mother kiss the top of his baby girl’s head. No other feeling could ever compete with the one he experienced at that moment in time.
Emelia had grown into such a radiant little girl. She was a miniature hurricane of chocolatey brown curls and rosy red cheeks. She’d already blown her parents away as her intelligence only seemed to increase with time. The similarities she had to her father were astonishing. She was a daddy’s girl through and through, but Y/N didn’t seem to mind sharing him. Not when the sight of them together instantly melted her heart every single time.
Diana tried to be as active in the baby’s life as she could possibly be, however her condition began to worsen over time. Eventually, Diana had had to move in with Y/N, Spencer, and Emelia. Thankfully, their house was large enough, but taking care of a toddler and Diana while being 6 months pregnant was inarguably too much to handle for Y/N. She’d found out that she was pregnant again, and they were expecting another baby girl. Y/N had also taken time off from work to focus on the dilemmas at home.
The at-home nurse was doing the best she could since Spencer was always either at work or off finding Diana some kind of new treatment. He’d told Y/N that he’d been going to Mexico to get her some special medication and so she didn’t mind as long as she’d been kept in the loop of where and how he was. Spencer Reid never kept anything from his wife. They were always transparent with each other. Y/N was glad that he’d told her about his trips down to Mexico, or else she’d be out of her mind looking for him.
But suddenly, during one trip, he’d stopped answering her calls. Complete silence on his end. It had driven her absolutely mad. It was only until JJ visited her the next morning informing her that Spencer had been arrested in Mexico for the illegal possession of drugs and possibly murder. If JJ hadn’t been around to catch Y/N before passing out, she or the baby would have been in extreme danger.
But Spencer Reid never kept anything from his wife. She’d been adamant that she would have known if he was struggling with drugs again. The last time she’d seen Spencer was during the trial. He’d looked so terrified as they pronounced him guilty and shoved him away from her. From his family. He’d spared Y/N one last broken glance, his gaze drifting down to her swollen belly. Their second child was on the way and he won’t be there to meet them. He mouthed a heartfelt apology before they took him away. Y/N wept and wept until everyone but the team left the courtroom.
“How am I gonna do this, Pen? How am I gonna do this without him?” She spoke between breathy sobs. The baby, Emelia, Diana. She couldn’t do it on her own. It would break her.
“You won’t be alone, Y/N. We’re all going to help you.” Penelope reassured her, but the only thing that was capable of reassuring her was currently in handcuffs behind closed doors.
She’d had to keep Spencer’s whereabouts from Diana and Emelia. She’d told him that he was consulting a case somewhere in California, where he also had access to the beach. Up until that lie wasn’t viable enough. Emelia’s questions about her daddy absolutely tore through what remained of her heart.
Diana’s caretaker had apparently quit and a new one came by. Y/N thought something was off, but she pushed that thought aside as she worried over her husband and the baby that they were due to meet any day now. Two months had passed and Spencer was still incarcerated, he hadn’t allowed Y/N or Emelia anywhere near the prison, but she’d broken down at the possibility of him being locked away for 25 years.
She’d visited him once, right after the birth of their second baby. They’d had another beautiful baby girl, whose name had been decided long ago by the two parents. Baby Adaline. The delivery was immensely difficult without him, but she pushed through. Y/N had almost begged Emily to pull any, any strings she could to get them to meet since Spencer said he’d only agree to see them if he could ensure their privacy and safety. They’d managed to get them in with Spencer’s lawyer, Fiona. Y/N cooed to Adaline as she cradled her in her arms, wrapped in her little blanket. The cooing served as a distraction as she waited anxiously for Spencer to meet them in the small little room.
Suddenly the doors emitted a loud buzzing noise, prompting a loud cry from Adaline. A sound that was strange to echo off the walls of this place. Y/N shushed her gently until she caught sight of her husband walking through the door. Tears gathered in her eyes as she took in his disheveled state. His eyes found hers and quickly flitted to the squirming bundle of joy in her arms. Spencer’s lip wobbled as he entered the room. Y/N shifted Adaline to rest upon her shoulder as she wrapped one arm tightly around Spencer. No touching was allowed, but the guards pretended to look the other way, courtesy of whatever strings Emily had pulled.
The three of them bawled against each other in an unceremonious reunion. Spencer at last pulled away from his wife and stared at the baby in the bundle. He hesitated to carry her. His hands were clean, but they still felt so dirty. How could his hands hold this beautiful gift of life while they’d been committing such heinous acts within these very walls? But one utterance from his wife made that all vanish.
“It’s okay, Spence.” She smiled slightly, angling Adaline towards him.
He gazed at Y/N closely, as if checking to see if she was sure. Y/N carefully handed her over to him and he instantly turned into less of a shell of himself and had begun to resemble the man that Y/N could recognize. He cooed to her softly, kissing her face repeatedly. Adaline instantly quieted down at her father’s touch.
The small interaction had fueled the pair for weeks. Spencer found a source of hope and was determined to see through to the other side. He would not rot away in his cell forever. The team continued to try and crack the case from the outside. Y/N was instructed to be more careful than ever. She often brought Emelie and Adaline to work with her. She had not been flying out with the team, preferring to stay close to her girls until Spencer was back.
On one of the days Y/N brought her girls to work, she’d found out that Diana had been missing. Her caretaker was accompanying her to visit Spencer in prison and then neither of them had been seen afterwards. They quickly identified the caretaker as Lindsey Vaughn. If Y/N had been on the case with them ten years ago, she would have identified her, but she was just another face to her. Y/N was livid, Vaughn had been around her children, she’d been inside her home. If Spencer didn’t get to catch the bitch, they better believe Y/N will.
Spencer was released quickly after the BAU proved his innocence. He was on his way to the office now. Y/N had been peering into Adaline’s carriage when she’d heard the high pitched voice of Emelia.
“Daddy!” Emelia exclaimed, racing across the bullpen to jump into her father’s arms.
“Hi baby. Daddy missed you so much.” Spencer said, hiding his tears in his daughter's hair. He held her tightly to his chest as he crossed the bullpen and made it to Y/N’s office. He put Emelia down gently and scooped his wife into his arms.
“You’re back.” She said softly through tears.
He hooked his chin over her shoulder and sniffled strongly. He might not be the same man he was before, but he still loved her unconditionally. He still loved all three of them unconditionally.
“I’m here.” He repeated the phrase out loud like a mantra.
And he was here, but he also wasn’t. His wife could tell that the man who stood before her had endured hell, but when he cradled their baby girl so tightly to his chest, it was hard to imagine him as anything other than a loving, gentle father, and a compassionate partner. She knew she’d hold onto that thought forever. Once they retrieved Diana, they knew they could face anything.
As long as they were together.
And they knew they would be, for as long as the universe would allow in this life, and then the one after that.
~THE END~
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SWEET HOME KENTUCKY // Jack Daniels (Agent Whiskey) x F!Reader
A/N: 14.8k. Yes, this is a spinoff of Sweet Home Alabama. I love that movie and I love Whiskey, so here you go! This is Jack Daniels x Female!Reader, but there’s no Y/N mention (unless I missed one).
Warnings: Character Death (mentioned in passing), Fluff, Angst, Divorce, Physical Abuse (a punch and a tight grip), Drinking, Drunkenness, (basically, if you’ve seen the movie, I’ve deviated but no more than normal).
She still dreamed about that night. The one where Jack took her out to the meadow behind his mama’s house and told her he wanted to marry her one day. To which she asked, “Why would you want to marry me for anyhow?” and he replied, “So I can kiss you anytime I want.” Her first kiss. Her first love. And they were only twelve at the time.
It didn’t come as a shock to her when Jack had asked her to marry him right out of high school. She was his first love, after all, and Jack swore he’d loved her since before he ever kissed her in that meadow. But then he never showed up to their reception because he was still drunk from his “bachelor party” the night before, he was always gone on missions and attempted to stop her from doing the same even when they worked for the same intelligence agency, and she eventually got shot in the head in a mission gone wrong, resulting in medical having to use Alpha-gel on her to bring her back.
That fatal injury had broken her and it had broken Jack too. He hadn’t been able to protect his own wife when she was his partner, and that killed him inside. After that, he became almost overbearing in his protectiveness and you’d eventually asked Champagne for a transfer after a whole year of turmoil in your home, explosive fights, and missions spent arguing. Champ loved you and Jack like his own kids and wanted you and your husband to fix this, but he did as you asked and you’d transferred to New York without telling Jack with the instructions that if he were to ask that Champ would tell him that you were safe and in another Statesman office.
That’s where you found yourself now, leading the New York office after the last agent had retired. You’d built up your reputation from scratch, leading missions and directing agents in the Northeast region of the United States. You kept in touch with Champ barely, but it had been seven years since you left Kentucky. You refused to even think about Jack unless you were sending another copy of the divorce papers or unless you had that damn dream about the meadow again.
You woke to the sound of your office door opening, and you lifted your head from the desk you occupied on the top floor.
“How come you let me sleep?” You grumbled to your assistant when he stepped into the room with a mug of coffee and a mission report from one of your top operatives.
“You needed it, boss, but it was only for a few minutes. Long enough for me to grab your coffee and fetch the report from downstairs.” He shrugged. “Y’know, that accent of yours gets a whole lot thicker when you’re dreaming.”
That boy had the audacity to smirk before you narrowed your eyes at him.
“And what exactly did I say?” You demanded.
“That I’m gonna get a raise when you realize how awesome I am.”
“We’ll see how good your coffee skills are, then.” You laughed, finally smiling at him through your exhaustion. In all reality, you liked this kid. He’d just been assigned to you and hadn’t earned his agent name yet, but you had a feeling he would do just fine and you already had plans to promote him come next quarter.
“Enjoy.”
“Mhmm,” you hummed, “I’ll see you tomorrow for that meeting in the conference room, alright?”
The kid agreed and you nodded at him before making your way to the elevators.
Your apartment on the lower levels of the Statesman New York building was modest, but well-lived in. You’d wanted to make it seem as much like home as possible. This time, however, your apartment wasn’t as empty as usual. The entire entryway and living room were filled with rose petals and rose bouquets in glasses of water.
“Goddamn that man,” you swore, stepping around the petals and heading to the panel you had on the wall where an orange light was blinking, signifying you had a waiting message. A button was pressed and suddenly your boyfriend’s voice filled the room.
“There’s a rose for every moment I thought of you last night. God, you must be exhausted. Sweetie, listen, I’ll see you tomorrow at our meeting. You’ll do great. I love you. Bye.” The message ended and you rolled your eyes before heading over to the largest of the bouquets.
You loved your boyfriend, Agent Rum, but this was too much. You hated huge, sappy gestures like this and he knew it, but you supposed it was a bit sweet. Very few other ladies you knew had such attentive men at their sides and Jack had never done anything remotely like this. A sharp breath was inhaled in an attempt to nix that thought from your mind before you headed to your front door and made your way to the ladies’ dorms. You left an embarrassingly big bouquet in front of each door and sighed in satisfaction once you’d swept up and removed most of the flowers in your apartment.
_________________________________________________________________
The meeting you’d scheduled came sooner than you’d liked, this being a collaboration between the Texas office and your own New York one. Rum walked in and kissed your forehead before the meeting could even start and you smiled at him. He could always brighten your day in an instant.
“Thanks for the flowers, babe.” You smiled at him, squeezing his hand in yours. He grinned, asking if you really liked them, and kissed you before sitting in his spot along with a few of your other agents. You both slipped on your glasses and started the meeting, knowing that you could talk properly once the collaboration was agreed upon.
It felt like hours went by before all positions were assigned and the intel was decided upon. You groaned once you were able to remove the glasses needed to see everyone in their remote locations, rubbing your temples. Hands were felt on your shoulders, and you knew it was Rum. Your glasses blinked a light on the side and you sighed, placing them back on your face.
The blinking was due to a message from Agent AppleJack, one of your own agents whom you’d taken a shine to and often spent weekends going about the city with. She was a nice girl from Maine who had an affinity for seafood you couldn’t quite get behind, but you’d consider her one of the closest friends you had in this city.
“Please tell me he has a flaw somehow.” She had typed out. You rolled your eyes before moving your eyes on the on-screen keyboard to type a reply.
“He asked me to go to California for Christmas.”
“He’s gonna ask you a lot more than that,” was her reply.
“You think so?” You were suddenly nervous. You’d only been dating Rum for six months and your divorce still wasn’t finalized.
“Sweetie, let’s go for a walk.” Rum took you from your conversation, and you nodded, slipping the glasses back off your face. “You’re so stressed, but you did so well today.”
You both made your way to the elevator, hand in hand, and eventually you meandered around Central Park just talking about your jobs and how your last missions went. You rarely went on them anymore, but you made sure that Rum had as many as he liked to keep him happy.
“So have you made a decision?” He finally asked, bright eyes boring into yours.
“About what?” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“California.”
“Babe, California? That’s four months from now. We don’t even have to decide right now because we can literally jump on any jet we have and go within 6 hours if we want.”
“I was thinking maybe 200 guests, tops.” Rum continued in his words, but you stopped him with a pull to his hand.
“For Christmas?” You asked, still very confused. “Rum, are you on some kind of medication I don’t know about? Should I take you off of field duty for a bit? Did you get shot or something?”
All of a sudden, Rum was kneeling in front of you in the middle of a pathway in Central Park, and everything finally made sense. He held a diamond ring in his hand, the light hitting it just right and you gasped.
“Brandy, and I should probably know your real name by now, will you marry me?”
“Are you sure? Because if you’re not sure we can just go back to work and forget all about this. It’s only been six months.” You floundered, not even sure what to say, but he looked so hopeful and you really did love him.
“Brandy, I love you. I didn’t come by this decision lightly, and I really hope you’ll say yes. I want to build a life with you.” Rum stood, looking you right in your eyes. “So, I’ll ask again. Brandy, will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?”
You nodded, not trusting your voice and felt the ring slip on your finger. It felt strange, another ring being there, but you were suddenly overcome with joy that your life was finally falling into place and you had a man who loved you and wanted to build a life with you. That’s all you could ask for. So you kissed him.
He grinned once you’d let yourselves out of his arms and released him from your kiss, hand reaching for his agency-issue watch.
“I’ve got to tell my family.” He gushed, “Wait until you see the look on the guy’s faces!”
“Babe, do you mind if we keep this to ourselves for a while? With this collaboration mission with Texas happening and everything else, I’d rather just keep this quiet for a bit.”
“You don’t want to tell your family?” Rum asked, a bit confused. You cursed yourself in your mind because he didn’t know. The only person close to being a family to you was Champ, and you hadn’t really talked to him in ages. Close to seven years, actually, which was downright awful. The guilt gnawed at you.
“Sunshine, I don’t really, um, have a family.” You stated calmly, fingers soothing the back of his hand as he pulled a face.
“But—” he started.
“I have a mentor who I looked up to as a father, but I haven’t seen him in about seven years. I think I should tell him in person.”
“Okay, whatever you want, sweetie. I’m happy as long as you’re happy.” Rum smiled, and you sighed in relief.
“He’ll love you, eventually.” You reassured him.
_________________________________________________________________
First thing the next morning, you caught a plane down to Kentucky and found yourself driving along the battered country roads to the little farmhouse where you and Jack used to live. Your watch buzzed with an incoming call, but you didn’t answer, knowing it was AppleJack. You’d fill her in later.
You parked the car next to the oak tree that still held your swing. A dog came rushing down the steps, howling at you, but you didn’t mind. It was your dog, after all. A tall man in heavy work boots busted out the door, hollering at the dog and telling you that “he don’t really bite.”
The man looked at you without really seeing you, seeing only a woman in worn out cowboy boots and aviators covering much of her face. Her hair was different, so she didn’t really expect him to recognize her.
“What can I do for you?” The man drawled in his southern accent. You shuddered, not forgetting the way that voice sounded when you were in bed together at all times of day or night.
“Well, for starters, you can get your stubborn ass down here and give me a divorce.” You snapped, pulling the sunglasses off your face. Jack’s eyes widened once your words registered. “C’mon, Jack, I mean it. The joke’s over. We need to finish this so I can get back to my office and take care of my job.”
“You’re shittin’ me, right?” Jack spluttered.
You finally got a good look at him. He had shaving cream on the side of his face as if he hadn’t got a chance to finish before your hound was howling, but he’d kept his mustache. You hated to say that he looked good, but it was the truth. The years had been kind to him.
“You know, I’ve never actually understood that expression, but no, I’m not “shitting” you.” You groaned, pulling a packet of papers out of the glovebox of your rented truck and spreading them out in the bed. “Look, it’s even got these idiot proof tabs so you can’t mess this up. I’ve got one copy for you and I both and one for my lawyer. So c’mon.”
When you looked up at him again, he didn’t say anything but he certainly looked like he had quite a few things to say.
“Well?” You demanded, irritated that he wasn’t coming down off the porch to sign the papers like you’d asked him to.
“You show up here after seven years without so much as a ‘Hey there, Jack, remember me? Your wife?’ Or a “Hi, honey, lookin’ good! How’s the family?’” He had the audacity to laugh, finally stepping closer to the edge of the porch.
“You expect me to tell you that you look good? Bless your heart. Sweetheart, we’ve been separated for seven years. I’ve had it with your bullshit.”
“They like that attitude wherever it is you’ve been?”
“Cut the crap, Jack. You knew where I was. Champ told me you accessed my records.” You spat, moving closer to the porch. “And don’t you dare tell me you’ve spent all this time missing me.”
“Oh I missed you alright, but I’ve been going to the range more and practicing so my aim’s gotten a lot better.” He drawled, leaning against the railing.
“Is that a threat, Jack? I’ve got a lawyer who charges me an arm and a leg. He charged me every time you sent these damn papers back without your signature on the dotted lines.” You lifted the papers as you spoke, but he scoffed at you.
“Well, I’m glad to see you got the message.” He smirked, going to say something else but you were both cut off by the dog howling again due to your hostile tones.
“Shut up, Coal!” You shouted, but Jack shouted a different name. “What happened to my dog, Jack?”
“He died. You weren’t here.” He grumbled, turning to go back into the ranch house. You stood there in shock for a second before realizing what he was doing.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
“I’m leaving!” He shouted, back turned to you, “You done it, so you should recognize the process. I need to finish shaving my damn beard.”
“Jack, can we please just keep this civilized? For God’s sake, we’re both adults and agents. Please just sign the papers so I can go back home.” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. This was a mistake, you thought. He wasn’t going to sign the papers.
“What do you know from home?” Jack spit, finally turning around to face you, fire in his eyes. “Hell, I bet Champ doesn’t even know you’re here, does he? That old man took you under his wing and trained you himself and you have the audacity to avoid him like he’s some annoyance?”
“That’s my business, Jack, so you stay out of it.”
“Honey, he’s the only family you got.”
“Don’t you ‘honey’ me, honey!” If looks could kill, he’d have died about ten times by now with the murderous look you were giving him.
“Get your ass back in that truck, drive over and see him, and maybe we’ll talk after.” Jack demanded, pointing his finger at your vehicle. He was headed back inside before you could even think, and you started shouting at him as you followed him up the porch.
“Jack, you idiotic, stubborn, no good agent! The only reason you won’t sign these papers is because I want you to!” You yelled, hands on the doorknob of the windowed door he’d just slammed in your face and locked.
“Wrong!” He shouted, trying to pull the blinds on the door that he could never get figured out. “The only reason I ain’t signin’ is because you’ve turned into some hoity-toity, wine-drinking, Yankee bitch and I’d like nothing better right now than to piss you off!”
He finally maneuvered the blinds mostly over the door as you dashed to the back of the house, but he locked that too before you had a chance to get there in time. He could hear your frustrated shout from outside and he chuckled in disbelief before heading to his bathroom to get rid of the rest of his beard.
“Divorce, my ass.” He grumbled. Jack came out two minutes later, wiping his face with a towel to find you lounging on his bed. He froze.
“Hey genius,” you smirked, anger still evident in your eyes. “Next time you wanna lock somebody out, make sure they don’t know where the spare key is.” You waved the offending object in the air, and Whiskey made a mad dash for it but you closed your fist before he could snatch it.
“Knew I should’ve changed those damn locks. It’d be nice if my wife had told me where the spare key was!” He growled.
“I’m not your wife anymore, Jack.” You said softly, “I’m just the first girl that climbed in the back of your truck. But you’re right, I have changed. I don’t even know the girl you married anymore.”
“Then let me remind you.” Jack sneered before grabbing his cell phone and heading back into his bathroom, locking the door behind him.
Ten minutes later, Jack popped his head out of the bathroom.
“You bring any clothes with stripes on ‘em?” He asked, and you looked at him in confusion.
Red and blue lights flashed through the windows suddenly and your eyes widened.
“You called the sheriff?!” You gasped, jumping off the bed you used to share with the man looking at you with a satisfied grin on his face. “You know that old bastard hates me!”
“For good reason!” Jack shouted, still in the bathroom.
You made to run for the back door, but it opened to reveal a man you knew.
“Well, hell’s bells!” The man grinned, “If it isn’t our favorite Agent Brandy!”
“Tequila?”
“Hot damn girl, did we miss you! The agency wasn’t the same without you!” Tequila laughed, picking you up and giving you the biggest hug you’d gotten in a long time.
“I can’t believe you’re the sheriff!” You pulled on his badge for a second and knocked his cowboy hat off kilter to mess with him.
“Yep, I get to frisk pretty things like you all day and get paid for it.” Tequila put his hands around your waist and you slapped his chest.
“Aaron, can you try and be at least a little more professional? We got us a crime suspect here.” Jack emerged from the bathroom and you were struck with the fact that you hadn’t known Tequila’s real name until that moment. You quickly snapped back into it, though.
