#guys 2: you sure you mean your wife and not yourself? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

qwimchii · 8 months

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𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭 (pt. 5) — 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺

playlist pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4 pt. 5 pt. 6 pt. 7 pt. 8 (10/24)

𝘨𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘧!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘵'𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘸, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘸𝘤 — 17.2𝘬 (oopsie)

𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘨𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘥𝘰𝘮!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘥𝘰𝘮!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘥!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘷𝘪𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘯!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘵!𝘢𝘶, 141𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘨!𝘢𝘶, 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 (10𝘺𝘳𝘴), 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭, 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 & 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘤𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘴, 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘷, 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩(ish), 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘷𝘪𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺

note: casually posts this 3 days later.... im so sorry you guys i didn't mean to drop off the face of the earth >< things came up all of a sudden but the next chapter is here!!

your dreams were long and relentless. they stretched out into scenes that didn’t make sense, but there were some distinct faces. one-four-one, Kate, and strange muted flickers of Konig’s ginger head, Yue-Yi, then a warmth peeking up between the passing scenes.

Simon. his bare face with silvery scars.

you wanted to reach out and touch him but he crumbled like sand before you could, collecting in a brown particulate matter between your fingers, then blowing away into the whistling wind.

then there were darker images. Charles and his gold tooth. the red gouge in the middle of Turner’s head. his cowering wife and small daughter in her arms.

your dead daddy and mama rotting away in the sand.

you didn’t know what to make of all of it, dragging your feet through a thick sludge that you couldn’t see, traveling to a place you didn’t know as images streamed past in an endless, murky deluge.

you dreamed like that for a long time, heavy and infinite, till you laid down in the soft earth and invisible sludge, letting the sticky warmth of it suck you down into the dirt and the sand blow over your body.

when you woke two days later, three, maybe four, you weren’t sure, you slowly blinked awake and sat up in the bed. you looked around.

the windows were drawn open in the soft light of the morning, pouring across the wooden floorboards and cast over the thick blankets of the small bed. there was a desk on the far side of the room, a compact kitchen pressed to the corner, and you jolted with a gasp.

Simon’s cabin.

drawing off the covers quickly, and shivering in dewy, cold morning, clad in a thin nightgown, you quickly walked to the mesh door of the cabin, feeling light and airy.

pushing the door open, you could smell a tinge of something rich and savory in the air, and saw a man in a white button up and jeans crouched down, stoking something in a pot strung up over a campfire.

he had a familiar, broad back, and a blonde head of hair. with a grin so big it ached, you padded with bare feet over to him, and draped yourself over the warm, strong expanse of his back, wrapping your arms around his neck with a hum.

“good morning, lovely,” he said with a low, thrumming laugh, turning his head to press his nose into your cheek.

you closed your eyes and nuzzled against him, squealing when he reached behind to wrap his arms around your legs and draw them around his waist, hoisting you up on his back as he stood. you clutched onto him, laughing as he walked back up the path to the cabin and laid you out over the bed with a softness.

he pressed his face to your neck, stroking through your hair, mumbling against your skin, “how are you feeling, pretty girl?”

“perfect,” you sang, truthfully honest, your heart soaring at the sight of him. you lifted his face gently to look over the easy smile that adorned it.

his strong blonde brow, the curve of his nose, full lips, dark eyes, and strong jaw, and—

your eyes darted over his upper lip again. there was no silvery scar.

brows pinched together now, Simon smoothed a hand over your chest. “what is it, lovely?”

“your scar,” you said with wonder, head tilted, “it’s gone.”

he laughed softly, the sound rough and musical. “what do you mean?”

then, he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, soft, warm, wet and captivating as his lips moved against your own.

but you pushed him back by his chest, feeling a strange, murky sensation in your stomach.

“what are we doing here, Simon?” you asked, apprehensive. he drew back, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking your hand in his.

“you’re asking such strange questions, lovely,” he said with a furrowed brow, though there was a still wry smile on his lips.

you rolled your eyes with your own smirk. “then, answer them.”

he grinned, kissing your hand softly.

“what’s going through my pretty wife’s mind?”

a dread accumulated in your throat, and your tongue grew heavy. “wife?”

his grip faltered at the flat tone of your voice, and you looked down to your joined hands, startling at the sight of a sparkling ring on your hand that was enveloped between his fingers.

“what do you want?”

your eyes snapped to his. “what?”

his face was eerily empty and void and totally unlike his own now. he cocked his head. “what do you want?”

you sat up, inching away from him. he was stock still, eyes following your movements with a predatory precision. there was a new, burning sensation building in your arm and you hissed, gripping at the tightly, but looking down to find nothing different about your skin.

Simon’s voice dropped an octave, harsh and cold now. “what do you want from me?”

you stood from the bed, and he followed you, edging you out of the cabin, looming over you with a menacing height you had never seen before. his face was twisted with anger.

“what do you want from me?”

you clasped your hands over your ears, turning on your heel and running out the cabin and away from its idyllic warmth, bare feet thudding over the earth. you didn’t turn to look if Simon was still following you, but you could hear his distant shouts through your hands.

“what do you want from me?”

the forest stretched into the desert and you wandered through its uncanny, thick and sandy sludge with bare feet, the thin cotton of your nightgown grating against your skin. you dragged your feet, a new exhaustion overcoming you with an insurmountable wave. the skin of your arm still burned with a ferocity.

to quell it, you laid down in the sand and thick sludge, letting the sticky warmth of it suck you down into the earth and the sand blow over your body.

when you awoke, you really, really knew it was real this time because there was a sore dryness in your mouth, a pulsing ache in your head, and a searing, thorough burn enveloping your arm and reaching down to your fingertips.

your eyes fluttered open. there wasn’t an idyllic cabin awaiting you, no rays of warm sunlight through the windows, nor a husband making breakfast for his wife before she woke. just a cramped room and small windows that were a pitched black dark. the soft light of the oil lamp beside you, carefully balanced on a thin, precarious nightstand, poured over the quilt blankets weighing you down.

you could barely do more than roll your head to the side, and you were endlessly grateful to see the back of Kate’s blonde head bobbing lightly as she clicked away on a typewriter at a small desk framed with stacked books on the opposite side of the narrow room, a cigarette between her lips, smoke trailing up above her head in a hazy cloud.

you tried to use your voice, to call out, but all that came out was a breathy, grating warble that had Kate whirling around in her chair with alarm.

when she saw you had awoken, she struggled to her feet, putting out the cigarette against the fine woodstain of the desk, and reached for your good hand.

“hey, hey,” she soothed, snatching a cup of water from the nightstand and bringing it to your lips, helping you take down the cool liquid over the scalding heat in your throat.

you gulped it down gratefully.

she patted your cheek with a tenderness that had your eyes closing at the lightest touch. “glad to see you awake. you scared us, missy. you slept for three days.”

you almost choked on the water at that and she drew back the cup with a haste and a noise of alarm, pulling you forward slightly to slap at your back.

emerging from your coughing fit, you jolted when you met a pair of dark brown eyes by the edge of the room. within the corner of the room, it seemed Maria had just emerged from a slumber in an armchair, rubbing at her face before stretching back into it.

Kate’s line of sight followed your eyes, face impossibly mellow when she and Maria shared a smile. you noted the interaction with a creeping curiosity.

attempting your voice, and sounding entirely unlike yourself, you croaked, “what happened?”

Kate took your hand again, tighter this time as Maria came closer. she sat at the foot of the bed with a tired smile, your feet pressed into her side.

“there’s more good than bad,” Kate said, looking so tired you didn’t think she could muster anything but the truth. you were betting on it.

“tell me the truth Kate,” you said, voice stronger now, “i want all of it. the bad.”

she shared another look with Maria, sighing out after a long moment. “alright.”

you straightened, inching further up the pillows, much to your body’s resistance, and curled an arm around your chest, trying not to fidget against the itching, creeping thrum of pain in your other arm. your eyes darted down to it—wrapped up tight in bandages from mid-bicep to your fingertips. where the pain had been in your endless dreams.

Kate followed your line of sight. “first off,” she started, tapping a finger lightly to your bandaged wrist, “bad burn. there was a surgery. will probably leave scars.”

you grimaced at the thought, but you could handle a few scars after barely scraping away with your own life. your painfully empty stomach broiled at the thought.

“how did i survive?” you asked, almost in wonder. you were so sure your last moments would’ve been beside Simon—the thick smog clouding your senses and tipping everything in a smoky, confusing daze that kept you tethered to the floor, and his soft lips against your own.

even if you crawled, you don’t think you could’ve escaped that burning mansion.

“that austrian hitman,” she sighed out, rubbing a hand over her forehead with frustration. “took you and ran. left Ghost behind to die.”

you stiffened at the thought, not sure if you would thank Konig or slap him by the end of this. if you even would see him by the end of this. did you even want to see him by the end of this?

with a sour feeling, your voice dropped, solemn and throaty. “and Simon?”

she grimaced. “he’s… alive.”

you released a shaky breath. alive was enough. more than enough.

“and the rest of you? one-four-one? how did you escape the mansion?”

she looked away from you, staring at an untrained point in the room. “we turned tail as soon as the mansion was up in flames. so did Turner’s men. Ghost was an idiot and went runnin’ in to finish off Turner and got trapped in by fallen debris. we couldn’t reach him and he got burnt. bad. i’m assumin’ he found you in the process.”

you nodded slowly, biting back a bitter swirl of anger. Simon, always so careless with his own life, and overprotective of your own. you wanted to hate him for it.

like always, you couldn’t.

“i killed Turner,” you said, voice an eerie emptiness you didn’t know you could manage.

Maria roused at the end of the bed, slouched body growing straighter, sharing a wide-eyed glance with Kate before their attention was trained on you again.

“that’s…” Kate searched for words. “news.”

you continued on. “i killed him. i wanted to leave him and let him burn to death but…”

you remembered the curling, blooming delight you felt in the moment of putting a bullet right through his forehead.

now, you just felt an overwhelming numbness.

with your prolonged silence, Kate released your hand to stroke your good arm in comfort. “you did us and yourself a service, honey.”

you just gave her a sheepish look and she returned it with a wry smile. “who knew you had it in you, angel?”

Yue-Yi did, you thought weakly, though the nauseating roil in your stomach decided that you never wanted to kill again. you never wanted to take revenge on another person again.

a panic rose thinking of the possibility of it. one-four-one would undoubtedly fill the power vacuum left behind by Turner’s death, but who would rise to challenge that?

the inevitable, never-ending prospect of violence that followed the gang like a bad omen left you clutching at your stomach with dread.

Maria leaned forward onto her palm, and she asked, “what is wrong, carino?”

her brown eyes darted over your stiff body.

“i think i’m gonna be sick,” you admitted with a sour feeling in your mouth, the room a dizzy swirl now.

Kate let out a gruff sound, leaning you back into the pillows again. “not possible. you haven’t eaten for days.”

“m’not hungry,” you lied, feeling the every acute shooting pain through your stomach. you don’t think you could keep anything down even if you tried.

that didn’t seem to convince Kate.

she left you and Maria in a drifting silence, the vaquero curling back up in the armchair and lounging in it, looking sleepy and content at your presence.

Kate came back with a plate of plain bread and greasy green beans with bacon bits.

“sorry,” she said, handing you the food with a somber look, “s’all we have. haven’t been cookin’ much.”

at that, Maria slunk from the room with tired promises to go whip something up in the kitchen, wholly ignoring your protests as you sopped up the bread in the savoryness of the green beans and chewed mechanically, forcing yourself to swallow and ignore the nauseating waves that followed.

in the meantime, Kate described the night of the party—how one-four-one had released the chandelier onto the gathered crowd of partygoers to clear out the place before any further bloodshed. when you told her how you had met Konig, and your own plans to kill Turner for yourself, running from the chandelier that came crashing down over your head, she was only mournful, taking up your hand with a softness. then, you described how Yue-Yi had been instrumental in your plans that day.

you carefully avoided sensitive discussion of Yue-Yi, only revealing that there was a sympathetic girl from the brothel who was kind enough to help you. you could only hope that Simon wouldn’t speak of her betrayal to the rest of one-four-one and los vaqueros. you knew he wasn’t stupid enough to think that you ran from the brothel and arrived at Turner’s mansion without help.

you wondered if he was thinking about you at all.

instead of thinking about that, you mourned Yue-Yi’s absence, deliberating when you could next slip away and see her after your condition improved. shifting around in the bed, you realized it might be a much longer wait than you wanted.

“where am i?” you asked, hands twitching, feeling restless. you wanted to leave.

Kate gave you a weak smile. “a farm.”

your brows raised. “a farm?”

“we’re still in california—a bit from san francisco. there’s still fighting in the city. law’s tryin’ to suppress it but it won’t die down for another coupla’ weeks.”

you felt like your eyes almost bulged from your head. “but Turner…?”

is dead. you couldn’t say it, throat closing up around the words knowing that you were the reason he was gone.

she shook her head slowly. “he’s got plenty of loyal minions. we’re chopping off heads for now. won’t last much longer. at least, that’s what John wrote.”

your mind reeled at the thought of the soft-smiled bearded and bear-like man. “and they’re okay?”

she gave you a wicked look. “‘course. we’re one-four-one.”

at that, you couldn’t help but smile and lax back into the pillows. your tongue felt heavy. “where’s Simon?”

the smile drifted from her face. “fighting.”

you screwed your eyes shut. of course he was. “i thought he was burned bad?”

you felt the bed dip as Kate shimmied onto the edge of it, her hand on your knee beneath the quilt.

“he was, but not burnt as deep as you. besides, i couldn’t keep that brute in bed even if i tried.”

of course. you felt your eyes almost brim with hot, angry tears, but you bit them back with a ferocity.

instead you opened your eyes, looking over the age and fatigue of Kate’s face, and said, “you should go. i know you want to be fighting with them.”

her eyes flashed and she shifted on the bed, telling you all that you needed to know. she wanted to go.

“i’ll be fine,” you said, “just give me that paperwork to do.”

you nodded your head towards the paper strewn across her desk.

“it’ll keep me busy.”

her brows raised slightly. “you know i can’t do that.”

your jaw clenched with a hot, sparking tightness in your chest. “am i still your prisoner?”

she stared at you for a long moment. “no. you can leave whenever you like.”

“will you let me stay?”

for a sickening heart beat, she was silent once more, eyes betraying nothing but a pale blue, before she said, “yes. you’re one of us now.”

you nodded, pulse still thudding with a nauseating speed in your temple. “good. give me those papers. i want to help.”

you couldn’t imagine the stretch of the next couple of days, possibly even weeks, doing nothing but waiting and worrying and healing while one-four-one was finishing the fight against Turner’s lackeys. you wanted to leave. was there a possibility you could slip away? and how would you?

you spoke nothing of it when Kate showed you some of the papers—financial, with lots of math, money, and reading involved. you had helped your mama with the fiances of your daddy’s saloon. nothing you couldn’t handle with a bit of practice.

you bit down any murky feelings at the thought of your daddy and mama, letting Kate help you swing your legs over the edge of the bed, putting half your weight onto the floor. your legs shook—feeling leaden and dead with a lack of circulation through the limbs that Kate rubbed to life before she hoisted you to the cramped desk.

settled in the chair, you spread the papers out over the desk, pulling the abacus closer to you and ran through the items on the page. Kate swept your hair over your shoulder.

“you don’t need to do this now. you should wash up and eat more.”

you only shook your head. “i want to help.”

she sighed out, massaging at your shoulders with a tenderness. “you don’t owe us anything, honey. you only just woke up.”

you made a disgruntled noise, ignoring her, but remembered Yue-Yi’s words with a keenness.

i know what it is like to want to be useful… now, i am not useful to anybody but myself.

her voice was defiant and strong. you only found yourself missing her more as you slowly put down the papers, ruminating with a tight feeling in your throat.

“i’m doing this for myself,” you rephrased, taking up the documents again and fishing out a pen underneath the strewn mess of paperwork.

Kate’s hands fell from your shoulders, mumbling something about helping Maria with a strained frustration in her voice, and you scribbled down some notes into the margins of the texts, breaking into the first series of equations.

you stayed there almost the entire night before Kate forced you to slurp down a steaming bowl of caldo de pollo full of hearty vegetables thick with ginger, drink more water, and sink into a cool bath that felt pleasant against the sore ache of your burnt skin. lifting your arm to your face, you observed it carefully.

a thin layer of skin stretched over the deep, red wounds. you shivered at the thought of the same thing stretched over the expanse of Simon’s chest, shoulder, maybe even traveling to his back…

all while he was in san francisco fighting.

shivering, you slipped out of the bath, bracing yourself against the counter to resist the wobble of your weak legs, a deep, rolling cold consuming you.

dread. you couldn’t shake it as you dressed in an airy nightgown, ditching a corset, which was very unlike you, and redressed your arm.

clutching at the walls, you made your way back down the set of rickety stairs into the living room. Maria was thumbing through a book near a small, lopsided bookcase, placing it quickly back on the shelf when she noticed your presence.

she gave you an awkward smile, clasping her hands behind her back, as you moved into the space. from the interior, you determined it was a small, wooden farmhouse with a brick red fireplace and big windows that overlooked the unkempt bushes in the garden and a flat, grainy plain where a barn sat in the distance, clouds thick in the night sky. a german shepherd, who you had not seen before, laid curled up on the carpet by the foot of the upright piano, his nose tucked into his tail with slow, sleepy breaths.

Maria cleared her throat beside you, and you could hear her begin to slink away before you turned to her.

“how did you and Kate meet?”

her whole body snapped to you, and you sat at the plush, gingham couch across from the fireplace, legs aching with effort. she sunk into the ottoman by the edge of the fireplace.

“spanish-american war,” she said slowly, thoughtfully, and with a strange stiffness. then, she smiled, and you were struck by the soft beauty of it. “i was younger than her. i couldn’t speak any english, but Kate tried to talk to me anyway. she started learning spanish for me, but ay dios mio, she was so bad.”

you cracked a smile at that, leaning back into the cushions. “please. tell me more.”

she hummed, hesitant, playing with the ends of her braids. “i wasn’t always a vaquero. i was a barmaid in a small town in southern texas that only spoke spanish and raised cattle. most of the town boys grew up to be ranch hands. i wanted to, too, but i wasn’t allowed. that’s what i thought until i met Kate during the war.”

you watched with a wonder at the mellowness of her—voice warm, body lax as she talked about the blonde woman.

“do you live here?” you asked instead, and she avoided your eyes, playing with the collar of her button up.

“yes.”

you cocked your head. “alone?”

she shook her head with a flush. “with Kate.”

your brows rose slightly. your mama had told you it was uncommon for women to live with each other without a husband, but you assumed, with the absence of a surrounding neighbors, Kate and Maria didn’t worry about the social stigmas that your mama had.

there was nothing explicitly wrong for a woman to not get married and maintain their own profession, you thought distantly, not sure if you believed the idea yourself.

“you must be good friends,” you said with a firm nod and Maria stiffened.

“we are.”

you almost worried you had said something wrong with the tightness in her face, but Kate reappeared from the hallway of the stairs, padding over to stand by Maria’s shoulder.

she commanded that you go back to sleep and you obeyed, half desperate to just escape the growing divide between yourself and Maria, much to your confusion and guilt, climbing back into the small bed that Kate had lent you.

the cool cast of the night sky flooded into your room. you watched the way it splashed across the door of the opposite side of the room, a part of you hoping with desperation that the door would slowly twist open, and a familiar person would step inside, flush by your side for the night. that same fat, ugly mass of dread sat heavy on your chest.

a part of you hoped it would be Simon who climbed into your bed as your eyelids fluttered shut. behind them, a slew of nightmares crept towards you, its tendrils squeezing you tight the whole night until you woke the next morning.

you spent the day between Kate’s paperwork and wandering across the farmland. you watched Maria and Kate ranch their throng of cattle with a couple of ranch hands from the nearby town, the livestock huffing and mooing as they lazily meandered across the grassy pasture.

the german shepherd snapped his jaws at their heels, tail wagging and tongue lolling out as he pranced around for a good chase that the cows ignored with heavy snorts.

you shielded the sun from your face with your good arm, tightening the shawl around your shoulders, crossing your boots as you leaned against the fence. the loose dress you wore fettered around you with a foreign slack, fluttering in the whipping wind. whether Kate and Maria noticed you had left your corset discarded in the pile of clothes on the floor of your temporary room, they did not question it.

by noon, you had picked the grassy terrain clean of its wildflowers, bunching them into your hand, the green sap of their stems staining your hands, as you bent them into flower wreaths like you had done with the girls from church after sunday service.

when was the last time you had gone to church?

setting down the floral crowns into your lap with a sigh, you looked up to gaze over the distant, stretching plains, only finding an impossible abundance of more wildflowers just out of reach from the space you had cleared.

stacking two crowns on your head, you held a third as you trekked back towards the wood farmhouse where Kate’s distant form waved you over for lunch.

you didn’t speak much over the meal—sandwiches stuffed with tomatoes, greens, and thin slices of leftover pork chop that the three of you were eating slowly away every day. you listened to the two women in a haze, mind far off and distant.

when Kate stood to clean the dishes, Maria hot on her heels, you stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floorboards with a screech.

“has John written?” you asked, then added quickly, fighting to keep your voice even, “or Simon?”

Maria continued to the kitchen, her back to you as she scrubbed at the dishes in the sink. Kate gave you a sad smile.

“i’m sorry, honey. it won’t be for a while now.”

you almost choked. you were in no condition to ride out with the fragile state of your body, as much as you had been thinking about it all day, as much as you had been trying to keep the thoughts under a tightly sealed lid. that used to work for you, but now…

it seemed everything was just pouring out.

“how long?” you pressed, and Kate gave you a confused look.

your hand clenched into the soft material of your cotton dress. “how much longer until the fighting ends?”

Kate turned to join Maria’s side in the kitchen, rolling up her dusty sleeves as she strode over.

“not sure,” she said, a murky look pinching her face. “i wish i knew darlin’.”

you did too, you mourned, that dread buzzing in between the soft inner pockets of your head. for one in maybe your entire life, no one around you expected you to stay. no one expected you to leave either. no one around you was forcing you to go one way or the next—you had the freedom to stay or leave.

and beyond the marvel of it, you still couldn’t go anywhere you wanted. you looked down to the white bandage of your arm, feeling itchy and stuffy beneath the gauze, and cursed its existence.

instead of moping, you helped them finish the dishes as best as you could with your poor arm, and returned to that small desk in your cramped room, making your way through the thick stack of papers. it kept your mind to something and kept your hands working steadily without a second thought.

there was a simple process to it—calculation, step by step, and something that, no matter the initial difficulty, had a solvable end. it soon became addictive, and before you knew it, the sun had dipped behind the horizon again and your eyes drooped, striking a match to light a nearby oil lamp.

you continued the calculations till the fat paper stack had thinned, resisting fatigue with every ounce of fight until you slumped against the desk in defeat, falling down into a slumber where familiar nightmares clutched at you once more.

before you knew it, a whole week had passed just like that. waking to your cheek pressed to the papers on your desk, a dry trail of drool across them. you would wash up, eat, wander the plains and waiting with impatience for your hand to heal, listening in on Kate and Maria’s conversations without much to say, eat again with a bitter and stale feeling in your mouth, a lingering dread that refused to melt feeling thick in your throat, and ration the dwindling leftover of papers on one-four-one’s finances.

you dreaded falling asleep most of all. there were always grotesque images—Turner dead, your daddy and mama dead, the three of Turner’s men dead, one-four-one and los vaqueros dead, Yue-Yi’s beautiful, milky skin bloodied and mutilated, and Simon…

the conjures of a distorted Simon in your mind felt too real. terrifying and foreign and the antithesis of the warmth Simon had shown you and the Simon that you knew and yet…

you feared your dreams.

you fought sleep every night. sometimes, you got lucky and staved it off, much to Kate’s chagrin. by the end of the week, she had resorted to sitting at the edge of your bed, trapping you beneath the quilt and caging you into the mattress that felt like it was swallowing you whole. sometimes, you talked, her hand stroking against your hair to speed the process, Maria tucked in the corner, content and sleepy and curled up in the arm chair.

sometimes, you didn’t.

this night, you didn’t feel like talking, turned on your good side and facing the wall, Kate’s hand on the crown of your head.

Kate must’ve sensed something was wrong because her hand pulled away, pulling you out of the slumber you were just on the verge of being dragged into, despite your persistent resistance.

“i’m sorry.” you stiffened.

slowly shifting onto your back, you looked over at Kate, her face lined with fatigue.

you forced your jaw to work. “why?”

she looked away, casting her gaze out the window and over the dark plains.

“you’re supposed to go wherever you like, but i can’t help but feel like we’ve trapped you all over again.”

there was a real, dripping guilt in her words that roused you from a haze. you didn’t know what to say.

instead, you forced a smile on your lips, and gripped at her arm to get her attention. her pale eyes were full and grim.

“you’re supposed to be fighting but i can’t help but feel like i’m preventing you from doing so,” you said, and she just shook her head.

“i don’t want to leave you,” she said, voice tight, and you felt a slow, wet burn in your eyes, mouth falling open, and then closing again.

“we’ve been so awful to you,” she whispered.

your mind raced. had they been?

one-four-one had kidnapped you, lied to you, deceived you and used you for a revenge ploy. could you blame them after the sorts of revenges you had taken? you knew it wasn’t personal. they would’ve done the same to any one of your daddy’s children—you just happened to be his only child.

but all the same, their plans had indirectly saved you from your daddy and your mama and Turner. they had shown you honest kindness throughout it and promised to return you to your home on that train ride, not knowing you didn’t want to go. you got to know each of them personally, whether they planned it or not, and Simon showed you a whole new realm of affection.

your throat closed up at the thought of him, heart twinging with a heavy, dark weight.

had Simon’s words been true? he wasn’t going to bed you for revenge from the beginning? much less even have personal relations with you? he promised he would never abandon you… was that still true? or heat of the moment reassurance—moments before you thought you would die together?

no matter how much you wanted to be a part of one-four-one, as Kate confirmed, could you forgive all of them anyways?

you looked up into Kate’s face, hooded and wrung through.

“will you be honest with me now and forever from this point on?”

she didn’t hesitate when she nodded. “you’re one of us.”

“then answer my questions,” you said, voice soft. “tell me the whole truth. from the beginning.”

and she held true to her pledge—she retold their entire ploy against Turner from the very, very beginning. how it began when they created one-four-one after the war, gunslinging and gambling for money, expanding their territory and negotiating with small towns and saloon chains, then bigger corporations, till they reached Turner’s borders. soon, one-four-one’s rise to fame got them in a lot more trouble than they could chew, always on the run from the law and Turner’s men till los vaqueros stepped into the conflict as allies, hating Turner just as much as one-four-one.

she told you about their multi-year struggle, poking around for a weakness in Turner’s defenses, finding your daddy and you by chance. a perfect avenue to reach Turner’s ego and twist it, provoking him into a full-blown conflict rather than the narrow skirmishes around each other.

when her story slowed, you couldn’t help but say, “i need to ask you something.”

she cocked her head, gaze curious now. “what is it?”

you flushed, avoiding her eyes now. “it’s a bit embarrassing.”

she huffed a gentle laugh. “m’sure i’ve heard worse.”

“is it true that—” you swallowed hard, “—is it true that Simon wanted to have intimate relations with me for revenge against Turner?”

her breath hitched and she shifted against the bed, hand twisting in the quilt. “is that what Ghost told you?”

you nodded, slow, needing to know if what Simon said was real.

he pressed his forehead against yours, warm and solid.

“i said i bedded you for revenge. i lied.”

Kate cursed under her breath. “‘course it’s a lie. he told me himself before he even left for your house to go and take you. he said he didn’t want anythin’ to do with Henry’s daughter.”

she said it with more force than you thought she would, her shoulders tight, but then she relaxed, closing her eyes for a moment. “but, of course, Ghost tells Soap and Gaz things more than he'll ever tell me. and it's mostly because they’re so nosy.”

you cracked a smile at that, trying and failing to imagine Gaz as nosy. only his stoic, serious face and his burly arms crossed over his chest came to mind.

“and that morning of Turner’s social…” the smile slipped from your face as you grimaced. “Simon wasn’t going to leave me at that brothel?”

she shook her head. “no. he said he was givin’ you a chance to change your mind and run. i…”

she looked sheepish now. “i overheard him talking with john. i shouldn’t have but i couldn’t help myself.”

you knew that feeling well, snooping around one-four-one in your time with them.

“why didn’t you run away?” her question was earnest as she peered at you, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to escape the inquiry.

mouth twisted into a scowl, you mulled over it. you had asked yourself the question time and time again, never really able to answer it, but you tried to the best of your ability anyway.

sighing deeply, you said, “i hated living in that small town with my daddy and mama, so i didn’t know where to run to. i didn’t have anywhere to run to. i didn’t have money or a gun. i had never left my home i…”

you grimaced. “i didn’t want to go home. i liked being with you guys.”

maybe it sounded pitiful, finding more comfort in your kidnappers than your own home, but Kate only nodded. after hearing Maria talk about one-four-one, finding more comfort in the local war effort and stray soldiers that filtered into the saloon where she worked, and running off to be a vaquero, you imagined Kate did understand.

“and you really want to stay?” she asked, looking unconvinced of the idea herself.

you didn’t miss a beat, and said, “after everything, yes.”

“we would love it if you did.”

you smiled. “really?”

she nodded. “really. no matter what Ghost says.”

you cocked a brow. “what did he say?”

“oh ya’ know. just the usual things he says when he’s scared.”

she stood from the bed, moving to the door and gently shaking Maria awake. when you still stared at her, feeling confused, she winked at you.

