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mercillery · 5 months ago

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YANDERE SHANKS AND MARINE READER

WARNINGS: GENDER NOT SPECIFIED + YANDERE THEMES + NOT PROOFREAD

NOTES: I was bored and came up with this monstrosity. I don’t even like Shanks.

At first, Shanks' obsession with you doesn’t hit like a cannonball to the chest. Nope, it's more like a quiet wave that barely brushes your ankles—annoying but harmless, right? Wrong. Soon enough, that wave becomes a full-blown tide, and before you know it, you're swept away. It all starts with his simple admiration. You’re not like the other Marines he’s encountered. You’ve got this unshakable sense of duty, a moral compass that actually points in the right direction unlike most in the Navy, and a discipline that, frankly, makes you a bit of an anomaly. Shanks finds it...fascinating. And it’s not like he immediately jumps into full-blown, yandere territory. No, no. This man’s descent into obsession is slow, methodical. You wouldn’t even notice it until you're waist-deep in his fixation, and by then? Well, good luck swimming out.

It starts small. Maybe it’s while he’s kicking back, drink in hand, surrounded by the raucous laughter of his crew. But instead of fully enjoying the moment, his mind drifts—to you. You, in that crisp Marine uniform, carrying out your duties like it’s second nature. He finds himself smiling at the thought, then catching himself like, “Wait, what?” It happens again at the tavern—he’s deep in conversation with Benn, but his thoughts are far from the present. Instead, he’s wondering where you are, what you’re doing, if you ever think about him too.

And it’s in these quiet moments that the discomfort starts to grow. You’re a Marine. He’s a pirate. There's a pretty solid line drawn between you two, and it's not one he can just ignore. But the idea that you might never see him as anything more than a "wanted man" eats at him. It starts as a nagging thought, just a small itch at the back of his mind. Then, suddenly, it’s a full-on irritation that won’t go away. But here’s the thing about Shanks—he’s got the patience of a saint. You won’t catch him spiraling out or throwing tantrums. Nah, he’s not that guy. If anything, he plays the long game—the long game. We're talking years, decades, lifetimes if need be. He’s not about to rush in, guns blazing. He’ll wait, chip away at your defenses bit by bit, while always keeping that charming grin plastered on his face like nothing’s wrong.

And don’t think for a second that his easy-going, laid-back nature means he’s going to let this slide. Oh no. He might not lose his temper, but that doesn’t mean he’s not making plans—subtle ones, of course. He's just waiting for the right moment to make you realize that he’s the only option. You might think you have freedom, but it’s all an illusion.

Shanks is a master of hiding those darker intentions behind that trademark grin of his. You know the one—the carefree, charismatic smile that makes it impossible to distrust him. It’s his greatest weapon, honestly. You’d never guess that behind all the jokes, the playful attitude, and the hearty laugh, there’s something a little more�� possessiveness lurking. He’s a charmer, no doubt. And charm? Well, that’s just the perfect way to keep anyone, especially you, from suspecting a thing. During your encounters, he’ll engage in that easy, casual banter, as if you’re just two people having a friendly chat on opposite sides of the law. If you ever did get the faintest inkling that something was off, he’d wave it away with a quick joke or a playful comment, and bam—you’re laughing before you even realize it. Suspicion? What suspicion?

Oh, but don’t be fooled. Shanks knows exactly what he’s doing. Manipulation? Oh, he’s practically a connoisseur of it. But he’s subtle about it—really subtle. He doesn’t need to go full villain monologue on you. No, he’s got finesse. Conversations with him are like verbal chess matches where you think you’re just having a nice chat, but really, he’s been 10 steps ahead since you said “hello.” He’ll start small, dropping hints, little questions that make you think twice about your Marine superiors. “Are you sure the Navy’s got your best interests at heart?” he’ll ask, with that easygoing tone that makes it seem like he’s just curious. But each comment is deliberate, each seed of doubt planted with care. The worst part? You don’t even notice you’re being manipulated. That’s his talent—he makes it all seem so natural.

Shanks has a way of making the pirate life sound pretty good too. Freedom on the open seas, no rules, no rigid Marine codes to follow—just you, him, and the wind in your hair. He’s not about to shove you off the Marine ship with a cutlass in hand or anything. No, he’s got more class than that. It’s all in the subtlety—he wants to make you want the life he’s offering, to make you think it’s your idea. That’s the horror beauty of his approach. And he doesn’t need to rush things either. In fact, he enjoys watching it all unfold, like a game he knows he’s already winning, even if it’s just a little at a time.

And no, he’s not sadistic or cruel about it—he’s just got that patient confidence. Every time he sees you waver, every time you start questioning just a little bit more, he gets this quiet satisfaction. It’s like watching his plan come together, piece by piece, with that percentage of “winning you over” ticking up in his mind. He’s not in a hurry. He’s got all the time in the world, and he knows that eventually, you’ll come around. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon enough, you’ll find yourself standing on the deck of his ship, wondering how you ever thought the Marine life was the right choice.

And no, Shanks isn’t the type to toss you into a burlap sack and lock you in a room somewhere—he's way more refined than that. Kidnapping? Please. That’s amateur hour. No, Shanks is the kind of guy who enjoys the chase. He plays the long game like a master strategist. Instead of brute force, he uses patience, charm, and a little bit of cunning to get what he wants. The first step? He studies you, not in a creepy binoculars-from-a-bush way okay, maybe slightly, but in that clever, calculated fashion that only Shanks can pull off.

He learns everything about you—your routines, your patrol routes, where you dock your ship, and even the little things, like your favorite taverns and preferred training spots. He takes mental notes with the kind of attention to detail you wouldn’t expect from a man who spends half his time drinking and laughing his head off. The scary part? He does all this while maintaining that relaxed and carefree demeanor, so you never suspect a thing.

Despite being a busy Yonko with his hands full you know, ruling the seas and all that, Shanks makes time for you in his own… special way. You’ll start noticing him “coincidentally” showing up wherever you are. After a skirmish with some rowdy pirates? Boom, Shanks just so happens to be there, giving you a smile like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Run into him while you’re off-duty on some random island? Oh, what a surprise! What’s even funnier is that it seems like he’s always in the same bar as you—whether you’re grabbing a quick drink after a long day or taking a breather. Of course, none of this is by chance. Shanks isn’t just lucky. He knows exactly where you’ll be. Every time you think it’s fate? Nope, it's just Shanks doing what he does best—playing the long game like a pro.

And it’s not just him, either. The rest of his crew? Yeah, they’re probably unknowingly complicit in all this. To them, it’s just another day, chilling, maybe gathering intel on Navy movements. Little do they know, they’re actually helping Shanks with his personal side project: you. He’s got them keeping tabs on where you’re stationed, which islands you’re patrolling, and when you’re vulnerable. They think they’re just doing their regular stuff, keeping the boss informed about any activity, but really, Shanks is sitting back, piecing together your every move. The only person who’s likely able to tell that something is up is Benn.

It’s almost comical how well it works. One of his crew might casually report, “Oh, yeah, we saw them dock at Loguetown.” And Shanks, acting all cool, will just nod and say something like, “Ah, interesting.” But inside? He’s already planning his next “accidental” encounter. He’s got it all under control, and by the time you figure out that these run-ins are a little too coincidental, you’re already in too deep.

Remember when I said Shanks is a connoisseur of manipulation? Yeah, he’s not just playing mind games in casual conversation. Shanks doesn’t just want to win you over in a chat or two—he’s looking at the long-term investment. One of his favorite tactics? Slowly, subtly isolating you from the people around you. It’s not like he’s going to come right out and tell you to ditch your Marine buddies—that’d be way too obvious, and Shanks is way too smooth for that.

Instead, he drops little hints here and there. He’s clever about it, too—he doesn’t bad-mouth the Marines outright. He’s more subtle. He’ll say things like, “Do you ever feel like the Navy’s ideals aren’t totally in line with your own? You seem like someone who’s got their own sense of justice.” He’s not being confrontational; he’s just gently guiding you to start questioning things…

And before you know it, you’re thinking, “Wow, he’s very perceptive—very understanding too.” It’s genius because it makes you feel like these thoughts are your own, when really, they’ve been carefully planted by a Yonko who’s playing chess while everyone else is playing checkers.

But of course, Shanks’ goal isn’t just to make you feel understood. His goal is to make you feel disconnected from the very people who are in the way of his love for you—your fellow Marines. Slowly, you start seeing them differently. They don’t really understand you, do they? They don’t get your struggles, your doubts. Not like Shanks does, anyway. And without you even realizing it, you start to distance yourself from them, emotionally if not physically. He’s effectively creating a gap between you and the Marines—his subtle way of prying you away from the Navy and toward his world.

You literally have no idea it’s happening. Shanks is so good at this that you think these doubts are just part of your own natural reflection. He knows that as long as you’re loyal to the Navy, there’ll always be other Marine’s standing between him and the life he wants with you. He’s playing the long game, making sure that when the time comes, your loyalty to the Marines will be shaky at best. And once that loyalty starts to crack, well... that’s when Shanks moves in for the win, ready to pull you into his loving arms before you can even realize what’s happening.

Shanks, being the smooth operator that he is, absolutely loves testing your boundaries. His touches always seem harmless—at least at first. It starts simple, maybe a friendly pat on the shoulder after a sparring match or his hand lightly resting on your lower back as he guides you through a busy crowd. Completely innocent, right? Nothing to see here. But then, over time, you start to notice that his touch lingers just a little too long. That pat on the shoulder feels more like a subtle claim. The hand on your lower back? Yeah, it’s gentle, but there’s a certain possessiveness to it, almost like he's marking his territory in the most casual way possible.