“Now, Brandy, you can’t just go breaking into your ex’s house whenever you feel like it, no matter how much they might deserve it.” Tequila—Aaron, you had to remember that—said.
“I didn’t break in. I used a key. My key, if you must know.” You snorted. Clearly, “Aaron” didn’t know that y’all were still married.
“Well, it still ain’t your house, Brandy. I’m gonna have to escort you out.” Aaron made to take your wrist in his hand, but you pulled away and grabbed the divorce papers you still had with you. You waved them as you heard Jack tell Aaron to use the cuffs on you.
“If you can get that asshole to sign these papers, I’ll let you run me out of town.” You smirked and Aaron laughed at your antics.
“Now that’s none of your concern, Aaron, you hear me?” Jack started, but Aaron was already taking the papers from you to look over.
“Well, what do you know. A bill of divorcement?” He asked. You nodded, and Aaron turned to Jack. “Hell, Jack, I thought you took care of this.”
“I thought I did!” Jack protested.
“Obviously not! Well, if y’all are still married, it’s her house too. This here ain’t nothin’ but a domestic dispute.” Aaron handed the papers back to you, and you smiled at him.
“He didn’t hit you, did he? If he took a swing at you, I’ll take him in right now.” Aaron told you quietly, out of earshot of your husband. You shook your head, because no, that man had never harmed you in ways that were physical. He’d only wounded your heart.
“No, he never hit me.” You replied quietly. Aaron nodded.
“Well, seems y’all got some catching up to do, so I’m gonna leave y’all to it. There’s nobody for miles, so Jack here can make ya scream all he likes.” Aaron winked at Jack, and you shouted in indignation. “G’night, lovebirds!”
“Aaron, I saved your life at least four times back in your Statesman years! You owe me!” Jack shouted, rushing to follow the sheriff’s retreating figure. He wanted you gone from his house in handcuffs if that’s what it took to get you to leave him alone about those divorce papers that he didn’t want to sign.
“Why can’t you just sign the damn papers, Jack?” You yelled after him, and he fixed you with the nastiest stare you’d seen in a long time.
“Listen, Jack. There’s nothing I can do. Your wife’s done nothing wrong, so I can’t just haul her in for nothing. Y’hear me?” Aaron blocked the doorway with his large frame as he lifted his hands in mock surrender.
“I suppose shoplifting steaks at the grocery store’s okay.” Jack spat.
“I took ‘em back and you know it!” You screeched back.
“You remember that vandalism out at the stockyard? Totally her!”
“Like I could tip a cow by myself at sixteen.” You growled, and Jack groaned. He couldn’t hit you with anything from your Statesman years either because that was all “classified information” you didn’t have to answer to. But Jack got an idea.
“Hey Aaron, isn’t there some outstanding warrant for whoever dumped your old man’s tractor in the fish pond?” Jack smirked triumphantly, making eye contact with your horrified expression. And then the cuffs were on your wrists and you were making your merry way to the county jail in the back of his cruiser.
“Now you know I didn’t have a choice, sweetheart.” Aaron smiled ruefully once y’all reached the station. He’d ended up hauling you off in cuffs just like Jack wanted and you were seething.
“This all could have been avoided if he’d just signed those damn papers.” You grumbled. “Can I make a call?”
“Sure thing, sweetheart. You’ll get a couple minutes once I book ya.”
You rolled your eyes, taking the photos Aaron needed to do for “legal purposes.”
“You know that’s gonna get wiped once I make my call, right?” Aaron had the audacity to laugh, knowing exactly who you were going to call.
“I know. Tell big daddy I miss him.” Aaron pointed towards the phone.
It rang for a few seconds before a secretary's voice filtered on, saying the usual crap the Statesman company was supposed to yodel on about.
“Hi, I’ve got a word for you, lady.” You spit out, “Lemon drops suck.” You heard the operator say something about holding on for a moment and then a familiar voice was asking who you were.
“Champ! It’s Brandy,” you shouted, “Listen, I need a favor.”
“Name it, darling. You know I’d do anything for you and that wonderful husband of yours.” He drawled on for a moment and you smacked the phone receiver into the box.
“I need you to pick me up.”
“Well, where are ya? I’ll send a car or whatever it is you need.”
“That’s the thing. I’m in town. But, I need you to come get me from the jail.” You said after a moment. A groan came through the receiver and you winced.
“Alright, darling, I’ll be right there. I’m assuming it’s the usual one, then?”
“Yeah.”
Fifteen minutes later, the man himself was strolling through the door.
“I’m here for my girl, Tequila.” Champ rolled his eyes at you once he saw you waving. He had you out and your record erased within five minutes, and then you were back in his familiar old truck that smelled like whiskey and gunpowder. He accepted a muttered thank you while you drove off towards the Statesman offices.
“So what put you in jail this time?” Champ finally asked.
“Jack and his big, fat mouth.” You grumbled. “It was just a misunderstanding, that’s all.”
“Kinda like that wedding I officiated, huh, darling?” You refused to make eye contact.
“I would hardly call that a wedding.”
“The boy was nervous.” Champ chuckled.
“He was still drunk from the night before!”
“Can you blame him?”
“Yes, I can! We’re supposed to be professional agents and he goes and gets piss drunk the night before we’re supposed to get married. I went to the reception by myself with his puke on the side of my dress while he slept it off at the hotel. And you’re still siding with him!”
“I ain’t siding with nobody, so get rid of that idea. Y’all two are my best agents and I need you both.” Champ stated firmly. “The boy’s changed is all.”
“Can we just not talk about Jack? I know he’s like the son you never had, but you also called me your daughter and all that, so can you just ask me what’s new with me or something instead?”
“Sure. Shoot.” Champ looked disinterested, and you had the feeling that he’d kept up with you better than you’d kept up with him. Curse the archives for always spilling your secrets before you ever could.
“I met somebody. And he’s quite a catch.” You started, and Champ raised an eyebrow beneath his larger than life cowboy hat. “And I’m happy. Really.”
The rest of the drive was held in silence, neither of you feeling like talking much. He pulled into the Statesman gates and led you inside, scanning his ID card on an empty apartment in the back of the warehouses where agents could sleep during the longer missions.
“Sleep well, sweetheart. We can talk about all this in the morning.” He kissed your forehead and you hauled your bag inside. “I’ll take you to get your truck in the morning, don’t you worry ‘bout a thing.”
_________________________________________________________________
In the morning, you were on the phone with your lawyer, walking around the Statesman compound and attempting to avoid the various tour groups that were unaware of the real reason this distillery existed.
“How long does a contested divorce take?” You asked, exasperated that you had to do this now of all times because your no-good husband wouldn’t sign the divorce papers. “18 months? Mr. Collier, I don’t even have 18 days, really!”
The man told you that was how it had to be, you informed him that this arrangement wouldn’t work, and he was informing you of a different option when you heard someone wolf whistle at you, throwing out some jab.
“Ain’t seen the likes of you around this place much!” The man shouted from his horse.
“Mr. Collier, that’s just not going to work for me.” You groaned, trying to block out the man catcalling you from his horse. Clearly this was some junior agent. “Mr. Collier, I’m gonna have to call you back.”
“Listen here, bubba, why don’t you kiss my ass!” You shouted up at the guy, but screamed in happiness once you realized who it was. “Oh my god, Moonshine?!”
“Let’s go inside then, missy, because I don’t do that kind of thing out here in front of the guests.” Moonshine smirked at you, jumping down from his horse.
“I guess your mama raised you right, then.” You laughed, hugging him. You’d missed Moonshine, who’d been one of your first friends in the agency aside from Jack, of course. “I better back off of you before your little lady tries to come beat me up.”
Moonshine looked sheepish.
“There is a little lady, isn’t there?”
“I can hardly afford me and my unhealthy addiction to firearms and whiskey, let alone some high-maintenance babe.” Moonshine laughed.
“What about Cara what’s-her-name? From the class outside of ours? Y’all had real chemistry on some of the missions I supervised.”
“She transferred out to the Alaska branch, and uh, I wasn’t her type.” Moonshine scratched the back of his neck and you hummed, understanding the situation.
“That answers a few of my questions. Guess we all have our secrets, don’t we, Moonshine.” You grinned, your suspicions about him batting for the opposite team nearly confirmed.
“Yeah, we sure do.” Moonshine climbed back up on his horse, tipping his hat on the way. “I gotta get back to work now, missy, but are you gonna be in town for awhile? Me and a few of the guys are going down to our normal watering hole later tonight if you’re up for it.”
“I hope I won’t be here long. I have to go see Champ, but I think I’ll see you boys tonight.”
“Well, I better scram if you’re seeing the boss man.”
“Very funny. I’ll see you later, Moonshine.” You waved the man off and made your way inside, scanning your own ID card on the entry doors and taking the elevator up to Champ’s office.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in. If it isn’t my favorite agent.” Champ drawled from his seat at the head of the conference table.
“Hey boss man, care to give me a ride to town so I can get my truck?” You asked, leaning up against the door jam and waving your keys. He laughed, standing up and grabbing his own keys from his desk.
“C’mon then, little lady. I did make you a promise. You can tell me all about why you’re here on the way over.”
_________________________________________________________________
Once you’d picked up your truck from the jail’s parking lot, you made your way to the bank. You hadn’t accounted for Jack taking as long as he was to sign the divorce papers, so you needed some cash for necessities.
Of course, the bank didn’t have an ATM. You cursed yourself for forgetting as you stepped inside. The bank guard’s eyes widened once he laid eyes on you, telling whoever it was in the teller’s booth that he was going to take a break outside. You winced once you remembered that this was the same man whose farm you and Jack and a few of your old friends had gone rolling pumpkins in year after year. He probably hated you.
You approached the teller, but didn’t recognize her. She clearly recognized you, though.
“Well, if it ain’t the queen of the New York Statesman office.” She grinned. You narrowed your eyes, attempting to figure out who she was when the lightbulb clicked.
“Jenny? Oh my god. I haven’t seen you since you and Tequila got hitched! You look amazing!”
“Thanks, sweetie! So do you. What can I do you for?”
“I need to make a withdrawal from my—“
“Joint account?” Jenny smiled like she knew something you didn’t, which knowing her, she probably did.
“My what?”
“Your joint account. With Jack? From what I hear, y’all are still married.”
“Why yes, yes we are.” You grinned, a plan already formulating in your mind.
_________________________________________________________________
It was after five when Jack got home, but you’d already got to work. You had on one of his favorite dresses that you’d found in a trunk somewhere, one of your homemade aprons, and a wide smile once he walked in the door.
“Hi, honey! Lookin’ good. How’s the family?” You grinned up at him, serving food onto two plates in the dining room.
“Cut the shit. Where’s my stuff?” Jack growled, chucking his hat on the couch along with his whip and lasso.
You smiled where he couldn’t see it, glad to see he’d noticed what you’d done to the place. There were new appliances in the kitchen, a new couch and loveseat, a flatscreen tv, a new rug, and Jack assumed you’d also done something to the bedroom. None of the things he’d had laying around since you left were where he could see it, and the sight agitated him.
“Now what kind of wife would I be if I didn’t pick up after my husband? Dinner’s ready in five.”
“The kind that don’t live here.” Jack groaned, hands raking over his face. “Now, I’m gonna ask you one more time—where is the house key?”
“I had the sweetest talk today with Tequila’s daddy.” You started as you ignored him.
“Nice to see you got your accent back.”
“Oh, I stumbled on a few things today.” You said, noticing Jack had gone to the kitchen, likely in search of a beer.
“Holy shit!” He shouted, and you stifled your laughter. “What happened to the stove?! And where are them little magnets I got from my travels, huh?” He opened the fridge and groaned.
“What the hell is this? Chick food?” He gestured to the fridge that you’d restocked with fresh fruits and vegetables, and new groceries that weren’t stale takeout containers.
“Light beer. Less calories, honey.” You smiled brightly, missing Jack’s murderous expression. He grabbed a can anyway and popped the top off.
“I tried to pick out a new bed today, but the mattress store only had old models. I’ll have to order something from New York.”
“Whatever floats your boat, honey.” Jack muttered, taking a deep swig of the beer you’d bought. He’d have to find his stash of whiskey and hope you hadn’t gotten rid of it.
“Oh, but darlin’, I thought you said we should think of it as our money.” You saw him freeze where he stood, and continued your crusade. “Just a guess, but I’m thinking the words ‘joint checking’ are flashing through your mind right now.”
“How much did you take?” He whirled around, effectively forcing you into the kitchen.
“All of it.” You replied simply, enjoying his facial expression.
“Son of a bitch!” He cursed, chucking the now empty beer can into the trash can and rubbing his face with his hands.
“You wanted a wife, you got a wife, honey,” you spat, “and what were you doing with all that cash? Why don’t you invest it? We work for a perfectly good company with shares for sale, don’t you know anything?”
“I know if you don’t get out of my house right now—”
“Sign the papers and I’ll give it all back.”
“Fine—fine!” He shouted, “gimme the pen.”
You rummaged in your packet for the pen and laid out the papers on the dinner table. You made to give him the pen, but thought better of it.
“Hold on. What are you doing with all that cash saved up? And since when did you tell Champ not to put you on anymore active missions? You aren’t doing anything illegal, are you Jack?”
“So what if I am? I don’t ask you about your boyfriend, you keep your nose out of my life.” He spat out, not making eye contact with you. You deflated.
“Who told you?” You asked quietly.
“Honey, just ‘cause I talk slow don’t mean I’m stupid.” He said in a much quieter tone. He almost sounded hurt.
“Look, Jack—” you trailed off.
“For god’s sake, nobody finds their soulmate at twelve years old.” He mumbled.
“Yeah, I guess,” you murmured.
“Where’s the fun in that?” Jack almost smiled. Your eye caught something on the mantle and you looked up to see a horseshoe and a photo of your parent’s old farm.
“I can’t believe you kept that all these years,” you murmured, eyes trailing over the familiar old farm. It had burned down four years after that photo was taken, taking your parents’ lives with it. Jack looked at you before looking at the clock on the wall.
“Oh, hey sweetie, you know what? I just remembered I got myself a hot date.” Jack grinned maliciously, unbuttoning his collared shirt as he spoke. Your eyes moved from the picture to the skin being revealed and suddenly were at a loss for words. “You don’t mind if I have my lawyer take a look at these, do you?” He tossed the papers back on the table and left the room.
“What?!” You gasped.
“Hell, I’m just a dumb intelligence agent with no regards for the law. There’s words in there I don’t even know. You might be takin’ me to the cleaners for all I know.”
“The cleaners? You? You ain’t been there since our wedding, if you even washed your suit for that,” you scoffed. “Can’t you just sign the damn papers?”
“Nah,” he grinned from the doorway to his bedroom, “but thanks for stoppin’ bye. It’s been a real treat.” And then the door was slammed and you screamed into a newly-purchased throw pillow.
You’d realized after about ten minutes that Jack wasn’t coming back into the living room. In fact, his dramatic ass had jumped out the window and you heard his truck starting up outside.
Tequila had made an offer, though, and you planned to take up the social obligation. Besides, if Jack was as predictable as he’d always been, his “hot date” was probably at his mama’s bar where everyone in that little town went to unwind.
Your phone rang once you were outside the noisy bar near Jack’s truck, and you answered at once knowing it was your fiancé.
“I love you, I love you, I love you.” You smiled into the phone and Rum’s happy voice spilled out.
“Are you sitting down?” Rum asked.
“Why? Bad news? Did the mission blow up or something?” You panicked. You knew putting this in Rum’s hands would only backfire if something happened.
“No, no! Nothing like that. I was just going to tell you that I read the mission reports and everything went exactly to plan just like you said it would. You might be up for another promotion, babe.” Rum reassured you.
“Oh my god, really? Oh, I needed that almost as much as I need to see you.”
“What is that noise?” Rum finally asked, and you assumed he could hear the loud music and shouts coming from inside the bar.
“The sound of my past.” You grimaced.
“Have fun. I love you.” Your fiancé finished, and you returned the sentiments before hanging up the phone and waltzing into the bar. You were immediately greeted by a screech and an older woman who was still spry was pulling you into a tight hug and yelling over the music.
“Batten down the hatches, boys! Trouble done just walked back into my life disguised as my favorite daughter-in-law!” Helen grinned at you. “Honey, gimme a hug, it’s been too long.”
You laughed while you hugged her and stepped back to show her your ring.
“Soon to be ex-daughter-in-law.” You stated proudly.
“Ooh, who’s the lucky guy?” She asked, inspecting the diamond on your finger.
“His name’s Blake and he works with me.” You winked, and she nodded in understanding. She knew about a little of the work you and her son did, but she mostly stayed out of it, claiming that the stress would bring her to an early grave.
“Well, he’s got my vote if he picked out a ring as pretty as that. It’s good to see you, baby girl.” Helen gave you a pat on the shoulder and told her bartender to give you whatever you wanted. You asked for a whiskey on the rocks and nearly laughed at the irony of the situation.
Once your drink was in hand, you scanned the room, looking for your husband. You spotted him in the corner with some young blonde thing and rolled your eyes. A quick march found you standing right behind Jack and you flipped the edge of his cowboy hat.
“Mind if I join you?” You asked sweetly, leaning up against the pool table beside him.
“Actually we do.” Jack said, raising an eyebrow. He was challenging you, but you ignored him in order to set your sights on his date.
“You must be Jack’s hot date.” You grinned at the girl and she put a hand out to shake yours.
“I’m Carly.”
“Hi, I’m Y/N, Jack’s snotty, Yankee-bitch wife whom he refuses to divorce even though I’m engaged to another man.” You shook her hand, and the girl gasped once she saw your ring.
“Hot dog, Jack, look at the size of that thing!” She gushed. You nearly rolled your eyes at how dumb she was acting just in an attempt to impress your husband.
“Honey? Why don’t you get us a couple of drinks, yeah?” Jack turned to Carly and handed her a few bills. The girl smiled, popped her gum, and proceeded to ask you what you were having. You rolled your eyes then. “Not ‘me and her’ us, ‘you and I’ us.”
The girl agreed and scurried off, and then you turned to Jack.
“Why do you make me be mean to you? Is that what you want? To be humiliated in front of all your friends?” You snapped, frustrated that he was taking this so lightly. He shook his head and downed the rest of his own glass of whiskey.
“C’mon, Brandy, they were your friends too.” You heard Jack mutter, nodding towards a few agents who’d just walked over with their drinks. You recognized a few guys who’d been in the class behind you along with Moonshine. He nodded at you and ordered a beer before heading over to say hello.
“Alright, Brandy, you sit down while I teach your husband here how to lose at pool.” Moonshine grinned, pulling a bar stool over to you.
“Now Moonshine, I’m not really a watch and see kinda girl, am I Jack?” His expression was priceless as he took up the challenge.
At least six drinks later, you were definitely feeling the effects of the alcohol and you landed somewhere near Moonshine as he lined up his shot.
“Come on, now, Moony, you got it. Don’t blow this one, okay baby?” You drunkenly giggled and Moonshine laughed at your inebriated state.
“You can take the girl out of the honky-tonk, but you can’t take the honky-tonk out of the girl.” He missed the shot, but you didn’t care anymore, more focused on the conversation Jack was not-so-quietly having with Cognac? Coors? You couldn’t remember his codename, but it didn’t matter. Jack was talking about you.
“So, Whiskey, are you gonna divorce this girl or what?” The agent asked. Jack shook his head.
“She’s waited seven years. A couple more days won’t kill her. Unfortunately.”
“Like it’s gonna make a difference.” You snorted, nearly falling into his arms but stabilizing yourself at the last second.
“You never know,” the agent started, “you might be interested to know that Whiskey here has been—”
“Hey, hey, Cognac, let her think what she wants. She made her mind up about me a long time ago.” Jack cut him off, making you wonder just what it was that he didn’t want you knowing about.
You quickly forgot that thought, though, when Moonshine started yelling and telling Cognac he owed him fifty dollars. Cognac groaned, forking over the cash.
You didn’t really know what happened next, but you got into a shouting match with one of the other agents and eventually asked Helen for another round of drinks, but she quickly cut you off. Then you were shouting again as Jack dragged you out of the bar by your arm, yelling at you, saying that you couldn’t just insult everyone in the bar because you’d made it out of Kentucky but they were happy where they were.
“What makes you think you can treat them like somethin’ you stepped in, huh?!” Jack demanded as he put you right up next to his truck.
“You asked for it!” You yelled in his face, trying to get your keys out of your pocket. Jack quickly grabbed them.
“You show up here, you steal my money, you rearrange my house, and then you insult our friends, actin’ like you’re better than them.” Jack spat. He was angry and you knew it, but you couldn’t seem to stop.
“I am better than them! And you stole my keys!” You whined, wanting to be anywhere but here with your husband who was telling you that you were wrong. He was right, but you wouldn’t admit it.
“That’s all that matters to you, huh?” He asked in disbelief.
You tried to say his name, but he cut you off.
“God, ever since you left, this has been a nightmare. The money, the fancy office, the city, you’re pathetic!” He raked a hand through his mustache and you got lost in the action right before spitting out a comeback.
“Oh, like you’re goin’ places!” You groaned, a splitting headache appearing out of nowhere. “I certainly am once I get my keys back.”
“No, you don’t. No. You want to kill yourself driving, you do it somewhere else. But not here, not on my watch.” Jack said, putting your keys into his own pocket.
“At least I’m doing something with my life. So what if you and I aren’t partners anymore, you can still go on missions. You don’t have to worry about me anymore!”
“Get in the truck, Y/N.” Jack opened the door and guided you inside, defeated. His date was waiting by the door and you noticed them having a quiet conversation before he handed her your keys and made his way back to the truck.