“he lies.”

at that, with her words bidding you goodnight, you turned to the wall again, listening to Kate and Maria and their footsteps and then the shut of the bedroom door.

that night, your nightmares felt lighter than usual.

it was three weeks since you woke up in Kate and Maria’s farmhouse, four weeks since you met Simon, a week since you finished all of Kate’s paperwork, a week since Maria leave to join the war effort in san francisco, and a week since Kate refused to leave you, incapacitated and healing, alone at the farmhouse no matter how you pleaded and prodded for her to go.

it was four days since you received a thick letter and heavy box in the mail.

you had dumped the contents out over your messy desk, a river of papers flooding out, unbound arm straining with effort just to hold the heavy box up. the skin of your arm was still tender and sore and a flushed pink, littered with textured scars like Kate had warned. at night, you ran your fingers over the leathery surface, discolored and shriveled. your fingers had survived the attack, miraculously, and you flexed them every once in a while just to remind yourself that you could. at least now, the pain wasn’t unbearable.

you carded through the messy pile of paperwork, finding different letters addressed to Henry’s daughter from an accounting company and several major shareholders of your daddy’s saloon chain.

you wondered how they had even found you, or the nearby town, where Kate fetched the mail. you had a very large suspicion Simon had something to do with it, as he usually did.

you had assumed the chain was being handed down to the next largest investor, or your daddy’s share would be split between the shareholders equally. your eyes almost bulged from your head as you read through the letter from your daddy’s attorney.

the saloon chain is yours now, miss.

you read through the line again. unmistakably, the words didn’t shift and morph on the page, and stayed a black bold statement on the paper. you scrambled to go through the rest of the papers, finding more paperwork. paper on your ownership.

your ownership.

slowly, you sat in the desk chair, unbreathing.

the next following days, you sent back eight different letters. one to your daddy’s attorney, who had stated in the letter he wanted nothing to do with your gang-affiliated family again, four different shareholders, one to your daddy’s bank, one to Simon, who had also been a shareholder, despite the fact you had no idea where to address it, and one to Yue-Yi. you addressed it to the brothel, urging her to respond as fast as possible, promising you’d slip away soon and see her as soon as you could.

the promise felt empty and cold.

you wondered if that was how Simon felt—promising you an endless list of things you hoped to believe with a pang of desperation. thoughts of him only circled. when would he come back? would he ever come back? could you believe his promises again?

but you held Kate’s word true above anything. she said that Simon wouldn’t abandon you, that he wasn’t just using your body for revenge. you trusted her.

now, you delved into your daddy’s paperwork, creating a thorough list of important names, contacts, addresses, and deciphered the financial books that needed to be cleaned up. the accounting company had done half the work but you tidied it to the best of your, now, advanced abilities.

you had the materials spread out over the kitchen table, Kate watching you with a careful eye from the living room couch. she clutched at her mug, knee bouncing, foot tapping against the floorboards, periodically glancing from you to the horizon through the windows.

you scribbled down some more notes into the journal Kate lent you before putting down the pen, taking in the women fully.

“what’s wrong?” you asked, rolling your tense shoulders back. she took a sip from the mug, immersed in a prolonged silence. you could only hear the tick of the clock by the front door.

“Kate.” her gaze finally fell on you, and you were stunned to see the glossy look in them. you softened your voice. “what is it?”

“i’m fine,” she insisted, voice tight and gruff, looking away from you again.

you eyed her for a long moment. you had noticed a difference in her behavior—distant, shifty, impatient, and significantly quieter since Maria left.

you didn’t believe her for a second.

“tell me,” you pressed, and she made a noise of frustration which almost made you feel bad.

she moved to sit at the kitchen table, dragging the chair back in a rough manner, before settling down at the table with a deep scowl. you raised your brows slightly, nudging her under the table with your foot.

“i miss them,” she said, so quiet you almost couldn’t hear her. she turned the mug on the table mindlessly. you followed the movement with your eyes.

“i thought they would be done soon?” you asked, and she only frowned more.

“not soon enough.”

there was that heavy, throbbing in your chest again. you pressed a hand to it, rubbing over the spot, but it didn’t ease. pure, solid dread.

“they’ll be back,” you reassured, totally unsure yourself, mind looping back to Simon as it always seemed to do.

“i miss Maria,” she said with an uncharacteristic sharpness, and you looked up at her, reaching across the table to hold her hand.

“i…” you searched for the words. “i miss Simon as well.”

it felt strange comparing a lover to a friend, but the kind of love Kate seemed to carry for Maria bordered on it. that thought became a strange prick of curious discomfort in your mind, and you waved it away, returning back to the documents spread over the kitchen table.

“John tried to get him to write you,” Kate said, and you stiffened.

“really?”

her foot nudged yours. “‘course, but he refused. John said he’s been mopin’ about all over the place, refusin’ to write anyone and barely talkin’.”

you grimaced at the thought, reading through the document but not absorbing any of the words.

“did John say why?”

you could see her shrug in her peripheral. “it started ever since that austrian guy started hangin’ around.”

your breath hitched, picking your head up to look at her again. “Konig?”

she gave you a strange look. “yeah. he’s helping one-four-one. John said he wants to see you.”

your mouth opened and then closed. that was a development.

“why?”

she shrugged again. “beats me.”

you mourned that John didn’t just write that information to you.

you had barely thought of Konig that past few weeks, despite him apparently saving your life, after almost killing you that night. you shivered at the memory of his cold eyes, revolver shoved under your chin, hand squeezing the air from your throat.

the thought terrified you enough to push it away and immerse yourself in the papers once more. Kate eventually retired to bed, trudging upstairs with a grave face. you kept writing, calculating, solving, in a long cycle till it became impossible to resist the droop of your eyelids.

you had begun to slump forward onto the table, placing your pen and head down for just a second, the soft, lulling tick of the clock a rhythmic snap in your ears till—

you jolted when the german shepherd yapped.

rubbing at your face, you peered over the table, seeing him standing by the door, tail wagging with a ferocity and tongue lolling out. he yapped again, ears flicking towards the door. you squinted out the window, finding nothing but the night pitched into a hazy ink.

a new sort of grating fear bubbled in you at the dog’s persistence. he paced around the entrance, tail still bouncing. you eyed the kitchen cabinets, remembering that Maria had told you the one on the far right had a revolver and ammo.

instead, you neared the window, squinting your eyes, seeing a distant light bobbing over the hill of the plain before many joined it. you pressed your forehead to the window, making out the shapes of horses nearing the farmhouse fast.

you stepped over the dog, opening the front door a crack to listen over the whistling wind. unmistakably, the beating of horse hooves echoed down the plan as well as—

your name.

you scrambled around for the lantern by the front door, striking a match to light it, and holding it up against the darkness as one-four-one and los vaqueros came thundering down the hill.

the dog shot out the door to greet them and you bit back a shriek, almost tripping over his paws before an arm came to hoist you up. Kate materialized beside you, laughing as you strode out to the approached figures, arm in arm.

you realized Soap was the one calling your name, and your heart soared at the sight of him, alive and happy and well and smiling as he slid off his horse, running up to you and Kate to pull both of you into a hearty hug, squeezing too tight. he pulled away to pet the dog who was running around in crazed circles.

your cheeks ached at the big smile stretching your lips.

your gaze swept over the men, at least forty of them, breath hitching at the sight of one, his black stallion stomping in the grass and the silver skull pendant of his stetson glimmering in the low light of the lanterns strung up over his saddle.

Simon’s face was bare, thumbs hooked in his belt, head tilted as he looked at you with a softness, dark eyes illuminated in the firelight. your hands curled into the skirt of your dress, grounding yourself as Gaz and John strode up to greet you and Kate. mindlessly, you spoke back, your eyes still flitting to Simon who turned away to adjust something on his saddle.

then, Alejandro took your hand politely and kissed the back of it with a curling smirk, Rodolfo at his shoulder, who only gave you a curt nod. a slew of vaqueros followed him, including Maria.

you watched in an amazement as Kate immediately yanked her into a hug, hooking around her neck and Maria’s arms snaking around her waist, pulling each other flush together.

but the other half of your attention was trained on the man who continued to fumble with his saddle gear. you edged closer to him, weaving between the vaqueros as they passed, a couple of them tipping their hats that you returned with a polite smile and a nod.

Simon leaned against the horse, looking at you from over his shoulder, face imperceptible and attention trained on you.

you stopped a marginal distance away, wary of some eyes lingering on the pair of you, hands twisting in your dress.

“not gonna say hello?” you called and his mouth only flattened into a line, making no move towards you.

your heart sank into cataclysmic depths, like all your worst fears had just been confirmed, like Simon had just opened a cavernous chasm between you and him.

he jerked his head to something behind you, something you couldn’t bother to turn and look at, before training his attention back to the straps of his saddlebags.

“we’ve got company.”

confused, you edged closer to him before a big, burly man strode into your path, his pale green eyes crinkled with a smile, and lacking his black mask from the party.

“little lady!” Konig said with a fondness, gripping your shoulders. you stood stiff in his hold, looking up at his crooked, tall nose and curly ginger hair.

“Konig?” you spluttered, and he looked smug at that, as if he was proud you remembered his name.

“your arm—” he reached down to slide the sleeve of your burned arm up, and you reeled back, hissing at the intimate gesture that was wildly inappropriate.

you held the wrist of your wounded arm, feeling a sliver of guilt from the hurt look that flashed across his face. then, you looked to Simon, leaning against his horse, arms crossed over his chest, face stoic and void.

you hoped for something you couldn’t put your name to, but that hope only deflated when he only shrugged, looking away from you.

you pulled your sleeve up a couple inches and watched Konig take in the marred skin of your arm with a pinched brow.

he took a hand and lightly brushed a finger down your forearm, and when Simon made a disgruntled noise, you pulled away from Konig, jerking the sleeve of your dress with flushed cheeks and a pit of writhing despair in your stomach.

“when i saw you on the floor in Turner’s mansion with…” Konig frowned, not looking at Simon when he said, “him, i was worried. you might’ve died, liebling.”

from behind Konig, Simon straightened with a tension in his shoulders you had never seen before. save for one-four-one, you had never really heard someone refer to Simon as something lesser than who his reputation portrayed him as—dangerous, deadly, and devilish.

although, as you watched an arrogant smile stretch over Konig’s face, the austrian ginger in front of you seemed no less dangerous and threatening as you thought Simon, or Ghost, to initially be.

that nickname had a bitter taste blooming in your mouth. your eyes flitted to Simon again. it just didn’t stick anymore.

“well, i’m fine, so thank you,” you said, setting your shoulders, jolting when Konig reached up to twirl a strand of your hair between his fingers.

“i know, liebling, you can handle yourself very well,” he said, eyes twinkling, and you couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not before he was being torn away from you.

Simon dragged the big man back by a handful of his dress shirt, eyes a deadly cool tone and face an eerie calm. you shivered, thinking Simon didn’t really need the mask to be terrifying, as you curled your arms close to your chest.

“that’s enough,” he said, voice gruff as he looked up into Konig’s taller frame.

you realized, with a blink, how strange it was seeing a man taller than Simon.

Konig only scoffed, batting away his hand, neck craning down to get eye level with Simon in a dangerous, menacing manner. “you do not own her, no? little man?”

Simon settled his hand on the revolver lodged in his holster, straightening. “say that again?”

your eyes widened at the spectacle, Simon and Konig almost nose to nose, and you reached out to them in a panic, pushing Konig away from the terrifyingly seething brit who was seconds from drawing his revolver.

“stop it!” you shouted, a dizzying panic flurrying around your mind.

Konig only clutched at your hand on his chest, shifting backwards, and shot a smug look behind you at Simon. you didn’t even dare look back at the expression on Simon’s face, half-worried if you did, you’d see his revolver raised high and aimed right at Konig.

instead, with a frustrated huff, you scolded Konig. “just get inside already!”

Konig flinched, frowning at the harsh tone in your voice, and you only scowled more, wriggling your hand from his grasp. at that, he turned sharply, grumbling something out before descending the rest of the way down the hill in easy, long strides and into the farmhouse—stuffed with people and loud and lit up against the stark night.

turning back to Simon, who was stock still, face blank, and a hand firmly wrapped around his revolver, you only cocked your brow.

there was a new, writhing anger building in your chest so fierce you almost choked on it. brows furrowed and throat tight, your hand clenched into a tight fist around the skirt of your dress, the very sight of Simon in front of you sending you hurtling toward a razor sharp edge.

“you too,” you hissed, jerking your head towards the farmhouse.

without a word, and a sour look, he snatched up his horse’s reins, and trudged to the farmhouse to tie up his stallion at the pasture fence with the other couple dozen horses.

cross with his erratic behavior, you didn’t wait to go inside with him, instead launching yourself into the messy fray and overcrowded house.

Soap and Gaz poured glasses of bourbon at the kitchen table, swept clean of your documents, and surrounded by more vaqueros knocking back drinks between loud banter. someone played a lively, bumbling tune on the piano that filled the living room with a full sweetness.

it was a miracle to think that only a few hours prior, you and Kate had been missing them all with such a fierceness that there were tears in your eyes. now, searching the room for Kate, you saw her spread over the couch, flush to Maria, explaining a story in slow spanish that had other vaqueros laughing and Maria curling an arm around her shoulders.

the image only soured when the sight brought you back to thoughts of a certain blonde brute.

you moved to Soap, wriggling between him and Gaz to snatch a glass of bourbon. Soap shouted over the noise with an impish smirk, “you drink now, lass?”

with a nod, you tipped back the drink, cringing at its burn that pricked your eyes, and Gaz laughed loud and sweet in your ear, obviously drunk as he wrapped a friendly arm around your shoulders.

“missed you, miss,” he said, lips in a wry smile, and you could only smile back.

“let me stick around then?” you offered and Soap nodded eagerly, pressing his knuckles to your shoulder in a friendly gesture.

“we were plannin’ on it!”

John materialized behind you to untangle Gaz’s arm from your shoulders, much more sober than the other two men as he reached around you to grab a glass with a wink.

“good to see you, darlin’.”

feeling indulgent and mellow, you pulled him into a quick hug, and he pressed a palm firm to your back with a laugh.

“Ghost’s been dyin’ to talk to you,” he said, tipping his hat to the man sulking across the room with Alejandro and Rodolfo who were locked in conversation. you spared him a quick glance, seeing his arms crossed over his chest and staring off into an untrained point, not at all enjoying the lively atmosphere of the room. just the sight of him sent slithering curls of something crawling under your skin.

“well he hasn’t been acting like it,” you said, not even trying to filter the exasperation from your tone.

John only raised his brows, sipping at the bourbon. “since when does he ever act true to how he feels?”

sending him a look, he only smiled with a shrug, turning away to disappear through the crowd of cowboys.

you sidled up beside Kate and Maria instead, the women inviting you into the couch with open arms, and you listened in on their conversations—a muddled mix of english and spanish. a vaquero got your attention, conversing with you in a strained english and a mix of sign language that had you both keeling over with laughter at the bizarre form of communication.

across the room, Simon’s burning, dark gaze on you caught your eye, and between exchanging words with the friendly vaqueros, your eyes fluttered to him. he was leaned against the wall, Soap flanking him now, Gaz leaning an arm over his shoulder, as they prodded Alejandro and Rodolfo in loud, tipsy voices, but his eyes never left you.

you leaned forward in your seat, elbows braced against your knees, and conscious of the way your loose blouse dipped, exposing an indecent amount of your skin as you swept your hair to one side of your shoulder, brushing against your neck.

he cocked his head, deep, murky eyes roaming down, and then back up to your gaze.

you don’t know whether you should be mad at Simon or not. you couldn’t decide what was more logical—the seething tick in your mind, or the horrible ache in your body for his touch. the sliver of affection you craved from him.

Simon pushed off the wall, and you were about to stand when Konig, much bigger than you, squeezed into the spot next to you by the couch, his arm braced against the back of it.

“i’m sorry, liebling,” he said suddenly, and you stilled, sinking back down into the cushions. “i couldn’t help myself earlier.”

“that guy—” he tipped his head towards Simon, who was stock still, hands curling into fists around his holster, “—is a nuisance.”

you scoffed at that, playing a long for a bit, and enjoying Simon’s attention on you with a mouthful of guilt you swallowed down quickly. you decided that being mad at him was more logical.

“really? i heard he’s not fond of you either, mister,” you said with a smirk, mind buzzing around as you took another swig of bourbon. he watched you with a wicked smile.

“i did not know you could handle so much alcohol, little lady.”

you shrugged. “neither did i, sir.”

he cocked his head, leaning so his shoulder was pressed against yours, and a distant, fuzzy call in your brain told you to move away, but your sense of direction was muted and muddled with the buzz in your mind.

“i heard rumors about you,” he admitted, and your brows only rose as you slurped down more bourbon. “that Ghost had stolen Turner’s property.”

that irked you, and you put down the glass on the coffee table stacked with other half-empty glass cups, wiping at the back of your mouth.

“no,” you said, with a strange drawl. “m’not Turner’s property.”

his gaze was long and imperceptible. “i also heard that Ghost owns you. is that true?”

your breath hitched, brows pinching together. “s’not your business.”

“is it true?” he pressed, and you shoved him away a bit, standing and weaving between some dancing vaqueros to get away from him.

but he only followed, snatching at your wrist, catching your bad arm and jerking you back with a tight grip. you clawed at his hand.

“lemme go—” you said, struggling between the drunk bodies, but he only grabbed your hip with the other hand, forcing you still. a new panic rose in you.

“just, listen, liebling, i don’t wanna hurt you—”

“well you are—!” you shouted, on the verge of giving his hand a good, strong bite, when an ear-splintering bang filled the room.

you screamed, clutching at your ear with your free arm, and a rush of sawdust came down over you and the wildly sober vaqueros around you that drew their revolvers with a scramble. there were a pair of dark brown eyes over Konig’s shoulder.

“let go.”

Simon was just behind Konig, revolver aimed high at the ceiling, coming down to press right against the pulse point in Konig’s neck, gloved finger heavy on the trigger.

Simon’s face was rigid, calm and cold, jaw clenched tight, but his eyes swirled with something sinister and so menacing, you wanted to reel away. the music of the room was dead now, all eyes trained on the two men, and you in Konig’s grasp.

Konig stared down at you, face blank, but pale green eyes strained. you saw them flick up behind you, then around the room, and only seeing a dozen revolvers staring back. you could see Gaz creep up in your peripheral, gun trained on Konig, and with a low, frustrated noise, he released you.

you immediately scrambled back, your muddled mind throbbing with a sharp clarity now, and you looked between Simon, seething, and Konig, face downcast and turned away with a clenched jaw. a familiar burn pricked you eyes, and you swallowed around the tight vice of your throat, chest thick and laden and aching.

“you—”

you choked on your words, unable to find what to say before you were barreling out the farmhouse, Simon shouting your name in your wake.

you didn’t turn to see if he was following you, crushing your hands to your ears as more tears spilled down your face. eerily, you were reminded of your dream, jerking away when you felt someone’s hand at your back, only rushing up the hill faster, not bothering to hike up your dress over the grassy plain.

wracking sobs left your throat, and you felt confused, the wetness blurring your vision, and ragged breaths making your head spin. why were you crying?

you collapsed into the grass, trying to catch your short, ragged breath, but there was such a tightness in your throat that you couldn’t force any air through.

when you realized you couldn’t breathe, you clutched at your throat, screwing your eyes shut as the world spun and wild, frenzied panic consuming you.

all your nightmares came flying back to you. Turner, Charles, the men you had killed, demonic twists and a thick, sandy sludge, the world burning around you and one-four-one with it, Yue-Yi, broken and bloodied, and your daddy and mama. gone and dead.

and Simon—evil and full of hate.

arms wrapped you into a solid body, smelling smokey and woody and earthy, Simon’s deep voice in your ear.

“shhh. it’s alright.”

his hand snuck around to your chest, right where that throbbing, painful ache of dread was, and his big palm rubbed over it, the warmth of his hand seeping right down to your bones.

you choked on your sobs and his voice was soft. “deep breaths.”

he breathed against you, strong and steady, and you tried and failed to match the slow drag of each one with a shaky inaccuracy, chest stuttering and whole body shaking violently. he moved you down slow, sitting you so you were between his legs and back flush against his chest, pulling you against him in a tight hold that became an anchor.

you clutched at the wrist of his sleeve with desperation.

“hurts,” you forced through painful gasps, and the warmth of his cheeks was against the side of your head.

“where?” his voice was harsh and intense now.

you slapped a hand over his at your chest, willing it to move it in those small, soothing circles that slowed the shallow, sharp gasps wrenched through your constricted lungs.

“what can i do?” he asked, a sharp edge of desperation slipping into his voice, and you could only cry, letting him rock you gently.

time stretched, agonizing and forever and never-ending, till your breaths finally, finally slowed, and the flashing kaleidoscopic dance behind your eyelids faded, lungs aching with an acute pain.

“you didn’t write me,” you said between sniffles and sharp, uncontrollable gasps, and he let out a low, tortured and broken noise, wrapping around your body tighter.

“i wasn’t sure if you wanted me to.”

you wanted to scream. “of course i did,” you almost sobbed. “i was so worried for you, i thought i’d-i’d die. i missed-missed you more than anything.”

another strangled sound of frustration left him, and he shifted you in his arms, still tight and warm around you, but enough so you could peer up into his shattered face, a foreign gloss in his eyes you’d never seen before.

“i almost didn’t survive without you,” he said, voice strained and hushed, and you wanted to slap him, but your whole body felt leaden and too light.

“i thought about you everyday,” he admitted, nuzzling his nose against your cheek, and you let him, screwing your eyes shut. “i couldn’t get you off my mind. i thought about you almost every second.”

“i don’t believe you,” you said, voice shaky, but he shook his head against you.

“then don’t take my word for it. ask Price. ask Soap or Gaz. they’ll tell you.”

“i’m so mad at you,” you said, a rage clawing up your throat and mixing with the dizzy grief of your body.

he said nothing so you pressed further. “i can’t believe you. you left me here. you’re still injured, and you left me at that brothel. i thought we were dead in Turner’s mansion,” then voice breaking, you remembered, “my daddy and mama. they’re dead—”

you worked yourself up again, choking, and Simon soothed you with soft hushes, your body wound up tight.

“i wanted to leave here,” you said in a panic, “i wanted to leave.”

“wasn’t safe,” he retaliated, his lips against your neck, and that only made you angrier.

“i don’t care.” tears slipped down your cheeks that he quickly brushed away.

“i thought you wanted to be with me all the time,” you said, grief shattering over you like glass.

he turned you and pressed your body down softly into the grass, caging you between his arms, and you wrapped around him easily, arms around his neck, legs winding around his hips as he crushed you down to the earth.

the solid weight of his body calmed every loud thing clattering through your broken mind.

“i always have,” he admitted lowly, face pressed to that spot where your hair pooled against your neck. “i needed to fix things in san francisco. now, the city’s yours.”

he pulled back, and you looked up into his warm brown eyes that were splintered and honest. “i’ll give you anything. you can have the whole city and you can be with me all the time. everything’s safe now. no one can hurt you. no one can hurt us anymore.”

with two fistfuls of his shirt, you tugged him back down to you, and he burrowed into your touch, arms coiling around your waist and pulling tight.

“just be with me,” you gritted out, your hand clutching at the softness of his hair, and he only let out a coarse, affirming noise, stock still and like a rock.

you curled into him—something you could anchor to as your eyes slid shut.

“i dreamed about you,” you rambled, and he laxed further into you, but then tensed when you said, “nightmares.”

his voice was strained. “like what?”

“it was different than this,” you said, mind hazy and fatigued, “none of this ever happened. you were never an outlaw and we lived in your cabin in the woods and we were married.”

“if that’s what you want,” he shot out, fingers curling into your hair, “i’ll give it to you.”

he deflated when you shook your head.

“you were evil,” you whispered, and he flinched, before you finished, “but i knew it wasn’t you.”

he pulled back again, leaning over you. his face was shadowed in the night, lips screwed into a tight line, but you could still make out the curve of his features.

“i prefer you like this,” you admitted, brushing your fingertips along his bare face, thumb tracing over the silvery scar on his upper lip. “an outlaw. the scars.”

“you’re crazy,” he said with a tinge of wonder, and you almost smiled at that, melting when he stooped down to kiss you softly.

his lips were warm, and you gripped at his hair, pushing his head further into you. it felt too brief once he pulled away.

“could you ever forgive me?” he asked.

you looked at him for a long moment, feeling all muddled with unease. the better question was, could you ever trust him again?

“maybe.”

he nodded, betraying nothing but the cold, hard lines of his face.

“can i at least carry you?”

“i can walk myself,” you insisted, though not unkindly, as you pushed him off you. the big, heavy man giving easily to your touch and he stood, offering a hand that you took, and lifting you with an ease.

you walked side by side in silence, only the soft rustle of the prairie grass pulled by the wind filling the darkness, the farmhouse still lit like a beam and vaqueros snaking through the interior.

when you neared, Simon snuck an arm around your waist, and you quickly wiped at any stray tears on your face, fixing your hair and pulling at the new wrinkles of your dress. Kate was standing by the door, arms crossed over her chest.

“you shot a hole through my ceiling, Riley,” she called, brow furrowed with irritation. Simon stiffened beside you.

“i’ll fix it.”

she gave him a long look void of sympathy. “not with those injuries you won’t.”

then, her eyes were on you, and she softened. “are you alright, angel?”

you cleared your throat, nodding with a quiet hum, and Simon inched closer to you.

she shot him one last nasty, dirty look, turning on her heel and reentering the party. you felt a creeping awkwardness with all the eyes crawling over you and Simon’s possessive hold, hyper aware of Konig's gaze from across the room, splayed out in an armchair as he took swigs of a flask.

“party’s over,” Kate shouted over the music, glancing briefly at you. “lights out in five minutes.”

you mouthed a thanks to her, and she only shrugged with a light smile as the men in the room grumbled, taking glasses and bottles of bourbon with them as they moved to their horses outside the farmhouse. you watched through the window as they unpacked blankets and rolled them out over the grass, some trekking towards the barn to take cover in for the night.

you watched a half-awake and intoxicated Soap struggle into a sleeping bag, Gaz already passed out near his feet and curled up in some blankets. John was only a couple feet away and staring up into the night sky.

you jolted when you noticed Konig stop a comfortable distance from you, standing in front of the farmhouse entrance and gaze trained outside. Simon sidled up closer to you, leaning against the window with crossed arms and a furrowed, serious look.

“sorry liebling,” he said with a shrug and a distant expression before taking another swig of his flask, not looking at you as he walked out the door to his horse strung up along the fencepost.

staring after him, Simon reached out to touch your cheek, and your eyes snapped to his. looking over his face, the soft moonlight poured over it, as Kate moved around the living room to put out the oil lamps. you brushed your fingers along his strong jaw, watching in amazement how it flexed under your touch.

“we’re sleepin’ outside.”

you startled with a muffled squeak, stepping towards Simon, and he easily wrapped an arm around your waist as you twisted to look back at a smug looking Kate and a tipsy looking Maria by her shoulder.

you flushed deeply, a fluttering heat in your cheeks.

“goodnight,” you said, and Kate’s smirk only grew, as she pulled Maria out the door.

“sweet dreams,” she called, a knowing lilt in your voice that only made you blush deeper.

you jolted when you felt Simon press his cool lips to your flushed skin.

“tired?”

you nodded weakly, and he smiled against your cheek.

“you sleep,” he said, patting your sides. “i’m gonna wash up.”

hesitating, the man skirted around you and headed towards the stairs, waiting at the foot of them with an expectant look over his shoulder as he watched you move to your bedroom door.

he cleared his throat, shifting from foot to foot. “night.”

you bit down on your lip, hand fidgeting around the door knob. “good night.”

you watched him walk up the stairs, heavy boots clunking against each step, a well of disappointment blooming in your mouth.

lips twisting into a scowl, you opened the door and shut it behind you too loud, not looking for Simon’s last look in the darkness.

you crawled over the bed, huffing out in frustration as you rolled in the sheets, on the verge of punching your pillow, before sliding off your bed in defeat and redressing in your thin nightgown and pushing aside the messy stacks of papers lining your room, building in an unattractive pile on your desk.

sliding into the bedsheets, you turned to the wall, feeling strange with Kate’s vacancy at your back. you rolled over and fiddled with the bedsheets, careful on your healing arm.

you had been so tired mere hours ago and now you couldn’t even shut your eyes, and you mourned it, wriggling in the sheets with restlessness and craving for something…

you eyed the door of the bedroom. you had been so mad at Simon only moments ago, the way a cataclysmic divide manifested as soon as he arrived, his immature, jealous squabbles, his ignorance, his stupidity, his strange self-destructive logic that involved pushing you away that persisted for the past three long, torturous weeks…

you would never stop being mad at him. you weren’t even sure if you could ever trust him, but, maybe, you realized, you wanted him close nonetheless.

you felt like you were thinking with a new clarity when you lurched off the bed, throwing off the quilt, and striding to the door, your hand in mere inches of the door when it was wrenched open.

with a surprised squeak, you looked up to see Simon standing there, dripping with water and holding up a towel around his waist, blonde hair tangled and matted against his forehead.

your eyes immediately slid down to the width of his hips, his deep v-line and the definition of his stomach, the bullet wound healing nicely with a healthy flush and new stitches. you bit back a gasp when you looked over the right side of his upper chest and shoulder—an angry, tender looking fleshiness that must’ve been painful.

he slowly stepped into the room, dark eyes on you, as he closed the door behind him and edged you closer to the bed with every step.

you almost whimpered, shuffling backwards, Simon looming tall and broad over you, and it wasn’t anything like that scary dream you had weeks ago. a slithering ache that you hadn’t felt in weeks return to the lower regions of your body.

he reached out, snaking a hand behind your head into your hair and gently pulling you to him in a kiss that you eagerly returned.

wrapping your arms around his neck, stretching through your tiptoes to reach him, he made a low, carnal sound in the back of his throat that had you squirming in his grasp.