At first, you brush it off. I mean, it’s Shanks—he’s naturally touchy, right? But then it happens again. And again. And again. And again. And again…

Suddenly, you’re wondering, “Wait... is he flirting with me? Or is this just friendly?” It’s maddening, because Shanks is so good at playing it cool that you can’t quite put your finger on what’s going on. Every time you start thinking, "Okay, maybe this is more than just friendly banter," he’ll flash that big grin of his or crack a joke, and you’re back to square one. Is this guy flirting, or is he just being Shanks?

The thing is, whether you realize it or not, he’s playing a much bigger game. Shanks is slowly but surely pulling you away from your rigid Marine life, introducing you to the idea of being closer to him—literally and figuratively. Each casual touch, each playful smile, is like a breadcrumb leading you further into his world, where the rules are looser, and the lines between friend and something more get blurrier by the day.

But the kicker? You don’t know where it’s all leading. Is he just messing with you? Testing how far he can go before you push back? Or is there a master plan here, where in the end, he’s not just pulling you out of Marine life but pulling you into his life? One where you belong to him completely? Guess we’ll never know! Until it’s too late, of course…

Despite his usual laid-back, “I’ve-got-all-the-time-in-the-world” vibe, Shanks has a violent side, and it’s a side that only shows when something he cares about—like you—is in real danger. Sure, he’s all about fun, drinks, and the occasional brawl, but when it comes to protecting what he cares for? That’s when the switch flips. If Shanks ever felt that you were truly threatened, or if someone dared to make a move on you, all that carefree energy goes right out the window. Shanks would become a force of nature, and suddenly, there’s no smile, no jokes—just swift, brutal efficiency.

But here’s the thing—he’s not the type to fly into a blind rage. His yandere tendencies are more... surgical? Let’s say some pirate gets too bold and threatens you, or maybe there’s another Marine who’s getting a little too close for his liking. Shanks wouldn’t hesitate for a second. He’d handle the situation so quickly and so cleanly that by the time you realized something was wrong, the problem would already be, well, gone. Vanished. Poof. As if they never existed.

His crew wouldn’t suspect a thing. They’d think their captain was just being his usual self, stepping in to defend someone he cares about. They’d chalk it up to Shanks doing what Shanks does—protecting his own. But little do they know, it’s not just some offhand act of loyalty. No, Shanks has been calculating this for a while. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and he’s making sure that no one, and I mean no one, comes between you and him.

Now, unless you’re incredibly sharp—or just really, really perceptive—you might not even notice. After all, Shanks is nothing if not smooth. But if you start putting two and two together, you might realize that these sudden "disappearances" around you aren’t just bad luck or coincidence. Maybe you’d start to notice that the people who pose a threat to you or more specifically, Shanks' claim on you always seem to vanish without a trace. And, well, if you’re smart enough to figure it out, let’s just hope you don’t mind, because by then... you’re already in pretty deep with him.

If Shanks ever got the feeling that you were slipping away—maybe you start pulling back, doubling down on your Marine loyalty, or just seem less receptive to his charm—well, that's when things would quickly start to get concerning and worrying. Shanks is usually the master of patience, but if he felt like he was losing control over you, he’d start to escalate, just a bit. Now, don’t worry, he’d never hurt you directly. That’s not his style. But his tactics? Oh, they’d start to get a lot more aggressive.

First, he’d start by nudging things in his favor, slowly sabotaging your career in the Navy without you even realizing it. Maybe you’re framed for some minor misconduct—nothing too wild, just enough to put you under scrutiny. Or maybe he’ll manipulate a few situations to make it look like you’re getting just a little too cozy with pirates. Who knows, you might "accidentally" end up in the same place as him more often than the Navy would like. And let's be real, that doesn’t exactly look great on a Marine’s record, does it?

Shanks, being the clever man he is, wouldn’t let you see the full extent of his obsession unless it was absolutely necessary. To you, it might just feel like bad luck or a series of unfortunate events. After all, why would the Navy be questioning your loyalty? Why would your superiors start doubting your dedication? You’re one of the good ones, right? But behind the scenes, Shanks is pulling strings, slowly guiding things to make it harder for you to stay in the Marines. The plan is simple: if the Navy pushes you away, you’ll have no choice but to gravitate towards him. And who wouldn’t want to be a part of his carefree pirate life after all the stress the Marines put you through?

Now, if you’re smart enough—or just plain stubborn enough—to figure out what’s going on, that’s when Shanks might have to resort to Plan B. He doesn’t like the idea of cruelty, and he’d rather not sabotage your career directly. But if it’s the only option left to keep you by his side? He won’t hesitate to strike.

At the end of the day, Shanks doesn’t want to play dirty, but for you? Oh he’ll make an exception. After all, if the Navy is standing between him and the life he wants with you, then they’re just another obstacle to remove. And trust, if Shanks has his mind set on something, nothing—and no one—can stop him. Not even the Marines.

Ultimately, Shanks envisions a future where you’re free from the Navy, sailing the seas with him at your side—not as just another crew member, but as his equal. Or, more accurately, as his. In Shanks’ mind, this isn’t about controlling you overtly. He doesn’t want you to feel like a prisoner in his grasp; no, he wants you to believe that you’re choosing him because of his charm, his charisma, and everything that makes him, well, Shanks. You won’t even realize that, slowly but surely, you’re already tangled in his web.

His obsession isn’t suffocating—not outwardly, anyway. It’s the kind of love that lets you feel the breeze of freedom while subtly guiding your steps until all roads lead back to him. He’s sure that in time, you’ll see things his way. You’ll come to understand that his love is real, genuine, and that no one else could care for you the way he does. And when that day comes, you’ll finally reciprocate. You’ll see that this was all meant to be.

But if not? If you don’t come around on your own? Well, Shanks has all the time in the world. He’s patient. He knows how to wait, how to play the long game. He can be gentle. He can be kind. He can let the world unfold at its own pace. But remember, even the most patient man has his limits.

And when those limits are reached… well, you might not like what’s waiting for you at the end of that road.

#shanks x reader #shanks x you #shanks x y/n #one piece shanks #shanks #akagami no shanks #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x reader #yandere one piece #yandere shanks #Yandere shanks x reader

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hazelfoureyes · 5 months ago

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A Doe in Fall (Part 12)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie📍 Part 13 - The Release Part 14 - Someone like her smutty💦

Part 12 Eddie

Brady tried to cut some corners to bring you and Alastor down but ends up just hurting himself.

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem!Reader, still not smut cuz we’re waiting for the special moment, po-po, 5-0, down at the gun club, not an accurate portrayal of 1930s New Orleans Leadership, mystery kisses, brief thoughts of violence, illiteracy, @minkdelovely」

MDNI 👮 🚓

Edward Freeman met Kenneth Brady when the younger man was partnered with him. He was bright eyed, and had a sense of justice Freeman appreciated. He was already tired of the rigamarole of police work, so the fresh energy reinvigorated his early days and long nights. It was rather pointless though, police work, given the people in charge weren’t fans of cracking down on the illegal booze business. It was making too much money under the tables and in handshakes.

The nation was still reeling from the crash of the market nearly two years prior. Any way to get ahead, to stay with your chin above the rising waters, well… what harm is there really in feeding your family? The end justifies the means, right? And Brady didn’t seem to disagree too much with that sentiment.

So when the typically stringent, but otherwise soft spoken and relaxed, Brady began to…devolve into someone a little too myopic, Freeman wasn’t quite sure how to handle him. They’d been rather laissez-faire about the morality of things for so long. They tried to keep violence at a minimum so their fellow citizens could enjoy their city. That was the extent of it. But, Brady was becoming obsessed.

It started normally enough. Brady bringing up a missing husband. Later on, a missing bartender. Soon he was snooping on to other’s cases, convinced something was connecting them.

But, given the times and the character of such people, well, Freeman couldn’t quite understand Brady’s fervor. Sure. Some of them probably ended up under backyards and in the water. Hell, quite a few of them he’d have helped do away once he got the real dirt on them. A conspiracy? Or a mass killer? That seemed implausible at best. There was simply no indication of a grande scheme.

Brady kept pushing. Walking the streets at night with ears open and eyes peeled, for any inkling of what was going on.

He just couldn’t accept that sometimes people leave town or jobs. Very few of them were actually reported by loved ones, even the ones that had them.

Then came along the widow Dupre, watery eyed and shaking about her missing adult son. Who, from what they’d uncovered, was a real piece of work.

Freeman let Brady start his investigation, but as it became clear he was adding it to his pile of random disappearances, Freeman had to step away. He could see the obsession ruining his friend.

At a rare dinner with the families, the stress on Brady’s wife’s face was visible for all to see. She cornered Freeman in the kitchen when he went for more coffee, asking if Brady was stepping out on her or if he truly had been working so hard on something big.

He hardly knew what to say. Neither were true. He’d been working late, but on a wild goose chase.

When he dragged a clean cut and confused woman into the station, Freeman knew he’d really lost the fucking plot.

“She’s his accomplice. I know it. Her fella is the man. I’ve got him fingered.” Brady pointed at you through the closed door. You weren’t listening to their voices in the hall, the name still ringing in your head. The name you'd both sacrificed to keep secret.

Alastor.

Freeman hissed, “You can’t arrest people for knowing a guy! A boogie man at that, Kenny. Come on.”