You fell asleep before Jack even got on the two lane highway that led to the Statesman offices where he knew you’d been staying. Champ didn’t say anything when Whiskey carried you inside your temporary apartment, snoring away, but he wished things would work out between the two of you. His hopes were dashed as soon as Whiskey asked for a pen to sign the papers you’d brought with you.
When you woke up, still hungover from the night before, the divorce papers were stuck on top of the pillow beside you. You wished you could say you were happy about it, but you couldn’t deny that a pit was in the bottom of your stomach.
Once you rolled out of bed and had some coffee, the papers were sealed into an envelope and you drove to the post office to mail it out. You’d talk to Jack afterwards and apologize for your behavior.
When you got to the familiar farmhouse, you found Jack’s dog Midnight lounging at the base of the porch. You scratched his ears, and he whined happily at the attention he was receiving. The dog got up and raced up to Jack when he came out of the house with a crate.
“What’s she doing here, huh, boy?” He asked the dog before turning to face you, “Thought you’d have high-tailed it out of here by now.”
“I put the money back in your account.” You said quietly, searching his face for any emotion whatsoever.
“Thanks. Saves me from bouncing a lot of checks.” He smiled at you, a genuine smile, and it caught you off guard. “I like what you did, though, to the house. Should help it sell quicker.”
“You’re moving?” You were surprised. This was the house you and Jack had gotten and fixed up together in the early stages of your marriage and it held a lot of good memories along with quite a few bad ones.
“Well, I’ve been spending a lot of my time a bit south of the distillery, so . . .” he shrugged.
“Oh.”
“Look, hon, I signed your papers.” Jack sighed, finally hauling the crate into the back of his truck.
“Jack, I never meant to hurt you, or anybody else for that matter. And I just came out here to say thank you.” You finally said.
“You might want to move your toes.” Jack nodded towards where your feet were in reference to his truck tires. “Wouldn’t wanna run ‘em over since you need them for field work.”
“You can’t just leave!”
“Sure I can.” He chuckled, hopping into the cab. “You want to come?”
“Where you goin’?”
“I want to show you something.” Jack said solemnly, and you wished you could go. Something made you stop, though.
“I can’t.” You finally answered, defeated.
“Can’t or won’t?” Jack asked you, already knowing the answer but asking anyway.
“Both.”
“The girl I knew used to be fearless.” Jack leaned against the steering wheel to get a good look at you. You looked so much like the woman he’d once known so intimately, and yet so different. A lot had scarred you both and he recognized that.
“The girl you knew didn’t have a life.” You smiled weakly, fighting back tears.
“Well, I guess you better get back to living it then. C’mon, Midnight.” Jack got his dog in the cab with him and drove off, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
_________________________________________________________________
You didn’t know what possessed you to stay in town now that the papers had been signed and mailed out, but you found yourself in the town square that evening for the weekly square dance night.
“Hello.” You murmured sheepishly once you’d spotted Tequila and his wife, Jenny, and Moonshine, and a few of the agents from last night at the bar. “I just wanted to apologize to y’all. Last night was so uncalled for, and I’m sorry. Really sorry.”
“Brandy, forget it.” Tequila told you, a smile gracing his face. “You know we don’t stay mad for long.” The group nodded, and you smiled in relief.
Jenny pulled you to the side and handed you a glass of sweet tea.
“You know, he went up there.” She said, sort of secretively.
“Who?” You were confused about what she was talking about. But then she looked at you oddly and you suddenly knew. “Jack? When?”
“About a year after you left. He doesn’t know I know, but Aaron “big mouth” Tequila over there can’t keep a secret to save his life nowadays.”
“Jack was in New York?” You asked, completely surprised. You’d never seen him. He’d certainly never come to see you and say hello. Jenny nodded.
“He told Tequila he’d never seen anything like it. He realized straight off that he’d need more than an apology to win you back. He needed to conquer the world first. He’s been tryin’ ever since.” Jenny told you, downing her own tea.
“That’s why he kept sending the papers back.” You murmured, and Jenny nodded at you again.
“It’s funny how things don’t work out.” She sighed.
“It’s funny how they do.” You smiled warmly at her, knowing she was happy with her life and how it was turning out.
“Hey, look who I found wandering around the edge of the party.” Moonshine cheered, shoving Jack in the center of the group you were with. He had the nerve to look a bit sheepish, knowing you were there, but you were the one who blushed. After that, it was a whirlwind of everyone catching up on the times and you found yourself smiling at Jack.
The band finally started playing a slow song, and Tequila got up to ask you to dance, leaving his wife to drag Jack into the square. The both of you danced for awhile before Tequila stole his wife back, which left you and Jack standing face to face. Jack held out a hand to you to offer a dance, but you hesitated.
“Maybe we could just talk?” You asked him quietly. He shook his head and walked off, a sigh escaping your lips once you realized you were alone.
The night wore on with you on the sidelines, drinking sweet tea, and finally you made your way down the street towards your truck. Something stopped you, though, and you made your way into the coon dog cemetery on the edge of town. Maybe Coal was in there. You didn’t realize Jack had been watching you and finally ended up following you, and maybe you wouldn’t have been so honest in your talk with your old dog if you’d known.
You knelt beside the dog’s grave, his collar and your old license plate stuck to the stone placed above him.
“Hey there, buddy. Sorry it took me so long. I would’ve come sooner if I’d known you were sick.” You sniffed, fingers running along the etching of his name in the stone. “Actually, that’s probably not true. I’ve been pretty selfish lately. Dogs don’t know anything about that, do they, though?”
“You were always a big old pillow after missions. Like when everything went pear-shaped after I got shot, you never left my side. And then I just left you. Oh gosh. I bet you sat there on that big old porch, wondering what you done wrong.” You sobbed, wiping the tears away.
“I told him it was my fault.” Jack’s voice broke you out of your concentration and you whipped around to see him kneeling behind you.
“Quit bein’ so nice.” You sniffed, a small smile breaking through your tears. Jack offered you a hand to help you up and you accepted it. He led you to a bench right near Coal’s grave and kept holding your hand.
“It’s the truth.” Jack stated.
“How come everything has to be so complicated,” you asked tearfully. Jack smiled softly at you.
“What?” He asked finally.
“Truth, life, this,” you gestured between the two of you and towards the hand he was still holding in his grip. Jack didn’t answer that, not that you expected him to.
“He was one hell of a good dog, wasn’t he? You looked like you were having fun out there tonight before I got there and ruined it.” Jack mumbled. You brushed a thumb over your intertwined hands softly.
“I’m happy in New York, Jack.” You laughed wetly, “But then I come down here and this fits too.”
“Since when does it have to be one or the other, darlin’? You can have roots and wings, you know.” Jack told you. You nodded.
“Maybe I could just fly south for the winter.” You joked miserably.
Jack finally pointed out towards the woods and nudged your shoulder, “Look.”
“What?” You asked.
“There, see ‘em?” You followed his pointing finger until you realized that he was pointing at fireflies illuminating sections of the woods with their blinking behinds.
“Only you,” you laughed fondly, looking up at him. You couldn’t deny it, Jack was still just as handsome as the day you married him even if the years had gone by.
“You know, I still go out there sometimes. To the meadow, I mean. I hear the crickets and I go and sit in the field and stare up at the stars like we used to. It’s like a religion.” Jack revealed, turning to look down at you to gauge your response.
“I had a dream about it the other night, our first kiss when we were twelve. Remember that?”
“You ever wonder what would have happened if you hadn’t gotten shot and died on that mission?” Jack asked bluntly. You were surprised and whispered his name.
“Just, let me get this out before I can’t.” Jack started, “I thought us working together on missions would be an adventure. I loved seeing you be this beautiful badass and I loved being the one who got to love you. And it took me awhile to realize that being tied down to me would be your only adventure.”
“I guess that thug knew what he was doing then, aiming at me. I was so ashamed, Jack, ‘cause I felt so relieved once I woke up and remembered everything. And all of a sudden, I just . . . Needed a different life. Y’know? I had to get away.” You were almost frantic in your story, the painful memories resurfacing of how you just ran away from your husband with no explanation. Gosh, the number you did on him.
“You done real well for yourself. I’m proud of you, sugar.” Jack told you sincerely, fingers brushing your hair away from your wet cheeks. “I’m just sorry I never danced with you at our weddin’. I’m sure this next one’s gonna go better for ya.”
You looked up and suddenly your lips were on his and it felt like you were breathing real air for the first time since you left his home and abandoned him. It felt good, his lips brushing yours in just the right ways, but you couldn’t do this.
“Jack, I can’t do this.” You whimpered through your tears. He nodded.
“I know. Go home, Brandy.”
And just like he’d appeared, Jack disappeared in the dark, leaving you alone with your conflicted emotions.
_________________________________________________________________
The next morning found Jack entering the Statesman offices as a man on a mission. But he found an unfamiliar man with flowers in hand, pacing in the lobby.
“Y’alright there?” He asked. The man whipped his head up and sighed.
“I’m here to surprise my fiancée. The secretary won’t let me in because I don’t have a Kentucky Statesman badge, only a New York one.”
Jack quickly realized the situation, knowing immediately that the man was there to see you without needing to be introduced. He also knew that you were probably in Champ’s office, talking smack about missions like you used to do.
“Well, I’m headed upstairs to see a friend of mine, but you’re welcome to join.” Jack motioned to the elevator, and your fiancé quickly nodded and followed him inside the cab. Jack rolled his eyes at the guy’s eagerness.
“So, fiancée huh? Which one of our lucky agents is it?” Jack drawled, knowing full well who this man meant.
“Agent Brandy.” The man answered, “and you are?”
“I’m Agent Whiskey. Who might you be?” Jack smirked.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m Agent Rum.” Rum laughed sheepishly. He was quite a bit smaller than Jack and had to look upwards to make eye contact.
“Ah, so you’re the man Brandy was talking about.” Jack couldn’t help but meddle a little in his ex-wife’s affairs.
“You know Brandy?” Rum asked, surprised.
“Course I know her. I know all about her.” Jack grinned down at the man, “I know her name, her whole life story, everything. She was my partner.”
“She never mentioned you.” Rum stammered. “Are you sure we’re talking about the same girl?”
Jack described you, and Rum nodded, but that description would match a few agents and Rum wasn’t sure Jack really knew who you were. Joke’s on him.
Moonshine got in the elevator and froze once he saw Jack with your fiancé. He’d looked Rum up as soon as you’d mentioned him, and the look Jack had on his face was downright scary to someone who knew him. It was like a lion playing with its prey.
“Uh, uh, hey Whiskey.” Moonshine stuttered.
“Morning,” Jack smiled. “Brandy here?”
Moonshine nodded.
“Yeah, yeah she’s here. She’s with big daddy.”
“Wonderful. I’m just escorting her fiancé here up to meet him.” Jack nodded towards Rum who waved a hand. Jack couldn’t figure out how this man got to be an agent, all timid and shy next to Southern guys. He seemed like a schmuck.
“Oh, that’s great.” Moonshine nodded emphatically.
“I’m sorry, you are?” Rum asked, in reference to Moonshine.
“Name’s Moonshine. I’m Brandy’s, uh—” her turned to look at Jack to figure out what to say.
“Her other partner.” Jack finished. Rum smiled at the two.
“Wow! Two partners while she was here. That’s something.”
Jack rolled his eyes behind the man’s back.
“So what do you like about our Brandy?” Jack finally asked him, directing the both of them to exit the elevator. Champ’s office was just down the way, but Jack wasn’t ready to leave this man with you yet.
Rum spouted off a lot of things that Jack knew you weren’t like whenever y’all were married and he quickly realized that the woman you were with this new guy wasn’t anything like the woman he married. The woman he’d seen in the last few days. This was a woman who had completely changed herself to fit New York, and that just made Jack’s stomach churn.
Finally, he pulled Rum over to Champ’s door and he threw open the doors. You were sat inside, alone, staring at a few photos on the wall before you looked up and made eye contact with your ex-husband. You stood quickly, walking over to the two men standing before you.
“What are you doing here?” You asked, looking at Jack.
“Well, I came to deliver your fiancé.” Jack stared at you real hard.
“I, uh, think she was talking to me.” Rum cut in, handing you the bouquet of flowers he’d been holding.
“Jack . . .” You trailed off.
“Must be exhaustin’.” Jack started.
“What?” you asked softly. Rum echoed the question beside you, finally realizing that you and Jack were talking to each other in a way that wasn’t normal to him.
“Livin’ a lie.” Jack finished, hand shoving his hat further on his head. You shook.
“What’s he talking about?” Rum asked you, and you looked back at Jack, pleading for him to be kind.
“You and I are in love with two different people.” Jack said with a shake of his head as he left the room.
“Who is he really? He said he was your partner.” Rum asked you, staring after Jack’s retreating figure.
“He’s my husband.” You answered.
“Your what?” Rum was dumbfounded.
“I mean my ex-husband.” You gasped, correcting yourself.
“You married your partner?!” Rum was running his hands through his hair, trying to wrap his mind around the situation and realizing just how little he knew about you. Had you up and married another man while you were down here? Were you married before? You interrupted his thoughts with a quiet answer.
“No, I came down here to finalize my divorce.” You sighed.
“Hey darlin’,” Champ burst into the room, “just saw your precious hubby and took his resignation.” He froze once he saw who was with you. “Oh! You must be my baby girl’s new someone!”
You groaned internally.
Rum threw up his hands and made some new noise you’d never heard before then promptly left the room. You scurried after him, trying to get his attention.
“Blake! Wait!”
“I just—” Andrew started as he pressed the button on the outside of the elevator.
“Let me try and explain, you don’t understand!” You tried to wedge your way between him and the door, but he easily slid past you. You slammed your arm against the side of the sliding doors to keep them from closing. “This isn’t who I am anymore!”
“Look, I don’t know who you are or what else you’ve lied about, but I do know one thing. There’s a helicopter parked outside in the field, and I am on it.” Rum’s face was stony as the doors closed.
You stood there for a moment, dumbfounded, trying to grasp the situation. A sigh escaped your lips before you made your way back to Champ’s office to slump down in a chair.
Champ was sitting at his desk, Statesman glasses perched on his nose and a tumbler of whiskey in his hand. He looked up right as you made eye contact and gave you his signature “I told you so” look. You groaned.
“I know you’re thinkin’ I spoiled things real good this time.” You grumbled, chucking your hat on the table.
“Now, sweetheart, don’t go accusin’ me of thinking. I ain’t done anything of the sort.” Champ snorted. “Anyway, I don’t think you spoiled what you think you did. You got a good head on your shoulders kid, and I love you.”
You talked for awhile, catching up on life and missions and things you hadn’t spoken of in years when a knock sounded on the open door of Champ’s office. Champ nodded whoever it was inside, but you didn’t even look up until Champ looked at you with a knowing smile.
“Hey, you two. Look who I found wandering around by the weapons labs.” Moonshine nudged someone forward and you finally looked up. Agent Rum, your fiancé, was in front of you with the sorriest look you’d ever seen on his face.
“I thought you’d be halfway to New York by now.” You said slowly, not sure why he was still here. Your little interlude an hour before sounded like a breakup if you’d ever heard one. You stood up and moved to stand beside Champ, knowing he’d back you up if needed.
“So did I.” Rum smiled sheepishly, nodding toward Champ.
“Oh, this is Agent Champagne, but we call him Champ. He’s basically been my daddy since I started here.” Champ reached up squeezed your hand in reassurance and you moved closer to Rum. “And this is Moonshine. He’s been my best friend for a long time, well, as long as I’ve been good to him. He’s always been a better man. This is where I started, where I grew up, and my home.”
“Well,” Rum started, “it’s nice to meet you both. I’m Agent Rum, Brandy’s fiancé. That is, if she’ll still have me.” You looked at him in surprise. “ Look, I don’t really care what just happened back there. So you have a past. I mean, who doesn’t? We’re all trying to escape something in this life. What I need to know is if there is a place for me in your future.”
“Good Lord, he’s saying all sorts of sweet things.” Moonshine muttered and you laughed at him.
“Well?” Rum asked. You nodded with a small smile.
“Crap, guess I need to plan my vacation days to go to New York then.” Champ grumbled at his desk.
“What vacation days, old man?” You sassed Champ. You turned back to Rum, “Babe, what if we had the wedding here? I have so much history here, I’d like to end it all here and start fresh with you.”
Rum smiled and agreed and Champ started hollering about how he couldn’t believe you were going to do this to him again, how he’d have to officiate yet another wedding, and how many times does his only daughter get married? Apparently the answer was twice.
_________________________________________________________________
A month went by before you knew it, full of missions and planning and setting up temporary groups while you’d be on your honeymoon. In between all you had to do in the Statesman offices, you were also wedding planning. Luckily, you had Champ and his wife to help with all that along with AppleJack and your assistant.
Mr. Collier, your lawyer, had been calling nearly every day, but you’d assured him that you had everything handled and that he could clear the divorce without you. You’d been calling Jack a lot too. You wanted to talk to him about what Champ meant when he said Jack had retired, and why no one seemed to want to talk about what he was doing. But he never answered his cell and your old home phone seemed to be disconnected.
It still didn’t feel real that you’d be getting married on Saturday afternoon as you stepped off your Statesman jet at the airfield in Kentucky on Thursday with Agent AppleJack and your assistant—now newly minted Agent Smirnoff.
“You guys remember that mark from a year ago on that mission I was on for about three months, right? The Spanish one?” AppleJack was telling you. You nodded, remembering who she was talking about. He’d been rugged and good looking, and you’d told her as much when you handed her the mission. “Well, he proposed to me, and I think I loved him despite his obvious attraction to black market trading.”
“Then why didn’t you say yes?” Smirnoff asked.
“Because I hesitated long enough to realize my head and my heart were saying two different things. And he was on the other side of the legal fence.” AppleJack scoffed.
You guided the two of them towards your waiting truck and chucked your bags in the bed of it. Theirs followed as they argued.
“Well, it’s a big decision.” You added in.
“It’s supposed to be the easiest one you ever make.” Smirnoff said. You’d always thought he was a romantic, and now you were sure of it.
“Hey, y’all, I want to stop somewhere before we head to the office. Okay?” You turned to look at the two of them, and they shrugged before agreeing. It wasn’t like y’all had much to do today anyway. Champ had already assured you that the cellar was decorated and pretty for you and Rum to tie the knot, and that he’d already arranged everything for your honeymoon too.
You drove the forty-five minutes it took to get to your parents’ old farmhouse where you used to live before it had burned down, taking both your parents with it when you were nineteen. You hadn’t been there since a few days after the fire when you’d set up headstones for your parents on the property, but you wanted to tell them what was going on.
The driveway was long, but you were surprised to see how well kept it was. Then the house came into view along with Jack’s pickup truck and a familiar black dog lounging on the steps. You slammed on the brakes and parked right off the driveway, jumping out of the vehicle.
“Oh my god.” You gasped, looking at the place. It looked nearly identical to the house that burnt down, but there was a new barn in the back of the house and fence posts as far as you could see down the drive that kept going. Your dad had never cleared that far into the woods, but it looked good. It looked like a really successful ranch had been started right where so much devastation had taken place.
“Brandy, do we know the people who live here?” AppleJack asked, finally catching up to your quick walk towards the house. “What is this place?”
A man walked out of the house and froze once he saw you, and you hardly heard both AppleJack and Smirnoff arguing about if he was single.
“Jack,” you breathed. He stepped down off the porch and came over to you, greeting you with a sad smile. “I tried to call you a couple of times.”
“Listen,” he started, completely ignoring your previous statement, “since you’re here, you and your friends should look around. Say hello to the horses in the barn or something. It’s nice out today.” He tipped his hat towards your two companions and called his dog, making his way back into the house before you could say anything else.
You shook your head, trying to clear your eyes of the tears that had somehow started filling them. As you looked around the ranch, you saw all the little things that Jack had done, as well as the big, that made this place feel so much like home. It was almost exactly the way it had been when you lived there so long ago, and you were reminded of the photo Jack had on your old mantel. You’d asked him why he kept it, but he hadn’t answered then. And the times when the guys you used to work with were trying to tell you that Jack was successful now, but Jack had cut them off. Now you knew why. He’d built this place for you.
_________________________________________________________________
When you got to the Kentucky office, Champ was waiting for you downstairs.
“Hey, little darling, there was a man here for you. He straight up asked about your whole name and everything. Did you have a guest coming for the wedding we didn’t know about who’d know your civilian name?” He asked. Your brow furrowed as you shook your head. “Alright, well we sent him on his way, anyhow. I’m sure it’s fine.”
You introduced him to your two companions and Champ grinned, happy to meet two people you trusted with your life. You asked him if Rum was here yet, to which Champ nodded and guided you all inside. “Got here about two hours before you, sweetheart.”
Once you were inside, it seemed like a whirlwind of things happened as you readied yourself to get married for a second time. The next 36 hours were hell, waiting for everything to be finalized so you could get hitched.
It was Saturday morning and Champ had stationed two low ranking agents to man the guests as they filtered into the cellar where you’d be holding the wedding. So far, only agents were to be in attendance and a few plus ones, but you’d wanted to keep it small. So when a balding man appeared and introduced himself as Mr. Collier, telling the two agents that he wasn’t on the list, they promptly told him that he couldn’t come inside as he wasn’t invited. The man insisted he had urgent business with a Ms. Daniels, but the agents weren’t having it and escorted him out of the cellar.
Meanwhile, at your old house, the one you had shared with Jack, your ex-husband was adding the last few crates and boxes of his and your things to his truck. He groaned once he saw his mama leaning up against her car in the driveway since he hadn’t seen her pull up.