“is this okay?” he asked between kisses, and you only hummed a pleasant yes, enamored by the soft movement of his practiced mouth, your legs going jittery.

he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you flush to him to keep you steady, tongue pressing against your lower lip.

you squeaked, jerking back with a jolt of confusion.

he only smiled, voice rough and low. “never kiss someone before, princess?”

you flushed, mumbling, “yes. you,” with embarrassment, before trying to pull him back down by his neck, but he didn’t budge, smile growing wider.

“let me teach you?” he practically purred, and you blushed with a shy nod, letting him hoist you onto the edge of the bed with a yelp, your hand accidentally sliding against his raw shoulder.

he winced, and you snatched your arm back, squeaking a sorry but he just shook his head with an impatience, dragging you forward by your hips closer to him, your hands pressed to the wet skin of his torso as he nuzzled his nose against yours.

“part your lips, pretty girl,” he said, voice a low, seductive rumble, and you immediately complied, letting him lean forward and slide his tongue between your lips.

you startled at new feeling, flinching away, but he pulled you back in with a softness that had you melting, and you tried to match the wet, slick movements of his tongue with your own.

he hummed in approval, angling his head to kiss you deeper, and you almost thought you saw stars, heart thudding too fast against your chest. it was strangely hot and sensual and the sensation of it only spurred on a curiosity in you.

when he leaned back for a breath, you only felt disappointed and lurched forward to bite his lower lip, willing him to stay right there against your lips.

he let out a low groan and you jolted at the vibration that traveling straight from his throat into your own, pulling whimpers from you. that seemed to only urge him on, because his grip on your the back of your head tightened, pushing your head to his so your noses pressed together, the movement of his lips, tongue, and teeth aggressive now.

once your head spun, dizzy and light, you pressed against his chest and he finally parted from you. he was panting, lips swollen with a redness that you reached out to touch in the darkness, brushing a forefinger over his lower lip that he kissed, then kissed down your palm, the underside of your wrist, up your arm until his lips were suddenly on your neck.

your moans were involuntary, drawn from your throat like magic as Simon worked your body, fingertips slowly tracing up your thighs beneath your nightgown.

he let out a noise of surprise against your neck. “no undergarments?”

you flushed, shaking your head, and he hummed in approval, searching the skin of your legs with his palms till he found that sticky, wet source that pulsed with an ache. you squirmed against his touch, gasping when he found your clit, thumb against it, and two big fingers stretched your core as they slowly pushed in.

he pumped them between your thighs, lips and tongue and teeth still sucking along your neck and the underside of your jaw, then licking over your ear. you shook in his hold, clutching onto his forearms for purchase, head tipping back from the feel of his fingertips rubbing sensitive spots inside you that had your breath sharp and full of gasps.

“want you to come on my fingers first,” he whispered, licking over your cheek, “can you do that, pretty thing?”

you nodded eagerly, rolling your hips down onto the delicious circles rubbed around your clit and the shooting pleasure each time he pressed against that sweet spot inside you.

“more,” you whined, eyes closed, and he huffed a laugh.

“more? more what? this not enough?”

“no,” you gasped, dragging your nails down his abdomen to the edge of his towel. with half-lidded eyes, you eyed the spot curiously, then blinked up at Simon, and he just smirked, leaning down to kiss you again.

“patience, princess.”

you screwed your eyes shut, the sensations over your entire body overstimulating—his hand gently tugging at your hair, his hot tongue against your own, and your hips rolling down to the sensual movements of his other hand.

it was too much, and soon you were gasping, muscles bunching and then releasing as you came all over his fingers with pitchy moans that he swallowed into his mouth.

he didn’t waste a second to push you down over the bed, flipping up your nightgown and bunching it in a hand against your stomach, dropping to his knees at the edge of the bed. tugging your forward by your hips, his tongue was against your folds in an instant and you squirmed with little squeaks, twitching with sensitivity. but he was so much stronger than you, pinning you down to the bed easily, blonde head between your thighs.

you gripped at his hair, tugging, as your back arched against the hot, wet movements against your cunt. it was overwhelming. too good.

“Simon,” you gasped, and he just hummed in response, tongue sliding into you and reaching up to press his thumb to your twitchy little clit.

“missed hearin’ you say my name like that, pretty,” he said between kisses against your cunt, dark eyes flitting up to gaze at you, half-lidding and smokey.

that same sweet feeling unfurled in your chest so much faster than you expected, and you had no time to warn him before your core was convulsing, thighs tightening around his head as your hips bucked up into his mouth.

but he wouldn’t stop, even after your body started shaking, and you pulled at his hair, little gasps and whimpers of pleas to stop. finally, after a loud, pitched whine left your lips, he suckled against your clit one last time before popping off.

there was a reflective wetness over his jaw that made you blush, a stupid smile on his face and hazy, dark eyes flitting over your body, splayed out, twitching, and completely unwound.

you chided him. “greedy.”

he laughed, crawling up over your to kiss you, a strange salty and sweet taste on his tongue that had your stomach twisting with want again. when he pulled away, you licked over the wetness on his chin and jaw and he groaned, pushing you down to the bed with a hand against your neck.

“you…” he gaze was so hot and wanting that you shivered, clutching at the loose grip of his hand around your throat.

“you don’t even know what you do to me,” he whispered, and you licked your lips, tasting the last of the wetness. he eyed the movement with an intensity.

“i have an idea,” you whispered back, reaching down to grip at the edge of his towel again, and he smirked.

he slid off you, letting his towel drop to the floor, and you eyed his swollen length with a greediness, whimpering just at the sight of it.

already, your cunt was pulsing back to life with a wild aching desire. you squirmed against the bed.

“please?” you offered him, and he only gave you an amused look.

“please what?”

he crept over you, knuckles pressing to the bed beside your head. you spread your legs wider.

“please,” you whimpered, and his brows raised slightly.

“i don’t know what you want,” he said, low and grating, and you huffed with frustration, pressing your heel to the back of his thigh to push him further forward. but he wouldn’t budge.

“want…” you looked between his legs, shivering, and he hummed, shifting his hips forwards so that he was flush to the back of your thighs, length brushing against your cunt. you gasped, bucking your hips up.

his gaze was imperceptible, just dark and wanting, head tilted. “want my cock?”

you whined, nodding, reaching down to rub your fingers gently against the head of it where that milky substance was spilling out over your stomach. he made a noise of disapproval, snatching your wrist and pinning it above your head.

“use your words.”

“want you to fuck me,” you whispered with a blush, glancing down at his cock again, and he went still.

“supposed to save that for marriage, lovely,” he said, voice honest and soft as he brushed a palm against your cheek. you looked up at him and the tender look on his face, jaw clenched, but his eyes still blown wide with need.

“it doesn’t matter,” you said, before adding in a whisper, “i’m already yours.”

you wanted to say that you needed him—desperately needed him close, but you bit the words back, hoping he would understand.

it seemed that he did from the way he pushed your nightgown up, pulling you up so he could gently tug it over your head and throw it to the floor. he immediately eased you back down, lips roaming your bare skin, his lips over your chest, breasts, and stomach, hot and overstimulating. you clutched at his hands holding your hips down.

“hurry,” you whimpered, and he reached down to stroke his cock before sliding it between the sticky, wet folds of your cunt, catching against your entrance.

then, he hesitated and you almost wanted to scream in frustration. “remember that it hurts?”

there was a distant, little spark of fear inside you, but you were so impatient that you almost didn’t care.

“just… please, Simon.”

he leaned down to kiss you briefly. “relax. m’not going anywhere, pretty.”

that eased a place in your chest that you didn’t know was panicking, and you laxed back into the mattress, letting him touch you where he pleased as you wrapped your arms around his neck. his hands smoothed over the skin of your torso, then pressed your legs wider.

“take a deep breath for me, sweet girl.”

you complied, letting your eyes shut and you took a deep breath, the air punched from your lungs when you felt something impossibly thick pushing past the rim of your entrance. you couldn’t breath, nails sinking into his skin.

“good girl,” he mumbled against your skin, voice soft as he pressed even softer kisses to your neck and shoulders. “doin’ so good for me.”

the pain was sharp and uncomfortable, growing as he stretched you even wider. tears pricked in your eyes and he immediately kissed them away.

“want me to stop?”

you shook your head, eyes screwed shut, hands snaking into his hair to pull at it and somehow ease the pain. “no. please.”

his fingers were brushing against your jaw. “look at me, pretty girl.”

your eyes fluttered open, a tear escaping down your cheek as you looked up to him. his eyes darted over your face, a crease of worry in between his brows that you willed away with your thumb, pressing against it.

he stooped down to kiss you, swallowing your gasp when his hips pushed forward a little more, and suddenly his hips were flush to the back of your thighs, an overwhelming, throbbing fullness in your stomach. he was crammed against that swollen spot inside you that had your head falling back, seeing stars.

“alright?”

you nodded slowly, swallowing, and ground your hips against him experimentally, a new sort of pleasure racing down your spine. he let out a low sound, gripping your hips to still them.

“not yet,” he scolded, “you need to relax more. i don’t wanna hurt you, princess.”

he reached between you to rub at your clit in gentle circles, and you squirmed a little, feeling impatient.

“relax,” he reminded you, and you bit back your frustration, letting him wrap your legs around his waist.

he leaned back, enough so the moonlight from the window spilled over his muscled body, and you could see the light catch in his smokey eyes. he tilted his head, gaze full of affection as he traced a thumb over your throat.

you held his hand, moving it to clasp around your throat and pressing your heels into his back. that unbearable stretch inside you had turned achy with want, and that sweet spot inside you begged for some kind of stimulation.

“ready?” he asked softly, and you hummed a yes, watching the way his hips drew back a little and then snapped forward again, gasping when he pushed against that amazing sweet spot in you again.

then he did it again, and again, and every time it bunched a breathy moan from your lips till he was building a pace, and you couldn’t stop the little whimpers falling from your lips, clutching at his hand wrapped around your throat, using it as leverage to pull you back down on every thrust. it left your mind hazy and dizzy, your other hand searching the sheets for something to hold onto.

he leaned down, grabbing your hand and pushing it to the bed, his rough fingers interlocked with yours.

“good?” his gaze was hot and piercing.

“mhmm,” you hummed, infatuated with the strange pleasurable stretch between your hips and the rolling, hot waves of pleasure in time with his hips that overwhelmed you completely.

“pretty girl,” he said, tightening his grip around your throat, though his voice was so distant and he felt so far.

“closer,” you mumbled, and his movements slowed.

“hm? speak up, sweet thing.”

“closer,” you whined, eyes glossy and fluttering your eyelashes up at him.

he shifted above you, dropping down so he was caging your head between his forearms, pressing you down into the mattress with a pleasurable weight that had your head spinning. you wrapped around him tighter, reaching around his sides to clutch at the muscles of his back so your chests were flush together.

“better?” he asked, pecking your nose softly, and eyes so warm and full that you shuddered.

you nodded and craned your neck up to offer your lips for a kiss that he took eagerly, tongue slipping into your mouth, his hips rolling down into the hot clutch of your heat.

you gasped at the sensation, his thrusts more shallow, deeper, than before—cock so thick that you were pulsing around him in time with his thrusts. it’s like you could feel him in your ribcage, hammering against the quick thud of your heart.

overwhelmed, your nails sunk into his back, and he let out a low groan, ducking down to whisper in your ear.

“so tight, princess.”

you moaned, only tightening at his words, and that spurred him on, fucking you faster with a dizzying pace now, hips slamming so hard against yours the pain mixed into a muddled pleasure—

“Simon,” you gasped, clawing at his back, and you could feel his smirk against your skin.

“yeah that’s it. say my name, pretty girl.”

you did, gasping it under your breath with each of his rough thrusts, a familiar burn building in the crux of your stomach.

“Si—m’gonna—”

“shh, don’t talk, just take it,” he whispered, low and throaty and voice grating.

your moans were breathy now, coming in short bursts, as more overwhelming waves of pleasurable sensations hit you, burning you inside and out.

“fuck,” he growled, hand closing into fists around the sheets by your head.

you peered up at him to the best of your ability, eyes half-lidded and drooping, watching the clench of his abdominal muscles with every thrust, his body in a sheen of sweat and brows furrowed with concentration, dark eyes boring down at you with a predatory gaze.

want you to come all over this big cock, princess. come for my lovely, just come luvie, come—

on command, your whole body contracted, bright lights flashing behind your eyelids as you shook with a couple last breathy moans, Simon’s words swept away somewhere far and distant as you peaked on a delicious high.

you were crashing through it, barely registering his gentle words in your ear.

good girl. good girl. my good girl.

once you were coming back down, dizzy and sleepy, Simon’s thrusts had grown shallow and slow, moaning lowly when he pulled out and pumped his cock quickly, those white ropes spurting over your stomach in hot, sticky layers before he crashed down over you again.

you drifted through a dreamscape, humming lightly at the feeling of his hot skin against yours.

you traced over his shoulders, avoiding his burn wound carefully, listening to the pant of his breath slow, and then still, as you laid there tangled together.

you brushed a hand through his hair, carding your fingers over his scalp and scratching lightly. with a low hum, he shifted his head to look at you, face relaxed and content and his nose pressed against your breast.

“satisfied, princess?”

you tried and failed to bit back a smile, nodding slowly. he smirked back, playing with the ends of your hair.

“insatiable, greedy thing.”

you couldn’t help but giggle, tugging him up to your face, and he relented, smushing your cheek with his nose and lips. with little squeaks and giggles, you swatted at him when he crushed you down into the bed with too much force until he pulled back.

he slid into the space between you and the wall, tucking you into his chest and arms locking around you in a hold that felt possessive.

once you were settled and content, his lips against your hair, you asked him, “are you satisfied?”

he brushed some fingers along the scars of your arm for a pause. “mhmm.”

the sound was unconvincing, and some part inside you broke a little. you turned in his arms so you could see his face.

“don’t lie…”

he scoffed but looked amused. “you make a man greedy, princess.”

you tilted your head. “what do you mean?”

he kissed your forehead softly. “i wanted it to be different.”

you almost deflated, heart dropping into your stomach and skin growing icy cold.

“what do you mean?” you asked again, voice flat now. he peered down at you, blonde lashes full and long in the moonlight.

“in different circumstances. after your marriage.”

your throat tightened. “my marriage? do you mean…?”

he looked away from you when he mumbled, “our marriage.”

“why? was it not good?” you felt a spiral of panic. “do you care about… virginity?”

he only gave you a wry smile. “‘course i don’t care. you’re perfect just like this.”

his eyes darted down to your body, and you followed his gaze, suddenly conscious of your bare skin against his, and the remnants of your shared pleasure still sticky against your stomach.

with a blush, you grumbled, “what’s the problem then?”

he pulled you closer to him. “s’what you deserve.”

you wanted to scream. “i don’t get it,” you whined and he chuckled, tucking his chin over your head.

“you’re such a good, innocent girl. you deserved all that…” he spoke so low you almost couldn’t hear him, “...doting marriage stuff first.”

you pushed him back by his chest, and he blinked down at you, confused. when he reached to pull you against him again, you kept your arm extended, and he gripped at your hip instead.

“do you really want to marry me?” you asked softly, and you watched him swallow hard, before nodding slowly.

“if you’ll have me.”

there was a bitter taste in your mouth. innocent, good girl.

“even after everything?”

he tilted his head against the pillows, stroking your side. “what’s wrong, lovely?”

you struggled with the words. “i’ve killed people.”

he only blinked. “me too.”

“i felt happy when Turner died,” you admitted, the words sounding so foreign on your tongue that you wanted to puke. “you haven’t seen me kill someone.”

his brows rose slightly. “i can imagine it’s a sight.”

you felt frustrated, unable to keep yourself from confessing, “i’m having mental issues.”

you screwed your eyes shut, unwilling to see his reaction, thinking back to just prior when you ran from the farmhouse. Simon had witnessed it with his own eyes. he had seen just how insane you were. there had been one old man in your town who was insane, saying he saw things, always switching between hyperactivity, anger, and isolating himself to lie in bed all day. then, they eventually took him to an insane asylum when he had an episode in public.

you shook just at the thought of it, jolting when you felt Simon’s soft lips against your brow.

“yeah?”

your eyes snapped open, brows pinched together as you looked up into his relaxed expression. “yeah? that’s all?”

he shrugged. “me too.”

your throat felt dry. “what do you mean?”

he pointed to his own throat. “not bein’ able to breath. racing thoughts. uncontrollable crying. it happens, lovely.”

your mind spun but he continued on. “how long has it been happening?”

“since that night on the train,” you chewed out, feeling light and airy and scared when he paled in response.

“when we fought?” he asked, face pinched and stormy. you nodded and he wrapped you up in his arms again, tightly squeezing. despite your grumbles of protest, you whole body melted, a wet burn in your eyes.

“i’m sorry,” he gasped, crushing you, and from the strain in his voice, you knew he was being sincere.

“i have this feeling, ” you started, then choked, unsure of how to finish.

“tell me,” he prompted and you pressed your forehead against his strong chest.

“it’s in my chest. it’s heavy all the time. kind of like dread, but not really.” you screwed your eyes shut. “i hate it.”

he rubbed a hand over your back. “i know it well.”

“you do?” you squeaked, so sure that there was no one else in the world who felt a sliver of semblance to you.

“mhmm. breathing helps.” he snaked a hand between you, rubbing his fist in slow circles over your chest. “this helps too.”

as promised, your body relaxed, the touch warm and a pleasant pressure against the thrum of your heavy heart.

you reached up, wanting to return the favor, and rubbed your own palm against his broad chest. he smiled softly, snatching your hand up to kiss all over it, and you squirmed at the ticklish sensation, swatting him away.

he laughed, pushing you onto your back so he could slide off the bed.

“let me carry you?” he offered, but you just shook your head, swinging your legs over the edge.

“i’m fine—” your toes touched the cold floor, and you put a generous among of pressure onto your feet, before your knees buckled, legs shaking.

with a yelp, you almost tumbled to the floor before Simon easily caught you.

“careful,” he said, sounding too happy, and you sent him a dirty look.

“you did this on purpose, didn’t you?” you gritted out, clutching onto his arms, and he only scoffed, shaking his head with an amused look.

nonetheless, you hooked an arm around his unwounded shoulder, letting him curl an arm beneath your knees and haul you up into his arms.

he left your room to trudge up the stairs to the bathroom, and you couldn’t be more grateful for the dark, because as much as you protested it to Simon, he couldn’t seem to care less if someone spotted you both bare in the night. you protested enough for him to throw his towel over you before leaving your room.

he sat you down on the counter of the sink and filled the bathtub with water, peering at you softly over his shoulder every once and a while. once it was filled, he picked you up again, and gingerly set you down in the lukewarm water before sliding in right behind you.

it was a cramped space, your back pressed to his chest, and his legs around your own, so long that his toes were against the other wall of the tub.

“comfy?” he asked, and you nodded as he reached around you for a bar of soap and a washcloth, gently washing away the after effects of the intimate night you shared together.

for once, you realized, you didn’t feel an ounce of guilt for what you had done. even if he wasn’t your husband, and even if your mama had taught you against it your entire life, as you sunk back into Simon, you found yourself absolutely uncaring for what sins you had committed.

maybe things changed when you really, truly believed he was going to die. you looked up, finding Simon already peering down at you, and reached out to touch his jaw gently.

he took your arm, cleaning it gently, thumb brushing over its marred scars. he brought it up to press his lips against the scars that stretched over its surface, face twisted and somber.

“Turner tried to trap me in that room with him,” you said, voice almost at a whisper. “i fell and my arm went straight into fire.”

he made a low noise of disapproval, but you continued anyway.

“it was almost like he didn’t want to live,” you ruminated, remembering the way Turner had promised, if you try to kill me, you’ll burn with me.

he was half-right in the end.

“he didn’t even try,” you said, “threw away his gun almost immediately. just tried to strangle me.”

Simon’s arm curled around you and rubbed a palm over your chest. you clutched at it gratefully.

“i’d say i would kill him,” he said, voice so soft it was betraying, “but you already did that. you handle yourself well, little gunslinger.”

you almost giggled. “little gunslinger?”

“mhmm.” he picked up the washcloth again, wiping over your stomach and between your thighs under the water. “little gunslinger.”

“what’s my code name then?”

he mulled over that for a moment before saying, “Angel.”

your brows rose a little. “Angel? like the devil’s Angel?”

you peered at him from over your shoulder, taking in his stupid, lopsided smile with a cocked brow, and he only leaned forward to kiss you softly.

“that’s exactly what you are, princess.”

you hummed. “what about my mask?”

he smiled against your lips. “don’t need one anymore.

you parted from him. “why not?”

“no one to be afraid of anymore,” he said, tracing a finger over your lips.

and you were grateful for it because you could look at his face—all bare and handsome—as much as you wanted now.

“thank god,” you whispered and he nodded.

“thank god. now kiss me, Angel,” he whispered in a mock sultry tone, and you rolled your eyes at the smirk on his lips, before sealing them with your own, loving the way his hands traced over your wet skin.

one stopped to clutch at that spot over your heart, rubbing in slow, soothing circles that lulled you into a soft, distant place with Simon bound to your side.

okay istg i don't want Konig to appear like the villain or the asshole here, he's just a bit… arrogant and insensitive but socially anxious and has a good heart at the same time :( just a lot of built up complexes as a self-defense mechanism :(

also obviously we got jealous ghost here but how possessive was he? not very much. possessive ghost will probably appear later on... 🌚

edit: okay soooo idk what's going on w the tags on this post they are like breaking my posts???? bc i can't edit the posts with tags on the post and IDK WHAT'S GOING ON BUT if i accidentally tagged you multiple times i am sorry... tumblr is making my life a little bit harder rn 😵‍💫

#simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 #ghost cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #ghost smut #ghost angst #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost fluff #simon riley fluff #simon riley angst

1K notes · View notes

barefoot-joker · 3 months

Text

Dancing with the Devil and His Wife in the Pale Moonlight

Yandere! Lucifer Morningstar X Reader X Yandere! Lilith Morningstar

Hey, guys! Welcome to another Lucifer story, this time with his wife Lilith! An Anon had asked for a longer fanfiction, so I did my best to do that ask justice. I'm thinking of making a part 2 but let me know what you think. As always enjoy and have a great day/night!

Words: 5612

Warnings: Kidnapping, Non-Con Kissing, Swearing, Slight gore near the end, Slight Possessive Tendencies, Slight drug use at the end

I hummed as I stretched my legs on the bar in the dance studio. Today our class was rehearsing for the ballet Three Virgins and a Devil which was going to be performing at our local theater. We had been practicing for months now but today was special. Today some of our patrons who financially support our ballet company were coming to watch us. It was quite a surprise as nobody really knew who the mysterious couple was, so gossip amongst my fellow ballerinas was high. The talk continued even as we prepared our bodies for our demonstration. “I heard that our patrons are very wealthy and looking for somebody they can throw their money to.”

“You mean they are looking for a third?”

“Possibly!”

“Well if they are looking for a third there’s no way any of you would get it,” Jessica the prima ballerina stated.

“Girls, please,” our director, Maria, clapped her hands, “let’s get to work.”

We formed our line and started to do some warm up exercises. After about ten minutes of warm up, we ran a couple of our numbers. Suddenly the door to the studio swung open to reveal a man and a woman. The man was on the shorter side and had paleish skin, blonde hair, red tinted cheeks and red eyes. The woman was tall and had long blonde hair, purple eyes and a paleish complexion. We all stopped to stare. Their skin tone and eyes really threw us off but maybe they wore contacts to intimidate people. Our director let a big grin form on her face as she ushered the couple in. “Ah, Mr and Mrs Morningstar! Welcome! Please come in.”

The couple stopped in the middle of the room and surveyed us. I bowed my head and fiddled with my shirt hem. Their gazes felt fiery and made me feel quite uncomfortable. “This is our Corps de Ballet. We were just practicing for our upcoming production when you both walked in. I’m sure you would be interested in seeing some material.”

“Absolutely! My wife and I would like to see what our money buys after all.”

“Of course, Mr Morningstar. Girls.”

We all got into our places and Maria pressed play on the CD player. We performed an ensemble piece and one with the three leads: Jessica, Savannah and Tessa. Our patrons just watched us with curious eyes and applauded when we were all done. “That was quite the show you ladies put on. I think my husband and I can agree our money is being well spent. However, we'd like to talk to you, Miss Maria, if we could.”

“Of course. We can go to my office. Girls, keep rehearsing. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

We all watched as the three of them left and as soon as the door shut gossip was at an all time high. “Oh my gosh, did you see the way they looked at Jessica? If they are looking for a third I’ll bet they’ll choose her!”

“No way! They were totally staring at me!”

“Girl, that’s not possible. If anything they were staring at your fumbled footwork at beat five.”

“Shut up! That’s not true!”

“What do you think, Y/n? Who were they staring at?”

All of the girls in my circle turned to me. I let out a huff. “I wasn’t paying attention. I was too focused on my steps.”

“At least one of us was,” Jessica stated.

We all turned to stare at her. “Like I said before, I’d be their first choice for a third.”

The smirk that played on her lips made me quite angry. Because she was the prima ballerina she always thought everyone was interested in her. While it may be true, her pride was too boastful. “Oh please. Stop lying to yourself. I saw where their gaze was during your performance. It was at the back.”

“Yeah right! All eyes are always on me.”

I rolled my eyes. God she was so annoying.

“Ladies, you heard what Maria said. We need to practice. This discussion can continue later.”

“Alright, party pooper.”

We fell into our positions and began another ensemble routine. Jessica called out counts as we danced and about twenty minutes later Maria returned. “Good job today, girls. You deserve a break for the rest of the day. Jessica, Y/n, please stay behind. I’d like to talk to both of you.”

I looked at my friends in confusion. Why was I needed?

As my fellow dancers passed to get changed, Lily grabbed my shoulder. “It’ll be okay, Y/n.”

She quickly walked off with the others. I sighed and walked to the mirrors where Maria stood. Jessica side eyed me and then focused back on our instructor. “Good job today, both of you. The Morningstars were very taken aback by your performances. In fact, they’d like to get to know you both on a more personal level.”

I felt myself stop breathing and my eyes widen. They what?

“They’d like to take you both to dinner tomorrow night. A car will come and pick up both of you so no need to worry about rides.”

“Miss Maria, are you sure Y/n was an interested party? After all she’s just an ensemble member-”

“Yes, Jessica. They were quite. Interested. They said their car should be there around 6 pm to pick up our prima ballerina and 7 pm to pick up Y/n. Please dress nice, you are representing Carmilla Carmine’s Ballet Academy after all.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Yes, mistress.”

“You’re both excused.”

The two of us took our leave and as soon as the door closed behind us Jessica snarled at me. “Listen here and listen well. If you were a team player you’d refuse to come to this dinner tomorrow.”

“I’m just not showing up. You heard Miss Maria! The Morningstars were interested in both of us. How do you think that’ll reflect on our Academy if I just don’t show up?”

“Just don’t embarrass me tomorrow!”

She huffed and stormed off. I sighed and went into the locker room. I sat on one of the benches and traded out my pointe shoes for my regular tennis shoes. Throwing on my hoodie, I grabbed my backpack and headed out of the studio. The rest of my day went fairly well. My friends from work texted me asking if I was alright. I told them what had happened and they blew up my phone. They couldn’t believe an opportunity like this was being given to a backup dancer. I chuckled at their antics in my text messages and responded to them throughout the night.

The next day I had gotten up fairly early and ran some errands. When I got back to my apartment later I did some cleaning. I noticed it was getting closer to the time my date was so I finished and ran into my bedroom. I chose a nice long, flowy, favorite color dress and a pair of black flats. In my bathroom I added some light makeup to my face and attached a silver necklace to my body. After I was done I looked at my phone to see it was 7 pm. Grabbing my keys and a small purse, I locked my door and took the stairs to the lobby. I walked out to the street and saw a short man getting out of a black Mercedes-Benz. “Miss L/n?”

“Yep, that’s me.”

“Follow me please.”

He walked to the back of the car and opened the door. “Thanks.”

I slid in and he shut the door. He returned to the driver’s side and got in. Starting the car, we headed out. I looked around as the man drove. I had never been in such a fancy car before so this was truly a new experience. The interior was all black leather and the windows were tinted. Jessica sat next to me texting on her phone. I watched as the nightlife of my city passed by in amazement. It felt like a different ride. The car suddenly came to a halt and the driver got out. He opened the door for Jessica first and then he opened my side. I stared at the restaurant and nearly collapsed. We were parked in front of Melbourne’s, a very fancy and well known place. Rumor had it that the wait list was three months before somebody could get in. “Ah, Jessica, Y/n! So glad you could make it!”

I looked over to see the Morningstars approach us, each of them giving us a kiss on the cheek. The Misses wore a long, sparkly, purple dress while the Mr wore a white outfit with red accents. “You both look lovely. Come, our table is waiting for us.”

Mr Morningstar wrapped an arm around Jessica while Mrs Morningstar wrapped an arm around me. They led us inside to a table that was hidden by a wall and some red velvet curtains in the back of the restaurant. We all sat down and I gazed over the menu. My heart nearly stopped. The prices were way out of my range. Jesus.

A waiter came over and introduced himself as Jeff before asking for the table’s drink choice. The three other occupants said some fancy wine or a fancy cocktail. When it got to me I just muttered, “Water, please.”

Jessica snorted and Mrs Morningstar looked at me. “Are you sure, Y/n? You can have anything you’d like.”

“I’m sorry I don’t drink. I honestly don't know where to begin.”

“I see. How about we start you off simple. She’ll take a brandy old fashioned.”

“All good choices. I’ll be back with those in a short bit.”

Jeff left and I felt extremely awkward. I mean I was trying my first alcoholic drink in front of practically strangers. What if I didn’t like it? I didn’t want to offend the Misses.

I picked up the menu to try and avoid small talk. Jessica and the Morningstars were discussing something and I was just trying to decide what least expensive item to get. “-ou, Y/n?”

I set the menu down and looked up. “What? Sorry.”