“I have her confession for prostitution. It’s all clean and by the book. And, I have a witness.” Brady tapped Freeman’s arm with the back of his hand and led him down the hall to another room, “He saw her and her guy throw a body in the river.”

Well, shit.

“You found a body? The Dupre son?” Freeman considered what he’d said. The river? Why the river? Bodies didn’t always make it to the sea. It’d be a sloppy misstep for this supposed murderous mastermind.

Brady sighed, his parade a little rained on. “...No, but I have a witness right there. And, I got the name of her fella. I just need to find which station he’s at and I’m off to the races. I bet you my house this guy’s good for it.”

Ah, so. He had next to nothing. Freeman just nodded and took a calming breath. “Alright, are we starting with the woman or this guy?”

“Oh, for sure her.” Bready turned to open the door, but Freeman shot his hand out to stop him.

“And this is the one who gave you the runaround?” Freeman had heard so much about you already, he wanted to prepare himself for whatever tricky shrew was waiting for him. He followed his partner through the door and took you in fully. Your stare was distant and glassy. You’d been crying and you seemed to be shaking slightly from the cold of the room as fall’s night air slipped in through the window.

You could, reasonably, be his daughter. A similar age for sure, similar build, same hair color. Same penchant for the wrong kinda guy, apparently.

He recalled all of the ways Brady had spoken about you. The image in his head was a bird faced woman with sharp eagle eyes and tight lips. Someone decidedly ugly with a permanent scowl and mischief behind quick glances.

And here was a woman, vulnerable and quite nice to look at it. Hair obviously groomed well when not manhandled by cops, and a rather handsome dress which indicated a good personality by the current standards. The shoulders had flat bows that let their ribbons fall onto your bare shoulders. Feminine. Suitable. Not much skin showing. otherwise. A burlesquer seemed to the kind who didn’t wear clothes often, but he supposed everyone has a work uniform after all. Even the nude dancers. Who was he to judge you for your professional clothing requirements? You were here and modest and that’s what mattered.

He took a seat, sliding the folder Brady had set down into the space in front of him. “I hear you’re not too fond of disclosing your personal information.”

It had been several hours since you’d arrived, and now they chose to grace you with their presence? You’d been tossed into a room and left alone for so long, it seemed more like punishment than bureaucracy.

Brady’s bright blue eyes only get clearer and darker with every ounce of anger you inspired in him. An angry sea churning up violently behind his mean mug. He was practically sneering at you.

“Can you blame me? The men in this city are certifiable. Case in point, this hound you call a cop.” You had the forethought to keep your shoulders pulled inward, gesturing with your chin.

“Detective.” Brady corrected.

“Same thing, jackass.” Eyes rolling, you pushed back against the chair causing the front legs to lift for a second. Returning your glare to him, you honed in on the messy details. You remembered his hair well from that first meeting in front of the cafe. It clearly had become oily and weighed down from less frequent washing. The skin under his eyes was looking dark and thin. “You look like shit, by the way. Should sleep instead of bothering honest performers.”

“Ha, there you are. True colors shining through finally.”

“How was my mom? Not much of a talker.”

“Fu-,” Brady flinched forward, chair squeaking against the linoleum floor. It took a tensing of your arms to keep from openly reacting.

“Ya’ll, enough. Now, don’t be too sour with us. We’re just working off your own words,” Freeman opened the folder to find your confession. It had been typed nice and neat and labeled DOE, JANE. He turned it to you briefly, eyebrows hitching as if to ask if you remembered it. You glanced at it long enough to see the conversation and names and nodded. Yes, you’d had that conversation. Brady must have typed it mostly from memory, you thought, or he had some quick shorthand. He brought it back to face him and as his eyes roamed the sheet, his shoulders stiffened. He wasn’t seeing what he was expecting. “Could you-?,” he motioned for Brady to point out the part of your last conversation that constituted a confession. Brady tapped a line of text.

BRADY - Tell me about the dates Tommy arranged. DOE, JANE - Apparently many of the dancers agreed, got a cut. I had no idea about it until he introduced me to a man who was very forward. I insulted him and ran off. Lost Tommy good money, apparently. BRADY - And who was that? DOE, JANE - S something. Mister Stein? I honestly wasn’t listening much after I realized what was happening. BRADY - And then he knocked you around? DOE, JANE - Yeah. Got me good. BRADY - And… the next date. Last time anyone saw Tommy. Tell me about that. DOE, JANE - Tommy said he’d kill me if I didn’t go. So I did. Promised me he’d stay with me for protection. But as soon as he got his money he left.

Freeman’s head lifted slowly from the paper to look at you over the folder, across the table. Your arms were crossed, makeup smeared and running with long dried tears. Your hair mussed. His head turned with a crawl, weighted down with a steel ball of apprehensive horror, to look at Brady. He was leaning on the table with both elbows, staring at you like you’d busted out his car window and shot his dog.

“Can I speak to you for a moment?” He pushed back, resting his hand on Brady’s shoulder and walking out. In the small room that looked into the interrogation room where the male witness fidgeted, he set the folder and your words down.

He motioned for Brady to close the door behind him. As soon as the latch clicked into place, he smacked the table.

“That isn’t a confession! It’s a fucking victim statement, Kenny.” He looked through the one way glass at the man seated, “And he wrote a witness report?” He gestured with his head, the man Brady called Joseph sat quietly waiting for their return. His clothes were pulling at the seams, his fingernails crusted with dirt.

Brady nodded, “Yeah. He came in yesterday and after he told me what he saw he wrote it down there and signed.” He was pointing to a piece of paper he’d left on the same table Kenny was now trying to use for stability. Trying was the keyword. His disbelief was dizzying.

A small laugh, petulant and bordering annoyed, left his lips. He grabbed a pen, wrote something down, and brushed past him. Freeman marched into the witness room, Brady closely following behind.

“Sir, do me a favor and check I’ve spelt your name properly on this paperwork please.” He held it up. The man looked, found where Freeman's finger was pointing, and nodded.

Freeman looked at Brady with dead eyes, the shutdown of his feelings was an automatic attempt by his body to try and keep from grabbing Brady by the shirt in a fit rage, and turned the paper to reveal the name written to Brady.

Josanna. Written neatly in block letters.

Without breaking eye contact with Brady, “And just refresh my memory, sir, what was your statement in regards to again?”

Joseph cleared his throat, “I saw it happen. Down by the river.”

“Saw what happen?”

“The crime.”

“What crime?”

“The one with the guy and the girl. It’s all in there.”

Freeman shoved the written statement into Brady’s chest, “You have half a second to get to the captain’s office before I do.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“That man can’t even read his own name let alone write. From what I can tell he’s a random homeless you plied with confiscated booze. What is going on with you?” The gray haired man bellowed from his chair, hands resting on a large pot belly.

“What does that matter! It’s an illegal hooch den! Naked dancers! Race mixing! She admitted she-,” Brady was pacing a small three foot by three foot square in front of the desk. Freeman had his arms crossed while seated.

“A victim told you she was assaulted. And I-,” the captain leaned back in his chair, “You know exactly how we feel about the wet spots in this city. The, uh, race thing is another issue but— Kenny, you’re one more rogue act from losing your beat. Do you not get that?”

“Rogue? I’m doing legitimate police work. I’m investigating crime! What the fuck is happening here?!” He stopped pacing long enough wave an apology to his boss for the language.

Freeman sighed, long and heavy. A huff of breath that somehow conveyed his disappointment better than words.

“I decide what constitutes police work and this is not that.” His boss shook his chair side to side, thinking about how to get Brady in line. “It comes straight from the commissioner and the mayor above him. We aren’t to hound the bars under our purview.”

‘I’m not!” He started up pacing again, hands up and open in genuine confused frustration.

“You’re harassing their dancers! Stalking around their establishments at night freaking people out!” He laughed in disbelief, “Her manager is outside now. Had to shut down for the night because of your little show.”

Brady put his hands on his hips and faced away from the captain. His face enough alone to have him dismissed.

“I know she’s involved. I know her guy did it. And I know someone’s killing people. Lots of people.” He said it confidently into the corner of the office.

“Kenny. Enough.” Freeman shook his head and stood to leave.

“One complaint about you and you’re being chained to a desk. Cut her loose, apologize, and go home. I don’t wanna see you anymore tonight. Your freaky little eyes are getting under my skin.” His captain removed his small rounded glasses and rubbed his hands down his face, exasperated his life had come to telling men to stop doing their jobs.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

While you were here anyway, and Brady shooed off Joseph, Freeman decided to speak with you again. He offered you a nod and took Brady’s seat.

It was hard to be friendly, you found. Every minute or so you had to sniffle, nose running long after the tears dried up. Your eyelashes stuck together when you blinked.

“I’m afraid I didn’t get your name, sir.” You sniffled again, hands warming your arms.

Freeman leaned over and offered you his hand, “Detective Eddie Freeman.” You shook it, keeping your hand rather limp to give the appearance of weakness.

“I just-,” he laughed as he set his hand on the table, clicking his ring twice out of habit, “I gotta ask. Did your fella kill Tommy? Are you in some kinda trouble?”

With a scoff and a shake of your head, you found yourself, “No, but I wish he had. What’s the point of being good if people assume the worst of you anyway?” Reaching out for his hand again, you held his large one in both of your smaller ones, “At least if he’d killed him I’d be sure Tommy’s never coming back to keep his promise.”

Your mother always taught you to make yourself small. Remind the people you needed to believe you that you were not a threat. Play the part they always pigeon holed you into. It was easier than fighting the assumptions. There was power in deception.