“Hey, sweetheart, there’s a wedding goin’ on.” She said softly, helping him throw a gym bag into the backseat of his truck.
“Yeah, I heard mention of it a time or two.” Jack shrugged, “I sure hope this weather cooperates. It’s supposed to be a big storm.” He didn’t want to give into his mama and tell her how he really felt about all this.
The truth was, Jack was devastated. He’d spent so much time trying to get his wife back, and now she was marrying a man he knew she didn’t love as much as she loved him, and it hurt. It felt like something had died inside his chest, and he supposed something did. His heart.
“You know, Jack, you’re my only son and I love you, but sometimes you are too much like your daddy.” Helen sighed.
“She made her decision, Mama.” Jack set the last box in the bed of the truck and covered them up with tarps to keep ‘em dry.
“For somebody who’s been holdin’ onto somethin’ so hard, you’re pretty quick to let it go.” Helen eyed him.
“You know I can’t control her anymore than I can control the weather. I gotta go. I wanna get these inside before the rain ruins whatever I’ve got left.” Jack tipped his hat at his mama and climbed inside the cab. Helen shook her head in disappointment.
Champ stood in the corner of the apartment you’d been occupying in the Statesman office that weekend, watching you adjust your dress and cowboy boots. He smirked once he realized you’d be getting married, Southern style with the boots and a dress that he swore he’d seen in one of those fancy Southern Living magazines his wife was always reading. Or was it Southern Weddings? He didn’t know, but you looked beautiful. Even more so than the first time he’d officiated your wedding to Jack.
You kept fidgeting, causing Champ to speak up.
“It’s just nerves. You’re doing the right thing.” He attempted to reassure you.
“Am I?” You asked, unsure.
“When I married my wife, Lord, I was a goner for that woman. I couldn’t put one foot down in front of the other, despite being an agent with perfect balance, mind you. I remember standin’ there thinking, ‘Oh preacher, better hurry up before this woman changes her mind.’ And look where it got me. Sometimes she drives me so crazy that I could shoot her, but—”
“But you still love her.” You cut him off.
“God knows I do, and only she knows why.” Champ laughed, his eyes teary as he looked you over.
“Champ, I think I—”
“He can give you a life in this company, honey. You’ve always wanted this. And he adores you.” Champ said firmly, not letting you get back on the confusion train.
“He does, doesn’t he?” You sighed, “Well, even if he is a Yankee, at least he’s sober. Let’s go, Champ. I’m ready to get this over with.”
Champ led you down to the cellars, and then down the aisle. He didn’t get you two very far, though, when a man’s shouts were heard yelling “Ms. Daniels! Ms. Daniels!”
You whipped around, confused about why someone would be calling you by your married name. “Mr. Collier?” You asked in surprise. The two agents supposed to be manning the door had grabbed him by now, but you were quick to dismiss them.
Rum called your name, but you held up a hand to stop him from speaking. You didn’t know why Mr. Collier was here, but it had to be important if he was trying this hard to get in contact with you. The man took a moment to catch his breath.
“You are one hard woman to get in contact with.” Mr. Collier wheezed as he bent over to breathe.
“Mr. Collier, he signed the papers.” You said quietly. “What are you doing here?”
“He did. You didn’t.” You finally noticed the papers he was holding and sucked in a breath.
“What? You mean I’m still married?” You asked, unsure how you felt about this new information. You thought for sure you’d signed the papers when you’d sent them off the day after Jack had signed them. Apparently, you hadn’t. Mr. Collier pointed at the line above Jack’s name, and sure enough, it was blank.
“Well, not if you don’t want to be.” Mr. Collier replied gently as he handed over the papers.
“For goodness sake, Brandy, I thought you took care of this?” Rum groaned as he made his way to stand in the aisle beside you.
“It’s an honest mistake, Blake.” You shook your head in disbelief.
“Well, then, can we fix it? We’ve got agents who need to be on missions soon and we have a honeymoon to get to.” Rum snorted. Your brows furrowed as you watched this normally kind man getting frustrated over a mistake you hadn’t even realized you made.
“Does anybody have a non-deadly pen?” You asked, knowing no one would have one on them unless it had ten functions to kill someone and not one of them being the purpose of a real pen with ink that would actually stay on the paper. You’d made the mistake before of signing something with ink that removed itself within two hours and you didn’t want to make that mistake again.
No one around you had one, not even Champ, until a woman behind you cleared her throat. You turned around to face your mother in law, Jack’s mom.
“These things don’t just happen, y’know.” Helen said with a knowing smile as she held out a fountain pen. You took it and uncapped it, placing it on the paper but not moving to sign it.
“You can’t ride two horse with one ass, sweetheart.” Champ said from beside you. You looked up at him and with a watery smile, you told him you couldn’t sign the papers.
“Blake,” you started, taking his hands in yours, “You don’t want to marry me.”
“I don’t?” He asked, eyes almost looking dangerous.
“No, you don’t. Not really. You see, the truth is—” You hesitated before continuing. “I gave my heart away a long time ago, my whole heart, and I never really got it back. And I don’t even know what else to say besides ‘I’m sorry.’ I can’t marry you, and you shouldn’t want to marry me.”
“So this is what it feels like.” Blake muttered, eyes definitely glittering with anger now. “You can’t just do this to me. That’s it? You’re just going to leave me for the man you haven’t even wanted to be married to for seven years? God, Brandy, what the hell!” He shouted.
You took a step back, attempting to make space and remove your hands from his, but he held your hands tightly. You gulped, knowing Blake wasn’t done.
“In my entire career, and I have a good one, I have never met someone so deceitful and manipulative! I should’ve known, considering our occupations, but this is so disgusting what you’ve done.” Blake spat.
“I’m just trying to be honest.” You whispered.
“You are such a little bitch.” Blake roughly dropped your hands and Champ immediately stepped in, crowding the shorter agent.
“Now, look here, Agent Rum. She said her piece and there’s no need for name-callin’, you hear me?” Champ growled.
“Oh go back to your office and get shit-faced.” Blake spat at Champ’s feet. You saw red.
“Nobody talks to my daddy like that.” You growled, throwing one of your best punches. Agent Rum was soon on the ground and you chucked your engagement ring at his head. It hit his cheek and bounced off somewhere, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.
“Praise the Lord, my baby’s back.” Champ cheered, pulling you away from your ex-fiancé.
“Hey y’all!” You shouted as you stood up on an empty chair in the venue, “If you’re friends of the bride, stick around! I’m gonna go find me a groom!”
And then you were off, grabbing your keys from Moonshine and hopping in your truck, wedding dress getting stuck in the door. You didn’t care, though. You knew exactly where Jack would be and you planned to go get your man back.
You roared into the meadow, truck chassis bumping around on the uneven ground. The door was flung open and you were racing across the field, dress bunched in your hands. Rain had started falling, and Jack was sitting in the bed of his truck getting sopping wet. He had a bottle of whiskey in his hands, but he hadn’t quite noticed you yet.
“Hey, cowboy!” You shouted above the rain and he whipped around to face you, eyes wide beneath the brim of his hat. Rain dripped off the edges and you almost laughed at how bedraggled he looked, but refrained. “You owe me a dance.”
“Nice dress. Where’s your husband?” Jack finally said as he capped the whiskey bottle and set it down beside him in the truck bed.
“I’m lookin’ at him.” You said, and Jack froze. “Apparently, you and I are still hitched.”
“Is that right?” He asked slowly as he got off the tailgate. He made his way over to stand in front of you, rain still pouring over the both of you to the point where you could only really see him anymore.
“Why didn’t you tell me you came to New York?” You asked desperately, needing to know if he still wanted you, if he still loved you.
“I needed to make somethin’ of myself.”
“About done?” You asked in disbelief. This man was already enough for you, how could he not see it?
“What is it about you Southern girls? You can’t make the right decisions ‘til you tried all the wrong ones?” Jack scoffed. He was sure this was some elaborate joke, that your fiancé would hop out of your pickup truck and laugh at him any minute now.
“At least I fight for what I want!”
“Oh, what do you want, honey? Hell, I don’t even think you know.” Jack shook his head.
“You’re the first boy I ever kissed, Jack, and I want you to be the last.” You said as you stepped closer to him, dress dragging in the grass and dirt. You didn’t even care, not if it meant you could get your husband back.
“Maybe you and I had our chance.” Jack muttered, hoping you couldn’t hear him, but you did.
“Fine! Have it your way, stubborn ass!” You yelled.
“Whatcha wanna be married to me for anyhow?” Jack asked, repeating what you’d asked him all those years ago when you were twelve. You grinned, catching up to his game.
“So I can kiss you anytime I want.”
And then you were in his arms and he was kissing you, his hat dumping water on the both of you but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were already soaked. You’d gotten your man back, and you sighed into his mouth. You didn’t want to move again, the feeling of his kiss bringing life back into your lungs and giving you space to breathe for the first time in a long time. He just felt right. Hands wandered up his back and you knocked off his hat in an effort to get even closer to him. He groaned when fingers locked into his now soaked hair, tongue slipping into your mouth when you whined.
You only broke away when you heard someone yelling at the both of you, lights shining right onto your interlocking figures.
“What the hell are you two trying to do? Get yourselves killed?” Tequila yelled. You laughed, breaking away from Jack just long enough to shout back.
“What seems to be the trouble, officer?”
“I’m here to bring you in again, little lady!” Tequila called back, hands on his hips and looking downright hilarious.
“What did she do this time?” Jack shouted. He walked you both closer to Tequila and the man had the audacity to grin at the two of you.
“Well, the way I hear it, seems she run out on a perfectly good cake!”
You laughed and smooched Jack on the cheek before reaching down to grab his hat from the ground.
“Get in my truck, cowboy!” You grinned, “Seems we finally get our reception!”
You raced your husband to your truck, hopping in and laughing at the way you both shivered from the cool air you’d had blasting. Jack swore and turned on the heat as you got yourselves out of the meadow and started following the red and blue flashing lights of Tequila’s patrol car.
You reached a hand over to hold Jack’s and he lifted your fingers to his lips to press a kiss to the knuckles.
“I love you.” He murmured and you returned the sentiments, happy for the first time in a long time.
Tequila led you to the bar Helen owned, and you laughed once you realized where the guys had decided to hold your reception. It was only fitting that the place where you’d originally hosted your first reception was now the place of your second, and with the same man no less.
Tequila made his way indoors first and introduced you, yelling out a “Ladies and gentleman, Mr. and Mrs. Jack Daniels!”
You rushed inside, nearly tripping over your boots and dress, but Jack steadied you, dipping you for a deep kiss just inside the door.
Catcalls filled the air as Jack lifted you back up, a boyish grin gracing his lips.
“I do believe I owe this lady a dance,” Jack nodded at his Mama by the jukebox and she smiled at the two of you.
“You sure do!” Moonshine shouted.
“Hey Helen,” you turned to Jack’s mama, “make it a slow one.”
She saluted you, and then hit a button, playing Tennessee Whiskey. Jack snorted at the song choice as he held your waist in the middle of the space they’d cleared for a dance floor, but you didn’t mind. You’d always joked that the song was about him with his Statesman name, and he hated it. You loved him, though.
You had your husband back and you weren’t ever going to give him up again. You swayed to the song for a moment before leaning up to kiss him. Finally, you were home.
#jack daniels x reader#agent whiskey x reader#jack daniels x female reader#agent whiskey x female reader#jack daniels#agent whiskey#statesman#sweet home alabama#kingsman the golden circle#kingsman#jack ‘whiskey’ daniels#mandoclan#mandoclan writes
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Derailed (Director’s Cut)
Elle Greenaway x Spencer Reid
Word Count: ~1520
Warnings: Discussion of Spencer’s sex life, or lack thereof. Discussion of virginity as a social construct. Some suggestive dialogue, some snarky banter, and some sweetness to wash it down. It’s sexy, but also totally platonic, and it fades to black before anything actually happens.
A/N: You cannot convince me that this isn’t how Spencer lost his v-card.
For the “deleted scene” square on my @cmbingo card, written script-style and all. Picks up right where Derailed left off.
(I almost named this Railed. Then I almost named it Deflowered. So many tempting puns.)
[Around dusk. Hotch is driving an SUV. Morgan is in front, Elle and Spencer in back.]
Hotch: Elle, your interview has been rescheduled for tomorrow… and this time I’m driving you.
Elle: I can live with that.
Hotch: Local PD asked Gideon to consult on a case, and they wanted advice on media strategy, so he took JJ. The rest of us aren’t needed, so I got us checked into a motel.
Morgan: Lemme get this straight. We have an actual night off… and we’re spending it in B.F.E., West Texas?
Elle: They have bars in West Texas, right?
Spencer: We just passed one.
Elle: Then you won’t see me complaining. Drinks? Reid?
Spencer: Are you buying?
Elle: Hell yes I am. C’mon, Morgan, you gonna come celebrate the fact that I didn’t die today?
Morgan: When you put it that way, I don’t have much of a choice, do I? [They pull up in front of the motel and start piling out of the car.] Showers first, though.
Elle: We can head out in like an hour. How about you, boss?
Hotch: While I’m very glad nobody died, I am not passing up the opportunity to sleep for more than four consecutive hours. I don’t care what you do as long as I don’t get a call in the middle of the night.
—
[Inside a bar. Spencer and Elle are sitting at a high top, with a collection of empty glasses in front of them. Both of them are tipsy, not totally drunk but sort of giggly and loose-limbed. Spencer is using a penny to show Elle how he hid the microchip earlier. Nearby, the bartender is handing Morgan three fresh drinks, but he’s distracted, talking to a pretty woman, as he takes them.]
[Morgan brings their drinks over to the table and sets two of them down.]
Morgan: So —
Elle: We lost you, huh? [To Spencer] Told you so.
Morgan: How ‘bout you, pretty boy? She’s got friends.
Elle: Oh, come on, you really gonna make me drink alone?
Spencer: Yeah, no thanks.
Morgan: Suit yourself. Don’t wait up.
[Elle rolls her eyes as he walks away. Then she turns back to Spencer, who’s playing with the penny again.]
Elle: You know I’m joking, right? I’m almost ready to head back to the motel, anyway. You should go have some fun.
Spencer: I’m about ready to call it a night too. And honestly, that doesn’t really seem like fun for me.
[Elle watches him for a second, thinking.]
Elle: The flirting? Or the flirting with girls?
Spencer: Hmm?
Elle: I shouldn’t have assumed, sorry… are you even interested in women?”
Spencer: Theoretically, yes? But more to the point, women are rarely interested in me. I’m not… like that. [He gestures at Morgan, who’s showing his new friend how to hold a pool cue, saying something in her ear as she giggles.]
Elle: It’s about confidence, Doc. Gotta be a little cocky. Not too cocky, but —
Spencer: I don’t know how to be cocky.
Elle: Like hell you don’t. Remember earlier? When I said you probably saved my life, and —
Spencer: — I said I totally saved your life. I remember.
Elle: That. Cocky. It works for you.
Spencer: I did save your life, though. That’s a statement of fact, objectively speaking. Of course I’m confident when it comes to stating a fact.
[Spencer flips the penny between his fingers a few times, then makes it disappear and pulls it out from behind her ear.]
Elle: There’s something to get cocky about. You’re good with your hands, doctor.
[Spencer gets flustered and drops the penny, laughing at himself.]
Spencer: That’s different.
Elle: How so?
Spencer: I’m not going to take a girl home and show her my magic tricks, for starters. [He finishes his drink hurriedly.] Are you ready to go? I’m ready to go.
Elle: You’re not getting out of this that easily.
[They both slide off their stools and pull on jackets. Elle looks around for Morgan, but he’s way too focused on the girl to notice them. Spencer makes a face. They head for the door and start walking down the block.]
Elle: Look, objectively speaking? You’ve got cheekbones that could cut glass and you’re a goddamn genius. You know more than me about… well, almost everything, and as annoying as that can be — [She rolls her eyes and sighs, annoyed by her own sincerity.] — it’s impressive. Not to get all schmoopy about it, but… you’re pretty awesome, Doc.
Spencer: I know I’m awesome. This isn’t about my self-esteem.
Elle: So what’s the problem?
Spencer: A random girl in a bar isn’t interested in my IQ. And anyway, it’s not… I know how to talk to girls. But I’m not about to take one home.
Elle: Why not?
[Spencer sighs heavily, looking exasperated.]
Spencer: You want to know why I’m confident in my ability to make pennies disappear?
Elle: I mean… not really, but I’m guessing you have a point.
Spencer: It’s because I’ve been practicing my whole life. I’ve mastered the skill because I’ve had years to do so.
[Realization slowly dawns on Elle’s face.]
Elle: You’re a virgin, aren’t you?
Spencer: Virginity is a social construct based on inherently patriarchal values of purity and the commodification of the female body. [Elle looks sideways at him, raising an eyebrow.] Yes, I’m a virgin.
Elle: So, is it about romance? You want the first time to be special? [Spencer shrugs.] Hate to break it to you, but most first times are funny at best. The sooner you get it out of the way, the sooner it can be an embarrassing story for Morgan to laugh at.
Spencer: Yeah. Great. That’s exactly what I want.
Elle: No, really, what are you hung up on? [They’ve arrived back at the motel. Elle starts opening her door, but pauses.] You want to come in for a minute? Finish this conversation over another drink?
[Spencer shrugs and follows her inside. She starts pouring drinks from the minibar while he continues.]
Spencer: I guess part of the problem is the… learning curve. If I get to that point with someone I already have feelings for, that’s a lot of pressure, you know? But it would feel disingenuous to just pick up a random girl at a bar.
[Elle hands him a glass and they sit down.]
Elle: Disingenuous?
Spencer: False advertising. [He gives her a self-deprecating frog face.] That doesn’t seem fair to her.
Elle: You’re telling me you don’t want to pick up a girl in a bar because you’re a perfectionist?
Spencer: Well… yeah, I guess that’s one way to put it. I don’t like being bad at things!
[Elle laughs and then stares at her glass for a moment, rolling it between her hands thoughtfully.]
Elle: Which means you need someone who knows what to expect. Someone who’s okay with… the learning curve.
Spencer: I mean, I know the theory, but —
Elle: That’s something you can’t really learn from a book.
Spencer: Unfortunately. I need some practical experience.
Elle: You need someone you trust. [Spencer nods.] Somebody you’re comfortable with, but not so emotionally involved with that you feel like you need to impress them.
Spencer: I guess. Yeah.
[Elle raises her eyebrows and waits for him to get it. It takes a minute. His first instinct is to laugh, then he realizes she’s serious.]
Spencer: Really?
Elle: Doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out.
Spencer: But… why?
Elle: You saved my life. Seems like the least I can do. I owe you one.
Spencer: I didn’t do that because I expected something in return! You’re my teammate, and my friend, and —
Elle: Because you know more than me about almost everything else in the world, and for once I’d like to be the one showing off.
Spencer: That’s not —
Elle: Haven’t you been listening? You’ve got cheekbones that could cut glass, and — objectively speaking — you’re pretty awesome. Besides, you’re my friend, and — [She hesitates, looking down at her glass, and the next part sounds almost painfully honest.] — my first time wasn’t great. It wasn’t with someone I trusted. And I guess if I can make sure it’s not like that for somebody else…
Spencer: Oh. [He smiles slightly, looking touched.] You really mean it?
[Elle rolls her eyes.]
Elle: One night only, no strings attached, and if you ever mention it to anyone on the team I will kill you in your sleep, but yeah. I mean it.
Spencer: Not a word.
[Elle drains her glass and straddles him matter-of-factly. He looks very overwhelmed.]
Spencer: Did you know —
[Elle puts a finger to his lips and shakes her head. He closes his mouth immediately, and she gives him an approving nod, teasing but also genuinely fond.]
Elle: You’re a fast learner, aren’t you? As long as you can follow directions and keep the statistics to yourself, I think we’re going to have some fun tonight. Now, shut up and kiss me.
[Spencer smiles. Cut to black.]
.
Smutty follow-up is now HERE!
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If you enjoyed this, please reblog or leave a message! Feel free to send me an ask if you want to be tagged in future Criminal Minds fic.
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Stranger from Out of Town
Summary: Arvin had no reason to be here. After the things he’d done, he had no reason to be blessed with an angel like you. But after spending so long on the run, after spending so long looking over his shoulder, he couldn’t help but fall in love with the one person who made him feel safe. All is well and good in Arvin’s life until one determined and obsessed sheriff decides it’s time to pay Arvin a visit.
Notes: Ya’ll, this one’s a doosey but I hope you enjoy it anyways. For the purposes of this pic, Bodecker is still alive.
When Arvin woke up that morning he could feel that something was different. Arvin’s life had been flipped upside down by his own actions that had ultimately been what forced him to live his life on the run. He had spent the better part of a year running, zigzagging across the country in the hopes of shaking the authorities off; first traveling down to Georgia, then up to Iowa, then back down towards Texas and so on before finally finding permanent resident. Arvin knew what the rest of his life would look like from here on out. He understood that he would spend the rest of his time on God’s green Earth looking over his shoulder and never finding the quiet life he longed for. Arvin knew that he was cursed, from the moment his mother had died he had been plagued with loss and he was sure he was one of the unlucky souls who had come to be the Devil’s plaything. Arvin had expected that his life would forever be riddled with rot and chaos, damned to suffer through conflict after conflict after conflict. But when Arvin opened his eyes today to the sun streaming in through window and the sound of bacon sizzling coming from the kitchen, he finally understood what it felt like to be at peace.