Mr Morningstar just smiled across the table at me. “It’s quite alright, dear. I asked what got you into ballet.”

“Oh, um, I don’t know. I guess I just find it relaxing and something to occupy my time with. I had started off as a child and just loved it ever since, Mr Morningstar.”

“Oh no need for formalities! We’re out of the studio. Please call us Luci and Lilith.”

The two smiled at us. While I felt out of place, their smiles sort of comforted me. It was almost like a parent soothing their child. “So why don’t you tell us about yourselves? We’re very interested to hear,” Lilith said.

I was about to say something when Jessica started. I just leaned back in my chair and watched other customers. There were many couples in the restaurant with a few groups scattered here and there. It was odd to see everybody dressed to the nines with their fanciest garb, but I suppose you have to live up to the dress code. “And what about you, Y/n? Anything you’d like to share,” Luci said.

The entire table turned to look at me and I could feel my skin crawling with heat. I wasn’t used to this much attention on me. Even when I was younger my siblings had always gotten the most of mom’s time. “Well, I’m uh 25 and the oldest of three. Like I said before I love ballet and I moved out here to try and make a career of it.”

“Anything else? Do you have any hobbies,” Lilith asked this time.

“I guess I like the arts in general. I participate in some art classes here and there. I read when I get the chance. Walks in the park or just around town are nice too.”

“That sounds lovely. You seem like a very creative girl.”

I gave a small smile. Just then Jeff returned with a tray and set all of our drinks down in front of each of us and asked us for our dinner choice. I just went with a simple pasta dish. I looked down at my drink and swirled it with the small black straw it came with. I was entranced by how the mushed cherry swirled with the ice in the orange drink as Jessica chatted. Lifting the rocks glass, I took a sip and hummed. It was quite good, especially for my first alcoholic drink. Setting the glass down, I observed the people at my table. Lilith was engaged in a conversation with Jessica, however Luci’s eyes were set on me. I gulped and averted my gaze to my lap. I could hear him chuckle. The table went silent for a moment, so I took the opportunity to ask something. “So do you guys have any family around here?”

“We have a daughter. Her name is Charlie. She’s a bit older than the two of you, but she’s quite the spirited girl. She doesn’t live here, more down under,” Lilith replied.

“I see. So she lives in Australia then?”

The couple glanced at each other and smiled. “You could say that.”

“She actually runs a hotel, funny enough. It’s to rehabilitate people.”

“Oh wow. That sounds like a lot to take on. You must be very proud of her.”

Luci stepped in. “Oh yes. She’s our little duckling!”

I could feel a rigidness coming from my fellow dancer. Maybe she didn’t like kids?

The rest of dinner went off without a hitch. I admit I was nervous but that dissipated the more the night went on. We all shared stories and laughs between us and the food was really good. I had offered to pay my half but the Morningstars were quick to shut the idea down. “It’s our treat. After all, we wanted to get to know you,” Luci had said.

After the bill was paid, they led us out to the car. The couple leaned in and gave me a kiss on both cheeks and did the same for Jessica. As they pulled away, Lilith spoke. “Thank you for a lovely night, ladies. We hope you have a great rest of your night.”

“Thank you for inviting us. We really appreciate it,” I replied.

The driver opened the door for us and Jessica and I got in. As he started to drive away the Morningstars waved at us until we were out of view. “I think that went well.”

“No duh. They were all over us, especially me. You think I can take more money out of them?”

“Is that the only reason you went? Their company was a nice treat. Besides, don’t you have other people wrapped around your finger you can take advantage of?”

“Of course. Those are some of the perks of being the prima ballerina. I’m surprised you even had a good time with all that attention on you. You should just stick to the back.”

I frowned. I was not about to let her ruin the night. “Whatever. I had a good time regardless of how much attention was on me.”

I turned away from her and focused on the passing cityscape. Eventually we reached my apartment and when we did the driver opened the door. I got out hastily and thanked him. I walked into the lobby and went up the stairs to the third floor. Getting out my keys, I unlocked the door and slipped my shoes off. I shut the door and went into my bathroom. I rinsed off my makeup and took my necklace off before going into my bedroom. I got out of my dress and put on my pj’s, throwing the flowy garment into the laundry hamper. I sat on my bed and went through my notifications on my phone. I grunted in annoyance when I saw my ex-lover’s name pop up. I clicked open their text and rolled my eyes. Once again it was them proclaiming they made a mistake for leaving me and they wanted me back. I didn’t reply, just backed out of it to the hub. I texted my friends from work about the night and they all congratulated me. We talked for a few minutes before I decided to log off. Putting my phone on the charger on the nightstand, I got under the covers and attempted to fall asleep.

The next day I rose at around 8 am. We had rehearsal today at 9 am so I quickly got dressed in a gray tank top and black leggings. I slipped a navy hoodie over top, slipped on my tennis shoes, grabbed my backpack and was out the door. It took me about twenty minutes to walk the several blocks to the studio, but when I made it I greeted the receptionist. “Good morning, Ricardo!”

“Good morning, Y/n! How are you today?”

“Average, I guess. And you?”

“Fabulous. I’ve got my coffee so today should go smoothly.”

I chuckled. He always liked his caffeine.

“I better head on up. I’ll see you later. Have a great day!”

“You too!”

I walked upstairs to the locker room where I placed my backpack and shoes in my locker. I slipped off my hoodie and then sat on one of the benches to put my pointe shoes on. When they were secure, I walked into the studio. I saw the girls hounding Jessica for information so I just went to my corner and stretched. As I was doing so, Maria came into the room. She looked around and when she noticed me, she came over. “Good morning, Y/n. I hope your dinner was enjoyable last night.”

“It was actually. The Morningstars are very nice people.”

“I’m glad. Was Jessica nice to you?”

“With them, yes. In the car, not so much.”

“I see. I’m sorry that happened.”

“It’s no big deal. I’m used to it.”

She smiled and patted me on the shoulder. “Well I’d better get to teaching. Shall we?”

“We shall.”

Maria clapped her hands and we fell into our rows. We did a few warm up exercises and as we were doing this, Ricardo came into the room holding a bouquet twice the size of my head and the phone. We stopped to ooh and ah. “Yes?”

“These just came for Y/n.”

“What,” I muttered.

Ricardo came over and handed me the plastic wrapped flowers. Upon closer inspection I saw my favorite flower mixed with roses. I could feel heat rising to my cheeks as I found a card amongst the petals. Pulling it out, the heat burned brighter. “What does it say, Y/n?”

“To our dearest Y/n, thank you for a wonderful night. Call us anytime. From the Morningstars. And then there’s a phone number.”

All my friends squealed in delight and Jessica stepped forward rudely. “Was there anything for me, Ricardo?”

“I’m afraid not. I’ll keep checking. Oh also there’s someone on hold for you, Y/n.”

He handed me the phone and I looked at Maria. She gestured for me to answer it. “Hello?”

“Good morning, Y/n!”

“Who is this?”

“Ah, how rude of me! It’s Luci.”

“Mr Morningstar?”

At the mention of the name, Jessica glared at me. I gulped.

“What have I told you about formalities, darling?”

“Sorry, bad habit. What can I do for you?”

“The wife and I were wondering if you’d like to go dancing tonight.”

“T-tonight? But we just saw each other-” “Lilith and I have taken quite a liking to you, my dear. You’re such a sweetheart and we’d like to be with you again. You just radiate a beautiful energy. What do you say?”

“Oh, um, uh…I guess. Sure.”

“Great! We’ll pick you up at 7 o clock! See you then, dear!”

“See you then.”

I pulled the phone away and ended the call. Lily spoke first. “Well?”

“I guess I have another date tonight with the Morningstars.”

The girls erupted into screams of joy and surrounded me in a hug except for the prima ballerina. She gave me a heated glare, stomped her foot and stormed off. I gave the bouquet and phone back to Ricardo. “Could you put them in my locker please?”

“Of course!”

“Thanks, Ricardo.”

“Don’t mention it.”

He left the room and Maria tried to calm everybody down. “Girls. Girls! GIRLS!”

They stopped and stared at our instructor. “Let’s get to work. We don’t have much time.”

“Yes, ma’am,” we all responded.

The rest of the morning and afternoon was spent practicing. Around 3 pm, Maria let us go. When I went into the locker room, I stopped abruptly. All over the floor near my locker were flower petals and the destroyed bouquet. My hoodie lay on the bench as well as my backpack. I went over and picked both up only for my things to fall from the bag and my sweatshirt to have tears in the material. I looked at the bottom of my bag to see a large hole had been cut. Both were beyond repair. I sighed and threw both items in the trash. I had a feeling it was Jessica. I just couldn’t believe she was that angry at me when it wasn’t my fault the Morningstars called on me. Grabbing my stuff, I put it on a bench and then went to grab the broom and dustpan. Retrieving both from the supply closet, I returned to the locker room and cleaned up the flower petals and tore up card from the carpeted floor. I threw that and the plastic wrapped stems in the trash before returning the cleaning supplies to the closet. I walked back to the locker room, grabbed my stuff and made my way home.

When I got home I had taken a small nap and then got ready for the night. I chose a dark blue floral blouse, black pants, black boots and a denim jacket. Grabbing my keys, phone and purse, I headed down to the main street. The same Mercedes-Benz sat in front of my building and out stepped Luci from the car. “Over here, Y/n!”

I walked over and slid in, only to realize when he got in that I squished between the husband and wife. Oh boy.

“Derek, you may go.”

The car drove off. It was silent for a minute and I bit my lip when both Luci and Lilth’s hands came to rest on either one of my legs. “So my darling, did you enjoy our flowers? Lilith and I combined our efforts to come up with it.”

“Uh, I did. Before they got destroyed.”

“What do you mean?”

“I had them put in my locker and when I got back from practice my hoodie, backpack and flowers were lying on the ground ruined.”

My eyes widened when I thought I saw horns come out of Luci’s head and his eyes go from red to white. I blinked and they were back to normal. “And who do you think did it?”

“Well…I can’t say.”

Lilith put a finger under my chin and made me face her. She brought her head so close our lips almost touched. “Love, you can tell us anything. We’re here for you. Was it that pesky Jessica? I knew we should have sent flowers so she didn’t feel left out but Luci was very determined not to.”

“She was soooo boring! All she did was talk about herself. At least our little apple was nice and polite.”

I felt him trace a pattern on my thigh but I couldn’t see as I was stuck staring at Lilith. “Luci…”

“It’s true! You can’t deny that, honey.”

“Alright, yes. She was a bore. But maybe our lovely’s bouquet would still be intact.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that one.”

“Anyway, was it Jessica?”

I could feel their eyes bore into me and I felt compelled to nod. They glanced at each other and then back to me. “Don’t worry love, we’ll get you as many flowers as you’d like.”

“Yes, but let’s focus on tonight. We’re going to dance the night away!”

My body tensed slightly when Luci put his head on my shoulder and I could feel his breath on my neck. “I-is hot in here or is it just me?”

They both chuckled rather loudly. “Oh dear. I think our little apple is heating up, Lilith.”

“Yes I think so, Luci. Perhaps we should aid her?”

“Yes. Yes we should.”

I gasped when I felt Mr Morningstar start to suck on my neck. I tried to pull away but Mrs Morningstar brought me into a kiss. My eyes widened and I attempted to hit either of them, but each of them had grabbed one hand and held it. I squirmed as they took their sweet time kissing me and just as I brought my legs up to kick them the car stopped. They pulled away with giant grins on their faces. The door opened and I clawed my way over top of Luci to get out. I figured he left a hickey so I did my best to raise my jacket collar to hide it. Just as I finished, I felt an arm wrap around my waist and the other around my shoulders. “Shall we go in, my love?”

I nodded and the two scooted me inside the club. It was very loud when we entered, the music making the walls and floor shake. The three of us sat in a private booth and Lilith went to go get us some drinks. I tried to put past how they had both kissed me, but I just couldn’t for the life of me. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to like it or not. Sure they were nice people but something about them unsettled me. “Whatcha thinking about, my dear?”

I looked up at Luci, his brow furrowed. “Huh? Oh nothing.”

“I don’t think it’s nothing. You’re very quiet.”

“I guess…nevermind.”

“Come on, you can tell me. You can tell us anything.”

His hand reached across the table and it laid on my knee. It reminded me too much of their kiss so I slid it off. He seemed very surprised by my retaliation. I looked at the hardwood floor as I spoke. “I guess I wasn’t expecting you guys to kiss me. I thought we weren’t quite there yet.”

“Oh, is that what’s got you bothered? I’m sorry. My wife and I are very forward when it comes to love.”

“Love?”

“Yes, you heard me.”

“What are you two talking about?”

Lilith had returned with three drinks. She set them on the table and sat by her husband. “Y/n doesn’t think we love her.”

“It’s not that, I just think it’s too early. I mean we met yesterday for crying out loud.”

“Aw, but you’re so fascinating, my love! How could we not fall in love with you!”

“Look, I’m not ready to take it to the next step-”

“You will in due time, little apple. It’ll just take some getting used to.”

I felt like I wasn’t being heard and I just needed a minute to breathe. “I, I need to go to the bathroom.”

I abruptly stood and speed walked to the nearest restroom. Just as I was about to enter, I bumped into somebody. “Oh, I’m so sorry!”

“No please, it was me-Y/n?”

I looked up and felt my heart stop. Oh great, my ex. Just what I needed. “Hey.”

“Hey…how have you been?”

“Um, good I guess. Look, I was just heading to the bathroom-”

“Well now that I got you here we might as well talk.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

“Y/n, I know we got off on the wrong foot-”

“You left because you found someone else. That’s that. Now if you’ll excuse me-”

They grabbed me by the shoulders and I stiffened. “You always do this when I try to talk to you. You shut me down. I just want you to fucking listen.”

Their grip tightened and I wished I was more at the table with the Morningstars then here. “Let go!”

I shoved my ex away and ran out the front door. I took a sharp turn and leaned against the alley wall. I leaned my head against the brick and let out a sigh. I heard rushing footsteps and I internally groaned when I saw Ex-Partner’s Name round the corner. “There you are! What part of I want to talk to you do you not fucking understand?!”

“The message is clear, but I just don’t want to talk. When you left me, that finished the matter.”

“But I want you back! I made a mistake alright, but I realize that now! Come on, what do you say?”

“I’ve said no and I’ll say it again. NO!”

They growled and I saw a glint in the moonlight. My eyes widened when I realized it was a switchblade. They rushed at me and I quickly closed my eyes and curled inwards, waiting for pain. It never came. I opened my eyes to see Luci with completely red eyes and long red horns sticking out of his forehead. A floating apple and a golden snake wrapped around the top of his horns and a fireball hovered above his head. Lilith was beside him, her eyes completely white and reddish purple curled horns stuck out of her head. He grabbed my ex by the wrist, twisting the knife out of their hand. They screamed in pain and I gasped seeing the bone stick out. Oh my God…

I stepped back as Luci twisted harder and more bone came poking out of the skin. “Don’t even think about going near her! YOU UNDERSTAND ME, YOU LITTLE BITCH!”

I watched in horror as the knife levitated towards Lilith and she stabbed my ex in the shoulder. They howled and she brought the knife up and stabbed again. Their nails grew into claws and they started to dig into my assailant’s skin, blood rushing down from their wounds. I backed away and then sprinted out of there. My ex’s screams rang in my head as I continued to run. What the fuck? What the fuck?!

I suddenly slammed into a chest and shrieked when arms wrapped around me. I realized it was Luci, his eyes now white with a red background. Six red and white wings stuck out of his back and they slightly curled around us as I beat on his chest. “Let me go! LET ME GO!”

He nuzzled into my hair and I kept flailing around. Lilith magically appeared beside him, my ex’s body dragging on the ground behind her. “Shh. You’re safe now, little apple. We’ve got you.”

“Get the fuck away from me! Get! Away!”

“Lucifer, don’t hold her too tight now. We don’t want bruises on her precious skin.”

In my struggle I slowed. Lucifer Morningstar. Lilith Morningstar. Horns. Wings. Wait a minute…

“Are you the Devil and his wife,” I asked timidly.

The two looked at each and sighed. “I guess the duck is out of the bag, Lilith.”

They turned to look at me and I shrunk in his tight hold. “Yes, we’re the Devil and his wife.”

It all made sense now. The red and purple eyes. The pale complexion. The reason they were such mysterious patrons. Their daughter being down under.

I shoved Lucifer and he let go for a second before his bloody claws grasped hard on my arms. His talons dug into my skin as I struggled. “Let me go, please! I, I won’t tell anyone what happened here! We can just go about our lives! Just, just let me go!”

By now tears had started escaping my eyes and I quickly kicked Lucifer in the balls. His claws slid down and caused four gashes to appear on my forearm. He let out a groan and I turned to flee, only for him to fly in front of me. “Y/n! Stop!”

They cornered me to the wall and the brick dug harshly at my back. “Everything’s alright, my love. You’re alright.”

Lilith brought her hand up and I slapped it away. My chest was heaving to try and gain air into the lungs, but I couldn’t get any in. I mean how are you supposed to react when you find out that the patrons of your ballet academy who are in love with you are the Devil and his wife?

“Y/n, dear, breathe. Breathe.”

“I, I can’t! I c-can’t!”

I just broke down. I slid down the brick and wrapped my arms around my knees. I began to hyperventilate as tears rushed down my cheeks. I heard Lucifer and Lilith say something to each other but I couldn’t make it out. As I cried I felt something gently hit my head and arms. I looked up to see golden dust raining down upon me. I looked up even further to see it coming from Luci’s fingertips, a gentle smile on both his and Lilith’s faces. Suddenly I felt very tired and calm, too calm. I could feel my muscles go slack and my body limp as Lucifer picked me up bridal style. “Just close your eyes, lovely. We’ll be home before you know it.”

“H-home? W-whose home?”

They both looked at me and smiled brightly. My eyes closed and my breathing steadied.

“Ours.”

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boiohboii · 10 months

Text

The Spaniard's Wife (Carlos Sainz x wife!reader)

Inspired by @charles-eclair16 's fic

Carlos Sainz had a secret for the past 9 years, but when he forgot to take off the one thing that can reveal everything, everyone has questions

in which Carlos let's everyone know that the rumors, in fact, are true

masterlist

N.B: didn't turn out how I wanted but I've been rewriting it multiple times and I think this is the best option, hope you like it...WARNINGS: swear words a lot, not proof read, spelling mistakes and really bad photoshop tbh, if I missed anything please let me know!

Faceclaim: Emeraude Toubia

Liked by Charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, landonorris and 910,583 others

Carlossainz55: my wife and I have been friends for 20 years, we have been lovers for 13 of those years, engaged for 2 and married for 9. I have never been sure of much, but I am sure that I love her with my entire heart, I will always love her. I have known yn since before I could even dream of being an f1 driver, what happened in that one interview was disrespectful and just disgusting. No one has any right to speak any ill word of my wife, you don't know her and you never will, as long as she doesn't want you to. I will do everything for her, for her happiness, her comfort and for her ease of mind.

landonorris: tell yn I miss her!

Carlossainz55: leave her alone

landonorris: I'll tell her that you're rude to me

Carlossainz55: she's my wife!

landonorris: yeah yeah, you never let us forget it

username: yn been here since day 0 apparently, can't fight her now

username: YES!! CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS!

username: I want dts to make a reincarnation of their love story

username: we need a spinoff

username: yes! It'd be so cute

username: I can't imagine 16 year old carlos realising he is in love with his friend

username: she is every man's wet dream

-this comment has been removed-

username: she looks so pretty wtf

username: she's looks like a doll

username: wish i looked like that at 20 years old

username: her dress is phenomenal

username: this screams money

username: 2 different cars for a wedding

username: the third slide, holy shit

username: I wouldn't be surprised if the last 2 pictures are carlos' or her house, like holy fuck

username: both scream rich

username: mum used to say rich people look it and I never gave it much thought until I saw carlos sainz and now his wife

username: did y'all see the picture that one twitter user took? Their outfits looked so fucking good

username: YES! I SAW IT! I could never afford a thread on either outfit!

username: did you guys see her hair! It looks so thick and healthy

username: fr!

username: I want a wedding like that!

username: I want a husband like that!

username: I want a wife like that!

username: I love how he is not in one single picture 💀😂

Liked by danielricciardo, landonorris, Pierregasly and 1,209,316 others

Carlossainz55: 10 years since i was able to call you wife, and I will never get tired of letting everyone know that. I am in love with you, forever and always.

Charles_leclerc: simp

Carlossainz55: I don't know what that means

landonorris: ikr, it's laughable man @.Charles_leclerc

Charles_leclerc: don't pretend like you're not the same with your girl @.landonorris

username: damn charles really coming for everyone's neck today

username: bet charles is the biggest simp of them

username: he really making us feel lonely as hell huh

username: 10 fucking years, Holy shit!

username: no cause if I had yn by my side I too would be in fucking love

username: don't embarrass yourself, everyone knows you're in love without her by your side

username: I didn't ask to be attacked like that wtf

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au #f1 smau #f1 #carlos sainz social media au #carlos sainz smau #carlos sainz instagram edit #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz twitter au #carlos sainz x yn #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz #carlos sainz wife #carlos sainz x wife! reader #carlos sainz jr

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norrisleclercf1 · 1 year

Text

Mafia!Charles Headcannons

Warnings: slight smut, angst, mafia, kidnapping, etc.

A/N: fucking deal with it, I've always wanted to write Mafia!Charles

Mafia!Charles who rules Monaco and no one can come and go without him knowing

You the pretty trophy wife he married to stop a war from breaking out of territory

Both of you hated the idea of marrying each other you didn't want to marry someone you didn't know

Charles didn't want to marry at all

His men knew that you hated the idea of being married to him

they respected you, since Charles told to or else they'd deal with him

to you Charles was a horrible man who only cared about gaining power

Charles thought you were just an airhead who only cared for shopping and the lifestyle he gives you

for a while the both of you avoided each other and people would only see you two together if there was some function

The two of you grew closer one night when at a function you were bored

each time an old guy would hit on you, you'd whisper to Charles on a scale to 1-10 how much you'd want to bang them

Charles found it annoying at first, but the more it went on, the more he started to laugh and join in

After that you both started to relax around each other

Charles had woken up late and decided to join you for breakfast, he wasn't a late riser

So when he walks outside to see you eating your breakfast and reading he joins you

Of course you raise an eyebrow wondering what the hell he's doing as he is served his breakfast

For the next 2 weeks you continued to have a silent breakfast with your so called husband

Until the 3rd week when he asked you what you're reading

From them on you two would have small conversations about your day or anything in general

It started to become a routine

One that Charles looked forward to every morning, he hated that he was starting to like you

If people found out that he had a soft spot for his wife then that only means it’s a way to hurt him

Charles wasn’t someone that could easily be touched, but you?

You didn’t like your bodyguards and always slipped them, so it was very easy for someone to get to you

He started to pull back on getting to know you, but you refused for that to happen

Refused to be in a marriage that made you miserable

So when he stopped showing up to your morning breakfast, you went searching for him

Finding him in his study you sit down and ring the bell signaling the people to bring in your breakfast trays

He glares at you and of course tells you to leave, but you level the so called King of Monaco with one look

Hiding a smirk, he curses himself for falling for you even more

For a while he buried himself in work, you bringing him meals once in a while even staying for a while to make sure he eats

Once, he didn’t want to eat so, pulling his chair out you sat down in his lap straddling him

You decided to wear yoga pants and one of his shirts you found lying around

Charles had to think of the gruesome things he had done to people to stop from getting a boner

Your ass was hugged tight in those yoga pants,

taking the opportunity you feed him small bites of his sandwich while his fingers rubbed into your hips

After the day in the study Charles could add touching and you sitting on his lap along with breakfast together as a way your relationship was growing

He asked you why you always wanted to sit in his lap, but all he received was a smile and light kiss on his cheek

leaving a clear imprint of your lips

Your lipstick glowing against his skin, making you giggle

You teased him and told him to find out why you liked sitting on his lap

he just laughed and tickled you slightly causing you to wiggle

As you two drew closer, people started to notice more and more

The way the feared King of Monaco was bowing to his Queen, something they never thought possible

Going shopping by yourself wasn’t a thing anymore, Charles was right there next to you

Telling your husband that he needed new clothes and dragging him to some fashion store

He always wore black something straight out of books, a splash of color would do him good

Red

Grabbing a nice red shirt and some other clothes you don’t even have him try them on

You know his size after snooping in his closet

Charles is busy in his phone, not even looking up when he sees your open palm

Digging in his wallet he places his black card

You giggle, swiping the card and giving it back to Charles who doesn’t accept it

He mummery it’s for you, kissing your cheek, maybe a little squeeze on your ass as he goes back to his phone

Blushing you notice that he’s not paying attention so when you drag him into a lingerie store you start to plan

Charles finally looks up when he hears a woman’s voice ask you what size bra you wear

Stumbling over his feet he follows you to a private changing room and sits down, still shocked

He tries hard not to blush seeing all the different styles the worker brings as he waits

When you walk out, Charles loses all ability to breath

You wore a gorgeous red wine mesh lingerie set that had garters

It left nothing to the imagination

You ask him what he thinks, but all he does is stand moving closer to you

The look on his face is one you’ve seen before

It’s one he makes before he makes a kill

Whispering his name you touch his chest, the large classic diamond on your ring finger catches the light, making it sparkle

Charles’s larger hand envelopes yours, his own ring catching the light

Leaning in his kisses you slowly, almost in a painful way, his kiss burned you

Mummery how gorgeous you looked, but how much better it’d look off you

Tells you how much he’d love to claim his wife’s pussy once and for all

Making sure that everyone in the house hears you scream and cry his name

Definitely has to buy you the set because he’s ruined it just with his words

Charles holds truth to his words, after that he never leaves your side

You’re so blissed out of your mind you actually forget who Charles is

It all comes hurling back at you when the driver is bringing you home

Your on the phone with Charles when you scream, the driver having hit the brakes hard

All you hear is Charles’s panicked voice as he yells for you to tell him what’s happening

But it’s too late when 3 men grab you muffling the scream of your husbands name

Charles rushing to your car to find the driver dead and you missing

Loses his fucking mind, going on a rampage throughout Monaco looking for you

Every man he finds that was in connection, killed if they don’t give him the information he’s looking for

7 painful and torturous days later he finds you chained and crying on the floor

Refuses to let anyone but him touch you

Whispers how he’s here, that you’re safe, that no one will ever touch you again

Kills anyone who let you get taken and those that took you

You don’t see him again for another 3 days

When you wake from your sleep, he’s suddenly there, crying as he holds your hand

Never thought he’d be so happy to hear the voice that once bothered him

Hugs you tightly, telling you how much he loves you

Smiling you pat his back telling him you’re alright now, that nothing can hurt you

Whisks you away for a vacation that extends to you two living in Italy while you heal

Long nights of being in each others presence, telling each other who much you love one another with words and tour bodies

Mafia!Charles who would kill everyone in Monaco just for even touching you

Just….Mafia!Charles

2K notes · View notes

apute11as · 6 months

Text

Everything happens for a reason part 3 - Alexia putellas x pregnant!reader

Author note- hey guys here’s part 3! Hope you are enjoying the series! Please leave a comment with any feedback (positive or otherwise) it’s always helpful 🤍🤍

Warnings⚠️ swearing (that’s about it I think) it’s mostly angst

————

Part 1- https://www.tumblr.com/apute11as/733631966220582912/everything-happens-for-a-reason-alexia-putellas

Part 2- https://www.tumblr.com/apute11as/735082085825576960/everything-happens-for-a-reason-part-2-alexia

—————

The next day rolled around fairly quickly as you and Alessia had made a brief exit, claiming travel sickness to be the cause of your tearful exit from the room. As you woke up the next day you were met with the sound of a blaring alarm that read 6:30am.

Groaning you began to trudge out of bed, as Alessia did the same from the other bed.

“What are you doing?” Rung Alessia’s sleepy voice.

“Getting ready for training?” you said, puzzled.

“Oh are you sure you want to play, do you feel well?” questioned the striker

“yeah surprisingly I feel alright this morning” you smiled but you were soon cut off by a harsh ringing of your phone and were met with Alexia’s face plastered across your screen. You hesitated at first but then clicked the green button.

“Bon dia mi amor, I was starting to this you weren’t awake” came the a husky, Catalonian voice.

“Hey baby yeah I’m up sorry just misplaced my phone.” you assured her.

“How is camp are you feeling better now?” she asked, her voice laced with concern.

You hesitated for a moment, wondering if maybe you should just share your concerns with your wife, knowing that she could potentially offer clarity. However you ultimately decided against it as you had your mind set on attending the World Cup and playing as much as possible. Your mind wandered as you began working it out in your head, realising that by the end of the tournament, you’d be almost 3 months pregnant which would likely carry risks when you played.

“Princesa? Are you still there?” your wife questioned with worry.

“Lo siento Ale I’m here, I’m just so tired sorry my mind isn’t focusing.” you offered

“I understand bebita, I’ll call you back later vale?” the Spaniard inquired.

“Sí of course I’ll call you after training, te quiero mucho Alexia.” you voiced

“I love you too amor.” she replied blowing a kiss at the screen, which you returned before ending the call.

“You ok?” Asked Alessia with a pitiful smile.

“Yeah I’m good. Thank you Less I really mean it.” you replied

“always and we’ll get the test later to calm your mind down” she smiled

———

The morning had been relatively smooth, with minimal nausea and training with the girls had even distracted you completely for a number of hours- something that you welcomed with open arms. During the rondo is when it all started to take a turn for the worse. You felt yourself growing more easily tired than usual, struggling to catch your breath after a run down the wing, the sick feeling started to form.

You’d been stood in a small huddle half way through the drill when you felt the bile begin to rise in your throat and before you knew it you were making a run to the changing rooms and throwing up in the nearest bin. Alessia and Mary were close behind and you felt a hand rubbing up your back as you dry heaved into the bin.