“Your pal is really ruining my life. Even more than Tommy.” You squeezed, 30% strength.

When you looked up at him, he could only find you to be the image of pitiful girl, “Let me check some things and I’ll have Kenny sending you on your way, miss-?”

“Doe.”

“Right.” His ring rapped against the bright wooden door frame, two times, and your brief time knowing Freeman ended.

The paralysis set in as soon as the door was shut. You could hear Alastor’s name echoing around in your head, the sound so sharp it made fresh tears well. Brady had heard it, of course. It was for nothing. You worked so hard, kept his name off of your tongue despite the way it always felt so good there.

Conjured images of Alastor barging into the police station haunted you. What would he say in anger? Brady wasn’t crazy, he was smart and lucky. Nothing could be worse. Alastor could say anything while mad, and Brady could make conclusions he had no business jumping to.

And then he was there in the room with you, and you had to return to the moment and try to calibrate yourself. Who were you now? He already knew you weren’t the damsel in distress, he knew you weren’t weak and frail. Right?

Maybe you’d just be yourself, like you’d let slipped earlier. Your mouth opened and his hand flew up, “Don’t. Shut it.”

“Excu-”

“I’ve been told to apologize and send you home.”

“Oh? And are you?”

Brady smiled, and for a moment you forgot how scary that should be. “No. You’re a liar and you’re aiding a criminal. But you work in a place I’m not supposed to bother. Luckily for me, Alastor’s work surely isn’t one.” Your eyes rolled. Hearing him say the name was like hearing a dog sing opera. Unsettling and unnatural. Perhaps a little impressive from a distance. Unfortunately you were front row and center.

Time with you felt so rare, he wanted to keep you a little longer but couldn’t think of what to say or do. Briefly he entertained grabbing you and violently shaking you until you confessed. He managed to find the strength to bury that down, mouth opening instead in preparation for words he didn’t have yet.

“Can I go home now?” Rubbing your arms to make it clear how uncomfortable you were, you cut him off like he had you. Not that he had anything to say.

Brady motioned with his thumb down the hall and said, “Your guy isn’t here to pick you up. Funny name by the way. I got a complaint for an Alastor last week. Socked some man for no good reason. Sounds like a violent fella, kinda guy with a temper when someone speaks I’ll of his lady, or fiancée, I’m told…Anyway, dropped the case since the guy wouldn’t give any more information but maybe I should follow up.”

“Are you so sure I have one, a guy that is?” You simply couldn’t admit Alastor was yours. Never. Not for Brady. “No one’s coming for me. No one’s punched anyone for me either. Though, I’m flattered you think I’m worth the charge. Am I free to leave?” The little tug of your lips into a halfhearted grin warmed you. It was thrilling, lying to his face when you both knew the truth.

He didn’t move. He couldn’t let you take this moment from him. He’d made a massive victory in this personal war and your nonchalant attitude was making something in the back of his skull itch. Somewhere beneath his bone. A new sensation.

A brief and violent flash of knocking the smirk off your tear stained face startled him. You noticed him swallow hard, expression shifting from amused to bewildered. From the outside, all you could read was a frightened widening of his eyes.

“Brady…? If you’re waiting for some man to collect me, I’ll be here all night.” Your voice was softer now, while you couldn’t uncover what was happening in his head, you could tell he was in some kind of turmoil.

A man unable to control his face was often a man unable to control his hands.

His legs lifted his body up and dragged him over to the door. He opened it, slowly, before leaning against the wall beside it to ensure you passed him in close quarters. He knew he couldn’t keep you there forever.

Maybe this Alastor was a real rough fellow. So cruel he wouldn’t even care if his dame was in a bind. The kind of man to abandon his closest allies when cornered. Maybe he really wasn’t coming for you. Which was fine, he told himself. He’d be seeing him soon.

Following you out, he took the walk as an opportunity to warn you again.

“This won’t end like you think it will.” He said it too loudly for how close he was to you, “It never does for the women.” He stopped at the station’s front desk and leaned into the glossy wooden counter, “Oh! I almost forgot! Congrats on the engagement.”

Turning to say a harsh good night, you caught yourself and turned back, exiting through the station doors without another word to him. No need for polite pleasantries anymore. The game was well and truly over for you.

“Oh thank god,” Johnny was sitting on the steps of the station and jumped to his feet when you came out, a sight you weren’t expecting. You stopped, confused. He smiled seeing your brows knit and eyes wander past him in search of someone else, “I was going to bail you out but they said there wasn’t any need. Alastor is waiting for you.”

Like a leak in the hull of your iron-sided ship, it seemed the second Ruth so sweetly dripped that name into Brady’s waiting maw the ocean was spilling in. Every time you heard it fall from another person’s mouth the breach in your metal barriers tore wider. If the Titanic could sink in calm weather what luck did Alastor and you have in the tempest of Brady’s fervor?

“Oh…,” you tried to hide the dejection. He sent Johnny? That was smart, but, why did it sting?

Perhaps it was his six sisters, or maybe he was genuinely a good man, but Johnny’s heart ached at the pitiful tone. He leapt up two steps, “He wanted to come! But I told him it was a bad idea. Tempers and all that. Don’t need any more issues for you tonight. Though admittedly he didn’t seem mad, necessarily.”

A slow nod. Johnny told Alastor what to do? Your eyes looked to the left, that was an odd mental image.

“Thanks, Johnny. I need to return to the theater first.” Your hand reached out for his arm and gave it a squeeze, “I appreciate you.”

“Dont mention it. And your bag is with Alastor.” He let his hand come to yours, “He’s kind of a mess, that one.”

You tensed, accidentally pinching his arm in a flit of panic before drawing it back, “Did he drive home like that?”

He shook his head and handed you the card, “He said,” a pause as his eyes rolled up to search for the exact words, “to tell the host you’re there for him. Called it the Golden Dish, but the card doesn’t mention anything like that…. Sorry, I didn’t think to ask more questions. Like I said, he seemed out of sorts.”

You looked down to inspect it, nervous at the sudden introduction of a paper trail. Nodding, you finally took it with both hands. The face was rather plain: an address in the corner with just the number and street, and an interlocked G and D in the center. Turning it over, you found a pink lipstick kiss stained haphazardly across the back and a small squiggle. Your thumb ran over the clipped right bottom corner.

What was the Golden Dish? And who was kissing Alastor’s business cards?

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@eris-norwega @reath-solia @catticora , @angelicribbons , @xalygatorx

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @moonmark98

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog ,

@thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies

@howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @fizzled-phoenix , @star-kujo-platinum

, @a-case-of-attachment, @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk , @bontensbabygirl @smoky000

@hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain

@harley2223-blog , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby

@dontfuckbutimfab @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #Alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #human alastor x reader

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notiddygothgf · 5 months ago

Text

10. Early Breakfast

★ pairings: aki hayakawa x fem reader

★ ❝ I didn't know Hayakawa Captain had a girlfriend. ❞

★ c.w.: smut. more (poorly timed) confessions. denji is his own warning. (more content warnings and tags)

★ a/n: Hi again pookie dooks ;)). Okay so. I have been waiting SO LONG to post this chapter. We're nearing the end of the ones I had pre-written, and as a result updates may come a little slower, but I'll try to keep up! (Just be patient w me, ur girl is #struggling rn w uni). You're gonna love this chapter (until you dont). not saying nothing though. ENJOY LOVELIES! muah! please leave many many comments (spam me idgaf) i need smth to look forward to reading and i ALWAYS go thru yall's comments w the dorkiest smile. ily. (no beta, we die like... yeah.)

★ w.c: .7.5k

shameless ; chapter index

AKI'S BED WAS WARM. Warm enough that you seemed to be able to forget where you were — or, rather, where you should have been. You had entire hotel suite waiting for you, yet it seemed as if you had wasted the first five days of your stay in Tokyo entangled with him. Two days had passed between your bathroom debacle and now, and you were back again right where it all had started.

You weren't entirely sure you minded it.

Aki wrapped his long, calloused fingers around your wrist, holding your bloody finger away from his face. You had cut your thumb open on the page of a magazine while the two of you were relaxing on his mattress — distantly, a song from a band you didn't know played on his CD player (The tonedeafs, or something like that).

"I want you to," You laughed, reaching your hand towards his face again. "I dared you to. I'm not a germaphobe, I don't care."

Aki furrowed his brows, holding your wrist away from his face once more, "You should care. It could get infected, or worse."

Always so serious.

You pouted, "Says who?"

"Me, everyone," Aki trailed off — playfully, of course, like he was lost in thought, "Any medical professional."

You laughed, flopping back onto the bed where you had been moments earlier before this had started, laying perpendicular to him with your back strewn over his stomach. Makima had given him the day off and you, not knowing what else could have been a better way to help him learn how to relax a little, decided to call out of work as well.

"Pussy," You teased him, "What kind of Devil Hunter gets squeamish around blood?"

"I'm not squeamish, I'm just taking your health into consideration," He remarked (again, with a playful lilt to his words, despite his serious tone). "And, besides — what if someone overheard this? You calling your superior a pussy, hm? Then what?"

You replied with a witty retort of your own, "And what if they knew their Captain was fucking his subordinates?"

"I think I could get away with one," He teased back. "Not subordinates, plural. Just a subordinate. A married one, at that."

"So there are other subordinates?" You asked him — it was meant to be teasing, but you would be lying if a depraved part of you didn't wonder if you were the only one he was seeing. You wouldn't have a right to be upset if you weren't, granted that you were still very much married to another man.