Arvin swung his legs over the side of the bed, hauling himself up and making his way down the hall. His steps were heavy with sleep, shuffling against the floor loud enough to alert the person in the kitchen to his presence. As Arvin drew closer, he began to hear the hum of a song that was unfamiliar to him, just barely covered by the sound of someone flipping an egg, prompting him to hurry his steps to arrive at the delicious smell and the lovely voice that had almost lulled him back to sleep where he stood. Rounding the corner, Arvin couldn’t help but grin at the sight before him. There you stood in front of the stove, still dressed in your nightgown, cooking a breakfast big enough for two.
Two. Such a simple word with such little meaning. An insignificant word that made Arvin’s heart swell with delight. It wasn’t just him anymore, alone and scared, no, now it was him and you. To Arvin, it was hope. Arvin watched as you plated the food you had prepared before turning around and flashing him an earth shattering smile. You would never know how much it meant to him, your smile, and that you were here, right now. You would never know the kind of stability you brought to him. And he planned to keep it that way, to keep you in the dark about all the things he’d done. To keep letting you believe he was just the stranger from out of town who stole your heart.
When you met Arvin, he was just a newcomer, a lost soul who had found your quaint little town practically in the middle of nowhere. He had stirred up quit a buzz when he walked into your parents’ little diner, asking if there was any place he could stay the night, but seeing as your town was so small, small enough that it could safely be left off of most maps and small enough that tourism wasn’t a main source of income, the answer was unequivocally no. Your father, who had been Arvin had the luck of plopping himself next to, informed him that the closest motel was almost a three hours drive away. Arvin remembered staring out the window, watching the last rays of light vanish, his hope along with it. It would be impossible for him to get someone to see him this late at night, let alone actually stop for him. Arvin felt like he could cry in that moment, but your mother, ever the good Christian woman, had offered to let him stay at your house until tomorrow morning. Arvin was grateful that your mother had been so kind, and in retrospect you were too, but you remembered how much you resented Arvin when your mother told you he would be staying with you. At first, you were all for it, one night with an attractive stranger from out of town in your house wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, but the next day both Arvin and your father came home in the afternoon after they had supposedly left to take Arvin to the next town over earlier that morning.
“Turns out this boy knows his way around a car,” your father had said, beaming. He had later told your mother privately that he had offered Arvin a place to stay with your family and a smaller than average wage in exchange for his help around the shop. Your father owned the only car shop in town and was in desperate need of a new assistant, and seeing as you didn’t want anything to do with being a mechanic, your father saw Arvin as a golden opportunity, someone to possibly pass the torch to. Your mother was more than happy to let him stay, finding his handiness around the house useful, but you were less ready to welcome him into your life. Arvin had garnered a lot of attention, especially from the female population, and most of the girls at your school would pretend to be your friend in the hopes that you would invite them over, just so they could get a glimpse at him. It only got worse when your parents had commissioned Arvin to pick you up and drop you off to school. The girls would stare, trying to get a closer look at Arvin, a few of them even having the courage to go up and talk to him. It made you sick, that attention he got and how much he seemed to enjoy it. You had convinced yourself that it was skepticism about his character, but now that you look back on it, it was nothing more than petty jealousy that bubbled in your stomach. It was stupid, really, to be jealous that a boy was giving other girl’s his attention, especially since you hadn’t seemed very keen on the idea of him even being in your town, but what you didn’t know was that it wasn’t the attention that Arvin enjoyed, it was the fact that in the people around him, in the kindness that people showed him, Arvin could see a future here; a future with you.
From the moment Arvin laid his eyes on you, he was smitten, he would even go as far as to say it was love at first sight. Arvin wouldn’t confess this to you until almost a year after you’d met when he tried to ask you to prom (with your parents’ permission, of course). It was honestly a train wreck and did not go at all how he had planned. Arvin had invited you out to the town’s gazebo, he had strung up lights as best he could and set up a nice little dinner for the two of you. He saw a figure slowly approach, thinking it was you, only to be disappointed when Susan Hall, who Arvin remembered you hated with a passion, stepped into the light and flung herself at him, telling him how sweet it was of him to do this and attempting to kiss him. You had seen the whole thing and, devastated, you ran away, Arvin chasing after you. He had caught up to you in the woods behind your parents’ property and explained what had happened, confessing that he loved you and only you. You believed him, and rightfully so, as you later found out that Susan had crashed your plans on purpose to try and steal Arvin from you.
Looking back on it now, with you leaning against his in the small house that you had bought the second you graduated high school with the little money both of you had saved up and some help from your parents, Arvin was glad he had ended up in your dreary town, no matter how complicated your relationship had been when it first started. He watched as you admired the ring on your finger, smiling at it as if you had been missing it all your life, the now empty dishes sitting in your sink waiting to be washed. It was times like this Arvin remembered why he had to keep his past life from you a secret. He loved you and often found himself wanting to tell you all about his past life. Every time you asked why he looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders Arvin wanted nothing more than to tell you everything, but Arvin loved you too much to let you go and he couldn’t bare to think of what would happen if you knew what he did.
“Darlin’, I gotta get ready for work.” He said, lips pressed against the crown of your head.
“Why don’t you call in sick today,” you suggested.
“I would but your dad would kill me.”
“You know he loves you Arvin.”
“Yeah, that’s why I don’t wanna disappoint ‘im.” With one final kiss to your head, Arvin stood up and made his way to your shared bedroom. You began to clean the dishes, not having to go into the diner until later that day. As you began cleaning the last pan in the sink, a sturdy knock came from your door.
“I’ll get it!” You yelled, hearing Arvin begin to hurry to the front door. You had opened the door just as Arvin arrived at the end of the hallway. In front of you stood a tall man with a sheriff’s badge pinned to his shirt.
“Mornin’ ma’am, my name’s Lee Bodecker,” The man said. “I’m looking for a man named Arvin Russell and I heard I might find him here.”
“Arvin?” You repeated, confusion written all over your face. You turned to look at your husband, eyebrows furrowed in a silent question. From where the sheriff stood, he couldn’t see Arvin, his figure being blocked by the door, but if he leaned ever so slightly to the left he might be able to peer into the house and see there was someone else there. You knew something was wrong, you had never seen Arvin look as scared as he did now, so without a second thought, you had gently closed the door so that your body filled the gap it created, leaning against the door frame in an attempt to feign nonchalance.
“I’m sorry, Mister, but there ain’t no Arvin Russell here. Whoever told you there was must have been misinformed.”
“You sure about that?”
“Sure as the hair on my head.”
“Oh, alright. Then may I ask who it was you called to just before you opened the door?”
“My husband.” You said after a long pause, caught off guard by the man’s question.
“Mind if I speak with him?”
“Well I don’t but I’m not sure how you’d feel about seein’ him naked. He’s takin’ a shower right now.” You began gently tapping your foot, your nerves beginning to get the better of you. You had never been all that good at lying, something about it made you feel wrong, dirty. But you needed to protect your husband, after all, it’s what he would do for you.
“Then would you mind if I waited.”
“Actually I would. I have to leave for work soon and, with all do respect, I don’t much like leaving a stranger unattended in my house.”
With a small nod and a tip of the hat, the man bid you goodbye, getting into his car and driving off. You closed the door and turned to Arvin. It was silent for a long time, you waited for Arvin to explain himself but Arvin didn’t know what to say. His worst nightmare was coming true and he was terrified that your love for him wouldn’t be strong enough to survive this.
“Arvin,” You said, as calmly as you could, not wanting to spook him or yourself anymore, though it proved a lot harder that you thought. “Why was that man at our door?”
Arvin opened his mouth as if to say something but for the life of him he couldn’t find the words. He was frustrated with himself, and from the looks of it you were getting pretty frustrated at him to.
“Arvin,” you said more firmly. “I just lied to a goddamn sheriff for you. Please, tell me what’s going on.”
Arvin took a deep breathe before explaining everything to you. He told you about Lenora, and how hung herself. About the preacher and Bodecker and about Bodecker’s sister and her crazy husband. He explained everything he had done with complete and utter honesty. And he cried, longing to reach out for you but knowing his hands were too tainted to be worthy of ever holding something as beautifully pure as you. You didn’t know what to say. On the one hand, you understood his reasoning. To you, it seemed like the people Arvin had killed had it coming. But on the other hand, your husband had killed people. It didn’t matter what the reason was, taking a person’s life was a sin, something unforgivable in the holy book. Despite your better judgement, your decision ultimately came down to this: Arvin was your husband, and you loved him.
You slowly approached Arvin’s shaking figure, gently wrapping your arms around his shoulders and threading your hands through his hair. Arvin broke down into sobs, holding you impossibly close to him as if he needed you more than the air he breathed.
“Arvin,” You said once he had stopped crying, your own tears beginning to fall as you realized that there was only one option left for you both. “Arvin, we need to go.”
“What?”
“We need to go.” He gently pulled away from you, looking into your eyes, checking to make sure he heard you correctly.
“B-but this is our home.”
“I know Arvin, but that sheriff didn’t believe a word I said and he’s gonna be asking around town for you. It won’t be long until word of what you’ve done begins to spread. We need to leave before it’s too late.”
You gently ushered Arvin towards the bedroom and told him to begin packing a bag, unaware of the figure lurking at your backdoor. Bodecker had listened in on your conversation, hearing every word you and Arvin had spoken to each other, preparing for the right moment to make himself known. It was now or never, he thought, hearing you tell Arvin to pack a bag. As quietly as possible, Bodecker broke the lock on your back door, slowly making his way towards your bedroom. The door was wide open, he could see you and Arvin darting around the room trying to find your essentials. It was almost perfect, how unaware you both were. How wrapped up you were in yourselves that you didn’t even notice a 6 foot tall man practically right in front of you. With a sadistic smile, Bodecker raised his shotgun.
You froze when you heard someone pump a shotgun behind you, whipping around to find Bodecker standing just a few feet from you, gun aimed at Arvin. Your heart was beating so hard you thought it might burst, the thought of losing Arvin only increasing the adrenaline that was currently coursing through you.
“You thought you could get away, didn’t you?” Bodecker asked.
“Please, your sister and her husband, t-they were gonna kill me I didn’t hav-”
“I don’t care! You killed my sister. My sister! You killed the only person I loved Arvin. And now, I’m gonna return the favor.” In one swift motion, Bodecker turned to point the gun at you, raising his gun higher to aim at you properly. You closed your eyes before hearing the bang of a gun. You waited, standing stock still as the terror of the situation slowly got to you, but you didn’t feel pain, instead you felt a set of hands holding your face, a voice softly telling you to open your eyes. You did as you were told, seeing Arvin in front of you, eyes frantic. You looked at the ground next to him, an unfamiliar gun next to Arvin’s foot. You came to the realization that Arvin must have used it to shoot Bodecker, your suspicion being proven correct when your eyes landed on Bodecker’s now lifeless body laying in a pool of his own blood.
“A-Arvin-” Arvin softly hushed you.
“It’s okay, you’re okay now.” Arvin pulled you closer to him, cradling your head and shielding you from the body. Soon you could hear sirens in the distance, the panic slowly rising inside of you again. You could feel Arvin begin to panic too, his breathing starting to pick up.
“H-his badge.” You said, pulling away from Arvin, scared that he would be taken away from you. “We-we need to get rid of h-his badge. A-and any identification he has. It has to look like an- like an accident”
“R-right. Right, okay, uh...” Arvin began searching Bodecker’s body, quickly finding both his badge and ID and hiding them in a small hollow under one of the floor boards where you kept your savings. You and Arvin quickly came up with a cover, agreeing to keep it simple. The police arrived not long after, conducting an interview and putting you both through due process. You told them what you and Arvin had agreed to say, that the man broke into your house and tried to rob you, but thanks to Arvin’s quick thinking, Arvin was able to get to his gun and shoot the intruder. The policemen interviewing you were skeptical, wondering why neither of you called the police after killing the man. You blamed it on shock, saying that Arvin’s first instinct was to comfort you, the intruder did have a gun pointed at you, after all. The policemen eventually dropped the subject, seeing you begin to tear up as the adrenaline and shock of the day began to ware off. Your parents came to get you and Arvin, offering you both your old room at their house until they were able to get someone to fix your back door, an offer that the both of you readily accepted. That night you and Arvin held each other just a little bit tighter, neither one of you finding sleep to come easy.
“We can’t tell anyone what happened today.” Arvin said, rubbing your back in an attempt to soothe you.
“I know.” You replied, tightly clutching onto his shirt. “I love you, Arvin.”
“I love you, too, Darlin’”
You didn’t know what would come out of tonight. You didn't know if you were making a mistake by trusting Arvin after everything he had done. You weren’t sure if you were messed up for loving a murderer or if you were right in believing that Arvin was doing good, even if it meant doing some more than questionable things. But you knew one thing, you knew you loved Arvin and that he loved you, and that you both would always protect each other, no matter the cost.
#arvin russell#arvin russel#arvin russel x reader#arvin russel imagine#arvin russell imagine#the devil all the time#the devil all the time imagine#tdatt#tdatt imagine#tom holland#tom holland imagine#tom holland au#tom holland x reader
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It’s Nothing Serious - Chapter Seven
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Five and a Half
Chapter Six
A/N: Hey. Been a while. Here’s an update and a loose promise I’ll be better? Also thanks for all the notes, comments, and messages recently! I forget who wanted to be on the tag list, but comment and I’ll know for next time!
“It’s not serious.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose.
“Mother.”
“It’s not. You’re really overreacting.”
You curl your fingers into the bed of your palm and feel the bite of your nails digging into the flesh. “It’s cancer.”
“Psssh.”
You want to throw the phone across the room. Instead, you screw your eyes shut and lean back against the wall.
“Do you have an appointment soon?”
“You know I don’t like hospitals.” She says just as you see the deadbolt to your apartment flick unlocked. Javi pushes in seconds later, looking just as tired as you feel. You give him a little wave.
“Well weigh that dislike of hospitals against your dislike of death,” you say, turning away and putting your hand on your hip. You don’t want to burden him with this, but you see his eyebrows perk up anyway. Shit. You lower your voice. “Can’t Dad sit with you? Or Luna?”
“You worry too much.” She chides.
“You don’t worry enough!” You scold into the phone. You feel a hand around your waist and turn just in time to get a kiss on your forehead. It calms you down.
Sighing, you regain your composure. “Mom? Please promise me you’re going to go back.”
“Well of course I’ll go back, Bean, but really, I don’t want you worrying about me.” Somewhere in the background, you hear a crash behind her.
“Mom?”
“It’s just your father. He’s putting up shelves for the crystals and I think he fell. Can I call you back?”
You sigh. The only thing your mother is worse at than soothing your anxiety is calling you back.
“Yeah, sure.” You say. “But actually call?”
“I always do.”
“Hmm.”
“Bye Bean, I love you.”
“I love you too,” you say before you hear the line go dead. You put the phone back on the hook and drop your head, trying it to calm yourself down. From the couch, you hear Javi perk up.
“Sounds like you had a worse day than me.”
You look up and give him a weak smile. “We’re having a lot of those, recently.”
How long are honeymoon periods supposed to last? You would have at least guessed six months. That only seems fair, given the seven months of angst and hookups that preceded finally, finally being able to admit to one another that maybe this meant a little more than you led on. You would have taken three months, even- three months of everything just being calm and quiet and nice, where the most stressful thing to happen is burning dinner because you’re too busy fucking on the counter.
You moved to the wrong fucking city.
It wasn’t even a week after your drunken exchange of I-love-yous that it began. All those bodies piling up once more, only this time the cops and their allies were giving just as good as they had got. Bodies from both sides seemed to pile up in higher stacks all around you two. Three days hadn’t passed without you having to calm down one of your students -or worse, one of your fellow teachers- over recent events. It was getting to you, too, if you were honest. Javi had warned you against going out like you once did, and as much as you hated it, you knew he was right. You thought of the friends of friends who had disappeared or died, caught in the crossfire or in the consequences of their poor decisions. The more you heard, the more you wanted to lock yourself in your apartment, hidden away from the chaos of the outside. You managed to see your friends at work but meet-ups outside had dwindled severely. Alessa found out she was pregnant and didn’t want to risk it. Lisa’s brother-in-law got caught in between two sides of a gunfight and couldn’t work any longer, so she was helping them more around the house. Maritza was the only one who still tried to go out, but it was a rare occasion you could even gather everyone up for a dinner at home.
Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if you could have spent all this new, anxious free time with Javi, but if anything, he had picked up your slack when it came to existing in the outside world. Since Los Pepes had entered the picture, the man worked around the clock. Sometimes you would go the whole evening without seeing him, only to be awoken to the feeling of his body falling on the bed next to yours. While he still insisted on driving you to work every morning, he had begun staying at the office later and later, sometimes not returning until 2 am. The fire and anger that once fuelled him seemed to have died out, and the poor man is running on fumes. You could see it when you both woke in the morning in the dark circles under his eyes and the uptick in cigarettes he had been smoking. You try and take care of him - bringing him coffee in bed, rubbing his shoulders when he sits up, lost in his own thoughts. He appreciates it, he tells you as much, but no matter how hard you try he’s still as weary as ever when he finally comes back to you.
You don’t want to add to that. You know that what he’s seeing at work must be leagues beyond your little pep-talks and lonely evenings, and you don’t think it’s worth mentioning even if it has started to take its toll on you. You miss your friends. You miss days at work where the kids are sunny and mischievous, instead of withdrawn and scared. Hell, you miss your boyfriend- it feels weird calling a man his age that- you’re supposed to be in loved-up bliss, but instead it seems the universe decided to throw you another curveball. You overcame the intimacy issues only to come face to face with this bullshit not days later.
And now your mom is sick.
Javi gets up from the couch and comes to stand beside you, his tired hand dropping down to take your fingers. You smile at the effort, which seems small, but you know takes so much for him these days. You reach up to wipe a stupid tear out of your eyes.
“Swear she thinks she could cure this with sage and essential oil,” you try to joke. He doesn’t say anything, only runs his thumb along your cheek bone and tilt your chin up to look at him. You try and give him a smile before another year drops down your face. Frustrated, you press your hands into your eyes and let out a groan.
“Fuck.” You say. You drop your hands and look back at him. “I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for, huh?” He asks.
You shake your head.
“I don’t…I don’t know.” I’m sorry I can’t be soft and happy for you when you come home? I’m sorry that he has to spend all day on the front lines and come back to this mess? “Things have been rough lately. I don’t want to add anything to your pile.”
“It’s not my pile that’s getting added to,” he pulls you against him, pressing a kiss against your head once more. You close your eyes and let out a sigh. “You okay, hermosa?”
You nod, pulling away just enough to look him in the eyes. “They caught it early. She’s just stubborn. She’ll go, though. Her dad was an oncologist. She pretends like she doesn’t know, but…” you shake your head. “Fucking parents, huh?”
“Yeah,” he says, reaching out to push a loose curl behind your ear. “Fuckin’ parents.”
You relax into him, letting your head dip down into the dip when his neck connects to his chest. He brings his arms around you to keep you there. The two of you stand like that for a moment, two idiots swaying to the silence of the world’s chaos.
“You’re not bad,” you sigh against him, snuggling in deeper. “For an alcoholic cop.”
He chuckles. “Agent.” He combs his fingers through your hair. “You’re not bad for a teacher who lets strange men finger her in a supply closet.”
You hold a finger up. “One time.”
He catches your hand and brings your fingers up to his lips, kissing the tips. It’s enough to make you melt.
“I am sorry,” he says, placing your hand against his chest and holding it there. “About your mom.”
You sigh. “What can you do?”
“Do you need to go back?”
“I’d never hear the end of it if I did,” you pull away from him and make for the coffee table, where you had set out two drinks for Javi’s arrival before your mother had called. You pick them up and extend one to him, and he takes it gratefully, dropping onto the couch next to you. “She’s convinced I worry too much. Me, her brilliant daughter who chose to live in the middle of a war zone,” you purse your lips. “Sorry,” you say.
He shakes his head. “You’re right,” he leans forward to set his drink down on the coffee table before resting his elbows on his knees, bending forward in a pose of contemplation. Sensing the shift in the air, you sit up and run your fingers along his back.
“Javi- I didn’t mean…”
He shakes his head again. “This thing…it’s a fucking mess. All of it.” He sighs. “Sick of seeing fucking bodies.”
You reach for something to say to comfort him, but you know there’s nothing. Instead, you scoot closer to him, resting your chin on his shoulder.
“Have you thought about it? Going back to Texas for a while?” He asks.
You shake your head. “She doesn’t want me to. And neither do I,” you reach up and lace your fingers through his, unclasping a worried hand. He turns to you, his eyes flicking up and down your face.
“You shouldn’t stay here because of me. You’d be safer.”
You blow a raspberry. “Don’t flatter yourself.” Sensing he took the joke to heart, you nudge him with your chin. “I’m here because I want to be here. With the kids. With you.”
He turns back to face forward, and you’re unsure if he’s satisfied with your answer before he speaks again.
“If anything happens to you…” he shakes his head. It forms a pit in your stomach.
You reach out and press his hand against the center of your chest. When he looks at you puzzled, you smile. “See? Still beating. Think that’s a good sign.”
He sighs, but not without a small smile on his face. Taking advantage of the moment, you reach out and take him by the chin, pulling him in for a long kiss. When you break away, his hands come up to pull your face back to his, and you can’t help but smile as he presses his lips against your mouth and begins to trail down your neck.
“Yeah,” he says, kissing the pulse point that makes you shiver. “I think it’s a good sign.”
You’re not great at taking care of yourself when you’re stressed out. Who is, really? You hope he hasn’t noticed, though, the way the bags under your eyes have darkened to match his or how much more quickly you seem to go through liquor bottles. You want to think he doesn’t notice- that he’s too focused on other things, but it’s getting harder to pretend. You try and rally your energy every time you see him. You want to be this bright spot for him in the middle of all this chaos and violence. You cook, you clean, and you go down on him like you want to live the rest of your life on your knees. You smile. You joke. You try to be pure sunshine in the bullshit he’s caught in.