“come on y/n we’re going to get the medicine” said Alessia

“what medicine?” you questioned, whilst attempting to regain your composure.

“You know what we talked about getting at lunch? To cure your illness” she said through gritted teeth as your mind finally caught up.

“Ohh ok yes sorry” you replied, eyes darting between her and Mary.

“What’s up with you?” Asked Mary, concerned.

“Just the flu we think” you answered, stoically.

“Should you be playing??” She urged

“Probably not but I didn’t want to worry anyone” you lied about your condition

“Y/N your health should come first always!” Mary insisted.

“Sorry Mar it will next time I promise” you offered, which seemed to be enough for you as she allowed you and Alessia to leave, whilst she told the team of your suspected flu- an answer they gave little question to.

———

The journey to the shop was brief. You slipped in with hoods up and made sure to use self checkout to minimise the risk of being spotted because what a scandal that would cause.

Once you returned to your shared room, the two of you made your way to the bathroom, carrying three different brands of pregnancy test in your bag.

“Do you want to do them all at once?” Alessia inquired.

“I mean I doubt I have the pee control to do it any other way” you replied, attempting to lighten the tense mood.

You sat down on the toilet and held the tests below you as Alessia turned to face the door. Once you’d taken them, you turned all three face down on the counter and the two of you sat on the stone floor of the bathroom with a 5 minute timer on Alessia’s phone. Your mind wandered to your wife in Spain as the guilt crept in about keeping this potentially life changing moment from her.

Before you could get too absorbed in your thoughts, the timer sounded signifying it was time to check the tests.

“you’ve got this.” Reassured the blonde with a small smile.

“3, 2, 1” you rehearsed before flipping the text.

First one: positive

Second one: positive

Third one: positive

“Oh shit” Alessia voiced.

“Oh shit indeed.”

“What are you gonna do? Shall I get your phone I can leave whilst you call alexia?” Said the striker.

“No. She can’t know.” You responded emotionlessly.

“What why not?” Alessia questioned, shock evident in her tone.

“She’ll stop me from playing Alessia. I have to play! By the time it’s noticeable the World Cup will be done and I’ll tell her then to cheer her up if neither of us win it or to add fuel to the celebration if one of us does. Oh my god what if she’s not happy?” your breathing picks up rapidly “she wanted the baby before but what if she’s changed her mind Alessia?” Your breathing was becoming frantic.

“Calm down y/n/n breathe just breathe” Alessia said putting a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“I can’t Alessia! What if she leaves me? I can’t raise a baby on my own!” You began to hyperventilate, reaching a state of full blown panic.

“Y/n you need to breathe ok, we can sort all that after, you don’t need to tell alexia today just calm down, breathe, think of the baby ok, breathe for the baby!” Alessia urged.

“Ok ok” you said steadying your breath, Alessia’s grip on your shoulders grounding you.

“You feeling calmer now?” questioned the blonde.

“Yes thank you Alessia it really means a lot” you smiled, hugging the younger girl.

——

The first game of the tournament came around fast. With it being Haiti, you weren’t too concerned as they hadn’t been an especially tough team in the past. You still hadn’t told Alexia about the pregnancy. Although Alessia had managed to convince you to see a doctor, luckily she wasn’t a football fan so had no idea who the two of you were, and much to your amusement she confused you as a couple which sent the two of you into fits of giggles, before correcting her. You and Alexia still kept in contact, she’d noticed something off with you but each time she’d brought it up, you shut her down with and blamed it on fatigue. She wasn’t stupid and didn’t buy a word of it but she also knew you’d tell her in your own time, whatever it was so she didn’t push.

When sarina announced you to be in the starting eleven you sighed heavily, realising that the game would be tougher than anticipated. What’s more, you were playing centre back. Normally, you played CDM or on occasion CM but with Leah out and Millie having picked up a light injury in training, England were short on reliable centre backs.

As the whistle sounded to signify the start of the match, you drew a sharp breath in anticipation of the difficulty these next 90 minutes would prevail.

—

Half time came around eventually. After a gruelling first half, you welcomed the break. You were leading 1-0 only thanks to a penalty from Georgia, which wasn’t overly comforting as Haiti were putting up a fair fight. You were forced to make some risky tackles, many of which ended up with you on the floor, body twisted at awkward angles. This did nothing to help Alessia’s growing anxiety for you. She’d become protective over you as she felt partially responsible, being the only one who knew about the pregnancy still. Every time you’d gone down with a challenge, she’d been by your side, checking you over (despite being practically on opposite ends of the pitch).

What you didn’t know was that Alexia was sat in a hotel room, watching every interaction and was beginning to grow suspicious of your new found closeness to the blonde striker. Lingering touches which to you and Alessia were nothing more than her checking on you and the baby, to Alexia were symbols of a growing affection between the two of you. Her jaw remained clenched at every interaction.

——

The game ended 1-0. A tight win but the three points were yours nonetheless. Your body ached all over. As you headed for the coach in a slumped motion due to the fatigue, you were stopped with a warm hand on your shoulder, one that belonged to Lucy Bronze.

“Hey Luce are you ok?” you sighed out.

“I’m alright Mrs putellas but are you?” She asked with concern. You cringed at the nickname she gave you before responding.

“Tough match that’s all, why do you ask?” you inquired with a furrowed brow.

“Alexia told me you weren’t yourself lately, asked me to check up on you. Oh and also I was quite concerned to hear that you didn’t tell her about your quite awful round of the flu the other week?” she questioned

“Oh erm must of slipped my mind?” You offered weakly.

“Yeah I’m sure, what’s really up Y/N?” Questioned the brunette.

“I-I can’t tell you” you stuttered, eyes damp with tears that threatened to fall at any moment.

“Why not, you know you can trust me with anything?” she said, face contorted with a mixture of confusion and hurt.

“I know Lucy and I love you for it but it’s personal I’m sorry.” you half smiled at her

“Yeah yeah I get that, you don’t have to tell me but you should really tell your wife.” She rebounded.

“No she can’t know!” You said on reflex, as though you were talking about it to Alessia.

“Know what? Y/N I’m worried now what’s going on?” Lucy pushed further.

“Y/N” called Alessia, jogging towards the two of you. “Are you coming?” She gestured to the bus.

“Yeah of course.” You smiled at the striker. Lucy however, didn’t miss the relaxation of your body at Alessia’s presence. Making a mental note to bring this up when Alexia called again.

——

Alexia’s POV

Y/N has been off with me for weeks. Ever since that day she left for the World Cup, she’s been so distant. At first I thought it was to do with us being rivals at the World Cup but now I fear there’s something more.

After watching her game against Haiti, I noticed her closeness with Russo, England’s young striker. My stomach twisted in discomfort as I watched them interact, Y/N responding to her touch in the way she’d normally only do for me. Jealousy rippled through me, could it be? Is this why she’s been off with me? Was my wife really cheating on me with her teammate?

Back to neural POV

Frantically, Alexia called Lucy for the second time this week. After a few rings she picked up.

“Hola Capi” sounded the English- twinged Spanish of Lucy bronze.

“Hola Lucia, well done on the game”

“Gracias Alexia? Not to be rude but why are you calling me?” She questioned

“Has Y/N been acting weird at all?” She asked simply

“Funny you say that she was being odd earlier. She seemed sad so I asked her what was up and I got minimal response but then I got her to crack a little. She told me there was something but she couldn’t tell me. Then Alessia came along and grabbed her to go to the bus. They spent the whole journey whispering about something so I’m not sure what to take from it?” Offered Lucy

“That little bitch” snapped alexia

“Woah what now?” Questioned Lucy at the harsh words Alexia had just produced

“I think she’s cheating on me Luce” replied alexia, both anger and sadness laced her voice.

“Oh wow Ale that’s a huge conculsion to jump to.” Stated the older woman.

“Well did you not see how much they touched eachother in that game. I was observing them the whole time Alessia was practically glued to her at every opportunity.” Snarled alexia.

“Now that you say it they’ve been spending a lot of time together but I wouldn’t make any rash decisions on the matter Alexia.” Offered Lucy.

“Thanks Lucy I’m gonna call her now.” Alexia stated harshly

——

After the team bus made its way back to the hotel in Sydney, you and Alessia wandered up to your rooms (next door to eachother as requested). You’d barely been back and hour before you received a FaceTime from your wife. Weird, you’d thought. It was a couple of hours earlier than you’d discussed but you brushed it off and answered anyways.

“Hola mi amor” you spoke down the phone.

“Fuck you” came your wife’s angry tone

“W-what? Mi Vida are you ok?” You asked with concern in your voice

“You’re cheating on me are you, with Russo?” She snarled

“WHAT?! No Alexia where did you get that from?” you were shocked at this revelation

“I saw the two of you in that game, every time you were tackled she was right beside you. She’s up front you’re a defender for fucks sake you’re miles away from each other!” She practically yelled down the phone.

“Alexia no it’s not like that at all, she’s just been looking out for me.” You reassured the Spaniard.

“Looking out for you? I know we’re not seeing eachother for a while but i didn’t realise you were pathetic enough to need another woman to satisfy you! It’s been 3 fucking weeks Y/N!” She roared

“You don’t understand Alexia I needed someone to talk to, to support me in person.” you were in tears now.

“SUPPORT YOU? What the fuck with? I call you everyday to check in and you won’t tell me anything so you’re whoring yourself out to the next person you can find!” She pushed further

“No Alexia! It’s not like that not at all please!” You begged

“Then what is it huh? What could you possibly need support with that I can’t give you right now?!” She boomed

“Alexia, I’m- I’m pregnant! The IVF worked its your baby, sorry you had to find out like this.” you burst into tears.

Alexia sat there in shock. You were pregnant, with her baby, how could she have been so stupid!

—————

#woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #espwnt #fcb femeni #espwnt x reader #fcb femeni x reader #alessia russo #alexia putellas x reader #lionesses #alessia russo x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas

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mrs-mag1c · 10 months

Text

𝐓𝐎𝐏 𝐆𝐔𝐍 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐄𝐂'𝐒

NATASHA "PHOENIX" TRACE

Helping Hands

Phoenix has had a long day. She knows the only thing that will make her feel better is coming home to you and getting a little help to unwind.

Guard Dog

natasha has a hot girlfriend and is ready to fight as long as she keeps wearing low-rise jeans.

Sundress Season

phoenix isn’t the biggest fan of summer. it’s hot, humid, and penny’s niece has a thing for sundresses. a few too many drinks, and phoenix is letting her know exactly how she feels about them.

BRADLEY "ROOSTER" BRADSHAW

Rooster's Brood Part 2

The squad gets a little surprise in the form of Rooster spawn.

Little Black Shirt

Knowing how much Bradley loves your breasts, you decide to surprise him with a new shirt which leads to you guys trying something new.

Sunflowers

Bradley’s always been good at saying things he doesn’t mean, but he’s even better at saying things that he does.

Green-Eyed Rooster

when rooster gets jealous

Sub Rosa

After months of sneaking around, and a few weeks of not seeing each other, Rooster and Reader get a few minutes to themselves at Ice’s birthday party.

The Vice Admiral's Niece

At a yearly Navy dinner, Vice Admiral Simpson decides to bring his niece to get her out of the house after a breakup. She isn't thrilled until a certain aviator catches her eye all night.

Let Me Love You

Bradley has been dealt a shitty hand in life, and he's determined to protect himself from getting hurt again. Everything is turned upside down when you blow into his life looking like everything he swears he doesn't want.

Love to lie

Your worst fear is recognized when Bradley’s jet goes down with him in it. You’re not sure why you’re still his emergency contact, you’d broken up two weeks ago, but when you rush into the hospital room, you discover that you have a chance to fix the mistake you’d been cursing yourself for. The only problem is, you have to lie to Bradley, and you discover that you love doing it if it means you get to be with him again.

Skittles in Vodka

Almost a decade ago, Rooster ended up stranded in the desert. Thankfully an Army caravan was around to pick him up, and there he met the woman he loved. Unfortunately, he never got her name. Now a certain candy drink reminds him of her.

Bradley's Girl

you’re the perfect girl for Jake. You’re pretty, kind, funny, smart. You could have him on his knees for you if you’d ask. But you’re Bradley’s girl.

JAKE "HANGMAN" SERESIN

De-instigating the Instigator

To the surprise of everyone, Jake Seresin does have an off button

It's All About You

4 times Jake thought about marrying you and the 1 time he did.

Middle Of A Memory

Jake Seresin was an asshole, everyone knew it. He flew with confidence and held a cocky smirk. Behind every cocky smirk and snark remark was you, built into his memories, memories he always lived in.

A Formal Reprimand

Above all else, Jake prided himself on his spotless Naval record. When his wife inadvertently causes him to be formally reprimanded during deployment, he plans to give her a fair share of the punishment when he gets home.

All You Had To do Was Stay

Six years ago Jake hit your life like a hurricane. In and out in a matter of weeks. You thought after you get over the disappointment of him leaving without saying a word you’d never think of him again. But then two pink lines change your life forever. Now he’s back and still has no idea that the little girl by your side is his daughter.

ROBERT "BOB" FLOYD

Flashes

you buy a special set of lingerie when you know you're ovulating and Bob asks if he can take pictures of you while you fuck.

#bradley bradshaw smut #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x wife!reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #natasha trace smut #natasha phoenix trace #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin smut #jake seresin #bob floyd #robert floyd #top gun smut #robert floyd smut #top gun fic recs #top gun hangman

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buckyandgeraltsupremacy · 6 months

Text

remus x shy!reader (part 3)

author: sj

warnings: fluff; reader is in hufflepuff; uses she/her pronouns; not edited

my masterplan of slowburn is coming together, but its finals so this will take me while <3

masterlist

part 1 / part 2 / part 4 / part 5

---

the first time he realizes that you aren't officially his

remus and you were extremely close. to point that the boys just assumed you two would get married. it was just an unspoken agreement that you were remus' and remus was yours. remus would always be touching you, and it got even worse over the full moon so why wouldn't you be dating?

however, it all changed when another hufflepuff didn't catch that drift. you were all sitting in potions, you and james at a table and remus and sirius at the one behind you two. you weren't fully paying attention, when jordan, another hufflepuff in your year, came up to talk you.

he was obviously very interested in you. to the point where he was stumbling over his words and making you feel bad for him. you reached out your hand to him to comfort him as he stumbled over trying to ask you a question.

"jordan, slow down, what is it that you were wondering?" you ask, empathetically, giving him a soft smile.

"i- was just wondering if you'd go to hogsmeade with me this weekend." your face instantly heats, you nodded your head and responded with a small sure. "great. meet in the common room at 9:30?" you nodded your head and gave him a small smile.

the boys, watching this whole thing happen, were aghast. what do you mean our y/n is going on a date with a random boy. peter was shocked it took someone so long to ask you out. james was most horrified at what will be remus' reaction. sirius was most impressed that you accepted. remus had no reaction. his first thought was you were taken so it was funny jordan was even trying because they are dating and then he quickly realized his mistake. they weren't dating. they just... were.

once back in the gryffindor common room, it was awkward and the tension was so thick, sirius thought he was going to choke on it. "what the hell y/n"

"huh? what do you mean?" you asked, confused why he was upset with you.

"you have a date! can we come? are you just going to ditch us on a perfectly good saturday to go make out with a guy you don't know. you could barley even speak to us when we first met, how are you supposed to snog a rando?" sirius asked you, you instantly curling in on yourself. you wouldn't lie, you were also wondering some of those questions.

"she's allowed to hang out with other people besides us, sirius. and i'm sure she'll be just fine on a date. she'll snog the best she's ever had." james said, sitting next to you and patting you on the back.

remus was still focused on the snog part of conversation. you wouldn't snog him would you? how was he supposed to just be okay with this happening? he didn't want to make you feel bad or make it seem horrible that you were asked out, he just felt so shitty for not asking you out yet.

"no you can't come! that defeats the whole purpose of a DATE you idiot!" you yelled at sirius, exasperated, cheeks flushing red.

"but we could watch from a distance!" sirius yelled back at you.

"sirius. she's right. we can't go with her, that's the whole point of a date. she gets to go with him by herself. it'd be weird if we were just sitting at the next table over." remus said, putting a reassuring hand on your back, supporting you.

"remus! a word??" sirius aggressively stage whispered to him.

sirius quickly dragged remus to the boys hall around the corner and once stoped, hit remus in the chest.

"what is wrong with you? are you out of your everloving mind? your wife is going on a date with another man and all you have to say is that we can't go with her? you're supposed to pull the broody protective card you idiot."

"i'm sorry my WHAT?" remus sputters.

"your wife, your buns or whatever the fuck you call her. the girl that you are desperately in love with!!!!" sirius whispers yells at him.

"i'm walking away right now." remus replies, walking back into the common room that the rest of the group is in.

after a while of yelling and chaos and a few minutes of work, remus and you were left to yourselves for a few minutes.

"hey rem?" you ask from the other end the couch, back against the arm rest, your toes tucked under the side of his thighs. he looks up in response, pushing his glasses up to see your face clearer. "what does one do on a date? like should i prepare questions just in case or will he have questions prepared?" you ask, cheeks flushing, voice small, knowing you would only be able to ask him without dying from embarrassment.

"love, you don't have to prepare questions." he answered, no hint of condescending tones in his voice. "it should just flow pretty naturally. you just get to know each other. no big deal." he responds, rubbing your shins while he talks. you nod.

"but what if we run out things to talk about? like what if the only thing we have in common is being a hufflepuff? then what? and what if he tries to kiss me? i don't even know him! oh my god i should just stay home." you wilt into your hands.

"bun. you will be great. if he doesn't know how to keep the conversation going then thats his fault. you are the easiest person to get along with so its not your fault at all. and if you don't want to kiss him then don't. you don't have to do anything you don't want to do." he says, bringing your chin up with his thumb and pointer. your eyes met his, and his heart cracked a little with the overwhelming love that surrounds you in his mind.

"can i tell you something? you have to promise to never tell the other boys. ever." he nodded settling his hand on your legs. "promise." you whispered.

"i promise, bun."

"i've never been on a date. and i've never kissed anyone. hence the panicking." you whispered.

"what? how?" remus asked, shocked.

"no ones ever liked me like that i guess." you shrugged, feeling a little awkward with the way he responded.

"no, bun. i didn't mean to ask it like that. you just are so sweet and lovely the boys have missed out. there is nothing wrong with having done neither of those things. i'm not accusing you of anything, i'm mad at the boys of hogwarts." he scoffed as he reassured you.

your lips tipped up into a smile and you giggled at his dramatics.

"do you think he'll think i'm weird that i've never done those things before?"

"no, bun. if he does, then thats his problem, not yours. he needs to get over himself." remus replied, getting irritated at the idea that someone would have a problem with you.

"i'm so nervous, i already feel like i'm gonna throw up." you said, leaning forward and resting your forehead on his shoulder.

"love, you will be great. and he's the luckiest man alive that he gets to take you out." and while all of this was true, all remus could think about is how he would do ungodly things to be the one taking you out. he might just have to fix this.

#remus lupin #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x reader fluff #remus x reader #remus x reader fluff #marauders x reader #marauders era #the marauders

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tonyspank · 8 months

Text

SHE 2

Jenna Ortega x G!P Reader

In a brand-new city, you're experiencing a new lifestyle. Jenna Ortega, your soon-to-be wife, must navigate your mixed emotions towards each other while raising your daughter. What happens when you start imagining a new life with someone else's wife?

This one shot includes mature themes such as foul language, sexual activity, acts of violence and etc.

Jenna and any other celebrities in this book are not famous unless said otherwise.

I hate this ending and possibly the entire thing but I hope you guys enjoy. Based off You S3!

You believed in love at first sight, and when you saw Jenna for the first time, everything clicked into place. The way she smiled, the way she carried herself—it was as if she were made for you.

Yes, you might've met others on the way, but no one made your heart race like Jenna. Bonding over cheesecake, strawberry jam, and most importantly, your mother. Jenna seemed to understand you on a deeper level than no one else had before.

But you wished things were different. None of that felt real anymore. You were wrong about Jenna, she wasn't the person you thought she was. The truth had shattered the image you had of her—that one beautiful woman you met on a late grocery-night run had turned out to be a stalking and murdering psychopath.

And when you realized who she truly was, it was too late. This murdering psychopath was the mother of your child.

You couldn't allow your daughter to be raised alone by such an evil person. You'd pretend to love Jenna, pretend to enjoy the suburbs, and move yourself away from the city you were beginning to love.

The young adult you once were, attempting to grasp the handles of adult life, has now become a master of disguise, faking happiness in your relationship. Every day, you put on a mask and play the role of a loving partner, protecting your child from the dark truth that lies within her mother.

Regardless...there's still a part of you that believes in love at first sight.

Marde Linda is the type of neighborhood you'd see in a television show, with picket white fences, beautifully manicured lawns, and slightly friendly neighbors who wave as they pass by. You don't have to get started on the schools, which are top-rated in the state, by the way.

Being a mother? Hard. Extremely hard. You don't know how your own did it, but you're happy she was there. Which is exactly why you're happy to be with your own daughter, despite the crying at 3 AM, the endless diaper changes...or the fact that she hates her vegetables.

"You are going to love this, trust me." You smile at your daughter, who dazly stares back at you in her highchair. "I mean, even I would eat this...I think?" You chuckle as you spoon-feed her the mashed carrots, hoping she'll give it a chance.

For a second, you start to believe she enjoys the taste, her little mouth opening wide for each spoonful. But then she scrunches up her face and spits out the carrots, turning her head every time you try to feed her again.

Just in time, Jenna walks into the kitchen with messy hair and a tired expression on her face. "What's going on here?" she asks, glancing at the mashed carrots smeared all over the highchair. You sigh and explain, "I was trying to get her to eat some carrots, but it seems like she's not a fan."

Jenna hums, slightly nodding her head. "Well, uh...do you want me to try feeding her?" You hesitate for a moment, unsure if Jenna will have any better luck. But you appreciate her offer and hand her the spoon. "Sure, why not?" you say with a hopeful smile.

Jenna smiles at you before taking a seat next to the highchair and starting to coax your daughter into taking another bite of the mashed carrots.

This sight reminds you of the old Jenna, the Jenna you fell for. The way she interacts with your daughter brings back memories of when you first started seeing each other, when everything was easy and carefree.

You're knocked out of your nostalgic reverie when the bell rings. Hm, you weren't expecting anyone.

You look at Jenna in confusion before heading to the front door, only to be met with a beautiful brunette, with a smile on her face, and a pie in her hand. "Hi, I'm Love. I live next door, and I wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood. I thought I'd bring over a homemade pie...it's gluten-free."

You raise your eyebrows, surprised by the unexpected gesture. "Wow, that's really kind of you," you say, genuinely touched. "Thank you so much, Love. I'm Y/N, and my fiance, Jenna, is a bit busy trying to feed our daughter. We just moved in a few days ago."

Love's smile widens as she listens to your introduction. "Of course, I know it's always nice to have a warm welcome when you move into a new place. And I know how that is. My husband, Joe, and I have a son, Henry, so I understand how hectic things can get. If you ever need any help with anything, just let us know."

"Likewise, Love." The woman gives you one last smile before returning her attention to her own home, she was really pretty.

"Who was it?" Jenna calls out from the kitchen. "It was our neighbor, Love. She came by to welcome us and offered her help if we ever needed anything. She seems like a friendly person." You answer back, closing the door and making your way back to the kitchen.

Jenna looks up from Luna and says, "That's nice." You hum in response, placing down the pie. "Did she eat the carrots?"

Your fiance thins out her lips, "Nope." You chuckle and shake your head.

It's wrong, but your neighbor is already stuck in your head, leaving you curious about her.

"How's mothering going?" Ross asks you over the phone, his face apparent on your phone screen. You sigh out, laying your head against the armrest of the couch. "As best as it can go." You pause for a moment, contemplating whether or not to mention your neighbor. Deciding against it, you simply add, "Luna is a handful, but we're managing."

"When are you gonna let me see my goddaughter?" You laugh softly at Ross's question, "Uhhh, I don't know. I guess come by whenever you're free." You can hear the excitement in Ross's voice as he responds, "Great! I'll make sure to schedule a visit soon."

You smile, a small silence falling over. Ross narrows out his eyebrows, trying to read you. "You look like you want to say something. What is it?" He mumbles.

"My neighbor Love... she seems really nice. And she's really pretty, she even has the most beautiful smile," you say, moving your face out of the screen so your best friend doesn't see your wide smile.

Ross raises an eyebrow and chuckles. "Sounds like you've got a crush on her already. Make sure Jenna doesn't find out, you'd be in the doghouse forever."

Ross knows about your problems with Jenna. He doesn't know why they formed, but he knows you're not exactly your happiest when it comes to your relationship with Jenna.

"I know, I know...but am I wrong for wanting to get to know her? I just...I don't know, I wanna see her again." You ponder, unsure of how to navigate your feelings for this new person while still being in a "relationship" with Jenna.

Ross leans back, contemplating your words before responding, "I think it's natural to be curious about others, especially when things are rocky with Jenna. Just be careful not to rush into anything without figuring out what or who you truly want."

You nod, and Ross continues, "Is this Love girl a single mother or something? What's got you so hooked?" You pause for a moment, considering Ross's question. "No, she's not a single mother," you reply. "She's married, but she's gorgeous, and she just has that aura, you know? She gave me a pie, Ross! What more could I ask for?"

Ross raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "I get that she's attractive and all, but you're both married and you both have children, so getting involved with her could definitely complicate things for both of you. Have you thought about the consequences like....at all?"

"No, I didn't. I haven't gotten that far, we just met two weeks ago. But there's just something about her that draws me in. I can't explain it, but I feel it."

Ross sighs and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Look, I understand that you're drawn to her—" You hear the front door opening, interrupting your conversation.

You quickly sit up, realizing that Jenna has arrived home. Ross gives you a knowing look before hanging up.

Jenna smiles at you, unaware of the conversation you were having. "Hey. Where were you?" You ask, putting on a smile. Jenna crawls on the couch, snuggling up next to you.

"I ran into Love and her group of friends. You know she owns a bakery, she told me to stop by sometime and try her pastries. I think it would be fun if we went together," Jenna suggests, her eyes beaming up with excitement.

You feel a pang of guilt as you remember the conversation you were just having with Ross about Love. But you push it aside, not wanting to ruin the moment with Jenna. "That sounds like a great idea," you reply, attempting to sound enthusiastic.

You didn't hate your fiancé; you couldn't bring yourself to. She was the mother of your child, and for a while, she was the love of your life, she was captivating, caring, and always there for you. But every time you try to remember the goods, the bads come out—memories of her locking you inside a cage, revealing that she killed your ex-flings, and that look she gave when you asked about Zoe.

"Is Luna asleep?" Jenna asks, breaking the silence. You nod, a tiny smile peeking its way onto your lips. "Out like a light. Might even start snoring," you reply in a joking tone.

Jenna smiles, leaning in closer to you. "I'm glad you're here with me," she says softly. "I love you."

You can't. You can't say those words, not after everything you've discovered about her. The memories and fears weigh heavily on your heart, making it nearly impossible to reciprocate Jenna's love. You give her a reassuring smile, hoping she doesn't notice the hesitation in your eyes.

Thankfully, she doesn't, placing her lips on yours for a short and sweet kiss. Her hand snakes its way to lay against your cheek, bringing you into a more heated kiss, leaving you momentarily breathless.

You're trying. For Luna, for yourself, and for Jenna. You want to be a happy and perfect partner and mother, but you've been through a lot.

Jenna notices the subtle changes in your demeanor and gently asks if everything is alright. You take a deep breath, quickly nodding.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine." Jenna stares into your eyes, searching for any signs of deception. She knows you too well to believe your quick reassurance. Pulling away from you as if you're a burning hot stove, she insists, "No, you're not. Why don't you talk to me anymore?"

Her voice trembles with concern, and you can sense the ache behind her words. You run a hand through your hair. "We do talk."

"But it's not the same," Jenna interrupts, annoyance in her tone. "It feels like you're holding back, like there's something you're not telling me."

"You're always distracted. Something's going on," Jenna adds, her eyes searching yours for answers.

Saved by the cry, Luna's whines are heard from the baby monitor that rests on your coffee table. You quickly excuse yourself to tend to Luna, grateful for the interruption.

A bell jingles as you make your way through the door, alerting the owner of the shop to your presence. "You're not closed, are you?" you ask, hoping to still be able to browse the selection of treats.

Love smiles, waving you off. "For you? We're open 24/7," she chuckles. "Feel free to take your time and explore." You thank Love and begin glancing over the array of delectable pastries and desserts on display.

"Which one catches your eye?" Love asks, her eyes twinkling with anticipation. Other than you? I don't know, you think. You take a moment to survey the mouthwatering options, each one more tempting than the last. Finally, your gaze settles on a beautifully decorated muffin that seems to be calling your name.

You point at the muffin and say, "I think I'll go with that one. It looks absolutely divine." Love nods approvingly and retrieves the muffin for you, placing it in a small box with a smile. "Excellent choice," she says. "I'm sure you'll enjoy every bite."

Your upper lip curves upward into a satisfied smile as you eagerly anticipate the first bite of the delectable muffin. "Mmm," you groan out, missing the way Love bites her lip in response to your reaction. She watches you with a twinkle in her eye, clearly pleased with your enjoyment of the muffin.

The muffin is soft and moist, with just the right amount of sweetness. It melts in your mouth, leaving behind a burst of flavors that dance on your taste buds.

"This is fantastic." You exclaim, savoring every bite as the flavors continue to unfold. Love's smile widens, and she leans in closer, whispering, "I'm glad you like it."

Placing down the half-eaten muffin, you smile at the brunette. "You know, I actually cook and bake myself, but never have I made something as delicious as this. Your muffin is truly a masterpiece."

Love blushes, clearly flattered by your compliment. "Well, I'd love to try your cooking sometime," she says, smiling even wider at you.