"No. But that doesn't make you any less of a cougar," He hummed. "Devil Hunters do worse shit than sleeping with their coworkers, I hate to tell you."

"I'm only five years older than you," You huffed. Rolling over to look at him, you added, "We're damned anyway, then. That's what you're saying?"

"Not damned," He replied. Finally setting the book he'd been reading down on the bed beside him, he said, "Blessed. At least, I am."

"You're blessed?" You asked. "I'm a trainwreck, Aki."

"You're my trainwreck, though, aren't you?" He reached down, ruffling your hair with his hand. "I'm blessed because you're the first person to come into my life and give me a reason to keep myself alive."

"I thought you said you wanted to kill the Gun Devil?" You teased.

"I do," He said. "I didn't care if I lived or died before. Now that I have you waiting around for me to come back, I wanna keep coming home."

The slightest frown tugged at the corners of your lips, "That's so sad. You don't have any family?"

"No," He caressed your cheek with the back of his thumb, "The Gun Devil killed them. That's why I said I didn't care if I lived or died. As long as I did it for them, I thought I'd be able to die happy."

"You still feel that way?" You asked.

"Not really. I think I'm starting to have a change of heart," He sighed — chest rising and falling as he did so, "I'm growing fond of my roommates. Between those two shitheads and you, I dunno," A pause, and then he continued, "I'm not so sure I'd be able to die happy knowing I left all of that behind."

It was a touching sentiment. You probably should have left it at that, but a part of you couldn't help but dwell on it. You were — at least a part of — his reason to live. You were what kept him alive, what kept him motivated.

That didn't sound like he "might have feelings" for you.

It sounded like he loved you.

And, to make matters worse, you were beginning to realize that you returned his affections. The craving him, the missing him — the worrying about his wellbeing, the need to constantly be around him... All signs pointed towards one direction:

You loved him, too.

And, before you could stop yourself, before you could tell yourself it was too soon, you found yourself uttering the phrase, "Do you love me, Aki?"

He paused. A moment passed, and he took a deep breath. Then, he peered down at you, "Yeah. I do. I think I'm starting to love those two Devils, too — or at least care for them, but..." He licked his lips. "Not in the way that I love you."

Your heart nearly stopped beating entirely — skipping a beat, and then another while a horde of angry butterflies filled your chest.

Not in the way that I love you.

The way that I love you.

I love you.

He loves me. You couldn't remember the last time you heard those words.

You hadn't taken notice of the silence — or how long it was, for that matter — until Aki spoke again, the depth of his voice vibrating beneath your body, setting your nerves alight.

"You don't... have to say it back," He added, a little more sheepishly. He was so patient with you, so forgiving — it was all so much more than you deserved. "But, yeah, I love you."

You finally spoke up — voice a little weaker than you had intended it to sound. "I.. love you, too. I know I do."

It felt right to confess. You couldn't keep lying to him — to him or yourself.

"Do you want to stop seeing me?" He asked. He sounded like he did not want you to say yes (or maybe you were projecting). "I know it's too soon. I don't want to ruin your life."

You scoffed, "Ruin my life? I'm like a starving beggar who's been given food. You're the best thing that's happened to my life in god-knows-how-long."

He blinked at you. "I don't..."

"It makes no difference," You added on, "I love you and you love me. So, what? Are we supposed to break each other's hearts? Over a man I haven't loved in years? A man with whom I've only stayed for the sake of convenience?"

Aki sighed quietly, calling your name, but you didn't listen.

"I'm tired of running away from the truth, Aki. You were the one who showed me that," You continued. "I love you, and I think I'd be completely miserable if I lived without you."

"But you'd be at peace. You'd have a house and a life in Kyoto, still," He remarked.

"You've consumed every inch of my peace. How can I give you your peace?" You quoted him. "Is that not what you told me? You don't want to stop seeing me, do you?"

"No, I don't," He said. "I'd be depressed beyond reprieve, but I'd do it if it meant you could be happy."

Finally, you rolled over, folding your arms over his chest, laying your head down over his heart — peering up at him through a fond gaze, "I'm happy with you, Aki. I don't want anything else."

There was an issue — of course. The issue being the dissolution of your marriage with your husband. But, still, the two of you danced around the truth.

"You shouldn't say things like that to me," He added quietly, "I'll hide you away in here forever."

You laughed softly, quietly, like you couldn't help but yearn for exactly that. "And, what? I should leave everything behind to stay here with you?"

To your surprise, however, he did not seem to be joking – not in the least. "Yeah," He deadpanned, "Would that be so bad?"

You sighed deeply, your fingers absently toying with the soft, rumpled covers of Aki's bed. The room had been bathed in a warm, golden light from the bedside lamp. The weight of contemplating a divorce hung heavily on you—images of an uncertain future and financial instability looming large in your mind.

"I'd have nothing if we divorced. I think that's the main reason I haven't done it by now. We never signed a prenup, so..." Your voice trailed off, the enormity of it all pressing down on you. "I'd be in shambles."

Aki shifted next to you, his gaze softening as he absorbed your words. He reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against your arm in a gesture meant to soothe. "But you could start over. We could start over. You're miserable with him. You know that, right?"

"You're too young to understand," You sighed.

"All that for a five year age gap is kind of crazy," He retorted. "Help me understand, then – why won't you put yourself first, for once?"

You looked away, your eyes reflecting the anxiety you felt. "I would lose the house, Aki... and everything I've worked for... it's not just about me."

"The apartment down the hall is up for lease, I've heard. It's not exactly the same as your house, but it could be a start," Aki tilted his head slightly, trying to offer a comforting smile. "We could make it work."

You considered his words – the idea of a new beginning didn't sound all too bad. Slowly, a tentative smile started to spread across your face. You met Aki's gaze, and he returned your smile with one that was gentle and understanding – like he always was.

Finally, you shifted your position, rolling over to straddle Aki's waist, sitting in his lap. You reached down, gently plucking the magazine from his hands, and intertwined your fingers with his.

"You love me," You said giddily, grinning ear to ear like a lovestruck fool.

God, now that you heard him say it, you wanted to hear it again.

Just to make sure that it was real.

And he looked up at you through tired, pretty blue eyes, like you had hung the stars in the sky yourself. Like you were everything to him. "Yes."

"Only me," You continued.

To which he answered breathlessly, "Yes."

"And you're happy with me?" You went on, "You're not just saying that to get my hopes up?"

"Yes," He answered. "Happier than I've ever been."

You knew it was dangerous to indulge yourself so shamelessly in his affections. He loved you and you loved him – there was only one thing holding you back from being his and his entirely...Your marriage of convenience.

"And you," He asked. "Do you love me? Only me?"

"Of course," You answered. It should have been more difficult of an admission than it was. In reality, you hadn't loved anyone in years. "I haven't been able to fuck anyone else since you came around. That's how much I love you."

"You're not special," He tutted. "I can't even get off unless I'm thinking about you and that pretty face of yours. You know that?"

"I get that. I know you love me," You smiled. "But how much?"

Aki's hands slid up your legs, gripping your thighs. Slowly, he aided you in rocking back, then forth – until you took notice of the sudden hardness pressing into your core from below. He quirked a brow, "This much."

You widened your eyes, dragging your tongue over the front of your teeth. If that's the case, then that's a lot. You played into it, of course. You pulled the hem of his oversized sweater up and over your hips so that you could rut against him. The lace of your panties created a friction so delicious that your next words came out as a shudder, "This much?"

His lashes fluttered, pretty eyes threatening to shut – but he kept them open, like he wanted to commit every second of this moment to memory. "Yes."

You rubbed yourself along the length of the bulge in his sweatpants slowly, tantalizingly – "This much?"

He released the prettiest little trembling sigh, "Yes..."

"This much?" You leaned down a little further. Your hands braced themselves on his chest, sliding down to his abs, then back up again – all while you lowered yourself a little closer to his face, rutted against him a little harder, just the way he liked it.

"Yes," He whimpered faintly, weakly. When you brought your face a little lower, a little closer to his, you could see the faint hue of pink that painted his cheeks.

Unable to wait a moment longer, you touched your noses together, lips only inches apart.

"This much?" You breathed. Going a little faster now – all but riding the tent in his sweats – you felt your legs begin to tremble. "And this much? And this much?"

"Ah..." He panted, "Yes, yes, yes."

His eyes struggled to meet yours – you liked the sense of control it gave you. It made your mind run wild with desire, knowing he trusted you enough to let you have him like this. To let you take the reins. Just before your lips touched, you brought your bloody thumb up to his mouth.

Then, carefully, you painted the faintest trace of red on his lower lip. He froze – holding his breath, anticipating your next move.

You traced your tongue carefully over his lower lip, kissing his lips clean – licking up what was left. It was depraved and dirty and downright distasteful... but, fuck...

It was so hot.

Clearly, Aki shared your sentiment, because before you could pull away he was gripping the back of your neck and bringing you closer to him, slipping his tongue into your mouth while it was still open – stealing a dirty kiss from you. His lips were insistent against yours, desperate, even – tasting like mint with the faintest hint of blood.

With a blissful groan, he departed from your lips, kissing his way down your neck while he rocked your hips back and forth. The friction was just enough to have you moaning in tandem, falling into him.

His tongue was hot against your skin, pulling it into his mouth to suck gently on it – gentle enough that he wouldn't leave marks, hard enough that you were gripping his biceps for support.

You craned your head up toward the ceiling to give him more room to continue his onslaught down the valley of your neck, down your clavicle.