But now your mom’s sick. And, fuck, you’re empty.
He must notice it. He has to see it when he comes home to you, and your house is a mess. He has to hear it when you spend the next few weeks by the phone, arguing with your family- Luna is too busy with the baby to go home, your father doesn’t want to believe it’s real, and your mother-fuck! - she keeps telling you not to worry. Not to worry! Like the few times she calls, she doesn’t tell you offhandedly how much worse she’s getting. Like you’re not trying to keep yourself from telling her how you hear gunshots every night, or how you can’t go a week without seeing a dead body. Like you’re not protecting everyone from your feelings because surely, they have it worse. You know everyone has it worse. How do you compete with cancer and being a foot soldier in the war on drugs? You’re just some teacher. You’re just some lady in over her head. Like everyone else in this country.
Maybe it was just a bad day when he came home that Wednesday. For both of you. One of your students’ siblings had died the day before, and you had spent the majority of the day trying not to cry alongside an eight-year-old. You had been trying to reach your mother for days, but the calls kept getting picked up by the answering machine and you couldn’t come up with any other way to say, “please call me back and tell me you’re okay”. When you finally came home, it was to a messy house - why are you so disappointed? it’s been a disaster for weeks- and you barely have enough energy to kick a few things out of a sort of path. You check your messages, willing there to be one overlooked recording of your mother’s voice assuring you she’s doing fine before her scheduled surgery, but the tape is woefully empty, just as it was yesterday and the day before. You pick the stupid machine up from the table and throw it to the ground.
You chain-smoked three cigarettes by your window, zoning out into the ether as night descended upon you so gradually until it was suddenly dark. You thought of your student, the one who came home to a massacred older sibling, and your stomach cramps. Before you can stop yourself, you imagine your mother in the same position they described to you that morning- spread out like a starfish on the floor, eyes wide open and dull as they stare up to the ceiling, a halo of blood around their head. Your throat itches and you light a fourth cigarette.
When you went to the refrigerator, finally, but discovered upon opening the door that you had once again forgotten to go grocery shopping. The only things that stared back at you were three-day-old pasta leftovers, some eggs, and a few beers.
“Fucking idiot,” you said to yourself.
You pulled out the carton of eggs and had begun to whisk them together when you heard the door creak open. You turned around to call out a greeting but bit your tongue when you saw his face. A deep scowl marked his otherwise handsome features, and he had already lit a cigarette before coming in.
“Hey,” he said as if he was annoyed with you. You tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the eggs in front of you. He made for the couch, stripping off his jacket as he walked.
“Fuck!”
You turned around to see him wavering, trying to regain his balance. He reaches out and grabs the edge of the counter, but it’s stacked so high with papers that his hand slips and he’s falling back onto the floor- but not before hitting the back of his head. You run around, dropping to your knees beside him as he pulls a bloodied hand from the back of his head.
“Hang on- “you run to the sink and grab a wet towel. Jogging back to him, you reach out to nurse the area when he snatches the rag out of your hand.
“I can do it myself,” he says. “Why is your fucking answering machine on the floor?”
You feel stupid and lost for words, like a child who just got scolded. You hold your hands in front of you.
“I want to help- “
“If you want to help, why don’t you clean the fucking apartment?” He snaps.
Your eyes widen. He’s been grumpy for weeks, surly even, but there’s an extra bit of venom in his voice tonight. Before today, maybe you would have called him on it, snatched the rag out of his hand, and told him to go fuck himself, to go to his place and bleed over his own towels.
But…fuck you’re tired. You have been hanging by a thread all day and the only thing that was keeping your eyes dry was the thought of curling up with him tonight. Maybe if one of the many, horrible things hadn’t happened today you would already be kicking his ass out, instead of standing there dumb and speechless, taking this abuse you don’t deserve.
So, you let him have the rag. You turn back and walk to the kitchen and keep making the eggs.
He has it worse. He has it worse.
You two eat dinner in silence. You can tell he’s not pleased with the meager meal, but he just grunts and shovels it into his mouth. You barely eat, picking at little bites like a bird. Instead, you think about how chemotherapy makes people lose their appetite, and wonder if your mother can eat right now. You imagine her too-long blonde hair must have begun to fall out, and for a moment you think you can feel the sickly strands tightening around your fingers. It’s all-encompassing, and you don’t hear when Javi tries to get your attention.
“Eloise!”
You jerk your head up, your blank face meeting his. He frowns.
“I said do you want a drink,”
“Oh,” you say, softly. You shake your head. “No.”
He rolls his eyes and pushes up from the table, going to the liquor cabinet. When he pulls the doors open, his head drops, disappointed.
“You’re out.”
“Oh?” You turn around. He turns and sends you a look.
“Yeah.” He says
“I forgot to go to the…” you wave your hand.
“Seems like you forgot to do a lot of things,” he sighs. You frown, a bit taken aback by his annoyance. But yet again, you bite your tongue. He sighs and walks towards the table, snatching up his keys.
“Where are you-?”
“To get some from my apartment.” He says. He swings the door open with too much power, and when it falls closed with a crack it makes your shudder.
Across the room, the phone rings.
You scramble to your feet, nearly tripping over that same answering machine that had claimed Javi. You yank the phone off the hook, shoving the phone to your ear.
“Mom?” Your voice is like a little girl’s.
“What?” The male voice says. Your shoulders deflate.
“Sorry,” you say, pressing your hand to your forehead. You look up as the door to your apartment swings open again, and Javi walks in with a storm cloud over his head, whiskey clutched in his fist. “He just walked in, hang on.” You hold the phone out to Javi. “Steve.”
He lets out a sigh and walks forward, taking the phone from your hand. In a daze, you walk towards the kitchen and begin to clean up the few dishes you dirtied, your mind zoning in and out of reality. You don’t notice you’re just standing with the water running until a hand comes from the corner of your eye and switches the tap off.
“Stop watering the pipes,” Javi says. He walks back to the table and lights a cigarette, sitting down and kicking his feet up. You turn back to look at him.
“Everything alright?” You ask.
He scoffs. “No, it’s not fucking alright.” He takes a drag and blows a plume of smoke out. He looks up to you, his eyes darting to the glass he left by your hand. He makes to sit up.
“I’ll get it,” you say, and you pick it up, walking over towards him. You’re just about to hand it to him when your ankle gives, and you drop the glass, spilling his drink over his pants.
“Goddammit!” He yelps. He looks up at you - and you know it’s not you, you know he’s had a bad day, you know there’s so much on his plate- but the snarl he has feels like a punch to the stomach.
“I’m sorry, let me- “you reach for the napkins you thought were on the table before realizing you forgot to buy those, too. Your hand flails around you as you’re caught in your anxiety.
“You’ve done enough,” he grumbles, pushing up and walking past you to pull a rag from the counter.
You’re not sure why hearing him blotting his pants behind you does it, but you feel it immediately. That hot, wet trail down your face. And once that first tear is loose, you know you can’t stop. Suddenly, you’re silently weeping, snot and water running down your face as your shoulders shake and you reach up to try and hold yourself.
You let out a long breath, but it comes out as shaky, and the sounds from behind you stop.
“…El?”
You begin to paw at your face but realize it’s a lost cause. Shaking your head, you ignore him and walk back to your bedroom, closing the door behind you before dropping against the wall.
You were doing so well. You hadn’t cried, you hadn’t screamed at him during his shittier moods, you had been an angel. You pushed through all of this bullshit, hoping that, even though you couldn’t compete with his life, he would notice. He would realize how much of toll your own, lesser bullshit had begun to take on you, and had some sympathy. More than that, you had hoped he would appreciate it- how you never pushed him to take care of you, how you were always there for him with a meal and warm arms, how you were soldiering on for him through all the stress. You wanted him to think you some sort of martyr, a girlfriend who was pushing all her needs down to take care of him when he needed it most. If he was emotionally unable to reciprocate, he could at least fucking notice.
But he didn’t. He was too up his own ass, too busy at work, too concerned with being the only person in this relationship with problems that he didn’t even fucking see how much your teeth nearly cracked every time you faked a smile for him. You were mad at yourself, too- you had folded into this smaller version of yourself after making excuses for him, and now you had the gall to be sad about it? You had paved this path. You tried to protect him from your pain, thinking it was kind, when really you were coddling him.
You feel anger rise in your chest. You clench your fists in your hands, and you’re about to scream into your knees when you hear the soft knock on the door. Furled by anger, you stand up quickly and swing the door open to see a much softer looking Javi in the doorway.
And that takes the wind out of your sails. Instead of laying into him like you wanted, you let out a pathetic sob. Immediately he’s pulling you towards him and you’re caught in a tight hold as you sob into one of his nicer shirts.
“El,” he says softly, and you choke out another sob on his shoulder. Carefully, the two of you descend to the floor of your bedroom as he keeps his hold on you, tracing his fingers up and down your back as you continue to cry against him.
His tone is soothing as he circles through what little he can say - “baby” and “I’m sorry” and “it’s okay”. As your cries come to a slow, you pull away from him and try to wipe your face.
“Baby,” he says again, reaching out to touch your cheek. You dare to make eye contact, and, fuck, it breaks your heart. He looks like a little boy who just realized he had crossed a line. You let out a pathetic little hiccup as you wipe your eyes again.
“I’ve tried- “you stutter on your words as your tears keep falling. “I- I know it’s hard for you, really fucking hard, I know my d-day to day can’t compare to the shi-shit you see,” you try to take in a deep breath. His hand runs down your arm. “But I’m not doing okay. And I’ve tried to put that aside to t-take care of you, but - fuck, I need- “you feel yourself begin to hyperventilate. Fuck, you haven’t cried this hard since you were a kid.
“What do you need, baby?”
“Fuck, Javi, my mom is dying!” You yell. “She’s dying and I can’t get a hold of her. And every day I have to go to the school and hear more awful fucking stories about other kids’ families dying. I have to let them think I have any kind of answer when I fucking don’t! I’m just as lost as they are! I’m in my godamn thirties and all I want is to hug my fucking mommy, too!” You huff a few more breaths. “But I can’t, so I pretend. And I come home to you, and I- fuck, I love you so much, and I don’t want to burden you or make you take care of me when you have it so, so much worse but today- “you swallow, your mouth dry from crying - “today she was supposed to go in for surgery. And I haven’t heard anything. I spent all of lunch not eating because an eight-year-old, a fucking eight-year-old! Was telling me that she found her brother with a gunshot wound between his eyes. And I can’t do anything to help her! Just like I can’t do anything to help my fucking mother who won’t even call her daughter back to leave a message to say ‘hey! I SURVIVED SURGERY’. And maybe if I hadn’t had all of that I could put up with your shitty moods like I have been for weeks because I know it’s hard and I know you have it worse but today I just-I fucking couldn’t! I couldn’t do it! I couldn’t take YOU yelling at me when all I wanted was for you to fucking- I don’t know! Pull me in your lap and pet my hair! Ask me how my day was! Ignore my dirty apartment the way I’ve ignored your passive-aggressive moody bullshit for a month because you understand I’m not doing the fucking best right now! And I need the person who loves me to fucking act like it!” You fall forward, sobbing again. The arm on your shoulder drops, and you expect for a moment he’s going to get up and leave you to cry into the night. Instead, though, he scoots back until his back leans against the footboard of the bed. You look up in time to see him open his arms.
“Come here,” he says.
Too eager, you scramble over to him as he pulls you against him, petting your arms and face as you keep weeping against him.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I do see it. I do. I promise.”
You hiccup and he pulls you tighter.
“I know you have it worse- “you start.
“Stop,” he says, pressing your head against his chest.
You keep crying over the next half hour as he whispers sweet things to you. When you’ve exhausted yourself, you drop your head to his lap, fading in and out of consciousness as his fingers comb through your hair, soft and comforting. You don’t quite remember him urging you up and into bed, but by the time you’ve regained your senses somewhat he’s pulled your back against him, tucking his nose into the nape of your neck.
“I’m sorry,” you say softly. He shakes his head.
“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” He says. “Go to sleep, hermosa.”
You do.
The next morning is quiet. The two of your dress quickly and rush out the door, having slept past your alarm. He tells you briefly he’s got a lot on at work today, and you take it as a sign you’ll be walking back this afternoon. You nod and give him a quick peck before running up the stairs to the school, at least somewhat happy to have avoided talking about last night.
So, you don’t expect it when you leave the school one afternoon and see him waiting for you outside, his arms crossed on his chest, aviators on, posed in front of his car like he’s in a film. You fight the urge to smirk when you drop down to the final step and his mouth jerks up at the corner.
“You look like a cliche,” you deadpan, walking up to give him a quick kiss. Only, it’s not quick- you try to pull away tastefully, but he takes you by your waist and pulls you into a deeper kiss. You give him a swat on his shoulder but return it regardless, luxuriating in the attention. It feels nice.
“Get in the car,” he says when he finally pulls away. You tilt your head.
“You takin' me somewhere?”
“Not if you don’t get in the damn car,” he swats your ass, causing you to shriek, before beginning to walk around the front. Despite yourself, you smile as you clamber in.
You don’t ask questions throughout the whole drive, but you admit you’re a bit disappointed when you just pull back up to your apartment building. You try and mask it, hopping out of the car and waiting expectantly for him to come around and join you. He climbs the stairs quickly, beating you to the door to hold it open.
Without thinking, you reach for your keys. It’s almost muscle memory now. You haven’t been to his place for any real time in months. You think it reminds him too much of work.
Except, now he’s nodding you over to his door he’s begun to unlock. You come to stand by him, eying him as he fiddles with the lock. As the bolt clicks, he smiles, then turns to you.
“Close your eyes,” he says.
“Really?”
“Fuck you. Yea really.”
With a small grin on your face, you make a show of daintily closing your eyes. You see a flash of light- him waving his hands in front of your face. Convinced you really have your eyes closed, you hear the door open, then feel a warm hand taking your own. You walk inside, blindly stepping after him until he drops his hand, and you feel his hands come to rest on your shoulders.
“Alright,” he says.
You open your eyes, and it takes you a while to realize what he’s even made a fuss about. In front of you are two plates with a single sandwich and a side of potato chips. You’re kind of annoyed for a second- when you surprise him, it’s always with a cake or really good head, never just dinner. Dinner that’s basically a sandwich.
You turn to look at him before noticing that the apartment has been cleaned up. You swivel around, taking in the sight, noticing the repaired answering machine has been put carefully back on the side table. You haven’t seen your home this clean in a while, and you realize that he must have done this, too. You start to say something, but he’s already pulling out your chair for you, urging you to sit down. Lost for words, you drop yourself into the seat and watch as he comes around to sit in front of you. He waits for you to say something, but when you don’t, he begins.
“It’s not much,” he says finally. “But you were right. I’ve been a dick, and I’m not the only one with shit on my plate.” He rubs the back of his neck. “When my mom was sick…I should be better to you. For you.” He bites his lip. When you still don’t say anything, he continues. “I’m sorry, El. You’re so…good, and I’m…” he shakes his head. You reach out your hand, covering his. There’s a flash of a smile across his face. “I called sick to work. They were having me doing bullshit paperwork, anyway. Murphy can handle that.” He clears his throat. “It’s uh, not much, but a rich guy owed me a favor, and he had a smoker. I had some old rubs from Señora Garza, the one with the hands? My dad sent me them from back home a while, and I know it’s not going home, but I know you miss the food- “you reach forward and pull the top of the sandwich off.
Brisket.
You look up at him, and you start to cry.
His face drops, alarmed. “Oh- no, baby- “
“Javi,” you wipe a tear away. “This is- this is - “you bend forward and let out another small cry. Immediately, he’s on his feet, coming around to kneel beside you. Just as he’s about to say something, you lean forward and catch his face in your hands, pulling him in for a kiss. It’s long and warm, and when he finally breaks away, you’re rewarded with a bright smile.
“You like it?”
“I love- I love it.” You say, running a hand through his hair. “This is very sweet.”
He looks down, pleased with himself. You lean forward and press a kiss to his forehead. He reaches up and takes your hands.
“I…I really love you, El,” he says, not quite daring to look you in the eyes until he’s finished his sentence. “I just hope you know that.”
You nod before pressing another kiss to his lips. “I do,” you say. “Even when…I do know, Javi.”
He nods, and the two of you sit there, blissed out together for a moment before he lets out a breath.
“Well, you better eat. Fucking thing took six hours to smoke, better not let it get too cold.”
You let out a laugh as he stands and comes to sit across from you. With a smile, the two of you eat. It’s not the perfect approximation of the food back home, but it’s enough to fill you with the comfort you had been craving for weeks. Javi watches, proud of himself as you lick the remaining sauce off a finger, smiling at the flavor.
“You did good, Peña.” You say, flicking your eyes back to him. He smiles, tossing the napkin down between the two of you before making to stand. He walks over and extends a hand down to you, and you raise your eyebrows.
“Is there more to eat?” You ask, somewhat hopeful. It’s impossible, but if he found a way to get a malt shake down here too you think you’d have to spend the next three weeks with his dick in your mouth.
“Something like that,” he says, urging you up. You send him a playful look as he reaches behind you and pulls the zipper to your skirt. With strong hands, he pulls your underwear and skirt down to your ankles, dropping to his knees to let you step out of them. With a twinkle in his eye, he smiles up at you.
“Go sit on the couch,” he orders. “And keep your knees apart.”
Turns out his surprises come with pretty good head, too.
A/N: Idk if this is of any interest but in my head Eloise is played by Phoebe Waller-Bridge. But of course, you cast her however you like!! She’s yours, too
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Blame.
GETO SUGURU X READER ANGST/FLUFF
Warnings: Bad words
Shitty writing /unedited
Pt. 3 / 4
(Please read A/N at the end, I’m sorry )^: )
❣️❌❣️❌❣️❌❣️❌❣️❌❣️❌❣️❌❣️❌❣️
Geto’s senses were overstimulated at the sight of you.
He was overwhelmed with what felt like a rush of warm colors; it was enough to form Goosebumps on his skin.
The sound of your voice made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up straight.
Your voice was music to his ears, like each word that slipped from your mouth was honeyed and he desperately needed a taste.
Geto immediately recalled the nights he watched the videos he had saved, ones that had your voice in them and how would replay them over and over again until it almost became an obsession. But those nights were nothing compared to how your voice made him feel now.
He could smell your perfume. The perfume.
One he had gifted you many moons ago, one that drove him wild, and he insisted you wear for him whenever the two of you went out on dates, And you did, because you weren’t one to deny him of anything he asked for.
Knowing that you took the time to put it on gave Geto Hope. Hope that maybe just maybe he still crossed your mind like you crossed his.
But it was when his eyes met yours that did it for him. The pseudo smile he carried wavered instantaneously. He repeated your name with trembling lips and averted his gaze, but quickly brought it back to meet yours. He had been deprived of your entire being and didn’t want to deny himself of what he'd been craving for weeks, yet his demons yelled in his ear to look away. He felt undeserving being in your presence.
It was evident you utilized your time away from him properly, it showed in the way you carried yourself. Fear struck his heart with realization that all he did while you were away was sulk while you worked on yourself.
He began to have doubts about whether or not you would come back to him if he hadn’t worked on himself as much as he should.
“Suguru…” you whispered and reached over to gently take his hand in yours, he immediately laced your fingers with his.
The kind gesture that was meant to soothe the pain only made him cry more. “I think I’m ready to talk…” you whispered softly, looking at his torn expression tugged on your heart strings. “Let’s go to the apartment, yeah?” You suggested since it seemed he wasn’t going to stop crying anytime soon.
—
The walk to the apartment was silent,with the exception of occasional sniffles and the sounds of you taking sips of your coffee. The silence was not uncomfortable, but it was unfamiliar.
Under better circumstances he would talk and tease you, but for now you two walked next to each other, like friends. There was a gap between the two of you, but it wasn’t vast, to you, But for Suguru it felt like it was a mile wide.
It wasn’t until you entered the apartment that the uneasiness hit you. Everything was eerily untouched, exactly how you left it, almost to the T.
The sweater you wore that same day still on the couch sprawled over the armrest. Your house slippers in the same position, you tried sneaking a glance into the room you two once shared, but the door was closed.
Your mind couldn’t help but wonder if the drawers were left open and if things were still scattered across the floor.
“Sorry..about the mess.” He spoke quietly and took a seat at the dining room table, you sat across from him, giving him a smile.
“Don’t worry about it.” Again there was a silence between the two of you, not uncomfortable, but unfamiliar.
“Do you need a moment, Suguru?”
“No.” His voice cracked.
“Okay...Uh… hmmm...Where do I begin?” You looked around the room while you organized your thoughts.
“I do have a lot to say, I hope I was not interrupting anything….”
He quickly shook his head giving you the floor.
“Then Please allow me to tell you how I feel… about everything” you cleared your throat and he nodded, listening closely, tears having stopped but heart was understandably extremely sensitive.
“Being away from you made me realize a lot Of things, A lot of things, Suguru. First and foremost being how much I love you. But I also realized I love myself more, which is why-“
“Please don’t leave me…” he interrupted softly before you could continue. “I know I have been selfish and it is becoming a commodity in the relationship and I don’t mean to interrupt you and don’t expect for you to change your mind, but in case you do leave me I just want to tell you how much you mean to me and how much I need you.”
You swallowed the lump forming in your throat, the ‘tough cookie’ exterior you put on when you approached him quickly crumbling the more he spoke.
You weren’t going to leave him, that was the last thing on your mind,you wanted to give him a piece of your mind before continuing to live the life you two created together.