"I'd be honored to cook for you. It'll be our own little culinary adventure, you know what I'm talking about?" Love chuckles, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, we can be the dynamic duo in the kitchen."

You and your next-door neighbor continue to talk, sharing recipes and exchanging cooking tips—and maybe even glances. You begin to open up about your feelings about parenting, even sharing some stories about your own mother, whom you love and miss dearly.

"I don't know; I just...my mom was the best in my eyes. I just want my daughter to look at me the same." Love listens attentively, nodding her head. "Don't we all?"

She pauses for a moment, reflecting on her own new experiences as a mother. "It's a universal desire—wanting to be the best parent we can be for our children. My mother isn't really the best, so I'm trying to learn from her mistakes and do things differently with Henry."

You smile at the mention of Henry. "He's lucky to have a mom like you who is willing to learn and grow. I'm sure you and Joe will do an amazing job."

You see Love's smile flicker at the sound of her husband's name, but she quickly regains her composure. "Thank you... I'm also glad I got to you before Sherry and her mean girls squad did." Love quickly changes the topic, smiling widely again.

"Yeah, I saw her blog...don't know how to feel about it yet." You say, tilting your head and raising your eyebrows. Love chuckles, shaking her head. "I know what you mean. I remember our second time meeting each other. She asked me about Joe and I's sex lives, saying, "Oh, having orgasms helps you produce better breast milk for your baby!"

Your mouth opens in disbelief. "Wow, that's quite a personal question to ask someone you barely know," you comment, slightly taken aback. Love nods in agreement, her smile fading slightly. "Yeah, it was definitely uncomfortable."

"So, how did you respond to that?" you ask, curious about Love's reaction. Love lets out a small sigh before answering, "I lied. The best thing you can do to Sherry."

You let out a small laugh. "I'll take note of that." You open your mouth to speak, but hesitate, unsure if you should even ask the question on your mind.

But curiosity gets the better of you, and you finally ask, "Have things ever felt weird with you and Joe during the first few months of bringing in Henry? It's just... I don't feel like I'm engaged with Jenna, it's almost as if we're just two strangers taking care of a baby together."

It's like a black cloud has appeared above Love's head, casting a shadow over her face. And for the first time, she's not putting on the usual happy facade to fool her neighbors into thinking she fits into Marde Linda; instead, she looks vulnerable and honest.

Love pauses for a moment, collecting her thoughts, before responding, "I totally get where you're coming from. It actually feels like that a bit now, you know? It's good to know I'm not the only one who feels this way."

"Joe and I have been together for so long, and it's been great for the most part. But lately, I've been feeling like something is missing. We used to have such a strong connection, but now it feels like we're drifting apart. I've tried talking to him about it, but he just brushes it off and says everything is fine. It's frustrating because I want us to be happy together, but I can't get through with him."

Love lets out a fake chuckle, trying her best to keep the tears from building in her eyes.

She takes a deep breath and continues, "I know relationships have their ups and downs, but this seems different. It's like we're living in two separate worlds, with little overlap or understanding of each other's lives. I miss feeling connected to someone... I miss smiling so much that my cheeks hurt. I miss...the feeling of feeling wanted and cherished."

You feel the same way, completed. You long for the days when you both were inseparable, when every moment spent together felt like a precious gift. The distance between you and Jenna now feels unbearable, and you yearn for that deep connection and intimacy that seems to have faded away.

"Yeah... I know what you mean. I remember the first night I met Jenna, my heart was racing, like badly, almost as if it was going to burst out of my chest. I wanted to impress her so damn badly that I started showing her photos of me with the president. I just couldn't take my eyes off her, and the way she laughed at how I had continued to completely make a fool out of myself. We had this instant chemistry that I'd never felt with anyone else before. It's like we were made to be for each other, but after a while, it seemed...fake, I guess. The more I got to know her, the more I realized that our connection wasn't as genuine as I initially thought."

You run a hand down your face, your face flushing with embarrassment. "Shit, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to just pour my heart out like that." Love waves you off, "No, no! It's only fair; I kind of did the same thing earlier. It feels good to be able to open up and share my feelings with someone who won't go gossip about it."

You take a deep breath, feeling relieved that Love understands and appreciates your honesty. "Thank you for being so understanding. It's just been weighing on me, and it feels good to finally talk about it."

When the silence falls, you feel it. You both want the same thing—to start fresh—but neither of you has the guts to say so. You'd both look like bad spouses, wanting a new life while your old one was just getting started.

Your mind begins to wonder: What if Love was your new start? The shared laughter, looks, feelings, and smiles were a creation of a bond that goes beyond being neighbors.

You were so in your mind that you didn't even realize that Love had moved right beside you, placing a soft hand on your arm. Startled, you turn to see Love sitting there with a gentle smile on her face.

Her intentions were to comfort you, but her heart betrayed her. You looked even better up close.

You and Love meet in a slow kiss, both of you unsure what you're exactly doing in the moment, but sure, it's what you want in that moment. You were drawn to her, her gentle nature, and the way she effortlessly made you feel at ease.

Wait. No, wait.

You're engaged, you can't. You're not supposed to be doing this, but you want—no. You can't.

You quickly pull away, "I'm...so sorry, fuck." You rush out, your mouth slightly agape. Love stares at you, she understands the conflict raging within you and the responsibilities that bind you. So she doesn't fight against your decision, allowing you to walk away, leaving her in an empty bakery with a half-eaten muffin.

You make it home, but your mind is still consumed by Love's presence. You don't know how long you've been standing in silence, lost in thought. Jenna could never find out you shared a kiss with your neighbor, not only would you be in trouble, but Love would find herself like your old flings.

But Jenna's home, meaning Luna successfully made it to Ross's apartment.

You snap out of your reverie and greet Jenna. You have to try harder. Jenna's trying her hardest to make things work between you two, and it's important for you to reciprocate that effort. You smile as she rants about the traffic on the way back home from Ross's place, taking her hair out of her messy bun.

You walk up to your fiance, wrapping your arms around her and kissing her intensely but softly. Jenna gasps in surprise but immediately melts into the kiss, her hands finding their way to your back. This was probably the first time you've insinuated such a passionate display of affection, and it fills Jenna with a sense of reassurance and love.

As you pull away from the kiss, Jenna looks into your eyes, her own filled with a mixture of adoration and curiosity. She whispers, "What brought this on?" You smile and reply, "I was just thinking about when you approached me in the grocery store...and you asked if I was going to stay in the same aisle until you left."

Jenna's eyes widen with surprise as she recalls that moment. She blushes and playfully nudges you, saying, "I can't believe you remembered that!"

"Of course I do," you mumble against her lips, feeling a surge of affection. "I missed you, Jenna." She smiles, her cheeks turning even redder, and pulls you in for another kiss, which grows wilder by the second.

"Bedroom, please...Y/N." Jenna whimpers out, jumping into your arms as you walk toward your bedroom. Jenna's heart is pounding in her chest, but at the same time, her mind is racing. She can't help but wonder what has gotten you this way?

Was it really your first time meeting, or is there something else on your mind? Someone else—maybe she doesn't know.

You undress yourself completely, revealing your naked body to Jenna's eager eyes. Jenna's thoughts continue to swirl. She tries to push aside her doubts and insecurities and focus on you. But deep down, a nagging feeling lingers, leaving her curious about your hidden secrets or unspoken desires.

You stand at the edge of the bed while Jenna removes her own clothes in bed, her lip trapped between her teeth as she meets your gaze. You smile, pulling your fiance by her legs to the edge of the bed and lowering yourself to your knees.

As you trail kisses along Jenna's inner thighs, her hunger grows, her breath hitching with each gentle touch. She arches her back, yearning for more, as you tease her with your lips and tongue.

"I missed this...I missed you." You mutter against her core, going back to your effective but gentle techniques. Jenna loses herself in your words and the intoxicating sensations coursing through her body. Her fingers slip into your hair, and her hips move wildly against your mouth.

You place your hands on her hips, holding her down against the bed. Your fiance whines in response, throwing her head back in frustration.

With a smirk, you continue to maintain your firm grip, knowing that it drives her wild. "I'm so close, baby...please." Jenna pleads, her voice barely audible as she gasps for breath.

You keep up the relentless stimulation, teasing her just enough to push her further to the edge. Her body tenses, and with a loud cry, she finally reaches her climax, her hips bucking against your touch.

Whilst her body slowly relaxes, you release your grip, allowing her to catch her breath. Jenna looks up at you with a small smile, her eyes sparkling with post-orgasmic bliss.

You crawl onto the bed, hovering over your fiance with a mischievous smile.

"You're so beautiful, Jen." You whisper, aligning yourself with her core, watching her gasp and arch her back as you enter her. Jenna pulls you down into a kiss, her mind clearing as you reassure her in the best way possible.

"Y/N..." Jenna breathes out, clinging onto your back as you begin to move with gentle, rhythmic thrusts. Her nails dig into your skin, leaving behind small red trails as she desperately holds onto you, almost as if she's scared you'll slip away.

You drop your head on Jenna's shoulder, inhaling her sweet scent as you continue to move inside her. Gosh, she was something else. Her smell—the vanilla smell mingled with a hint of lavender—filled your senses, intoxicating you further. And the way she softly bit your ear before attacking your neck, sent shivers down your spine, making it impossible to resist her.

"Yes...yes! Fuck, right there, Y/N." Jenna mutters in your ear, wrapping her legs around your waist, and pulling you in deeper.

"I thought Ross was supposed to have Luna for longer?" You ask Jenna, referring to the doorbell. Jenna shrugs, placing a kiss on your lips before sitting up from the couch and reaching for her robe.

"It's probably my package, baby. Just go answer it for me, will you?" Jenna says, giving you one last peck.

With a sigh, you walk toward the front door. Jenna stops you. "Don't you think you should put some clothes on first?" she teases, her eyes lingering on your attire—just your boxers and sports bra.

You open up the coat closet nearby, putting on a zip-up hoodie to cover yourself up. Jenna chuckles and playfully swats your arm, reminding you to grab a pair of pants as well. "By the time I do that, they'll be gone!" you mutter. Jenna gives you a look, which you ignore, hurrying up to answer the door.

"Love—hey!" You rush out. You weren't expecting to see love so soon, especially after your kiss. You quickly compose yourself, trying to hide any lingering awkwardness from the kiss.

Love smiles, "Hi, I'm sorry for just...showing up, I just wanted to see if we were okay." You open your mouth before you even know what you're going to say, "Uhh...yeah! I uh, I'm sorry, it's just..." you motion your hands around, feeling flustered and searching for the right words.

"I..." You glance behind you to make sure Jenna isn't eavesdropping on the conversation. "I really enjoyed our....talk. It got a lot of stuff off of my chest and about our k—"

Love's eyes leave yours, moving to something behind you. Love's eyes leave yours, moving to something behind you. Their expression changes, and you turn around to see Jenna standing there, an unreadable expression on her face.

Jenna's unexpected presence interrupts your train of thought, leaving you momentarily speechless. Your fiance glances between the two of you, clearly caught off guard by Love's sudden appearance.

Love quickly recovers, breaking the silence with a forced smile. "Hi! I was just inviting you both to dinner tonight. I thought it would be a great opportunity for us to all get to know each other better." Love says, attempting to regain composure.

Jenna's eyes briefly meet yours before turning back to Love. That sounds like a lovely idea," she says, her voice calm but with a hint of curiosity.

You can't help but wonder what Jenna's true feelings are about Love's unexpected invitation. Fuck. Could she tell something happened between the two of you?

You try to shake off the thought, reminding yourself that it's just your own paranoia. Love gives you a smile before walking off. Perhaps she is genuinely interested in Love's invitation, and there is nothing to worry about.

"We could've just said no," you mutter, closing the door. Jenna hears you, raising an eyebrow. "Why would we do that?" You pause for a moment, walking to Jenna and wrapping your arms around her. "I mean, it's just...unexpected. And we don't really know Love that well. It might be better to play it safe, you know?"

Jenna stares into your eyes, her expression softening. "You're so cute," she says, planting a gentle kiss on your nose. You furrow your eyebrows, confused by the compliment and how she completely dodged your concern.

"It's so great to finally meet you." Joe smiles, extending his hand for a handshake. You shake his hand, "Likewise, Joe. It's nice to have some...normal neighbors." You chuckle nervously, hoping that your comment about normalcy didn't come off as rude.

Joe chuckles. "Well, thank you. I'm glad I didn't get grouped in with Sherry and Cary." You let out a small laugh, relieved that Joe understood your attempt at humor. "Oh, I've heard some interesting stories about them. They definitely bring some excitement to the neighborhood."

Love pulls away from her hug with Jenna, leading you both to the dining room, a bright and inviting space with a large wooden table. As you take a seat, Love gestures towards the beautifully set table and says, "I hope you're hungry! I've prepared a special homemade meal just for the occasion."

"Thank you so much, Love. Everything looks and smells amazing," you say sincerely, feeling grateful for her hospitality.

Love smiles warmly at you, and Jenna takes notice of this, her eyes boring into Love's skull. Jenna's gaze lingers on Love for a moment before she blinks, putting on a fake smile as she starts a conversation with Joe.

"Shit, I forgot the drinks, I'll be right back." You get up from your seat and say, "I can help." Love quickly interjects, "No need to worry, I'll take care of it." You wave her off, "It's okay! I don't mind helping out."

You follow Love to the kitchen, fixing your dress shirt and straightening your tie as you go. Love glances at you with a grateful smile, appreciating your willingness to assist.

"I'm sorry, Love." You apologize sincerely, referring to your shared kiss that shouldn't have happened between two married individuals. Love's smile fades slightly as she looks down at the ground, her cheeks turning a faint shade of pink. "No need to apologize," she says softly, avoiding eye contact.

"No, really. I shouldn't have done that." You continue, walking closer to the blue-eyed woman. Love's gaze remains fixed on the ground, her voice barely above a whisper. "It was a moment of weakness for both of us," she admits, her words tinged with regret.

"At least...I know that it was for you." Love adds, her voice trailing off as she finally meets your gaze. "Because...one second you're complaining about not being happy, but you seemed pretty happy this morning after."

"What?"

"The fucking hickeys, Y/N. You opening the door in your boxers? Could you be any more fucking obvious?" You look away, your cheeks turning a shade of pink.

"Love..." you stammer, struggling to find the right words. "You're married...I'm married...we couldn't...I couldn't..." Love shakes her head, a sad smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"I guess I'm blind for thinking that kiss meant anything. It's just finally talking about it that I started imagining what if...you know? Like, with him... the first time I saw him, I wanted to get to know everything about him. And I felt that again, but with you. I wanted to explore a connection that I hadn't felt in a long time. It's stupid..."

Love's eyes glisten with unshed tears as she takes a step back, creating a distance between you two. "I don't even know why I'm acting like this. We should get back." She quickly wipes her eyes, handing you two glasses and picking up the rest before walking back toward the dining room.

"Hey, you're back! I missed you," Jenna exclaims as she sees Love and you return to the dining room. She gives you both a warm smile, unaware of the emotional moment that just took place.

You send Jenna a smile, sitting back down beside her. Love joins the table, her eyes still slightly red but her smile genuine. "Jenna was just telling me about how she cooks too," Joe tells his wife, his eyes glancing between her and Jenna.

But Jenna doesn't pay any mind to the man; her eyes are staring into yours. She leans in closer, her voice barely above a whisper. "What took you so long?" Anyone else would've missed her accusatory tone.

"We were just talking about our favorite recipes," you reply, trying to deflect the question. Jenna's eyes narrow slightly, but she doesn't press further. Instead, she smiles at Joe, nodding. "Yes! I love trying out new recipes. I'm more of a cook than a baker, though; I'm really good at using knives and stuff."

That surely meant something else, you think.

Love chuckles nervously, clearly uncomfortable with the mention of knives. "Oh, uh, I'm more of a baker...as you know already." Jenna's smile widens. "Well, I also bake too! Don't mind getting my hands dirty." Joe's eyes widen slightly, sensing a hidden meaning behind Jenna's words.

Joe clears his throat. "Let's get eating, shall we?"

You're now home in your bedroom; the rest of dinner went well for the most part. You begin taking off your button shirt while Jenna removes her makeup in your shared bathroom.

"I think you should stop talking to Love." Jenna blurts out, catching you off guard. You pause, unsure of how to respond. "What do you mean?" you ask, continuing to unbutton your shirt.

Jenna turns around to face you, her expression serious. "Is there a problem with that?" Jenna's words hang in the air, causing a knot of unease to form in your stomach.

"I don't see why there would be a problem," you say cautiously, "but can you explain why you feel that way?"

Jenna takes a deep breath before speaking. "Why can't you just do this one thing for me without asking so many questions?" Her tone is tinged with frustration, and you take this as a sign to drop it. With a hum and nod, you agree, throwing your shirt somewhere in the room and sitting down on your bed.

Jenna leaves the bathroom, walking towards you with a small smile. "Thank you, baby." You smile back at Jenna, and she begins undoing her robe.

She lets the silky fabric slip off her shoulders; you can't help but admire the way it accentuates her curves. Jenna parts your legs, standing in between them, and without a second thought, your hands move to explore, caressing her soft skin.

Jenna leans in, her lips brushing against your earlobe as she whispers, "You know, sometimes I just need a little space to breathe." You close your eyes, feeling the warmth of her breath against your skin. Taking a deep breath and gently pulling her closer, you respond, "I think you just wanna show off."

She smiles, leaning back to look into your eyes. Her gaze is filled with a mix of playfulness and affection as she replies, "Maybe I do enjoy being the center of attention sometimes."

You open your eyes again, only to look out of your window and see your neighbor looking in your direction. You quickly let go of Jenna and rush toward your window, shutting the curtains.

"I can't believe he was spying on us," you mutter. Jenna chuckles softly and pulls you into a reassuring embrace, reminding you that it's just a harmless moment and not worth worrying about.

"Yeah, but that's weird. He's married with a son, and we literally just met him for dinner." Jenna places a kiss on your lips, "I'm all yours; no need to get worked up, my love."

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts. Despite Jenna's reassurance, you can't help but feel a twinge of unease about your neighbor's behavior. Maybe it's best to keep a closer eye on him in the future, just to be safe.

It's late, really late. Luna is back home, but thankfully she's asleep. You've been up waiting for Jenna since she left in the afternoon, but it's already well past midnight.

You open up your phone to try to ring Jenna's phone again, but these past few hours have been filled with unanswered calls and messages. Your mind starts to wander, imagining all sorts of worst-case scenarios. Maybe she got into an accident or lost her phone. You don't fucking know, but you're scared.

On cue, your fiance makes it through the door with messy hair and a tired expression on her face. She apologizes for being late, explaining that she lost track of time while catching up with Joe, your creepy, stalky neighbor.

You get up from the couch with an angry expression on your face. "Why's your hair all messy?" You demand, frustration evident in your voice. She begins to explain, "I put my head out the window after I finished my burger—a very good vegan burger, by the way. Why are burgers so tasty?" she asks, trying to lighten the mood.

You can't help but feel a pang of jealousy towards Joe, wondering why she would spend so much time with him, especially after she knows how you feel about him. Going on late-night burger runs and sharing inside jokes with him. It's hard not to feel like you're being replaced, and her nonchalant attitude only adds to your frustration.

"I have to stop hanging out with my friends, but you get to go on all-day dates with Joe?" You sarcastically question, furrowing your eyebrows.

Jenna shakes her head, "Please. Not tonight." You feel yourself getting angrier by the second, your voice rising as you continue, "Do you see the way he looks at you? We literally caught him staring at you through his window?"

Jenna clenches her jaw, her eyes narrowing with annoyance and anger. "Why do you even care? It's not like you love me anymore." You pause, taken aback by Jenna's words. "What? Jenna, that's not true. I do love you."

Jenna lets out a fake laugh, rolling her eyes. "You know...you might think you're protecting my feelings, but it hurts ten times harder when you lie."

"I'm not an idiot, Y/N. I know you fucking kissed her that night." You feel a lump form in your throat as Jenna's accusation hangs in the air. Your mind races, searching for the right words to defend yourself. "Jenna..."

Jenna laughs, a bitter sound that cuts through the tension. "So sorry if I like spending time with someone who actually might be interested in me!" Her voice cracks, betraying herself.

"You're not being fair, Jenna! You can't blame me for being confused! You don't get to be conflicted! I'm...fucking lost! I don't know if I love you, there! I said it! I don't know if what we have is genuine because my soon-to-be wife fucking stalked me for years and killed anyone I tried to get close to. I've been living in fear, constantly looking over my shoulder." You yell, the veins in your neck coming out as you release your pent-up anger.

"I'm so fucking scared of you, Jenna. I don't know if you're going to hurt me...for not being 100% into you all the time, hurt someone for attempting to get close to me, or...hurt our daughter. So excuse me for even trying to find a safe haven."

Your words hang heavy in the air as you struggle to catch your breath. Jenna is at a loss for words, unsure what to say or how to respond to your raw and honest outburst. You watch her lips tremble slightly as she tries to form a response, but no words escape.

"...Fuck you, Y/N." She finally replies, pushing past you to leave the room.

"Y/N, hey!" You turn around to see Joe. You put on a fake smile; you're pissed off at this guy, and not only that, but he's interrupting your walk to clear your mind.

"Hey Joe, what's up?" you respond, trying to maintain your composure despite your frustration.

"I just wanted to see if you were doing okay." Joe's concern catches you off guard, and you can't help but soften your expression slightly. "Thanks; I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?" Joe hesitates for a moment before answering, "Well, Jenna told me earlier that you two were planning on calling off the engagement."

Your heart skips a beat at Joe's words. Why the hell would she want to call off the engagement and not you? "Jenna must have misunderstood," you say, trying to hide your unease.

"We're not calling off the engagement. Everything is fine between us." Joe looks relieved but still seems skeptical. "Are you sure? Jenna seemed pretty convinced. Maybe you should talk to her and clear things up."

Yes, of course. You'll talk to your fiancé. You nod, turning back around to continue walking. "Oh, and Y/N," Joe calls out as you start to walk away, causing you to turn back around.

You feel something heavy hit your head, and your world turns black as you collapse to the ground.

When you regain consciousness, you find yourself in the same situation you were in years ago. Except this time, Jenna isn't present, but Joe, your neighbor, is.

"Fuck...not this shit again." You mutter, using the class cage to help lift yourself from the ground.

Joe tilts his head, confused. "Again. You're telling me you've been put in this situation before?" You touch your head, looking for any signs of injury. "Yeah," you reply, wincing at the pain. "I already know not to freak out and bang against the glass this time."

"Jenna must really like you," Joe says, raising an eyebrow. "She's the one who put you in something like this, right?" You nod, frustration evident on your face.

"I guess she learned from my old tricks." You chuckle bitterly, asking. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Joe smirks, standing up from his chair. "Well, let's just say Jenna isn't the first person to trap someone inside of a glass box; neither was I, but I think...I might've been the one to inspire her."

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued by Joe's cryptic statement. "What do you mean?" you inquire, wanting to know more about the origins of this bizarre, fucked-up situation.

Joe's smirk widens as he walks towards the glass box. "I guess you can say I was Jenna's first love, her muse, the one who possibly ignited her twisted creativity."

"I knew Jenna before everything." Joe continues, "I'd become a bit obsessed with her; she was the first person I loved after my ex-girlfriend broke my heart. Jenna had this magnetic energy that drew me in, and I couldn't help but be captivated by her. One day, she told me she was leaving New York to move to California, and I...snapped. I became possessive, desperate to keep her close to me. I put her inside the glass box my...mentor built so she wouldn't leave before I got the chance to talk to her about it."

You chuckle bitterly, not even surprised by the situation. After Jenna, you've become used to the fucked-up shit people can do. But Joe, he just seemed 10x worse. He practically made Jenna look like an angel."You guys are some truly fucked up people, man, I swear."

"Can you not? I'm pouring my heart out here." Joe sarcastically jokes, rolling his eyes. "But yeah, I guess you could say I went a little crazy. I just couldn't bear the thought of her leaving without giving me a chance to explain how much she meant to me. And seeing her again after all those years only intensified those feelings. I knew I had to do something, even if it meant risking everything."

You fake yawn, "So...you did all of this because, supposedly, my fiance is "the one who got away" for you?" Joe smiles, "Ding, ding, ding!"

"And what about Love? Your wife?" Joe's smile fades slightly as he looks down at his hands. "Love... Love and I—we've been drifting apart for a while now. We've tried to make it work, but sometimes people just grow in different directions. And I'm sure Jenna's dealing with her right now...for you."

Your ears perk up. "Dealing with her? What do you mean dealing with her for me?"

Joe looks up. "Killing her."

Your eyes widen in shock as you process Joe's words. "Wait, you can't be serious. Killing her? What about Henry?!"

Joe's expression turns grave as he responds, "I know it sounds extreme, but Love and I have exhausted all other options. We've tried therapy, communication, everything. Henry will be fine; I've already planned that out."

Joe's words send a chill down your spine. "Are you serious, this is fucking insane? You have to stop, Jenna! Joe, Love was your wife, and I know at one point you loved her. You can't let Jenna go through with this. There has to be another way to go about whatever the fuck you're doing, for Henry's sake and for your own sanity."

Joe walks away, not even bothering to acknowledge your plea. "Joe!" You shout, banging on the glass, desperate to get through to him. But he continues to walk away, his footsteps fading into the distance.

The door opens again, and you rise from the ground, rushing to the glass. But it's not Joe who appears; it's Jenna. "Jenna? Jenna, what happened?"

Jenna looks at you with tears in her eyes, her palm resting against the glass. "I love you, Y/N. I love our daughter, and I love our life together. But I just want to know if you love it too, and please, just be honest with me."

You feel a knot forming in your stomach as Jenna's words sink in. Her vulnerability and plea for honesty leave you speechless for a moment.

You realize that your answer will shape the future of your relationship and maybe even your life.

"I love you too, Jen. I swear. I—I won't let anything come between us again. Our life together means everything to me, and I can't imagine a future without you and our daughter. I promise to always be honest with you, no matter what."

Jenna's tears begin to subside as a sense of relief washes over her face. She takes a deep breath and reaches into her pocket, pulling out a silver key. With trembling hands, she opens the glass cage, and you fall into her arm, your own eyes filling with tears.

Jenna holds you tightly, whispering words of love and forgiveness. In that moment, you realize that your relationship has been given a second chance, and you vow to never take it for granted again.

"I couldn't do it. I thought about it. Fuck, Y/N. I was about to hurt Love and take Henry's mother away from him forever. But I thought about how I could never forgive myself, not even a little." Jenna's voice trembles with emotion as she continues, "I want to break free from that fucked-up pattern and create a better future for all of us."

You nod, pressing a kiss to Jenna's forehead. "I believe in us, Jenna," you say softly.

"Let's go, Y/N." You nod again, rushing out of the room together, determined to leave the past behind and start fresh. You make it to your car, Luna in her carseat carrier, ready for the journey ahead. Jenna starts the engine, her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

Your fiance speeds out of Marde Linda, and you turn to see smoke billowing from the town behind you, along with the sounds of sirens blaring in the distance.

"Where are we going?" You mutter to Jenna. She glances at you, placing a hand on your lap.

"We're going anywhere but here," she replies, her voice steady. "...I was thinking London. I've always wanted to live in England." The thought of starting a new life in London fills you with excitement and hope, causing you to smile regardless of the circumstance you had just escaped from.

Together, you embark on a new chapter, ready to rewrite your story and create a better life for yourselves and Luna in England.

#tonyspank #jenna ortega x reader #reader insert #jenna ortega #wattpad #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #you netflix #joe goldberg #love quinn #love quinn x reader #jenna ortega smut #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega angst #jenna ortega fluff #she

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safination · 3 months

Text

Partners in Death... and Life

Part 3: Not Everything You Hear From the Radio Should be Trusted

| Part 2: Radio Will be Dead if He Doesn't Explain Himself| Part 4: The Radio Star’s Co-host Just Wants To Do The Dishes||Masterlist| ao3| Tag-list| Parings: Alastor x wife!reader Tags: fem!reader, established relationship, hopefully not but just in case ooc!alastor (I'm still trying my best to keep him as canon as possible) Reader is in hell for a reason. Please take note of the following warnings: Body horror. Graphic descriptions of injuries, glass piercing skin, cutting of skin, cutting of chest. Dissection of Human muscles. Misogyny Just…be careful out there

Series Summary: After a seven-year absence, you find the man you were married to in life, not only back in town, but also helping... *checks notes*... the Princess of Hell run a hotel aimed at rehabilitating sinners who were sent to the bad place for a reason.

Hello. I usually aim to post on Wednesdays, and I knoooow it's not a Wednesday. But, in my defense, this chapter is longer than chapters 1 and 2 combined. Also, I tried to keep the body horror to a medium level. I tried to find a perfect balance of horrifying but also still readable. Would you guys want more body horror, or less, or is this a good amount? Updated: 5/01/2024 *just realized that I forgot to add the part I was supposed to add*

The heart monitor beeps with a steady rhythm. The model’s ECG reading dip, but that’s normal for her species. You study the model asleep on your table, and take your place.

Turning to your interns, you adjust the fit of your gloves as say, “Are you ready?

From the other side of the table, Lys nods her head with such vigor that you’re afraid it would fall off. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be!”

Heme takes their place next to you, wheeling the cart within your reach. “Aren’t there supposed to be more people here?” they ask, adjusting the fit of their mask with their shoulder. “We don’t even have an anesthesiologist present, and the technician dumped the tools and left without a word!”

Sighing, you take another look at the screen, and monitor the patient’s ECG readings. Just a couple of decades ago, you wouldn’t even be allowed to take five steps into a surgical suite, but in your death, you stare at the state-of-the-art Vox technology heart monitor.

“This was dumped at the last minute. And the Vees paid a hefty amount for the best,” you say, smiling to yourself. “I guess it doesn’t help that most of the staff have clocked-off for the night already.”