You brought your hands down to the waistband of Aki's sweatpants, where he was practically straining against the fabric. "Need you, Aki, please."

He let you wrangle his pants down just far enough to free him (no, he hadn't bothered to put on a pair of boxers after his shower) – just far enough to let his aching erection spring out. His fingers looped beneath the fabric of your panties with practiced ease, and he pushed them to the side.

"Right now?" He asked. "Like this?"

"Yeah."

"Fuck. Need you, too, baby."

You wasted absolutely no time in lining his tip up with your entrance and sinking down on him. With little to no prep involved prior, it was a bit of a stretch – you could feel his length splitting you open, but, shit...

It felt so fucking good to have him inside of you. You fell forward onto him, letting him set the pace.

He let out the sexiest little gasp, squeezing his eyes shut.

"You won't get tired of me?" You asked, rising up and then sinking back down after a moment of adjustment. Up once more, then down once more, and you could feel the pain subsiding. "Of... of this?"

"Never," He gritted out, gripping your hips a little harder. He bounced you up and down a little faster, a little harder – and that little change in speed was all it took to have the both of you gasping. He moaned, "So perfect. Fuckin' love it."

You giggled, "So this is love?"

Trailing off, you gasped, a smile forming on your tender lips. It wasn't the years you had spent with your husband, arguing over money and food and everything else. It wasn't distasteful comments about your body, or a harsh sting on your cheek followed by a half-assed apology. It wasn't a broken promise of "I do," or a life in Kyoto. It was this.

Aki's response came in the form of a muffled whine of, "Yes," against your sensitive neck.

"This..." You grinned.

This was love.

You could get used to it.

You rustled from your sleep late in the evening. Nose twitching, you nuzzled your face into the warm surface your head was laid upon – warm, bare skin beneath you. Aki's chest was a milky white valley – between the pectorals of which you pressed a lazy kiss. He stirred, only slightly, and didn't wake.

A grumble of your stomach prompted you to sigh before slipping out of his grasp, out of the fortress his strong arms made around your head. His biceps were so plump that you almost wished you could sink your teeth into them, mark him as yours.

But, alas, duty calls.

You slid out of the bed slowly, being careful not to wake your lover in the process. His sweater slipped down your waist, pooled around your thighs, and your bare feet touched the floor of his bedroom as you padded towards the door.

You cast one last glance to the bed before you left. Aki was sound asleep, face turned to the side, inky black hair tousled and spread over the pillow. His pink lips were open just enough for quiet snores to escape. As if he sensed your absence, he grumbled something incoherent in his sleep, and rolled over onto his side. He wrapped an arm around the pillow – where you had been lying only a moment earlier – and snuggled into it.

God, he was so fucking cute – he was going to be the death of you.

A smile teased the corners of your lips. With no great deal of satisfaction, you cracked the door open – checking your surroundings before slipping into the living room. You tip-toed over the wooden floorboards (as if that would make a difference) and into the kitchen, pawing at the fridge until it opened.

You squinted into the refrigerator light, trying to scan its contents for a good snack. Let's see... Lettuce, Leftovers, Vegetables...

Berries! You grinned, reaching for the little package of strawberries. It looked like it was pretty new – surely he wouldn't notice a few missing... right?

If he did, he certainly didn't seem like he would care.

So you shut the fridge just as quietly as you had opened it. You nearly lept right out of your skin when you noticed something standing behind the door – someone.

It was the ginger boy from the party – Denji – and he was looking at you like he was just as confused as you were, standing only a little taller than you in Cookie Monster pajama pants and an old-looking undershirt.

What time is it? His roommates were supposed to be at training today!

He raked his eyes over your appearance, following the path of your bare legs up to your sweater, then up to your face again. Finally, he commented, "I didn't know Hayakawa Captain had a girlfriend."

You were fucking mortified. So much for being on the down low, right?

Swallowing, you replied, "I'm not–"

"Wait a sec, aren't you that girl from the party?" He squinted at you.

Shit. Shit. Double Shit.

"Uh..." You laughed awkwardly, toying with the hem of Aki's sweater. You knew you probably made for a remarkable sight – messy hair, bare feet, wearing nothing but his Captain (and roommate's) sweater. "What party?"

Public Safety loved to party. He wouldn't remember you from one night alone, would he?

"The one where Himeno got shitfaced? Wait, I don't think that narrows it down by much..." He pursed his lips, tapping his chin in thought while he scrutinized you, "It had to have been, like, a month ago, now. She started crying and then she got real wasted and puked on my shoes... She said she was real pissed at Hayakawa and his little girlfriend. That's you, right?"

Fuck me gently with a chainsaw. You didn't know what was more mortifying – the idea that he knew you were sleeping with his captain, or the idea that Himeno was telling him about you.

If your flustered appearance didn't give it away (or the way you froze like a deer in headlights when he said that), your words definitely did. "I have no clue what you're talking about."

That sounds like something someone would say if they most definitely did know what someone was talking about, you thought.

What the hell was he doing out here this late, anyway? It wasn't fair.

"Youuu... sure...?" He asked, squinting at you a little harder. You were one question away from breaking a sweat, "'Cause he's been acting real fishy lately, and I heard noises coming from his room when I came back a few hours ago."

You were going to murder him and yourself a moment later. He said they wouldn't come home.

"I thought you were supposed to be at training?" You whisper-shouted back at him. "What noises could you possibly have heard?"

"We wrapped up early," He remarked, like that should have been obvious. "And, I dunno, but it sounded like someone was being murdered in there. Himeno said he had a "little girlfriend", and I don't see him around many women, so..." Snapping his fingers, he pointed them at you, "You're her. You're his secret girlfriend, right? I've been working on my detective skills, you know. I can tell these things about people."

You could do nothing but gape at him, utterly gobsmacked at two different things – Firstly, that this interaction was even happening, and, secondly, that he had managed to sniff you out so easily.

"Unless you're not," He trailed off – seemingly lost in thought, again, as he gazed up at the ceiling, scratching his chin, "You know, I heard him in the bathroom with someone the other day. Is that something you're aware of? I don't want to assume, but I figured you should know. He could be cheating on you."

Again, you couldn't form a suitable answer, mouth open. Still – because you were hungry – you plucked a strawberry from the container, inching your hand slowly towards your mouth.

"What are you doing?" A voice cut into the tense silence between you and the orange-haired boy – who, from your understanding, was no older than 16. The two of you jumped apart.

Aki stood in the hallway, eyeing you and Denji up wearily. He looked like he had just rolled out of bed – literally – with his hair still a little disheveled over his neck and in his face, donning nothing but a pair of sweatpants to match the shirt you were wearing.

We're cooked, you thought.

Then, immediately letting your gaze wander over his chiseled physique, you thought, He looks so fucking good without a shirt on.

The sound of his voice shook you from your horny reverie. He had called your name, or something like that, considering that he was looking right at you.

You tilted your head, popping the strawberry into your mouth, "Hmm?"

Aki's lips were pressed into that serious pout he always seemed to wear around his coworkers – something so different from how he normally was around you, something that you had to get used to, "I asked if he was bothering you."

"Oh." You swallowed the mouthful of strawberry you were chewing. Glancing between him and his ginger detective roommate, you muttered, "No.. No, he's just– He was just getting a snack."

His expression softened immediately. Still, he leaned against the kitchen counter, saying, "Come back to bed."

Well, shit, there goes my alibi, You gnawed on the inside of your cheek. He made it sound so tempting.

So, opening the refrigerator door and tucking the container of strawberries away on the shelf, you squeezed past Denji, murmuring a quick, "Good night."

Then you followed Aki back to his room, leaving the poor boy speechless in the kitchen.

The next morning, Aki was already up when you stirred, the soft sound of bowls clinking and the rhythmic whisking of something filling the quiet morning ambience. The smell of something sweet drifte d in from the kitchen, pulling you out of bed.

Snagging your purse off of the floor, you slipped into the bathroom, your feet padding softly against the cold floor. Without thinking, you reached for Aki's blue toothbrush again—the one you'd claimed yesterday, and the time before that. There was something oddly comforting about using his things.

There was also something sort of ironic about the way you hesitated before using it — like you hadn't swallowed a load of his kids before, like this was overstepping.

As you brushed your teeth, your thoughts floated back to last night—the weight of his arms around you, the way his hands had roamed your body like they belonged there. Your confession had been a surprise. His confession had been hushed whispers of, "I love you. So perfect. All for me," against your skin, a sinful croon of your name while he fell apart beneath your touch.

You winced slightly at the ache in your lower back, a reminder of how tangled the two of you had been in the sheets. That ache was a small price to pay.

Spitting into the sink, you wiped your face and took a handful of water into your mouth. Then, reaching into your purse, you produced your little Birth Control tin, popping one of the tiny white pills into your mouth.

You wandered back out into the living room a minute or two later, drawn by the smell of what you assumed was breakfast. Aki was standing at the kitchen counter, his back to you, shoulders relaxed beneath one of his signature sweaters— one that, despite how soft and oversized it looked, did nothing to hide his lean form, the muscled slopes of his shoulders. You watched him for a moment, admiring the way he moved so easily in his space, the domesticity of it all.

You walked up behind him without a word, slipping your arms around his waist, resting your cheek against the hard plane of his back. Your hands trailed lazily over his abdomen, feeling the firm lines of his muscles through the fabric of his sweater. You couldn't help but smile to yourself; he was so deceptively toned beneath all those layers, the kind of strength that made you second-guess not divorcing your husband sooner.