“Being encased in a home we built together is karma I put on myself. I miss you. I miss everything about you. Everything” he emphasized with hand gestures.
“Your smile. The way you smell. The way you call my name. The cadence in your voice, your walk, your talk, sometimes I would go out and someone laughed like you and I-...I ...“ he choked out a sob and buried his face in his hands.
“I’m not leaving you Suguru…” The two of you locked eyes with each other, there was hope in his eyes.
“I just wanted to tell you how much that shit sucks. Being accused of infidelity when I gave you as much of me and my love as I possibly could, but even so…” you wiped the tears from your eyes, Geto was hit with deja vu, recalling the scene the day you left and how he wished he could wipe the tears for you.
He was being given another chance at redemption and he gladly took it.
He stood up from his seat, making his way to you, he knelt down beside you and wiped the tears away, as he should have the first time.
“I’m so sorry… I love you more than I could ever put into words y/n. What I said was out of insecurity. This doesn’t justify my actions or what I said, but my words came from a place of insecurity and fear. I was afraid you would go to Gojo because he literally has everything you could ever want…”
“You ARE everything I want so stop saying that!” you quickly interjected before he spiraled into a self deprecating headspace.
His hands laced with yours and he dropped his head. You could almost physically feel the doubts that had been eating at him disappear with those 9 words.
“I love you..so so much…” he sobbed quietly whilst lacing your fingers together. He brought your knuckles to his lips placing multiple kisses on them.
“And I love you so so much” you whispered, cupping his face in your free hand, wiping away his tears.
The rest of the night consisted of non stop chattering and laughter. Tears were shed and stories exchanged about how the two of you felt away from each other.
Boundaries were reset and apologies were made, a new chapter in your relationship was written that night, and as long as the pages are written with love, the story will go on forever and ever.
—-
🤠 howdy! It’s me again! Ahh I apologize for this chapter, I was in the middle of writing it when the snowstorm hit (I live in shithead Texas) and pretty much my whole life went to shit momentarily.
But thankfully things finally went back to normal ..kinda (after 2+ fucking weeks of no water) the damages are fixed and stuff but guess who is now $2k+ in debt
That’s right! Yours truly!
LMAOO hate it here
Y’all don’t invest in a home in America unless the area is good. And please check the foundation because wow. I hate it here sometimes.
Anyway, again I do apologize for such a shitty written chapter, but expect a part 4 (the final chapter) and also hopefully with a lot better writing. Like I’m literally so so so sorry I feel like it’s so anticlimactic but I got y’all, don’t worry. Ahhh again sorry if it’s anti climatic as fuck
I wanted to put something out for y’all so bad )^:
Anywho
Please anticipate my next works and also a master list and finalizing my blog theme
Finally lololol.
Thank you
I love you
Neptilian ✨
#jjk headcanons#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#geto suguru#geto x reader#jjk geto#suguru geto#suguru x reader
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Saved-A Meet Ugly
Author’s Note: Behold, the promised meet ugly inspired by @aewriting ! Blatantly stealing titles from early aughts teen films of my youth at this point.
Summary: Alex discovers a) his new roommate is a Christian Fundamentalist who hates him, b) he’s love with said roommate, and c) he’s super wrong.
CW: negative perspective on organized Christianity/Fundamentalism
Read on AO3
Alex meets his dormmate briefly in the hall as he and his parents are heading out to lunch. Michael Guerin is friendly, his barely-contained, nervous energy evident in the restless way he passes his hands through his close-cropped curls. His parents are formal, bordering on sour, and they glare at Alex’s eyeliner and polished fingernails with disdain. They don’t invite him to eat with them. Then again, Alex thinks as they part and he wanders towards the room he’ll share with Michael, his own father didn’t even bother to drop him off at school. Glass houses, or some shit like that.
Michael has claimed the left side of the room, his bed neatly made up with simple, blue sheets and his desk stuffed with thick textbooks, some already clearly marked with wear. A battered, clunky-looking laptop charges on his nightstand. Some secret tension in Alex slowly uncoils with the knowledge that he isn’t sharing living space with some rich prick; when he eschewed the Manes family military tradition for higher education, Alex left home with little more than his scholarships and a military duffle stuffed with clothes and stolen linens to his name. Knowing his days of watching douchebags like Kyle Valenti flaunt expensive tokens of their parents’ unconditional love are over is a small comfort.
That is, until Alex notices the crucifix resting on Michael's plaid pillowcase. It’s innocuous enough; Liz Ortecho's small home has plenty, family heirlooms hung as reverently as Texas gas station finds, and Alex counts her among his true family. But the facts fall into place like thundering dominos—Michael’s parents' disgust at Alex's makeup, the family's conservative clothes, Michael's closely-chopped hair and, after a bit of snooping, the two well-worn Bibles Alex finds, one in Michael's nightstand and the other on his small bookshelf. Fundamentalists, most likely. Alex swears loud and defiant into the empty room. He thought he'd left bigots and homophobes in his dust, but like a plague of fucking locusts, they followed him, and here he is about to share a sink with one of them.
But Alex also knows better than most that kids aren’t always carbon copies of their parents’ stupidity; he’d flip his shit if someone assumed they knew literally anything about his beliefs based on his asshole father. So when Michael returns to the room Alex is in stealth mode, spread out across his bed and feigning disinterest by flipping through his welcome packet, tracking Michael’s movements out of the corner of his eye. Michael blows a loud puff of air out through his lips and looks like he’s about to flop onto his bed. When he sees the crucifix, he freezes; Alex is about to celebrate a victory against religious indoctrination when Michael lifts the small cross reverently off his pillow and, after an appraising scan of his space, hangs it low on the wall above his nightstand, dragging his school-issued lamp in front of it. He jerks his chin down in a small nod of satisfaction before his eyes dart quickly over to Alex; he almost catches Alex in a glower. Instead, Alex is quietly seething over an intramural sports schedule, his face blank, eyes burning holes in the middle of the page. He figures he’s in the clear when he hears Michael’s bedsprings creak with the sudden weight of his body. Alex glances up and Michael is crossing his arms lazily behind his head. He lets out a loud, satisfied sigh and shoots Alex a disarmingly sincere grin.
“Free at last, huh?” he drawls, and Alex arches a cold brow.
“Sure.”
Alex has every intention of icing Michael out of his daily existence, but as months go by—months where Michael lets his curls grow wild, rambles on and on about the science of irrigation, offers Alex his extensive biology notes for midterms, and laughs loud and deep at all of Alex’s snarky asides—Alex finds himself smiling easily at Michael in return, willingly passing lazy lunch hours and weekend afternoons with him. It comes down to this: for all Michael hasn’t done—the crucifix is an ever-present shadow above his nightstand and weekly video check-ins with his parents are never missed—he just doesn’t fit the mold. He smokes weed on the abandoned picnic tables behind the dorm at night, signs every social justice-oriented pledge and petition shoved at him on a cheap, plastic clipboard on their way to class, and he never wakes up before noon on Sundays. He isn’t fire and brimstone, hate and hellfire. He’s marshmellow fluff; laid back and open, sweet and eager to please, all messy curls and broad shoulders and goofy smiles with too much teeth and—oh, fuck. Alex is in love with him.
Alex is in love with Michael and Michael probably thinks Alex deserves to burn in hell and it’s Kyle all over again. Alex was never in love with Kyle Valenti, but he loved him the way a neglected, angry little boy would love the popular, gregarious kid who was his only source of sunlight. Graciously. Blindly. Kyle was Alex’s best friend, and when middle school puberty made evident that Kyle was a stud and Alex was, well. Alex felt the betrayal of Kyle’s sudden targeted cruelty like a punch to the gut, long before Kyle or his new friends ever laid hands on him. And now, Alex realizes, Michael is his best friend and his heart’s deepest desire and, he’s finally ready to admit, who he jerks off to on lazy mornings after Michael’s barely made it out the door for his 8 a.m. class with a shirt on. Alex is well and truly fucked. “Damned” is too on the nose.
Then one day Alex is dragging his miserably-in-love ass back from class and he totally misses the tie that slipped from the doorknob onto the ugly carpet in front of their door and he opens it on Michael and some random guy going at it on Michael’s bed, sheets bunched at the foot of the mattress, shirts tossed inside out on the floor, and Michael’s hand deep down the guy’s jeans as he pants and whines into Michael’s mouth.
“Shit!” Alex cries, waffling between shutting the door behind him to shield them from the prying eyes of hallway passers-by or in front of him to shut himself out of his own room. “I-I’m so sorry.”
Michael looks flustered, but it’s not the bone-deep terror of being outed; Alex is intimately familiar with that darkest timeline of queer identity. His boyfriend—hook up?—just looks annoyed. His dark eyes glare at Alex and he snaps, “Do you mind, man?” with a sharp nod towards the door. Alex squares his jaw and opens his mouth to retort when Michael says softly, seriously, “Don’t talk to him like that,” shaking his head at his bedmate. The guy huffs in disbelief, rolling off the bed to pull on his shirt, still inside out, and fasten his jeans, brushing his fingers through messy, deep brown hair.
“You’re seriously kicking me out right now?” he murmurs low, and when Michael doesn't answer, he spits, “You are such a dick.”
Michael winces and bites his lip, normally bright eyes dim and gaze cast down towards his own hands. The sight of Michael cowed, flushed and hurt and getting told off by the same Hot Topic reject who was getting off with him not five minutes ago trips Alex's long-dormant kill switch. He steps into the guy's space, pulling back his shoulders so his shirt stretches tight over the muscles of his arms and chest, and draws up to his full height.
"You have thirty seconds to get the fuck out of our room," Alex says, voice low and eerily calm, even to his own ears. The guy glowers at Alex, but the corner of his mouth twitches and he blinks first, intimidation evident in his narrowed eyes. He brushes past Alex and slams the door behind him.
"Are you okay?" Alex asks, moving closer to Michael on instinct and setting a comforting hand on his bare shoulder. Michael gazes up at him with wide, honey eyes, opens his soft, pink mouth, and blurts, "I love you."
Alex blinks, gapes, and what comes out of his mouth is an incredulous, “But I’m gay!”
Michael snorts, cups Alex’s forearm gently and runs his palm up and down his skin, the soft hair on his arms.
“Yeah, I know. That’s kinda why I’m hoping I have a shot.” He pauses, hesitation creeping across his face, and he takes his hand off of Alex abruptly, as though he hadn’t quite realized he’d put it there in the first place. “If you’re not interested, I totally—”
“No, no, I am,” Alex says, and the wattage of Michael’s answering grin could power the university’s electric grid for the rest of the semester. “But I thought you were, like, Team Westboro or whatever.”
Michael’s face falls, his whole body withers, and he hugs his arms around his naked waist. The impact of Alex's words on Michael horrify him, and he drops onto the bed next to Michael, takes Michael's hand in his and strokes his thumb across it’s back, feels the knots of Michael’s knuckles as he grips Alex's hand in return.
“Why the hell would you think that?” Michael asks, staring at their palms pressed together in his lap.
Alex shrugs, answers, "I mean, I didn't. I don't. Not about, like, you." Michael turns his head, brow wrinkled in confusion. "It's just. The cross? The Bibles? Your parents, I—"
"They're not my parents, "Michael interrupts, voice flat. "They raised me, but. They never formally adopted me, and I'd have fucking run the other direction if I thought they were gonna."
Alex stays quiet, waits for Michael to continue, squeezes his hand gently to let Michael know he's listening.
"They're Fundamentalist assholes, for sure, but I never bought into that shit, especially once I—I realized I like more than just girls." Michael reaches out, pushes his lamp out of the way and glares at the crucifix. "I'd love to never see their fucking faces ever again, but winter break is coming up, and then summer vacation, and—" He hangs his head, nearly whispers, "I need to have a place to go. I can't afford an apartment on my own yet. So I play nice. Put that on my wall and make sure it's in the background for video calls. There’s, like, zero support for kids who age out of the system alone. I fucking hate it, but I need them."
Michael leans his head close to Alex's, catches his gaze and holds it with deep, whiskey-colored eyes Alex all but falls into.
"I'm not ashamed of what I like or who I love," he says, "and I'm so fucking in love with you, Alex. I just thought maybe you weren't into me."
Alex licks his lips, and a flush of arousal darkens his cheeks as Michael tracks the movements of his tongue with hungry concentration.
"I'm extremely into you," he says, his throat very suddenly bone dry, his voice husky. Michael's gaze hasn't moved from his lips, but he has flipped Alex's hand in his lap, starts running slow, feather-light brushes of his fingertips across Alex's palm and up his arm, fingers snaking under the short sleeve of Alex's shirt.
"I really wanna kiss you," Michael breathes, "but I’m also aware you just walked in on me hooking up with, like, Alex Manes-lite, so I—"
Alex closes the distance between them, pressing his lips to Michael's and cupping his neck, fingers finding their way into Michael's curls like he's been fantasizing about for so long. They're silky, clingy, and Michael tastes like lingering mouthwash and he smells like rain and Alex presses himself into Michael's lap, desperate to feel Michael's arms around his waist, the hard press of his chest against Alex's.
"I really want to do more than kiss you," Alex pants when they reluctantly part for air, when Michael’s fingers slip beneath his shirt and his nails scrape down Alex’s spine, and Alex feels the touch much lower on the geography of his skin.
Michael laughs, loud and free, and his strong hands on Alex's hips guide his legs apart until Alex is straddling his lap, those same hands pushing Alex's shirt up his chest, over his head.
"Thank God," Michael laughs, and reaches for Alex's belt.
#roswell nm#malex#malex fic#alex manes#michael guerin#college au#meet ugly#cw: negative perspective on Christianity/Fundamentalism
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here’s 5.7k of the unsinkable 8 during the zombie apocalypse. good for fans of leatin and goodfoe. it’s super unedited and i’m mainly just posting it for fun cause i finished it today. some references to world war z the book for fun, and i used the zombies from that too.
A flash of blonde and Dot’s gun went up, pointed directly at the head of whatever made their way toward her. She had two bullets left, six cigarettes, and the last mini of hard liquor she raided from the motel back in Aquilla.
She’d have to get it in one shot, which would be hard sitting down, with her back to it, half delirious.
She grunted as she pulled herself around, her leg still out in the makeshift splint. The zed crept closer, not going at the usual hobbling pace. It definitely had caught her scent though, maybe it was down a few limbs already.
She cocked her gun, flicking off the safety, keeping her finger off the trigger. She’d wait until she could see the whites of its eyes. Get it in one shot.
The blonde head crept closer and she finally tucked her gun over the rocks, making eye contact with it for the first time.
“Shelby Goodkind?”
“Dot Campbell?”
Shelby stared at her, lowering her own gun and Dot let out a breath of relief.
“Dottie, oh my god, I thought you were one of ‘em.” She put away her gun, Dot doing the same and she ran over. “It’s so good to see ya, what’s wrong?” She looked at the leg, her face paling.
“Ankles broken,” Dottie muttered. “Was gonna treat myself to one last drink,” she gestured at the bottle.
“Oh lord,” Shelby said. “Well that’s no good, I got a place not to far from here I’ve been camping out in. Some first aid stuff too.”
“I can’t give you anything back for it,” Dot said.
“We both know two people are more likely to make it,” Shelby said.
She looked sunburned and hollowed out, a little hungrier than the last time Dot saw her, headed with her family to that military base. She was alone, and desperate, everyone was. Because here was how it went in Texas. You could trust a stranger as far as you could throw ‘em, but you needed people to live. So if you had people, you lived. And Dot was people, or as close to people as Shelby was willing to get. She musta lost a lot to lower her standards so far.
“Alright,” Dot said. “We’re gonna have to go slow and you’re gonna have to carry a lot of shit.”
“No problem,” Shelby beamed.
Back at the camp, an old rusting trailer with some battery Shelby told her she was saving for a rainy day, Shelby re-splinted her, fed and watered her, and they pooled their resources. Twenty-six cigs now, which might get ‘em a few hours in a safe car north, if they wanted it. Or it might get ‘em some food, or a get out of jail free card, depending on the hunger of the people hunting ‘em.
It was late at night when Dot realized she hadn’t even asked yet.
“Family’s gone then?”
“Yeah,” Shelby said. “You?”
“My dad died before this shit show,” Dot said.
“Lucky,” Shelby said. She took a swig from the mini, and passed it over to Dot. “What’s your plan?”
“I heard there was a safer spot near San Antonio,” Dot said. “Running water and shit.”
Shelby shook her head, “Gone, three weeks ago. Heard it on the radio.”
Dot nodded, “What about you?”
“Radio said Hawaii’s better,” Shelby said. “There’s an operation ferrying people there on the west coast. It’s a thousand cigs per person. But there’s work by the dock if you’re willing to do it.”
“Work for you?” Dot asked.
Shelby’s jaw tightened, “I’ll do what I have to do. Lord forgive me.”
Dot sighed, “Sounds like we go west then.”
They hung around in the trailer for three days, pushing the limits of what was safe, and stumbled on to a new place in the area at daybreak on the fourth day. Dot’s ankle wasn’t broken, with the inflatable cast Shelby had in a week or so she’d be something regarding useful, and as long as she didn’t push herself she’d be more than fine.
Spending time with Shelby Goodkind was another story. For one thing, despite the zombie apocalypse, complete destruction of their lives and modern society, the death of her family and everyone in their town, Shelby was still good and kind. She’d clutch at the cross around her neck every time they’d pass a body, and would never touch one, even the ones that were recent and obviously not stripped clean. It made Dot kinda mad, she found five cigs just walking, and she wondered how many Shelby passed off being squeamish.
But Shelby also wasn’t squeamish, wasn’t afraid to take down a zed with a kitchen knife, and with that same hand wipe the gore off Dot all gentle. She called her Dottie, gave her the last blanket, and always volunteered for the first shift so Dot could watch the sunrise. Dot hadn’t been cared for in a long while, hadn’t been around people in even longer. She decided she might love it.
But Shelby was a magnet, always had been, she talked about god’s light long enough that she got Dot believing it all fell on her. It wasn’t a real surprise when she showed up with a stray.
“What the fuck,” Dot said. “Did you kidnap a child?”
“I did not kidnap a child,” Shelby said, picking the girl up with some difficulty and lifting her onto the backseat of the broken down minivan they were holed up in.
“I sent you out to get sunscreen,” Dot said. “How did you come back with a child?”
“She’s our age,” Shelby said. “I think. And listen, I found her barricaded in a utility closet with a bad fever, I knew we had some tablets but I didn’t wanna leave her.”
“Like bite fever?” Dot asked. “We don’t have enough bullets to—”
“No,” Shelby shook her head, “Look,” she gently unwrapped a bandage around the girl’s arm, revealing a bad slice. “It’s infected. Not a bite. We’re okay.”
Dot sighed and nodded. The girl’d probably try and rob ‘em blind but if they watched her hands and got away fast enough they should be fine. They’d be fine.
“You’re more trouble than you’re worth,” Dot muttered. Shelby smiled, all sweet and gentle and bright and Dot rolled her eyes.
The girl took the tablets, they washed and changed the bandages, after about fourteen hours she blinked awake, unfortunately while Dot was on watch.
“Who—who are you?”
“Dot Campbell,” she said.
The girl stared at her.
“My friend saved your ass,” Dot said. “Shelby.”
“Um,” the girl inched back, “Why? Where am I?”
“We’re on the twenty-two, not from from the ten-eighty,” Dot told her. “You got a nasty infection there, got any cigs?”
“No, I don’t smoke.”
Dot blinked at her. “Alright then.”
“My friends will be looking for me,” the girl said. “I should get back to them.” She didn’t have an accent, Dot realized, not even a thin one like her own.
“Shelby found you around Mr. K’s, we can draw you a map if you’d like,” Dot said. “Where you from?”
“Austin,” the girl lied, badly.
“Alright then,” Dot said again. “Well we’ll draw you a map in the mornin and you can leave a day break. It ain’t far.”
“Thank you,” the girl said. “For helping me.”
“Shelby’s idea,” Dot said. Neither of ‘em slept the whole time, the girl smart enough to keep an eye out, and Dot’s whole job to watch out. She woke Shelby up when she was supposed to and easily muddled into a slumber.
A nice thing, about the zombie apocalypse, was Dot had gotten a lot better at sleeping. She used to stay up for hours thinking ‘bout how she’d pay the bills, how much her dad’s meds cost, whether he was coughing more that night than he did most nights, but now she hit whatever soft looking rock she decided to call a pillow and conked out until Shelby woke her. Shelby, on the other hand, barely slept a wink, shooting up at the slightest sign of trouble, even when Dot was on watch. Too much time on her own, Dot’d guess.
Before Shelby Mateo wandered with Dot. He was quiet and sweet and she had took care of him as best she could. Shelby didn’t have nobody before Dot. Just her dead parents, and if Dot remembered eighth grade soccer well enough, a couple of dead siblings too.
So Dot pretty much conked out and missed the way the girl and Shelby giggled all night. But even she wasn’t blind to their bond when she woke, the way the girls smiled easily at one another, laughed with each other, kept up with each other.
“Dottie,” Shelby said. “Martha,” so that was the stranger’s name “said you told her we could draw her a map but Mr. K’s ain’t far, we might as well take her.”
Dot grunted, she didn’t wanna waste a day but it wasn’t like Mr. K’s would take all day and they might as well see if they could find any more cigs. She hadn’t met any non-smokers in a long while. Apocalypse sorta took the fun out of being straight-edge, if Dot had to guess.
Dot took the back, a metal bat out and ready, and Shelby and Martha took the front. Shelby had a makeshift spear made, good for longer range, but worse up close, and she gave Martha the other bat they had. To borrow, Dot had emphasized.