“It really doesn’t,” Heme says. You think they frown, you’re not actually sure. It’s hard to tell with masks on, but Heme sounds like they’re frowning.

“On the bright side, this is a special case, and special cases require special means,” you say. “Stick around, and I’ll make sure to show you something amazing.”

Lys squeals, jumping a bit, “I can’t wait to see your work.”

You turn to Heme. “Tell how you were guided into stopping the bleeding by Doctor Neisseria.”

Heme straightens, round their shoulders. “Hemostatic dressing for the capillaries,” they recite. “Then Lys clipped the bigger vessels, and Doctor Neisseria used an electrocautery for any that we missed.”

“Good,” you say. “Lys, is this your first time using a clip?”

“…Yes,” Lys tells you. Even with a mask on, you could tell she was sulking.

You eye the cart between you and Heme, double checking that the technician brought everything you requested for. “It shows,” you say. “Practice every chance you get. Make a deal with some poor and down on their luck Sinner who wouldn’t mind making a deal for permission to poke around whenever you want. They’ll heal on their own if it’s not too severe…or don’t—I mean, that’s how I did mine.”

Lys blinks at you. “I’ll…keep that in mind.”

Your shoulder slumps. “…Shall we just begin?”

Heme hands you a needle driver, the needle already clipped to it. A bunch of suture forms around your palm. It’s study, and made of pure Sinner Magical Energy, or just magic or whatever. It comes out of your and you have full control, that’s all you need to know.

Heme and Lys lean closer to observe the threads you make.

I don’t get to do this often.” You turn your head, motioning to the detached arm placed on the side. The skin has been stretched and the jagged and stringy muscle fibers sticking out tell you it’s been ripped off rather than slice. The radius protrudes out into the air, jagged and sharp. It would have hurt this model quite a lot. “Steady her arm please.”

Lys snatches the arm, holding it with confidence as she steadies it. “This is so cool.”

Heme hums. “Cool in a gross way.”

“Whether your patient is awake or not, a steady hand is key,” you say. “When you pierce your needle, be sure to do it right at the epidermis when dealing with the skin. Too deep and you’ll puncture the arteries or nerves.”

Lys brings the arm closer, and you do the first suture that will connect the limb of Velvette’s model. Valen-something apparently tore her up, but it wasn’t enough to kill her. So, they rushed her into the Emergency Room three days before this poor girl’s debut, and dropped her into your care with her arm and leg in an ice box.

You sew the model’s arm. The threads around your fingers are light, but sturdy. You entwine some around your fingers like some puppet master for better grip. Blood vessels, bones, nerves, and muscles. Not a single cell escapes your control.

You quiz your interns from time to time or tell them to take a closer look at where the vessels stick out the muscles, making sure they’re able to observe how a proper reattachment is conducted.

You study the threads connecting the arm to its body There are thousands of loose sutures. One single pull, and it will be completely reattached.

You shift your shoulders and crack your neck, giving it a slight stretch. “How long has it been?”

Lys glances at the clock behind you. “Five hours. I think it’s almost sunrise.”

“Be ready to be here for a while,” you say, rolling your shoulders. “The leg will be more complicated.”

Heme groans and their shoulder slump. “I guess I should just be thankful the model is mostly humanistic.”

You pull on the singular thread, and the stitches shorten until the arm is fully connected to its base. A thing line is the only indication that any limbs have been detached.

The door swings open and you snap your head at the sound.

“Hey doc!” The little Egg Boi saunters into the room, an envelope in his tiny hands. “I got something for you.”

Your feathers crack and sharpen. “If you wish to keep your shell,” you hiss at him, “you will leave this room before you contaminate it further.”

Egg Boi #04 wobbles a bit. “I was told to give you a message.”

A headache forms on your temples. You want to massage it, but that would contaminate your gloves. “Lys, show the egg to the observation room. Show him the microphone.”

Lys pouts a bit but exits the surgical suite.

Heme grabs the leg, and you begin again. You pause to take a deep breath. The threads don’t just appear out of thin air—they’re created because you will them to take shape. It gives as much as it needs to take from you.

Egg Boi# 04’s voice echoes on the speaker. “I have a note for you.”

“Read it then leave.” You pierce the tibia bone with your needle (special hell needle, you guess. Normal needles definitely cannot pierce bones) and connect it to the model’s leg.

Your concentration does not waver, even as Lys enters back into the room.

“My dearest good doctor,” Egg Boi #04 reads. “What a helltastic day for –"

“Stop!” you exclaim, and the threads you’re producing fizzle a bit, “Is that from Alastor?”

“Uhhh…yes?”

“Give me 10 minutes.” You sew the model’s leg just like before, starting from bones, then vessels, the muscles, and finally skin, but this time at a much faster pace.

Thousands of strings connect the detached leg to its place.

Heme gawks at you. “I thought the leg was more complicated?”

“It is.”

“It took you five minutes to sew everything,” they say. “Why did it take the arm until sunrise?”

“You wouldn’t have been able to learn anything if I went too fast.” You hand the needle driver to Heme, who takes it with eager hands “I trust you will be able to close for me?”

“Yes!”

“Go around the skin—remember not too deep,” you say. “Once it’s all connected, just one strong pull and the threads should work their magic. Lys, once she closes, you can practice your knots.”

The door closes with a swing. You discard your gloves then peel off your protective layers, but you keep the scrub cap on your head.

The Egg Boi waddles into the room, threatening to tip any moment. He holds up Alastor’s note and you’re forced to bend when you reach for it.

You open the envelope and sigh. “This is a letter, and definitely not a note,” you say counting all the pages jammed into the envelope. “Notes are small pieces of paper, and not fifteen pages of paper scribbled back-to-back.”

You take one deep breath, flaring your nostrils as you contemplate your marriage choices, and begin reading.

Heme enters the holding room as you’re reading through the last page.

They take a look at the pages you’ve read. “Ohhhhh a letter?” they say, discarding their mask into the trash. Their gloves are next. “Who is it from?”

“My husband.”

“Why a letter?” Heme asks you “Why not just shoot you a text or a phone call?”

“He mumbles to himself when he writes, and he just loves hearing his own voice.” You turn to the Egg Boi once you’ve read the last word. “Tell Alastor I’m busy—I can’t leave work to go to the hotel on such short notice!”

“Right….” Heme leans against the sink. “Management will be dropping by this afternoon.”

Your eyes squint. “This afternoon? I was told there'd be visiting tomorrow!”

“Yes, they informed you last night,” Heme says. “It’s tomorrow now—morning, actually.”

Your eyes twitch as your turn to Egg Boi #4. “Tell him I will be early. Now go, run along now, least you get scrambled.”

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Bustling sounds from the other side of the circus themed doors. You knock then take a step backwards, least Vaggie greets you with a fist to the face.

A crash sounds from the inside. The door slams open, and Charlie pops out, hair disheveled and sticking out in odd places. You see the relief oozing into her. Charlie’s smile relaxes and her eyes stop bulging at the sight of you.

She says your name with enthusiasm. “It’s just you! I am so glad to see you.”

You wave at her. “Hello, Charlie. It’s good to see you as well.”

“Would you like to come inside?” she says at the same time another crash sounds. Charlie’s smile turns sheepish. “I hope you don’t mind the mess.”

“It’s quite alright,” you say with a polite smile. “Who am I to judge another person’s mess? It can be quite entertaining sometimes.”

Charlies smoothens the stray hairs sticking out. It does little to actually fix it. “Sooooo what brings you by? Not that you’re not welcome here! Everyone is welcome here! We don’t discriminate at –”

The door swings wider and Alastor pops out with that permanent smile of his. “I called her here.”

Alastor helps you out of your coat as you enter through the doors, and drapes it over his arm. “I came early. I hope you don’t mind,” you say, glancing at the crudely attached banners. Strobe lights are being taped to the railings. Its brightness makes you blink. “Are you throwing a party? Is that why you called me here?”

Alastor hangs your coat on the rack. “We’re preparing for a sudden guest,” he says. “It seems we’ll have to delay our plans, only if you’re happy with waiting for me.”

Charlie shrinks and her eyes water a bit. “Alastor…,” she says with a frown. “If you have plans, that’s alright—go. We can manage without you here!”

“Not at all, this is where he needs to be right now,” you tell Charlie, placing a hand on her shoulder. Her smile brightens immediately. “Who will be the special guest today?”

Charlie fiddles with her fingers. “We…invite my…dad.”

Alastor twirls his microphone. “The King of Hell himself.”

“Oh,” you start, “the demon is coming here?”

“That’s actually Satan,” Charlie says with a smile. “Dad often gents confused with Satan but they’re not the same

“Oh…So, Lucifer is coming here.”

“Pretty much.”

You laugh a bit—you’re not even sure why. Maybe you shouldn’t have laughed. It sounded so awkward, even to you. “Well, how can I help? If it’s alright with you, of course.”

Charlie’s eyes brighten, and she shakes your shoulders. “Are you sure?”

Alastor grabs Charlie’s fingers with the tip of his own and pry them off you. “I’ve already come all this way,” you say, and turn to your husband. “I’m sure we can make the most out of this situation.”

Charlie leaves to change her clothes, and hopefully brush her hair while she’s at it.

Alastor offers his arm, and you loop your own around his, even when you know it’s unnecessary to escort you to a living area that’s five-feet away.

He leaves you, walking to the kitchen with a wave of his microphone.

The hotel looks the same, just more diverse colors hanging around. Niffty stalks past you without a word, engrossed in her task of sweeping the floor. Angel Dust or Vaggie don’t seem to be around, nor is Husk at his usual post. Only a one-eyed cat keeps you company.

On the table, deflated balloons are left forgotten with two pumps resting next to it. You take your seat, and complete the unfinished task.

You’re on the third balloon when Alastor presents a mug to you.

He leans over the chair, reaching his arms to place that ‘Oh Deer’ mug on the table. It’s difficult to meet his eyes when he leans so far in front that his whole face is upside down.

His hair hangs in the air, and your husband looks goofy in such an awkward position that you can’t help but laugh. “You look awful this hellish morning!” he says, and his grin widens until his teeth show. “I thought you could use a bit of brightening up. You’re practically dozing off in the chair.”

“Thank you,” you say, a small smile on your face. “The coffee smells good.”

Alastor swings back, and lands next to you. “I know we agreed to leave such tasks to you,” he says and he waves his arms as he talks. “But you look ready to drop dead any second. Poor Niffty had swept about a hundred feathers on your short walk from the door to this chair—Long day?”

“Longer day, actually. Yesterday’s long day turned into a late night that bleeds into today’s early morning.” You take a sip, and revel in its taste. Even after all these years…his coffee still tastes like acidic bean water. (If you smile, then that’s your business.) “The coffee tastes good.”

Alastor crosses his leg, cracking a laugh hard enough for his eyes to bulge. “You didn’t even try to check if it’s been tampered,” he says with that same wild smile. “Are you that tired, my love?”

You smile at him, lips curving bright and wide. “My deerest, did you place something into my coffee?”

“Not at all.”

“That’s disappointing,” you say, taking another sip. “That suit of yours could use some brightening up! A splash of this bean water would add such an interesting texture to it.”

“We’ll it good to see you’re not tired enough to lose your way with words,” Alastor says, smiling at you. “But if you’ve had a ‘longer’ day, you could have sent the Egg Boy—"

“It’s Egg Boi, my deerest.”

Alastor squints, his brow furrowing as he does. “That’s what I said.”

“You said Egg Boy, deerest,” you tell him, taking a longer sip than usual to drown your laughter. “Those eggs are called Egg Bois. They have different numbers—except Frank.”

On the corner of his cheek—just where it’s always been—Alastor’s smile strains. “You said the same thing as I did.”

“Egg Bois.”

“Egg Boys.”

“Egg Bois.”

“Egg Boys.”

You chuckle a bit, and take another long slip. “If you say so.”

Alastor rolls his eyes and he makes it a point to show you he’s doing so. “You could have mentioned to that egg creature that you’d had a long day.”

“Management was dropping by my floor today.” You grab another balloon to pump it.

Alastor’s head tilts, and you hear the small crack of his neck. Static fills the air. “Well, I’m always glad to be used in such a way.”

You roll your eyes, making it a point to show Alastor that you’re doing so. The sharpened feathers and the glow of your eyes were just for the fun of it. “There is another reason why I dropped by the hotel.”

“Do tell!”

You knot the end of the balloon and throw it to the side. “Who am I to refuse the summon of the Radio Demon?”

“His wife.”

You snort, and toss a balloon at him. One balloon becomes two and now you’re just tossing whatever balloon you could get your hands on.

Alastor pops a balloon and static emits from his microphone.

You cross your arms, staring down at him. “I was going to use that.”

Alastor grabs the second pump.

An hour passes too soon. They always seem to do around your husband. The balloons are stringed and weighted. Razzle and Dazzle—the two lambs Charlie made a point to introduce you too—put up a…er… interesting banner on the railings.

Sir Pentious slithers out the kitchen, a tray of cookies in his hold. The Hazbin Hotel looks lively. The space looks decent—live in — as if Sinners actually gathered and used the space. (Those are your favorite kind.)

Sir Pentious offers a cookie to you, and you munch on it. You give him a compliment for its taste.

By the entrance, with Vaggie to her side and Alastor at the other, Charlie takes a deep breath, her nostrils flaring as she does.

Vaggie gives her a smile, and Charlie opens the door.

The bringer of sin rushes to his daughter, drowning her in a hug.“Chaaaaarlie!”

Charlie squirms in his hold. “Heeeyy, Dad!”

Egg Boi #13 and Egg Boi #08 twist their poppers and confetti pops into the air. Niffty grabs her broom, sweeping the floor.

You watch Lucifer, and try to hide your smile. The King of Hell looks different from any paintings or drawings humans make. They can’t seem to capture how shy he looks. How awkward. No painting has been able to capture his search for a place to belong.

This Fallen Angel has blond hair. He’s not the brunette you thought he’d be, which was a shame for you rather liked brunets. It makes sense he’d be blond. Afterall, Charlie has blonde hair as well, and she is the spitting image of her father.

If someone told you it was Lucifer who birthed her, you wouldn’t be able to deny it.

“It’s finally nice to put a name to the face.” Alastor shakes Lucifer’s hand with his microphone, wiping his own right after. “You are much shorter in real life.”

You turn aways, coughing to hide your laughter as Alastor banters with Lucifer.

Husk rolls his eyes at you and grumbles. “Of course, you’d find that hilarious,” he says. “Everyone knows it's smart to insult Lucifer.”

You place a hand on your cheek. “Guilty as charged.”

Charlie brings Lucifer to meet your group. He calls Vaggie, Maggie. Smiles awkwardly when Angel Dust calls him a ‘short king’. Lucifer waves back when Husk waves at him, and shrinks when Niffty jumps and pulls him by the collar. One by one, you’re introduced.

You extend your arm for a handshake.

Lucifer smiles awkwardly, shrinking a bit, but reaches out to shake your ha—

The chandelier crashes to the floor.

And oh God…

Lucifer begins to sing.

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Your hair sticks to your face.

Water droplets splash on your clothes. You accept your fate, and trudge through the rain, even as your fingers freeze. The breeze blows your hair, making you nuzzle into your damp coat. You should have brought an umbrella, or taken a cab. Just your luck, a sunny day turns into a drizzle that turns your shoes into a lake. You hate damp socks.

An umbrella blocks the rain from your soaked clothes.

You spring out of its coverage, spinning to look behind. Your arms jerk out, causing you to wobble because of the wet pavement. (That’s totally not embarrassing.)

“The point of an umbrella is to stay underneath it when it’s raining.” Alastor smiles, giving you a small wave.

You wave back.

“Oh…hello,” you say, adjusting the straps of your bag. Alastor takes a step forward, and you jump backwards. “I’m alright—I can manage by myself.”

“Why don’t you tell me all about your very capable self from underneath the umbrella,” he says, twirling the umbrella. “Come on, now.”

You dip your head inside. Alastor inches closer, but there’s still a respectable gap between your shoulders. “I’m really alright,” you say. “I quite love the rain.”

“Yes, the rain is a beautiful thing to frolic underneath when you’re in a meadow,” Alastor says. You can’t help but feel that Alastor is scolding you, “not when it splashes off buildings and drips off power lines and other items that have not been cleaned. We are in the city, my dear.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“My mother would roll in her grave and haunt me when she finds out I left a lady in the rain.”

“But—”

“Constant refusal is quite rude, you know,” he tells you. “And I still owe you one favor.”

“You really wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all,” Alastor says with a smile that makes you smile back. “If it makes you feel more comfortable, I’m happy to leave my umbrella in your umbrella-less but capable hands, and be on my way.”

You shake your head, inching closer. “We can share if you don’t mind walking.”

“I love walks. It keeps me stimulated.”

Alastor follows your every step, covering you with an umbrella that was meant for one. You glance at his shoulder, and turn away to hide your frown. Half of his shoulder sticks out into the rain, gathering droplets, while not a single speck of water slides on you.

Alastor is giving you the bigger half of the umbrella.

“Would you mind holding this?” he asks.

“Not at all,” you say, and take a hold of his umbrella. Alastor is taller, and you have to quirk your arms higher to avoid hitting his head.

Alastor slips out of his coat. You watch him slide it off his shoulders and pull his arm out the slits. He’s wearing a vest—a fine vest as well. Alastor flicks out stray waterdrops. He leans close enough for you to smell his cologne. He drapes his coat over your shoulders, grabbing the lapels to adjust its fit. His body heat lingers. It’s warm…he’s warm.

Alastor pries the umbrella from your grip with a wide smile. “Before you say anything, the only response that I will be accepting is, ‘thank you’.”

“Thank you, Alastor.”

“You’re welcome.” He adjusts the angle of the umbrella, careful to keep every drop of rain from touching you, even at the cost of his own clothes. “Whatever made you decide to walk? There are cabs and busses for a reason.”

“It wasn’t that bad when I started,” you say. “Plus, I was eager to get home.”

He keeps his eyes ahead. “It’s still quite dangerous.”

You step over a puddle, narrowly missing it. “Dangerous?”

“Yes!”

“The sun is—well, was still up when I began walking.”

Alastor hums, shaking his head. “Murders and thieves do not magically dissolve in the sun.”

You smile to yourself. “I’m sure you’re quite knowledgeable on that subject.”

Alastor turns to you, and his hair shifts as he tilts his head. “Pardon?”

“I heard your voice on the radio this morning,” you tell him, adjusting his coat around your shoulders. “I caught the news segment.”

“Well,” he starts, his smile widening. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “you must have been busy when I mentioned the forecast then.”

You inch closer as much as he’ll allow you, trying to keep a respectable distance, but still close enough that Alastor doesn’t need to sacrifice his clothes to keep yours dry. “Speaking of radio, what brings you to this area?” you say. “Isn’t the radio station all the way across town?”

Alastor laughs in a way that makes you wish you’ve kept your mouth shut. “Have you been tracking my movements?”

“Not at all,” you say and try to mimic his laugh. It comes out strained instead. “I just know how to read a map.”

Alastor steps over a puddle. He places a hand on your back, guiding you away from it. “I just had some business in the area,” he says and drops his hand. “I turned the corner and I found you walking all alone in the rain!”

You smile, careful to keep your eyes forward. “I’m thankful to whatever beings that fated our paths to cross.”

Alastor leans closer, eyeing your hands. “Been gardening recently?”

You glance at your nails, at where stubborn soil sticks underneath the cuticle. “No…not at all,” you say slowly. “I guess you could say…light treasure hunting…?”

“The more I get to know you, the more I find myself dumbfounded at your wide range of hobbies.”

“I hate seeing things go to waste.” You try to ignore the squish of your socks. You are definitely never forgetting your umbrella again. “For example, your garbage is my treasure.”

“What a wonderful philosophy to live by.” Alastor meets your eyes and smiles.

You smile back. “Indeed, isn’t it?”

Alastor’s hold on the umbrella stays firm, even as he follows you around the corner and across the street. Not a single drop of water lands on you. “What treasure were you able to find?”

“You have a lot of questions for me today,” you say and ignore the thumping of your heart. “I feel as if you know me more than I know you—I think that’s rather unfair.”

“Well, what would you like to know?”

You move your foot to avoid puddles of trash. The city could really use a good cleaning. “You know so much about my hobbies. So, I’d like to know some of yours.”

“There isn’t really much to tell,” he says. “The radio is my life.”

A strong breeze has you sinking deeper into Alastor’s coat. “You have your hunts.”

You glance at Alastor, and oh…his hair is as brown as his eyes. Wisps of hair stick to his face because of the rain.

Alastor’s brows furrow a bit, but you swear his smile turns sweet. “Those are more of… a necessity than a hobby.”

“In what way?”

“The woods around my area have a lot of… let’s say… mammals that don’t necessarily belong there, it is as if someone just leaves them from time to time. I hunt a few here and there to thin the population a bit.”

You smile to yourself. “Well, tell me about the radio—What is that like?”

He places his free hand on his chest. “Why, it is the proper medium of expressing oneself, of course.”

“It must be nice having such a creative outlet,” you say. “Sometimes, I wonder how you’re able to come up with the most exciting segments.”

��Sadly, you would think after all these years of bringing success and money into the company, I would be allowed to have more control over my content.”

You step over another puddle. A small tug on Alastor’s arm, and he steps over it as well. “That is quite sad to hear.”

“For example,” he starts, adjusting his hold on the umbrella. “I wanted to have this whole portion just on crimes that have been committed.”

“Like… the news?”

“No, not at all,” he says. “I was thinking more on the lines of old cases like robberies and murders—some solved, some not. Unfortunately, the director said it would be too gruesome.”

“It really depends on how you choose to present it,” you say. “I think audiences would love a good mystery with a satisfying conclusion.”

“That is exactly what I thought so as well!” Alastor’s smile widens. “I came across this story…Oh, well I wouldn’t want to bother you with the details.”

“I’d love to hear this,” you say, chuckling. “Show me how you would present it.”

“One winter night,” he starts off with that never ending smile on his lips, “a child—no ordinary child—disappears in the middle of the night. There were no signs of a break in and nothing other than the child was taken from the home. Not a single dust was out of place.”

“Wait, what was so special about the child?”

“I will tell you,” he says. “That child was the two-year old son of aviator Charles Lindenberg! Some newspapers called the child the ‘Eaglet’ because his father had become the first man to fly across the Atlantic Oce—Oh, why are we stopping?”

He angles the umbrella, careful to keep you dry. You smile at him and point at the small apartment complex behind you. “This is where I live.”

Alastor doesn’t frown, but his smile droops a bit. “Oh…” he says. “I was getting to the most interesting portion of the story—what a shame.”

“A shame, indeed,” you echo. “You have such a captivating way of conveying your words.”

“Thank you.”

The rain splatters on the umbrella. It’s not going to stop anytime soon. Your socks are damp and it’s starting to get colder. “Would you like to finish what you were saying?”

Alastor’s smile widens, just a bit, but it was enough for you to notice. “On the month of May, after continuous searching, a tiny little corpse was found abandoned on the side of the road. Forensics determined that the baby was bludgeoned to death.”

“It’s quite funny,” you tell him. “You talk of such gruesome murders but I find myself captivated.”

“Indeed.”

“Thank you for going out of your way for me, Alastor.” You slip out of his coat, returning it to him. It’s cold—has it always been this cold. “Will I see you around?”

“Of course,” he says. “We always meet in such unconventional places.”

You duck out of the umbrella, giving him one last smile and head up the steps. A twist of a doorknob, a few flights of stairs, and you would be home. You were tired, your socks are soaking, and the back of your clothes stick to your skin. So, why…why do you find yourself running back into the rain?

“Wait!” you find yourself exclaiming.

Alastor covers you with his umbrella. “What’s wrong?”

‘I… I may have a problem.” The words are slipping out of your lips. “Are you busy by any chance?”

“Not at all.”

“What about your business in the area?”

Alastor raises his eyebrows. “I can always come back.”

“Would you help me?” You bite the inside of your cheek.

“Of course.” Alastor brings the umbrella closer to you. “What can I do for you?”

“I think…” you begin to say. Stop. Stop! You should turn back; head inside where warm clothes and a bath awaits you. “I think I’m in the wrong area.”

Alastor laughs, and it’s that same breathy and light laugh as before. He drapes his coat over your shoulder once more, and adjusts its fit to secure it around you. It’s the warmest thing you’ve ever experienced in your life. “I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I left a lady stranded in the rain.”

“Not at all,” you say with a smile that you do not remember smiling. “Lots of scary thieves and murders out there—apparently they don’t disappear during the day.”

Alastor nudges you along, down the path, to a destination either of you have the faintest idea where it will end.

Your feet stay locked in its place, and you hold Alastor in your gaze. (His bowtie is crooked, and even with his coat around you, he looks presentable. His vest matches his shoes. You note how his smile is asymmetrical, and how his eyes are still as brown as his hair. Alastor’s glasses are frosted, but he doesn’t seem to mind.)

“Are you alright?” Alastor asks you.

“I’m fine. It’s just….” You shake your head and smile. “It would be a waste to forget this.”

“Come on,” Alastor says in a voice that is oh so soft. He offers his arm, and you hook your own around his.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“Motherfucker!” Husk curses into the air, his ears quirking as he does. “Would it fucking kill you to be gentle with that shit?”

“I am being gentle.” You stare him down, keeping the towel pressed firm against his foot. “Would you want to know what it’s like when I’m not? I’d be very happy to comply.”

“………No.”

“Then settle down, Husker,” you say and use your free hand to grab the forceps from the hotel’s medical kit. “This will be much easier if you stay still…or don’t and give yourself a harder time. I’m not the one with glass sticking out of my foot.”

Husk sinks into the clinic bed, sulking as he crosses his arms. He picks on the pillow, fidgeting with its seams. “Bitch.”

You raise your eyebrows and huff. “Virgin.”

Husk’s fangs show when he growls. “I am not…grandma.”

Your feathers bristle. It’s smart to keep Husk talking, even if hurling insults is the way to do so. If it keeps him distracted, you won’t complain. “I died in my late twenties…or was it my early thirties — I honestly forget.”

The blood on his foot begins to clot, and you toss the towel to the waste basket. You walk to the sink, rinsing stray droplets of Husk’s blood with soap.

“Settle down then, grandma,” he says with a triumphant smile, and you roll your eyes. “Today, it’s your memories. Tomorrow, it could be anything.”

You plop on the clinic chair, waiting for your hands to dry. “Yes, it would make sense you’re familiar with the signs,” you shoot back, “considering you lived long enough to be called Pawpaw — Is that why you’re a cat?”

Husk barks a laugh, his wings flaring. He grabs the pillow and tosses it to you. It hits the side of the chair and langs on your lap. You pick it up and toss it back at him. “At least my husband didn’t walk out on me for several years without so much as a word.”

You chuckle, and settle his foot on your leg for better access. Taking your forceps, you brush away slivers of glass from Husk’s foot …or would this be his paw?

You clip a shard of glass, and glance at him. When Husk doesn’t whine like a little bitch, you pull a shard and drop it to the metal pan across you. “At least my marriage lasted even through death, Arachnid Simp.”

Husk rolls his eyes. You smile when his whiskers twitch. “Where did you even learn that word?”

“I see you’re not going to deny it.”

Husk sinks deeper into the bed.

“This wouldn’t be happening if you—I don’t know—wore these things called shoes?” You pluck another shard of glass. Husk tries to jerk his foot away, but your hold stays firm. “They were invented a long, long, time ago, and were created to keep your feet protected.”

“Stop talking as if I’m a child.” Husk frowns and his teeth stick out. “Wearing them feels weird.”

“I guess they kind of are weird.” You grab a fresh towel when blood squirts out of Husk’s foot. “You die and then suddenly waking up to see you don’t have toes

A beat passes between you. “Do you…do you not have toes?”

You toss the towel, and pick out the last shard. “Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy.”

“What does that even mean?” Husk growls, running his palms over his face.

“I…have absolutely no idea.”

You reach into the medical kit, grabbing some dressing. You peel the plastic and toss it to the trash, and press it against his foot.

Egg Boi #03 waddles up to you, a gauze roll in his tiny hands — you weren’t aware the little egg creature was in the room. You thank him with a smile, and wrap the gauze roll around Husk’s paw then his ankle. Satisfied, you clip it in its place.

“You’re all done,” you say. “It might be weird to step on it for a few hours, but it’s not impossible. The glass didn’t puncture you too deep.”

“Good to know.”

“Oh…and just in case, the amount of blood you saw isn’t anything to be scared of. There’s just a lot of tiny vessels on the foot. That’s why it took a while for it to stop,” you say and toss him a new set of gauze rolls and pads.

Husk stares at the items. “I don’t know how to use this.”

You stare at him, leaning into the chair. “Just slap the square on the skin and roll the gauze around your foot.”

Husk hops out of the clinic, keeping pressure off his injury.

It takes a while to clean up after yourself, but Egg Boi #03 keeps you company. The little egg speaks a lot of nonsense, but it’s entertaining nonetheless. You flick the lights, and Egg Boi #03 follows behind you.

The chandeliers had been dragged away, and the glass and debris cleared off the carpet.

Mimzy’s hug makes you take a step back.

You squirm in her hold, placing a placating hand on her shoulders.

“I am sooooo glad you are here!” Mimzy exclaims, shaking your shoulders. “This is like one big reunion, ay. Just between you and me, that Lucifer is a real looker—shame on Alastor for not warning a gal. I would have dressed better, and who knows? Maybe I could be the Queen of Hell. Ha!”

Mimzy grabs your arm and drags you to the bar. Husk pours you a drink with a nod, and stalks away. Seeing him hop up the stairs makes you laugh.

You swirl your drink. “It’s always good to see you, old friend.”

“Not that old!” Mimzy swats your arm, a huge grin on her lips. “And there’s no need to lie to me, darling. I doubt you actually feel that way.”

“Well, I still have those burn marks on my wall from the time you decided to play bartender with matches.”