"Hey, troublemaker," he said softly, his voice warm and teasing, like he knew you were up to something just by the way you touched him. He didn't even flinch at your sudden embrace, just leaned into you as if he had been expecting you.

You buried your nose between his shoulder blades, breathing him in. That familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the smell of pancake batter—it was such a simple combination, but it made your heart ache in the best way. His hair was tied up in that silly little topknot again, and on anyone else it would have looked completely ridiculous. He smelled like everything good and familiar, like something you didn't even realize you needed.

He set the bowl of pancake batter down and turned slightly, his hand finding your chin, gently tilting your face up to meet his. His lips captured yours in a kiss that was slow, deliberate, like he had all the time in the world to show you exactly how much he wanted you. The kiss was languid, sensual, made your knees a little weak and left you dizzy in the best way. You could taste the sweetness of his affection, the way he held you like you were something precious.

In that moment, it hit you—you really were in love.

You didn't need to second-guess it. This wasn't like anything you had before. The ease, the quiet bliss of being here with him, in this little bubble you'd both created—it was something you had never known with your husband.

That marriage had been full of noise and expectations, but this... this was peace.

This was love.

And standing there, with Aki's arms around you and the smell of pancakes in the air, you knew you didn't want to let this feeling go.

"Hi. You sleep okay?" you asked, slipping your hands under the hem of his sweater, your fingers pressing against the warmth of his muscular back. You felt the subtle shift of his body under your touch, the way his breath caught for just a second.

"Better than okay," he replied, his voice still rough from sleep. "I don't even remember dreaming."

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, "Aww... did I put you to sleep?" The words came out soft, playful, with a teasing edge that hung in the air.

He chuckled, a deep, velvety sound that sent a ripple through your body. "That's rich coming from the one who came so hard she passed out last night."

Your cheeks flushed instantly, the memory making heat rise in your face as you buried it against his chest, the familiar scent of him filling your senses. His sweater smelled like him—warm, clean, and just a little bit of that cologne you couldn't get enough of.

After a moment, you tilted your head, peeking up at him through your lashes. Your hands moved beneath his sweater again, this time slowly exploring the firm ridges of his abs. He was a Greek god, he really was.

You could feel him tense, the muscles under your touch shifting with every slight movement of your fingers as they trailed down his abdomen, brushing lightly with your knuckles. You hummed, the sound vibrating softly in your throat. "Hmm... should I make it up to you?"

Aki's eyes dropped to yours, and you saw the change immediately—his face grew warm, the faintest hint of pink rising on his cheeks as his pupils widened. "Make what up to me?" he asked, his voice lower now, like he wasn't sure if he wanted the answer or if he was bracing for it.

Your fingers dipped beneath the waistband of his boxers, the fabric snapping back against his skin with a soft, sharp sound. He let out a quiet grunt in response, and the sound sent a surge of satisfaction through you.

"You're a little minx today, aren't you?" he teased, though his voice was laced with something deeper, his smirk betraying just how affected he was.

You just smiled up at him, your fingers lingering at the waistband, daring him to see where the moment would take you next.

"What can I say? I'm an early riser," you teased, your finger trailing downward over his sweatpants, over the tent that was beginning to form where your fingers ghosted over them. The way his breath hitched, followed by a flustered laugh, made you grin.

You tugged at the strings of his sweatpants, mischief dancing in your eyes. "And I think someone else is too."

Aki's gaze darted between the stove, where the pancakes were almost ready to be poured, and the closed bedroom doors, behind which his roommates were still fast asleep. His brow furrowed as if he were contemplating something serious, but the playful glint in his eyes hadn't left.

"You're insatiable," he said, though his voice held just the faintest tremor of doubt. "Not like this. Not in the kitchen."

"You're thinking about it?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "Why? Craving something sweet?"

"Always, pretty girl," he murmured, his tone soft but filled with heat. "But don't tempt me."

"Why not?" you challenged, leaning in just a little closer. "Who was it that said to give in to temptation and not run from the truth? Why stop now?"

Aki's smirk deepened as he slid one hand around your waist, his fingers grazing the small of your back. "Because my temptations involve me hiking that little sweater up and fucking you right there on the table until the neighbors call the cops," he whispered, his lips barely brushing your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "Behave."

Yes, sir.

Just before you could retort, you heard the soft creak of a door opening. In an instant, both of you pulled away from each other, the space between you filled with unspoken tension. Eventually, a familiar head of ginger hair popped into the kitchen, tired eyes barely open, pants hanging low on his hips.

"Morning," Denji yawned.

Aki's words left you breathless, still. You cast him an uncertain glance. He smirked – barely there, of course, but just enough to tell you that your conversation wasn't over. Then, he turned back to the stove.

Denji reached for the fridge, grabbing a bottle of Orange Juice.

"You making pancakes over there?" The younger of the two boys asked, pulling a seat out from beneath the kitchen table and plopping down – clearly unwilling to bring up the whole issue of whatever the fuck happened last night.

This entire situation is unreal.

"Yeah," Aki answered. Clearly, he didn't want to talk about it either. Instead, he poured some batter onto the pan.

Awkwardly, you inched towards the seat at the table across from him. You sat down and folded your hands on the table. He eyed you up curiously, like wasn't sure if last night had been a dream. You avoided his gaze, looking down at your lap.

Suddenly, you felt conscious of your appearance — was your hair disheveled? Had he left marks on your neck? Did Denji have some sort of superpower that allowed him to see through your sweater and see the bruises Aki's strong hands had left on your hips the night before?

A few silent minutes passed, during which neither of you three brought up the elephant in the room. A moment longer, and you were joined by Aki's other nightmare roommate — a short girl with pink hair, sharp teeth, and red little horns protruding from the top of her head.

She entered the kitchen with a proud shriek of, "Well risings, mortals! I smell sustenance."

When she noticed you, a look of confusion replaced her grin. She sat down at the table next to Denji and asked him, "Who is this human?"

And, just like that, the line is crossed.

Denji shrugged as Aki set a plate of pancakes down in front of him. He quirked a snarky little brow, glaring up at him, "Dunnno. Why don't you ask him?"

Power's lips were pressed into a confused little pout. She looked up at Aki as he walked behind her, but the moment she saw he was coming towards her with a plate, she kept her mouth shut. Four pancakes were heaped onto each of their dishes. The moment it hit the table, she reached for the fork and the knife and dug in.

Finally, Aki came around the table, offering you a plate of pancakes and an apologetic expression before taking a seat next to you. There were two pancakes on his plate, garnished with butter and honey.

You looked at him with wide eyes that flicked between him and his roommate, blinking extra hard, as if to say, Help me.

He sighed your name in response, "Meet Denji and Power, the two shitheads I live with."

Great. That wasn't helpful at all.

"Why are you not bowing?" The Power girl slammed her fist down against the table. "You are in the presence of greatness."

Denji didn't seem to care much to acknowledge her, ripping a piece off of his pancake and stuffing it into his mouth before saying, "You're bangin' the captain, right?"

Your mouth hung open. Aki tensed, furrowing his brows angrily, "Denji."

"What? You told me you weren't seeing anyone when I asked you, but I saw her come out of your room," Denji snapped back. He ripped another chunk out of his pancake, and stuffed his mouth again.

"We were having a... sleepover...?" You answered hesitantly, trying to make the situation better (and making it worse).

Denji pointed an accusatory finger at you, "Girls and boys don't have sleepovers."

Power shoved his arm, "Nonsense. Plenty of people do it."

Denji's head snapped towards her. He barked, "Yeah, plenty of people who are banging each other!"

You dropped your head into your hands, groaning into the table.

Aki handled the situation calmly, as he normally did, "She's my girlfriend."

And, just like that, your head was popping back up. Your wide eyes were on him immediately, heart pounding against your ribs like it was about to break loose. Girlfriend?

Then, a warmth spread over the back of your neck and your face, and you realized you weren't entirely opposed to being his girlfriend. Unless he was just putting up an act. In which case, you definitely weren't getting your hopes up — on paper, you were still married, anyway, right?

Right?

Denji and Power looked just as shocked as you did.

"You lying piece of shit!" Denji hissed. He turned to Power and added, "See? I told you! I knew it! He's been too lenient lately. Pay up."

Power crossed her arms. Mouth still full, she replied, "I refuse."

Denji leapt up from his seat, pointing at her now, "No way. You owe me a feel!"

Oh my god.

"There's a new pack of gum in the car," Aki sighed — visibly distressed by his roommates' behavior but noticeably unsurprised. Clearly this was no infrequent occurrence in his household.

The two of them perked up at that.

Aki continued, voice stern and notably father-like, "I'll give the both of you two pieces each if you keep your mouths shut."

Slowly, Denji lowered himself back into his seat. Power's angry face dropped, replaced by a wide-eyed frown, like that of a begging dog.

"Yes, sir," Denji answered obediently.

Power added, "At your service, My Liege."

"This doesn't leave the table. Got it?" Aki told the two of them. Carefully, he cut his pancakes into nine squares. He popped one onto a fork.

The two roommates nodded quickly.

Aki sighed, "Good. If you have any questions to ask her, do it politely."

Power was the first to ask, "Do you work with him?"

Finally having a chance to speak, you smiled softly, sheepishly, "Yeah. I'm new to Tokyo, though."

"Great. There will be plenty of time, then," She grinned, "I wish the two of you nothing but success in your mission to procreate!"

You choked on the mouthful of pancakes you were trying to swallow down. Before you could even comment on that wildly invasive statement, Denji answered with a question of his own.