One of the other things that never got old about the apocalypse, was walking up a highway. Walking straight up that middle line, knowing no one would dare drive a car ‘round there. It felt like the world was yours and empty, like you were finding it, rebuilding it, building it. It was as close to a cowboy as she had felt since her daddy let her ride on his back. It was as close to free as she had ever felt.
They got back to Mr. K’s and Dot saw the approaching figures first, aiming her rifle right at ‘em, safety off and gun cocked, but her finger off the trigger. It was Shelby’s hunting rifle, actually, but she had handed it to Dot first chance she had, looking kinda pale. She had Dot’s old handgun now, useless with this kinda range.
“Live ones?” Shelby asked.
“Can’t tell,” Dot said. “Just kinda standing there.”
“They could be waiting for me,” Martha said. Dot glanced at her, hoping the girl wasn’t actually as naive as she seemed. She probably was.
They walked as close as they dared, before Martha was able to confirm that yes it was her friends.
She ran at ‘em and one of ‘em collided with her, slamming her into a hug. There were two more, just kinda watching Dot and Shelby.
“We should go,” Dot said. “We did what we said.”
“Dottie,” Shelby said.
Dot sighed and the two of ‘em trudged up to the happy pair, reuniting like they had been separated for years, decades, instead of a few hours. It was a miracle they were reunited at all, Mateo said he’d meet her back at the camp in an hour and she had to bash his head in six months later with a sledge hammer.
“Who’re your friends, Martha?” One of the other people asked. It was four girls counting Martha, lucky, none of ‘em white, but they all looked around the same age as Dot and Shelby.
“This is Shelby,” Martha grinned, “And Dot.”
Dot nodded at them.
“I am just so pleased to make your acquaintance,” Shelby smiled, holding out her hand to the girl who still had an arm wrapped around Martha.
“This is Toni,” Martha said, squeezing the girl’s side when she didn’t take Shelby’s hand. “And Rachel and Nora.”
“Ah,” Shelby smiled, “Toni your sister right?”
Martha nodded, Toni glared. “Yeah it’s great to meet you or whatever. There a reason you kidnapped Martha?”
“I saw her passed out and worried she was alone,” Shelby explained. “I knew we had some tablets back at the camp but—”
“What do you want?” Rachel asked. “We got about six hundred if that’s—” Martha from Austin, Dot’s ass. Money hadn’t meant shit in Texas for awhile. These kids were from up north, probably pretty far up north too. Maine or some shit. Delaware.
“Got any cigs?” Dot asked.
“Yes,” Nora said. “We have a couple packs.”
“Great,” Dot held out her hands and two packs were dropped into them. Nora didn’t make eye contact the entire time, her hands fidgeting with anything. She was covered in scabs and scars, picking at her own skin probably.
“Where y’all headed?” Shelby asked.
“None of your business,” Toni said.
“Apparently the San Antonio Zone relocated to Tyler,” Martha said. “We heard some people talking about it last week.”
“Y’all got a radio?” Dot asked.
Martha shook her head.
“If you had one you’d know that that’s what they’re pulling now, telling people to go to Tyler, they shoot you as soon as you step foot in Athens.”
“So where are you guys headed?” Rachel demanded.
“West,” Shelby said. “Radio says they’re ferrying clean folks to Hawaii. It’s an island so.”
“Clean how?” Rachel asked, taking a step forward and lifting her jaw.
Dot sighed.
Shelby’s eyes widened, “Clean as in not infected, I mean.”
“Chill,” Rachel smiled, all thin, “I was kidding.”
“Great,” Dot said. “Not that this hasn’t been fun, but we should be going.”
“Wait,” Martha said. “It’s just, we might as well go west too. And we might as well go west together.”
“Marty,” Toni grabbed her by her uninjured arm, “I wanna talk to you for a moment.”
They got into a whispered argument for a few minutes. Rachel joined and it escalated but Martha came out on top, smiling as she approached them.
“We might as well go together,” she repeated.
Shelby’s smile was just as wide, “We would be alighted to have you.”
The new girls were a nightmare. Rachel and Nora, sisters as Dot would learn, hated one another. And by hated Dot meant, had a complicated relationship of love without trust or mutual respect. Nora didn’t trust Rachel, Rachel didn’t respect Nora, and they were constantly going at one another. Toni had some sorta toxic jealousy thing going on, despising Shelby because she was monopolizing Martha. She also tended to fly into these rages, making her wander off for long periods that had Dot itching to grab her gun and demanding the girl strip to check for bites. Mateo’s dad used to do the same thing, wander off to check his bite.
Shelby also was wholly focused on two things now: Martha, and Toni’s hate. Dot ambled along behind all of ‘em, keeping the sisters from killing each other, Toni’s voice down, and everyone else alive.
The worst part was it took Dot nearly three days before she caught sight of it.
“You have one hand,” Dot glared at Rachel. Rachel slung the pack over her shoulder.
“You’re just noticing that now?” Rachel asked. “I must be getting better with it.”
“The fuck happened?” Dot said.
“My hand got bit,” Rachel shrugged. “Cut it off before it spread, didn’t even know it would work.”
Dot whistled, low and quiet, like they were all used to being.
“I cut it off,” Nora corrected, sullenly.
Rachel rolled her eyes.
“I’m still quicker on the draw than you,” Rachel said, the words clunky in her mouth.
Dot set her jaw, “So y’all are sticking with the story that you’re from Austin?”
“We’re from New York,” Nora said. Rachel glared at her. “What? You think some group would waste three days on four teenage girls?”
“New York?” Dot asked. “Everyone knows it’s safer up north, why the hell are you down here?”
“You hear about Yonkers?” Rachel asked.
Dot shook her head.
“It was the last op the US military set up before they fell apart. We’d made it out by then but we watched it happen on the news. Someone in a group we had still had a phone and the whole thing was live streamed. All of the death. The group were supposed to go to some military bases up in Canada but we wanted a wide open space with plenty of guns.”
“Texas,” Dot said.
Rachel nodded.
“Stupid,” Dot told her. “You probably came for San Antonio too.”
Rachel sighed, “Nobody was gonna survive those Canadian winters without a base, and we weren’t sure we were gonna get one. Rather get bit than freeze.”
“How’d you meet Toni and Martha?” Dot asked.
“Toni and I got into a fistfight over some Takis,” Rachel said.
Dot nodded, “Fuego?”
“Fuego.”
And yeah they were a nightmare but quicker than Dot wanted they became her nightmare. Still though, she dragged Shelby away from Martha and Toni’s sides, and muttered, “we can still go. Ditch if you want. Whenever. We don’t know ‘em.”
Shelby, in high school, woulda been scandalized, muttered some bible passage at her. This Shelby was a little more grown and only looked at her all serious.
“You knew what I was when you picked me up,” she said. “And I knew what Martha was. We’ll face our consequences, I reckon.”
Dot nodded.
Walking all day, everyday, wasn’t easy stuff. Especially since they had to strip as many bodies as they could find. Nora figured it out pretty quick, mumbling something to Rachel who recruited Toni to storm over to Dot.
“You don’t smoke them, but you’re hoarding them,” Rachel said. “Why?”
Dot kept her easy pace. “These things are currency now, the value’ll only go up over time.”
“Currency for what?” Toni asked. “What are you trying to buy?”
“You think a ferry to Hawaii is free?” Dot asked. “I’m saving for all of us.”
“Dottie,” Shelby walked over, Martha sticking by Nora, “What’s up?”
“How much?” Toni asked. “Really, how much?”
“A hundred each,” Dot said, too quickly.
“Try again,” Rachel said.
“Dot,” Shelby got between them, looking at Dot. “Thou shalt not lie, right? Tell ‘em the truth.” Dot glared at her and Shelby turned back around to Rachel. “It’s five hundred each. We got about a hundred now, so no one’s going to Hawaii.”
“What if there aren’t enough?” Toni asked. “Who decides then?”
“We’ll draw straws,” Shelby said.
It was as easy a solution as anything but the tenseness started building up, Rachel and Toni viewing Dot with more suspicion. It’d fade, over time, Dot knew. Or they’d all die.
The worst it got, was actually Shelby’s doing, the easy peace maker of it all. They hadn’t bothered building a fire, despite how cold and exposed it got in Texas at night, but they huddled together between three cars they found abandoned along the highway that they pushed into a triangle. Someone got to the seat cushions of all three first, so there was nothing comfortable to lie their heads on. It was easy for Dot though, the asphalt as soft as anything to her now.
They stayed up later than they should’ve talking. Trading stories about their old life that all of them knew weren’t doing any good. Toni played basketball, was pretty good at it too. Rachel had a skill for swimming she’d never have again. Nora did quiz bowl, surprising no one. Dot talked about metal, fishing with her dad, what types of pills sold for what. Martha was a dancer, and a vegetarian once. It was something that made ‘em all crack up. When humans become man eating beasts, and once upon a time there were jokes online about vegans. Shelby talked about the yearbook, mission trips, Andrew.
But then cause Shelby started it by prattling on about Andrew Toni got it in her head to talk about Regan and Shelby was talking about Leviticus.
The next morning, Rachel quietly pulled Dot aside and told her to take all the cigarettes and head out. That they could make their own way west. Dot didn’t ask for an invitation to go with her.
They split off at the twenty-five, Dot and Shelby heading for the forty, Toni, Martha, Rachel, and Nora heading for the sixty.
Shelby was heartbroken for a few days, apologetic too, and grateful. Dot didn’t let her have any of that, only said, “It’s cause we’re from the same town. We might be the only ones from there left.”
They trudged on.
In Arizona Dot found the love of her life, her soulmate, Fatin Jadmani. In a completely straight way too. Fatin matched her tit for tat, spoke a language Dot hadn’t realized she’d been born knowing. Her girlfriend was an anxious woman named Leah, who Shelby got on with. Dot had worried, upon bringing the two back to camp, that Shelby would chase ‘em away again, but she hadn’t. Just smiled at the two of them, easily offering up a couple granola bars.
Whenever tenseness came about Fatin just laughed, and Leah rolled her eyes. It wasn’t perfect, Dot knew, there was too much hate for that, but it would last ‘em long enough. The four of ‘em just worked in this great lovely way.
Only problem was their destination.
“We barely managed to get out of LA,” Leah mumbled, she hugged her legs, her head leaning on Fatin’s shoulder.
“LA?” Shelby asked. “That’s where we’re headed.”
“What the fuck?” Fatin glared at Dot, “Dorthy I thought you had more sense than that.”
“There’s some military guys ferrying people to Hawaii,” Dot said.
“Where’d you hear that, the radio?” Fatin asked. She sighed at their nods, “They’re broadcasting out to whoever will hear it, but there is no ferry to Hawaii. The entire thing is just selling and shipping as many girls out as possible. We have no idea where though.”
“So when you say you barely made it out,” Dot said.
Fatin’s face was grim.
“We have to warn ‘em,” Shelby said.
“Warn who?” Dot asked.
“Toni and the others! They don’t know!” Shelby stood up. “I’ll plot out the course now and we’ll start out fresh tomorrow. We aren’t leaving ‘em to—to—we aren’t leaving ‘em.” She stormed off and Dot watched her go.
“She wants to go towards LA to help some motherfuckers who kicked you out of their group?” Fatin asked.
“Yeah,” Dot said.
“Are you gonna go with her?” Leah asked.
“I knew what she was when I picked her up,” Dot said.
“What do you wanna do?” Leah asked Fatin.
Fatin pressed her cheek to Leah’s head, “I don’t know if I can risk you.” Fatin looked at Dot, “Are you gonna be stupid?”
“No,” Dot said.
“Then we’ll come,” Fatin sighed. “Leah that okay?” Leah nodded.
Neither of ‘em were as good at offing zed as Shelby and Dot. Fatin was decent at finding stuff though, scoping stuff, and Leah had endurance none of the rest of ‘em could match. She was like a zed sometimes, just kept going, could keep going, until her knees wore down to dust and then she’d crawl, crawl until her fingers wore down to nubs and then she’d inch, inch until something put her out of her misery. It terrified Fatin and Shelby, but Dot couldn’t help being impressed.
So Dot ambled after Shelby toward Bethlehem on the forty but they were gonna leap back on the interstate and hopefully head ‘em off. Hopefully Martha, Toni, Rachel, and Nora’d be alive, and they’d find ‘em. And if they didn’t find ‘em, hopefully they’d be dead. And Shelby stopped sleeping about a day or two into trek. Would just keep staring at the maps and keeping watch, and taking inventory and thumbing around her necklace.
When Dot woke up on the third day of their walk, Shelby’s hair was much shorter and Fatin looked real scared. Shelby kept walking and walking and, in a fit of rage that matched Toni’s, launched her necklace off the highway. She looked like she regretted it after but they had no choice but to keep going.
They passed an arm and it looked like Rachel’s.
Shelby walked faster. Leah had that glint in her eye. Fatin took Dot’s hand and looked very very scared.
After two more days Shelby said fuck it, and found a car with some gas in it and told 'em to get in.
Dot stood in front, “Shelby,” Shelby glared at her, “This’ll attract every body in the fucking country. The sound, the smell, I’m not just talking about the dead ones neither.”
Shelby swallowed hard, “You gonna stay behind then?”
“Shelby,” Dot said. “If you leave me here I’ll get caught up in the hoard. That what you want?”
“Get in the damn car, Dottie!” Shelby said.
“If we get to ‘em in time, but there’s a fucking hoard following us, we won’t have anywhere to go but on,” Dot said. “Fucking think!”
“I am thinking,” Shelby spat back. She shoved Dot, “I’m thinking about Toni, and Martha walking from Minnesota to Texas only to die in California. I’m thinking about Nora and Rachel watching Yonkers fall and then getting shipped off to who knows where. That’s what I’m thinking.”
“Shelby we can make it,” Leah said.
“No we can’t!” Shelby said. “I’ve done the math, I keep looking at these maps, there’s no way we’ll make it in time without a mode of transportation. No car and they die.”
“Then what the fuck are we going there?” Dot asked. “If it’s too late—”
“It is not too late!” Shelby said, her throat was all closed and choked sounding. “I can save ‘em! Jesus fuckin Christ we have to help ‘em!”
“Shelby,” Dot said, she put a hand on her shoulder. “We can’t take a car, and we can’t make it by foot,” Shelby’s face crumpled. “They’re gone, alright? We should be planning our next move.”
“No,” Leah said. She shook her head, “We have to help them.”
“You don’t even know ‘em,” Dot said.
“I’m not letting four innocent girls go through what I nearly went through,” Leah said.
“I’m with Leah,” Fatin said. “We’ll take the car and play it by ear.”
“Play the-hoard-that-will-start-coming-after-us-the-second-we-turn-on-the-engine by ear?” Dot asked.
“Let’s vote,” Shelby said. “All in favor of going?”
Fatin, Leah, and Shelby all raised their hands.
“C’mon,” Dot begged. She looked at Fatin, “You told me not to be stupid!”
“So don’t be stupid,” Fatin said. “Get in the car.”
Dot sighed, wanted to punch something, wanted to cry, was too tired to do either, got in the car.
The car attracted so many fucking zed, they wouldn’t be able to stop, and they had to hope there was enough in the fucking tank to get them to wherever the four were. Dot watched the dead bodies creep closer, at their slow hobbling, relentless pace. Fatin drove, Shelby used her pike to spear any who got too close, Dot watched the maps and steadily got herself into a panic.
They were gonna die trying to save the asses of some girls they spent a couple days with.
This was not what Shelby was when Dot picked her up, this was not what she was. Shelby had gone behind Dot’s back and fucking grown as a person, hadn’t she? How the fuck was Dot gonna get away from her? She’d have to pack Fatin in a suitcase and then Leah too and that would mean entirely abandoning Shelby to be on her lonesome oh god.
Dot was stuck, wasn’t she.
As they kept driving Shelby had to keep spearing zed. It started off as one or two, but as the hours wore on they were leaning on five, six, a steady growing mass ambling behind ‘em.
If that had really been Rachel’s arm, they were probably dead. All of ‘em. Or maybe in the mass behind ‘em. And if they weren’t, they’d hear the car coming and head for the hills, assuming it meant a hoard was close behind. Which it was.
This was such a fucking terrible idea.
“So what, we just wait for a sign to say welcome to LA and then give up? We won’t find ‘em like this,” Dot said.
“Shut up!” Shelby said, she speared another.
“At least check you ain’t offing one of ours,” Dot said. “They could all be zed, for all we know.”
“I said shut up,” Shelby turned to glare at her and a zed slammed against the door. She speared it and Dot’s mouth clamped shut. “We just gotta keep going,” she said. “We’ll be fine, we just gotta keep moving.”
“You’re crazy,” Dot said.
Shelby didn’t have anything to say to that.
It was worse at nightfall, with visibility down, and they just had to keep going, to hope their car wasn’t stripped when they went over the bumps of mutilated corpses still hungry for a last meal.
“We’re almost to LA,” Shelby said. “We got nearly a hundred cigs, we might be able to bribe someone if they jump us.”
Leah snorted.
They were driving through an empty enough part of Nevada though, less corpses hurling themselves off the road and towards them. Still the ever growing mass behind ‘em now, maybe fifty, seventy five, but about twenty out.
“I gotta piss,” Dot said.
“Hurry,” Fatin said.
Dot stumbled out, no one noticing her grabbing her pack. The zed would follow the car, she’d make a clean break. She’d survive.
She was only seven minutes south, judging by the north star Shelby taught her to find when someone’s hand grabbed her. She pulled out her hand gun, jamming it into the head and flicking the safety off.
“Dot! Jesus Christ!”
The girl was wide-eyed, tan, hollowed out, empty and desperate. Reminded her of the empty pill bottles around her house after her dad died.
“Toni?”
Toni nodded, “Why are you here? Fuck that I don’t give a shit, you got water?” Dot handed it to her and Toni downed it. “The other’s are close, c’mon.” She stumbled as she got up, clearly dizzy, and Dot grabbed her forearm.
“We’ve been looking everywhere for you guys,” Dot said.
“Don’t tell me it’s you in the fucking car,” Toni said. “We’ve been running from that thing for ages.”
“I fucking told Shelby,” Dot said.
“Shelby?” Toni asked, she was almost too exhausted to sound disgusted, but she managed it.
“Listen, LA isn’t safe, we found out. They’re not taking kids to Hawaii, they’re taking them.”
Toni went pale, “Fuck.” She even sounded choked now. “Shelby’s having a fucking aneurysm worrying about you so I don’t even think she’s that fucking homophobic. I’ll get everyone back to the car, you tell ‘em I’m coming.”
Toni nodded, stumbling towards the street and Dot walked back to the direction Toni pointed to before she left. Rachel, Nora, and Martha were all in various points of disarray. Exhausted, dehydrated, starving, aching and bleeding. Dot had to half carry, half drag Nora with Martha and Rachel had to get a stick to lean on as they stumbled toward the street.
“We got like ten minutes,” Fatin said. “People are gonna have to double buckle, and before anyone else makes a decision, we’re going north.”
Dot strapped everyone in and found herself sitting next to Shelby who met her eyes in a hundred yard stare.
“You took your pack.”
“Yeah.”
“But you came back.”
“Yeah.”
“Fine.”
They started on again. Dot saw Toni keep sneaking glances at Shelby and Shelby kept sneaking ‘em back.
They weren’t far from Mt. Tobin when the two finally stopped dancing around each other.
Dot convinced everyone to ditch the car near LA, walking as quickly as they could once they did, knowing it’d take awhile to ditch the hoard too. Dot watched Toni talk to Shelby in low tones, Shelby full of apologies and panics and Toni keeping her cool longer than Dot had ever seen it.
Martha took to Fatin quickly, everyone did, and Nora and Leah spent long hours walking beside each other mumbling about books or something. Not anything Dot gave two shits about.
Rachel ambled along with Dot most of the time. Whenever Fatin and Leah were all over each other and Dot didn’t feel like third wheeling. Rachel was always listening to the radio and as time passed it became clear that the two of them were the most capable of keeping everyone alive. And not in a more knowledgable way. Because Nora knew what plants were edible, and Shelby was a better shot. Or in an emotional way, because Fatin and Martha handled that. But in a planning sorta way. Because Dot knew how to get them to point B, while Rachel was working on point E.
“We should go to Washington,” Rachel muttered on one of the late nights they spent keeping watch while they poured over maps. “We might be able to find a boat to Victoria.”
“Victoria?” Rachel pointed her out.
“It’s a Canadian island. Canada lasted a little longer than we did, Victoria might not be in such a bad way.”
“Less guns in Canada,” Dot said. “And there might not be a boat that’ll take us there. Plus, we don’t know the currency.”
“We’re eight teenage girls,” Rachel pointed out. “We stick around so close to Cali, we’re asking for trouble. We need to put an ocean between us and whatever the fuck they’re doing there.”
Dot sighed. So they’d go to Washington.
On the way they’d probably run into another group who’d tell them Washington was overrun but there was something decent in Wisconsin. Half way to Wisconsin someone would tell ‘em their information was bad and they need to get south where there were guns and space. They’d almost be in Georgia when someone would tell ‘em there was some real government up in New York again.
They’d follow pipe dream to pipe dream to pipe dream. They’d probably die young.
Toni curled around Shelby, holding Martha’s hand. Fatin and Leah held on for dear life. Rachel didn’t take her eyes off Nora. Dot watched them all.
Yeah they’d probably die young. Better than dying alone.
#gus writes#the wilds#the wilds fanfic#goodfoe fanfic#shoni#leatin fanfic#leatin#dot campbell#leah rilke#fatin jadmani#shelby goodkind#toni shalifoe#rachel reid#nora reid#martha blackburn#the unsinkable 8#the unsinkable eight
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