Mimzy barks a laugh, and her legs kick. “C’mon you can’t still be blaming me! If I remember correctly, it was Alastor who brought out the matches.”

Angel Dust walks up to you with Sir Pentious trailing behind him. You wave.Sir Pentious waves back, his hood flapping open.

“Mind if we join ya?” Angel Dust asks.

“Not at all,” Mimzy says. “I’m always weak to such lookers.”

Angel Dust takes the seat next to you and pushes back his hair. Sir Pentious takes the one behind him. “Sooooo, you two and Alastor run in the same circles.” He takes a drink. “And you guys are friends with him?”

You take a sip of your own drink. “You could describe it that way.”

“Well, those are your words, not mind, but I think it fits.” Mimzy glances at you, a knowing smile on her lips. “But our good doctor here is more than just—Hey! Why do you look so surprised?”

“Well, I just didn't know he had any of those. He's been here a while and is still a big, creepy mystery,” Angel Dust says. Sir Pentious nods, his head squeaking as he does “What's his deal?”

Mimzy is happy to explain tall, dark, and creepy’s ‘deal’.

“But before that, he was the prime bachelor of my day,” Mimzy says. “Not a single lady wouldn’t want a taste of that twink. But eh… I wouldn’t wish marriage with Alastor on even my worst enemies. It would be a real shock when you die and find out your hubby’s got a real screw loose.”

“Well, it wasn’t a shock to me,” you say, rolling your eyes. You swirl your drink—hmmm, it’s good to know Husk still knows what you like.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that!” Mimzy chuckles nervously. She scoots closer, elbowing you lightly. “You happy he’s back? I still remember the few months you’d visit my place to look for your deerest, most darling Alastor, Mimzy at the bottom of a bottle.”

Your eyes twitch. “Quite pleased actually,” you say and force a smile. “It’s great to finally see my husband again.”

“Husband?” Angel Dust chokes on his drink.

Sir Pentious tilts his head and his hat slides off a bit. “Oh you’re married?”

You show them your ring, wiggling your finger. “Indeed.”

Sir Pentious puffs out his chest. “I would love to meet thisss husband of yours,” he says. “If you cannot be my rival, he can fight in your stead.”

“That wouldn’t be a smart idea

Mimzy stares at him. “He’s not the brightest is he?”

Angel Dust drops his drink with a clink. “Pause,” he splutters. “Shut u—” He coughs, still reeling from his drink going down the wrong pipe. “Shut up. Plause. Pause!”

Sir Pentious frowns, and his tongue sticks out. “No one elssseee is talking.”

“There is no way,” Angel Dust says. He turns to you, eyes bulging. “I refuse to believe that Freaky got hitched.”

Sir Pentious gapes, and his hoop opens. “Alastor is married as well?”

Mimzy slaps her forehead and points to you. “He’s married to her!”

“You are mess’in with me,” Angel Dust says. “Well, you can’t trick me. I refuse to believe it, toots.”

Mimzy takes a swig of her drink. “No one’s mes’in with ya,” she says with bright eyes. “They had a big white wedding and everything. I even got to bless them with my singing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Mimzy glares at Angel Dust, a hand on her hips and her noise in the air. “You calling me a liar?”

You place a hand on Mimzy’s shoulder. “It was a good day, wasn’t it?” you say.

“Could’ve been better without the rain,” she says shrugging.

The lights flicker. Static fills the air, making your skin buzz. The bar glows a faint green. “The rain made it sentimental actually,” you say and glance up the stairs. “We quite like the rain.”

Angel Dust crosses both sets of arms. “I thought you said you were friends.”

“I said partners,” you tell him. “Alastor said friends.”

Angel Dust blinks at you and sighs. “So, you married him? Like you’re his wife.”

“I am, indeed!”

“Are you sure?”

“I sure hope so,” you say, crossing your legs. “It would be weird not to be sure considering I was there in a white dress, walking down the aisle.” Mimzy barks a laugh, and the feathers on her head sway. A part of you hopes she topples off the chair.

“Uh…Is this something we should know?” Angel Dust asks. “He’s not going to try to kill me because I learned about this right?”

“We’re not trying to hide it, but we don’t broadcast it either,” you say. “And well…no wife likes to be introduced as a ‘friend’.”

Sir Pentious’ tongue sticks out. “Does Alasssstor own your soul or something?”

You empty your drink and revel in the taste. “We got married back when we were alive.”

Angel Dust reaches across the bar, grabbing a whole bottle off the shelf with his long arms. He pops open the cork and takes a swig straight from the bottom. “I still have trouble belive you,” he says, squinting his eyes. “I just…I can’t!”

“Your belief, or lack of, won’t change the fact that I have a ring,” you say. “And it’s not really for you to believe, now is it?”

“Why…?” Angel Dust’s mouth quirks into the cutest frown. “Why…ya’know?”

You sigh and place a hand on your cheek with a smile. “He makes me laugh.”

Angel Dust makes a face, and coils back like he’s been shot.

“Oh he’s a total kitten,” Mimzy says with a bright smile. She inches her glass closer to Angel Dust, and he fills it up for her. “Catch him in a good mood or pour him a drink and play some jazz and he’s totally harmless.”

“You still shouldn’t toss caution into the air, Mimzy” you say. “If I were you, I’d be wary about trusting Alastor just because he likes cleaning up your mess.”

Angel Dust crosses his arm, and his eyebrows quirk. “Ain’t he your hubby?” he says. “Isn’t there this whole spiel about trust and love and faith and all that other boring vanilla shit.”

“He wouldn’t be the Radio Demon if he could be trusted by just anyone, now would he?” you say. “It still crosses me when I remember how he lied to me.”

Angel Dust’s eyes shine. “You said no wife likes being introduced as a ‘friend’.”

“Yes?”

“It must have crossed you quite a lot, huh?”

You shrug, a bit confused. “I mean… I wasn’t really a big deal at the end of the day.”

Angel Dust’s smile widens and that golden tooth of his shimmer. “I want to know everything.”

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Despite the rain, clear skies show the moon, not a cloud in sight.

The flashlight clipped on your collar shines on your path. Your boots sink deep into the mud, but that’s alright. A few inches of goo won’t stop you from your destination. You adjust your leather medical bag—double checked that there are gloves inside.

Between those two trees, your treasure lies buried.

You lay your kit on some nearby stones and reach in for your gloves. You dig until bits of the cadaver’s skin stick out. You brush the soil of his chest and peel open the flaps of his skin. The underside of his skin has blood vessels attached to it. It was worth cutting out the fat to have a glimpse.

Superficial fascia connects his muscles to his dermis. You take your probe and disconnect the thin filament. It reminds you of spider-webs.

You discard your probe and exchange it for the bottle of formaldehyde. You can’t study the whole body, not when it’s exposed to the elements. His fingers are starting to rot, but that’s alright. The chest is all you need, for now. So, the chest is all you’ll preserve.

The cheesecloth you placed on him last night is still damp. Good, that means it’s been sanitized this whole time. You take the cheesecloth and wife it against his open cavity, sanitizing every surface you can reach.

The formalin stings your nose and burns your eyes. It makes you cough, but you push through the pungent chemical.

You peel off the cheesecloth and use it to spread formalin into the deeper crevices between his skin and muscle.

Good. There are no maggots yet. It means you still have time.

You discard your gloves for a fresh pair and prepare your tools. You take your forceps and clip the scalpel blade onto the handle. You lay all your tools on a clean cloth for easy reach.

A human’s adipose tissue buildup is thicker than animals. This man’s fat is soft, easily squishable. Sadly, you’re not here to study his fat.

The scalpel blade is balanced perfectly. Throughout this Earth, no… not just Earth, but Heaven and Hell as well, nothing will ever be as perfect.

You slice through his adipose tissue, discarding it behind you, carving the cadaver until a nice rectangle opening forms. Muscles are grey, not like the red color printed on textbooks. You run your fingers along the smooth fibers of his pectorals. It’s slimy. That’s probably moisture mixing with the formaldehyde.

You quirk your shoulder to adjust the angle of your flashlight, still running your hand on his pectoral.

There, on the side of the chest where a muscle resembles a fan, do you find what you’re looking for.

Taking your probe, you define the muscle. You don’t use your scapple—never a scapple, because it could slice the fibers. You’ll scrape off the muscles later when it’s time to move on to the systems.

You take a pen and write your notes.

Muscle name: Serratus Ventralis. Description: The Serratus Ventralis appears to be a fan-shaped muscle, just like Hyman writes it to be. Although he’s not describing humans, I think it looks the same. Will double check to see if such similarities are indeed correct. Just like the book says, I can see the muscle extending anteriorly and posteriorly from the scapula and to the walls of the thorax. The Serratus Ventralis appears to be divisible into anterior and posterior portions, with the anterior originating deeper into the body. (Will cut open if there is still time.) The posterior border seems to be where it originates from, and while it is buried by other muscles, I think it originates from somewhere between the ribs. Origin, Insertion, Action: Origin: Textbook says it originates from the outer surfaces of the upper eight or nine ribs. (Will double check once I’ve moved on.) Insertion: The muscle fibers appear to move upward to the side. Inserts along the anterior surface of the medial border of the scapula Action: If it indeed is inserted from the scapula, this could mean that it could draw the scapula, forward, backward or against the body.

You flip to the previous page, and cross out Serratus ventralis. You move on to the muscle on your list: Xiphihumeralis. Based on the name, the muscle should pass through the xiphoid process to the sternu—

“Is this what you meant about my trash being your treasure?”

You startle, jumping back until a tree hits you and there’s nowhere else to escape. Run. Run. Run! Your heart screams at you, hammering in your chest. No one is supposed to be here. You’re supposed to be alone. You were careful—not careful enough, apparently.

Alastor emerges from the trees.

He waves at you when your gazes meet, but you don’t wave back. He’s smiling. “Hello,” he greets you with a gentle voice that strikes your core. It would be foolish to mistake his gentleness for kindness. “And yet again, I’m forced to comment on how you have such interesting hobbies.”

You press deeper into the tree, even if a knot digs into your back. “This….” You pause, trying to find your voice. Do you run? “This isn’t a hobby. I’m merely studying.”

Alastor drops a bag on the ground. It looks heavy. “A man?”

“A cadaver,” you say, careful to keep your voice steady. You cannot let this man see any cracks. “They’re already dead, aren’t they? Wouldn’t it be a waste to let them rot like this? At least now, their sorry lives will be making a meaningful contribution.”

The admission of your crime was easy to say. You don’t want to know what that means about you.

Alastor laughs. It’s not that breathy and light laugh he had earlier. This one is lighter, more elated. “Please, tell me more.”

You harden your heart, searching for any speck of bravery. “Why would I?”

Alastor smiles until his teeth show. The moon makes his brown eyes glow—you did not think it would be such an attractive color. “I’m the one holding the large knife.”

You glance at his hand, and oh…that indeed is quite a large knife. It’s not even a kitchen knife, but a proper hunting blade meant to kill. “I see you’re resorting to threats,” you say and you don’t know why you do. It’s not really a smart idea. “I did not think you, a man, would feel the need to say such things to a woman.”

“That was barely a threat,” he says. “I’m just curious to know your motivation to dig up trash.”

“I’m studying—that’s my reason.”

Alastor waves the knife as he talks. “Are there no other dead bodies for you to prey on?” he says. “Don’t hospitals have an area specifically to keep the dead?”

“Only morticians or medical students are allowed access,” you say. “I am neither.”

“Why not become one then?”

“Women as doctors are still a relatively new phenomena,” you say. “There is not a single medical school in this area that will allow me to study, nor are there any that won’t bring me into debt.” Your blood boils and it replaces your thumping heart. It still beats in your chest, but it’s not because of fear. “I needed to find a way to learn, to study, and textbooks could only describe it in words. I want to see for myself.”

Alastor plays with the tip of the knife. “Sounds like a classic case of lusting for knowledge.”

“If lust is to be my sin,” you start and a wonky smile appears on your face, “pride would be yours. A classic case of judge, jury and executioner.”

“I do not need to explain myself to you.”

“Well, you are holding the larger knife,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. “Anything more you’d like to know?”

Alastor hums at you. “How did you figure it out?”

“A little bit of a suggestion?” you say, and you can’t help but smile to yourself. “You should buy suspicious items at different times and places. Your turn—How did you know I was here?”

“A little bit of a suggestion?” he echoes laughing like he’s told the funniest joke. “You shouldn’t have told me where you lived so easily. I thought I would have to hang around your clinic for a few days before I got your address.”

“I made sure to be careful.”

“You weren’t in the slightest,” he tells you. “Even an animal is harder to track. It was quite a surprise to see you heading in this direction.”

“Wait…,” you say slowly. “Hang around the clinic? You…you were stalking me?”

“I wouldn’t say stalking,” he says, putting his arms up. “And if we’re pointing fingers, you would have had to follow me around for a few days to learn where I buried my trash.”

Your eyes drift to his bag, and then to his knife. Realization hits you like a cruel bus. You face heat. “You!”

“Me?”

“You lied to me!” you say, venom lacing your words as you puff. “You had no business in the area, nor did you randomly spot me! You followed to kill me, didn't you?”

Alastor smiles at you.

“Oh my God!” you scream at him, throwing your arms into the air. You point at him, glaring “You’re still going to kill me?”

“I can’t exactly let you leave, my dear,” he says, rolling his eyes. “What did you think?”

You stare down at him from your nose. “Don’t be so brainless,” you spit, crossing your arms. “If you would use this thing on your head called a, ‘brain’, and use it to think, you would be able to deduce that you’re currently not in cuffs.”

Alastor glares back at you, tightening his grip on the knife. You don’t give a single flying fuck.

“Since you are adamant on not using your brain, I shall do so for you,” you say, voice dripping with sarcasm. “If I wanted to rat you out to the coppers, wouldn’t I have done so already? Hmmmm?”

“Don’t speak to me as if I am a child.”

“I wouldn’t have to, if you aren’t thinking like one,” you say. “Why would I tattle on someone for giving me what I want.”

Alastor gives you a dry smile. “So much sarcasm to the person who does so.”

You cross your arms and lean against the tree. “I suppose I should be thanking you.”

“Will you?”

“No,” you say. “I don’t thank liars.”

You smile to yourself when Alastor rolls his eyes and furrows his brow. That strained smile of his is an extra bonus.

“If you’re going to kill me, be quick with it,” you say. “I’d like to die with my dignity as a lady.”

“How curious,” he says. “You’re not going to try and run? Fight me off in some clever way? Those are always the best kinds of hunts.”

You roll your eyes, making a point to show him that you are doing so. “That would be a waste of our time, wouldn’t it? And I think you’ll forgive me if I am not exactly keen on giving my murderer the satisfaction of experiencing ‘the best kinds of hunt’.”

Alastor laughs, breathy and light this time. He tosses the knife into the trees and puts his arms up as if surrendering. “It seems you have made me change my mind,” he says. “Not many are able to do so—especially not when I’ve settled on a hunt.”

“What an honor then,” you say, smiling dryly.

“Indeed, it is.” He takes a step forward, and when you don’t run, he walks to you and brushes stray dirt off your shoulders.

“Why change your mind?”

He smiles, inching closer to you. That is for me to know,” he says. “But, what I will say is I know potential when I see it.”

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“Someone, please, kill me again!” Angel Dust massages his forehead with one arm, using the other to empty the bottle. His third arm reaches into the bar shelves for a new one. You stare at his arms and wonder just how it got to be so long. “You’ve got to be shiting me right now. That’s your example? That’s your final answer?”

You pick at the wooden table, suddenly finding it hard to meet his eyes “Yes…?”

Angel Dust chugs his bottle at your answer. Mimzy avoids direct eye contact, choosing to study her empty glass. Even Sir Pentious keeps his gaze locked to the floor.. You bite on your cheek, letting out a soft huff.

If they didn’t want to know, they should not have asked.

“Out of all the misery he’s caused and will be causing,” Angel Dust says, “you think that Freaky ly’in to you about his reason for walking you home was the best possible example.”

“Yes?”

Angel Dust takes a deep breath. “Let’s be clear, okay? I’ll rephrase what I said, so listen closely,” he says. “Alastor lied about – and let me get this right—he lied to you about why he was in the area, and that’s why – hold on, bear with me – and that is why you were angry.”

You cross your arms, huffing a bit. “You make it sound stupid.”

Mimzy sighs, shaking her head with amusement. “That’s because it is, darling.”

“It is not!” you say, pouting. “It’s a very valid reason to be cross.”

Angel Dust takes another swig of his bottle. “It’s the fact that you weren’t angry that he was going to murder you in cold blood for me.”

You throw your arms into the air. “Okay, so it might not have been the best example,” you say, tapping your legs. “But that isn’t exactly my fault. Alastor is strangely honest.”

Angel Dust gapes at you. “No, he is not!”

“I don’t know, hun,” Mimzy says, leaning against the bar table. “Alastor kina is.”

“You won’t get the truth if you don’t ask,” you say, nodding your head. “And when you do ask, Alastor will either say the full horrifying truth, say it in a way that’s vague but still considered to be true, or dodge and not answer your question.”

Sir Pentious tilts his head, and he keeps a hand on his hat to keep it from falling. “And that is why we should not trust him?”

“There is no we, my dear,” you say. “That’s why you shouldn’t trust him.”

The hotel trembles.

You startle in your seat, gripping the table for stability. Mimzy clutches your arm, and you grab hers. It’s a small reassuring gesture that would make you smile at any other moment. Someone pounds on the door. You snap your head towards the entrance, nearly giving yourself whiplash. The hinges creak with every bang, and you watch with horror as the wooden frame begins to crack. Whatever wants to go in is determined to do so.

“MIMZY! We know you’re in there, you lousy bitch!”

You lock eyes with Mimzy, glaring at her with bristled feathers. “Really?”

“Whooops…?” she says with the most innocent smile. You grab your glass and throw it at her head. Mimzy snarls at you, searching for a stray bottle. She never finds it.

Glass rains down to the floor. Dust fills the space, and you cough when it irritates your throat. The whole hotel is in disarray. With a yelp, you jump away from the bar when one of the bone heads detaches and crushes your seat.

Mimzy scurries behind the bar.

A portal rips open in the middle of the room…Huh, that’s pretty cool. Vaggie steps out, Lucifer and Charlie behind her. “What is going on?”

Mimzy explains what she did. You roll your eyes when she does.

Fireballs shoot out the broken windows.

Motherfucker! You are going to kill Mimzy. You press against the wall to avoid Sir Pentious’ long tail from smacking into you as he slithers about. Angel Dust scurried away at the first sign of trouble. Of-fucking-course this happens today. Niffty scurries about, cleaning every debris in sight, You grab her by the collar, pulling her away from a stray fire. Niffty squirms out of your hold, and hops away. Another fireball keeps you from pursuing her.

“We’re under siege!” Sir Pentious exclaims, slithering about. “Take cover!”

Alastor pops out of your shadow, jerking your arm to pull you away.

You flap your arms to regain your balance.

Alastor keeps a steady hand on your shoulder, his hold on you firm. His touch keeps you grounded. Your eyes flutter to where you pressed against the wall, but Alastor pokes your cheek with the tips of your fingers, nudging your face to keep your eyes on him. The hotel burns in chaos, and you dig your fingers into the fabric of his coat.

Alastor holds your gaze. He smiles at you softly, but you see the hardness in his eyes and the tension is his jaw.

You try to give him your best smile. “Much better?”

“No, not in the slightest” he says, eyes squinting into a harsh glare. Alastor doesn’t frown, but his teeth bare into a snarl. “Are you hurt?”

The hotel trembles, and more fire crashes through the windows.

You try to turn to the chaos around you, but Alastor leans to the side, blocking the surroundings with his face. “I’d like an answer.”

He smoothes the feathers on your hair, and you lean into his hold, shaking your head. “Not a single feather out of place,” you say. “Thank you, my deerest.”

The hotel trembles once more, but you keep your gaze locked into Alastor’s.

“All of you get a safe distance,” Vaggie says, spear raised.” I’ll take care of this.”

Satisfied, Alastor drops his hand from your head and turns to the door. “No, my dear. Leave it to me.” Radio static warps the air around you. His eyes morph into radio dials. “It’s time I remind everyone why I am here.” He has the smile on his face—that same smile that tell you he’s on the hunt. It makes you buzz.

Mimzy pops her head out. “Ugh, finally!” she says, rolling her eyes. “Took you long enough.”

Tendrils shoot out of Alastor’s back and it waves around the air as if owning a mind of its own. His bones break with audible cracks to adjust to his expanding size. “A reminder to all, not to mess with the radio demon!” His teeth stick out when he smiles, and the little ‘x’ on his forehead appears.

Alastor laughs and begins his kill.

You rush out when your husband crawls out the broken doors, bolting from the bar and out the entrance. You watch Alastor. He grabs a shark with the tips of his fingers and uses the others to pull him apart, slowly, painfully, with a grin.

“Mimzy…” you say, slowly.

Mimzy shrinks next to you. “…Yeah?”

Alastor’s nails elongate and he pierces the shark, letting his blood trail down, reveling in his screams. “I really appreciate everything you do for me.”

A leg sails across the air, it’s bone sticking out. You smile to yourself as Alastor hunts down his prey. Blood paints the flowers red when his tendrils wag like a happy tail.

You’re faintly aware of Lucifer and Charlie arguing behind you.

The show is over too soon.

Alastor shrinks, twirls his microphone and stretches.

Mimzy runs, the first to approach Alastor. You don’t hear a word they’re saying, but Mimzy jabs her fingers into his coat. She leaves with a frown and a middle finger pointed at him.

You walk closer to your husband, a smile on your face. Alastor inches to you, bending close enough for you to reach his bowtie. The fabric is smooth against your fingers as your straighten it for him. “Much better?” you ask.

“Indeed.”

“You put up quite the show,” you tell him. “You looked absolutely riveting, my deer.”

Alastor’s smile widens, and he offers his arm, guiding you back into the hotel. “Did I?”

“You always do, my love.”

And oh…

Another song.

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Lucifer leaves, taking his singing with him.

As quietly as possible, you grab your belongings and check that nothing is missing: wallet, flip-phone, bus card, pieces of mint, various essential items, and lastly, your umbrella. You step out of what is left of the Hazbin Hotel’s front doors and stifle a yawn. Today’s excitement has gone on for too long. It was time to go home.

Drops of acid fall from the sky, a light drizzle forming. It was a good idea to stash that umbrella in your bag.

Alastor slithers out of your shadow, and covers your heads with an umbrella. “Did you happen to forget your umbrella?”

You force a sheepish smile on your lips. “I did, actually,” you lie to him. “But a walk seems rather lovely today.”

Alastor twirls the umbrella, his smile widening. “May I join you for your walk?”

“Are you not still working?” You glance behind you, observing the hotel.

Angel Dust sweeps glass off the carpet. He steals glances from time to time, trying his hardest to avoid looking in your direction—he doesn’t try hard enough. Your eyes meet, and you brush your stray feathers from your hair. A not so subtle way of showing off your ring. You stick out your tongue.

Angel Dust laughs, shaking his head with amusement.

Alastor adjusts the umbrella, angling it to block the prying eyes from inside the hotel. He raises his eyebrows, looking at you with a questionable glance.

You offer your most innocent smile. “I think they’re going to need a new door.”

“I think it’s time I clocked out,” he sys, inching the umbrella closer. “I shouldn’t have them getting too dependent on me.”

“Are those not grounds for prime picking?”

“I wouldn’t exactly be a doting husband if I left my wife to walk alone in the rain,” Alastor tells you.

“Doting husband?”

He nods, leaning closer to you. “Yes. Was that not your condition for our marriage?”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Did I say that?”

“You did.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, humming a bit. “I do not remember saying that at all.”

“Well, it wasn’t for you to remember,” he says. “And in any case, I did not call you to the hotel to prepare for some party.”

“Then why did you call me here?”

Alastor meets your eyes and his smile widens. “Allow me to join you, and you shall find out.”

“You’ve piqued my interest, deerest,” you say. “The best walks are usually the ones that are shared. It doesn’t hurt that you have an umbrella.”

“What would you do without me?”

You roll your eyes, and take a step closer. “You always seem to remember for me.”

Alastor fiddles with the umbrella. “What did you do for several years—get pelted by acid?”

“You would know the answer to that had you been present for those years,” you say and you don’t fight the coy smile that forms on your lips.

Alastor hums in displeasure. “Well, in any case, I only have this one umbrella.”

“I guess we’ll have to share.”

“Yes, it seems we will.”

Alastor offers his arm, and you loop your own around his. He doesn’t need to take precautions to ensure your clothes stay dry nor do you have to for his own attire, not when you press closely against each other. The umbrella covers the both of you just right.

You rest your head on his arm. It’s nice. Warm. Even if it was as thick as a stick. His bones press into your cheek. Your eyes flutter into a close… just… one… second…

Your knees buckle causing you to trip.

A frim grab of your waist keeps you from the ground. Your nose crinkles when you collide with Alastor’s chest. Finding strength in your legs, you dig your foot into the ground and stand.

Alastor keeps his hold on your waist steady, and you don’t move from his hold.

“Before you say anything—you are not fine,” he says. “I don’t want to hear anything else but an agreement.”

You peel your face from his chest, meeting his eyes to give him the brightest smile you can muster. It doesn’t come out as you hope. “It seems…It seems it will be my turn to postpone our outing today,” you say. “The excitement of the day seems to be catching up to me.”

You fell asleep while walking,” he says. “If it was not for me, you would be on the pavement.”

“Then it is a good thing I am no longer alone.”

A single tendril emerges from his back. It wraps around the umbrella’s handle, keeping it secured over your heads.

Alastor’s hand shifts from your waist to your back. You feel his other arm snaking down your legs, trailing your skin until he reaches the back of your knees.

Alastor lifts you like a bride.

Well, you actually are a bride…his bride, specifically.

Alastor continues the walk, holding you in his arms. You lean into him, and he places a chin on your head. “Your pointy chin is poking me, my deerest,” you say but you don’t move to push him off. “It’s digging into my scalp.

His chest rise and fall as he laughs, and you feel every bit of it against your cheek. “I could always drop you right over this puddle.”

“That wouldn’t really be part of the doting husband image, would it?” you say chuckling into his suit.

“No, I guess it would not.”

Smiling to yourself, you nuzzle deeper into the crook of his neck. “Hey, Al,” you mumble softly, “tell me a story.”

At the corner of your eyes, you see Alastor glance at you. His gaze lasts a second before he turns back ahead. “It was 1929,” he says. “The beginning of the glorious Great Depression.”

You roll your eyes even if he doesn’t see it. “You are the only one I know who calls the Great Depression ‘glorious’. People were starving, and we almost got fired from our jobs.”

“That’s because it was a great year.”

“Because you got to see the sufferings of the masses?” You laugh softly. “That’s definitely something you would do. I can practically hear you laughing at the way they try to claw their way out of misery, only to fail spectacularly.”

“Because we got married that year,” he says. Even if you’re wearing a coat, and Alastor wears his gloves. Even with layers of cloth between your skin, you still feel the way Alastor caress your with his thumb. “Can I continue my story now or would you like to bicker about your failing memory?”

“Continue.”

“So, the start of the glorious Great Depression,” he says. “That day, I saw an ad for the local zoo. I wasn’t doing anything important, so I decided to support my local animals.”

“How kind of you,” you say, stifling a yawn.

“Indeed it was,” he says. “I stalk through the animals. Looking at every malnourished species they kept locked up—”

“You get to the alligator enclosure and to this day, swear that you saw it do a backflip,” you mumble softly, eyes dropping. “That’s pretty good for someone you claim to possess failing memories.”

“Alright then. I shall find another.” Alastor hums as he thinks, and his chest vibrates as he does. “Summer of 1916–long before I met you.”

“You don’t need to tell me that,” you say, huffing. “I’m well aware of the year we met, my deer. So, Summer of 1916?”

“It was a dark and stormy night. Weird for the summer seasons. Usually, the house becomes a furnace, but it was terribly cold,” Alastor tells you. “During that second night of the hurricane, a knock sounds from the door.”

“Oh… I’ve heard this as well.” You pick on the lapels of Alastor’s coat, tracing the white lines.

“You have?” Alastor raises his eyebrows

“Yes, it was your neighbor. His tree fell into the window and you and your mother ended up sheltering him for the night,” you say. “Then, you’ll tell me that he gifted you three pounts of cheese the next week.”

“I guess there’s nothing left to tell.”

You lean back to meet his eyes. They’re no longer brown. Once, a long time ago, you thought it was your favorite color. Now, you don’t think you’ve ever had a favorite color. You just liked his color. “Nonsense,” you says. “We are definitely not that old. I’m sure there should be be at least a few.”

“Alright, this one began fifteen years ago,” he says, tightening his grip on you. “I was waiting outside St. An’s, and a Sinner came out. It was my first time seeing a cow. It was quite a conundrum because — Oh, I think you’ve heard this already. Have you?”

Your eyelids are heavy. “I have.”

“And you choose not to inform me?”

“Can you tell it to me again?” You sink deeper into his hold.

“Of course, my love.”

Alastor’s steps lag until he comes to a full stop. He holds you in his gaze as the acid rain splatters grow stronger. It’s just you and him in this tiny bubble of an umbrella.

His eyes flicker, touching every inch of this scene. You do not know what he is thinking.

“Are you alright, my love?” you find yourself asking.

“Yes,” he says. “I’m just…trying not to waste, that’s all.”

“Come on,” you say in a voice that is oh so soft.

Alastor continues his story. You don’t hear the end of it.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Next Part: | Part 4: The Radio Stars' Co-host Just Wants To Do The Dishes| I am excited to know what you guys think about this chapter. My replies and inbox are always open for any questions. I always get so happy to see my notifications. It's a bit addicting actually. Thank you to everyone who has interacted with this story. Every like, reblog, and reply means so much to me. Part 4 will be poasted as soon as possible

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