"He said be respectful, dumbass," He tutted. He polished off the rest of his pancakes in (seemingly) a few ridiculously huge bites before he asked. "Is it true that women's boobs are measured with letter-sizes?" A pause, then he added, "How big are yours?"

"You little brat," Aki grumbled as he slammed his fork down on the table, "I'm gonna kick your ass."

An hour after breakfast had wrapped up, and Aki had left you to do the dishes, you left for the balcony — but not before reaching into the pocket of the suit jacket he had left neatly folded on the couch and stealing one of his beloved cigarettes and his lucky lighter.

You didn't know what had gotten into you lately. Yet, as you stepped outside and closed the sliding door behind you, you couldn't help the relieved sigh that left your lips the moment the cig was lit and in your mouth.

The cherry crackled as you pulled a long, drawn out hit from it — thinking briefly back to a point in time some six or seven years ago when you were still a young Public Safety officer with a cigarette dangling from her lips, and then to the night before, when Aki had blown the smoke into your mouth. You sighed, releasing the smoke with the slightest cough.

Of course, the peaceful moment was shattered the moment you felt your phone buzzing in the pocket of the basketball shorts Aki had lent you earlier, saying something about how Denji was "Shamelessly ogling your legs". They were long enough to touch the back of your calves. Of course, you imagined they fit him differently.

You plucked the little device out, flipping it open. The screen was illuminated by a call — with two concerns being raised. Firstly, your phone was only on 12%. Secondly, the person calling you was your husband.

Your heart dropped. In a moment, it was as if the tranquil morning had been shattered, leaving you with that feeling of dread you knew all too well. You hadn't spoken to him since the night before you had left for Tokyo.

You flipped the phone open, accepting the call. "Hey."

"Hey. How have you been?"

Fine, before he called. You didn't say that, though, instead pulling another puff of your cigarette. "I've been good."

There was a rather lengthy pause, after which your husband cleared his throat, "Look. I wanted to call you because I felt real bad about what happened before you left."

You couldn't possibly doubt him more. Still, you had spent the entirety of last night getting your guts rearranged by his superior. You figured you had outdone him. "Yeah? It's alright."

"No, it's not," He answered, much to your surprise, "I had no right to hit you. That was super out of line. I'm just... I've been stressed out with work and you being gone, and... I dunno, I..."

The line paused again. You took another hit.

"I can't shake this feeling about you in Tokyo. I feel like something's wrong," He finished.

Your stomach churned with unease. He was right, of course, but you couldn't let onto that – if it had taken him that long to notice, he couldn't really care. Hell, he hadn't called you since you left.

"Like what?" You replied with a noncommittal hum. You couldn't give less of a shit what he was feeling, to be completely fair and honest. He never cared what you were thinking?

"I don't know what. I know I said some rude things, but... I don't think that's an excuse for you to be ignoring me like this. I've been waiting for your call," He sighed. "Are you okay? Are we okay?"

You nearly burst out laughing at the sheer irony of it all. So now he cares?

He's far too late.

As if on cue, the sliding door opened. Faintly, you could hear Denji and Power shouting at each other in the background, followed by a set of quiet footsteps right behind you. The door shut. You didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

Aki came up on you from behind, wrapping his strong arms around your waist, nestling his face into the crook of your neck. He smelled of pancakes and laundry soap and cologne, a scent so divine that it had you relaxing into his touch instantly.

On the phone, your husband drew on, "Hello? You still there?"

You felt a warm kiss at the back of your neck, followed by another that landed a little higher, and then a little higher. Then he peppered a series of butterfly kisses to the sensitive skin there. You grinned, leaning into his touch while swatting him away all the same.

"Yeah," You answered, voice teetering on a giggle. Aki pulled you flush against his chest, arms squeezing you tight while he teased you with more butterfly kisses. "Sorry, I'm multitasking."

Aki's hands gripped your hips, pulling them back so that your ass was pressed right up against him. Then, he leaned down, nibbling softly at the skin near the corner of your jaw – then soothed over it with a lick of his warm, flattened tongue.

You bit back a laugh, pushing him away. Finally, he seceded, leaving you alone so that he could sit down on the chair on the balcony and watch you.

Your husband spoke up. You had almost forgotten he was there. In a few short words, he shattered your entire world;

"I'm being stationed in Tokyo."

a/n: ermmmmmmm... heyyyyy... how yall doin.... ok now look. don't hate me. you know after all that sugar i gave yall i had to throw in a curveball, cmon. (this is a notiddygothgf fanfic after all). dont be too mad, i'll be back shortly!!! the plot thickens from here. I wonder what will happen?? (jk i already know but id love to hear what YALL think will happen). (you know mama always makes it up to you bbs). THANK YOU FOR ALL OF YOUR UNWAVERING SUPPORT! You guys and ur comments literally keep me going. Part of me never wants this story to end (which is crazy bc it was originally a one shot lmfao.). anyway not too much more, love yall!! ciao pookies! x

credits: UNKOWN ATM. I found the cover pic on pinterest unfortch. If you know the artist, please let me know, so I can credit them properly for their work!!! This is NOT MY BEAUTIFUL DRAWINGGG. I obviously do not own csm or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

also: come find me on my wattpad if u wanna interact more!

taglist: @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505 , @acethebrave , @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505

wanna join the taglist? | shameless ; chapter index

#notiddygxthgf ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚#shameless!#aki hayakawa #aki x reader #aki hayakawa x reader #hayakawa aki x reader #csm x reader #chainsaw man x reader

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it-was-summer · 7 months ago

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Video Killed the Radio Star - Tape #4 (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Y'all this chapter took so long to write. This is NOT proofread once again me and Grammarly were beefing because she doesn't understand fanfiction. Nonetheless, it is 12 am MST and here it is. Now for an overall warning, this chapter talks about so much that I was to let everyone know that I meant for this to be a dark series. That was my goal. I'm so sorry if some of these topics seem like they're too heavy for you. If you feel overwhelmed, disgusted, or just find it hard to read please remember that it is okay and you are loved. This chapter mentions miscarriages, eating disorders, gunshot wounds, suicide, etc. I love you all and stay healthy. I will try to post my 500 followers post soon! Not proofread because eepy. YOU'LL read my chapter unedited and you'll like it! (hopefully). Thanks for reading. -Love you all, Em.

Video Killed the Radio Star Remake Masterlist

Link to the Ao3: Video Killed the Radio Star

Previous Chapter: Tape #3 > Next Chapter: Tape #4

WARNING: miscarriage, eating disorder, catholic guilt, bisexuality mention??, period underwear, stalking, marital problem, divorce, sexual harassment, guns, knives, gunshot wound, This bitch shoots someone, suicide, mention of a skull, blood so much blood.

Tape Contents: We briefly dive into Heather's past. Adeline makes a call that gives the team a reason to visit the suburbs. Heather makes a decision. You see something other than pink for the first time in four days.

Word Count: 6,296

Then- January 10, 20XX

Heather had to get out of Norfolk. She felt suffocated under her father’s watchful gaze and helicopter ways. He was a hard man to love and hard to be around in general. When he drank, she used to pray that he would forget about her, so she became quiet. She didn’t have many friends here anyway, so she took you out of the equation and knew no one else would know her name.

So, with a heavy heart, she moved her life away to Richmond. She changed her major to nursing and killed that quiet girl from Norfolk. She fabricated real lies that sometimes she couldn’t separate from reality. She stared at girls silently with longing and played it off as admiration if she was ever caught. Catholic guilt stopped it from growing into anything else.

She was slow to open up about her feelings and showed people an extroverted sorority girl nursing graduate who liked to go to bars on the weekend and let men’s hands pull at her hips desperately in dark corners.

Now, at twenty-four, she only thought about one thing: how good her stomach looked in this dress. She had thinned out tremendously since the move. At first, it started due to not having enough money to eat anywhere except the shitty university cafeteria. Then, it warped into something else. During its worst moments, she would log her calories or purge food moments after eating it. She could look into mirrors afterward and feel she was achieving something remarkable. Then, sometimes, she would also look at her face and think, ‘Is that what I look like’?

But tonight, she wanted to do something different, something fun. Having told her sorority sisters this, they all jumped on board quickly, agreeing to meet at the bar around 10 p.m. that Saturday. They were thirty minutes late.

Heather was gently fiddling with the hem of her short black dress, her eyes flickering towards the entrance every so often as she waited for them to walk in. This year, she wanted to be happier, less suffering in silence, and a little more smiley. So yes, she wanted to have fun with people she called friends. Despite all her efforts, she was sure they could see right through her sometimes. She swallowed nervously as she nursed a margarita.

The next time she looked at her phone, she saw texts from her former sisters saying that work had been hectic and that they needed to reschedule for another time. So now, Heather Alexander was right back at square one: alone. She glanced down at her dress and frowned slightly at its tight material. It was the kind of dress that made her uncomfortable but made men comfortable. Something always felt wrong with that. Heather always secretly knew that she felt an attraction to women and men, but she always felt guilty at the thought.

She sighed as she debated her next move when she saw him. He was the prettiest man she had ever seen. He had soft masculine features that almost looked slightly feminine, a uniform clad against his chest, and a charming boyish smile as their eyes met. Heather whispered a silent prayer that he would like her as he approached her and introduced himself as David Hernandez. How could she not fall for him instantly? Deep brown eyes, pink lips, dark skin, and a low rumble in his voice made her feel like giggling.

It wasn’t long before the two of them were getting married. They spent a few months together in domestic bliss. He got some time off from work, and she kept her last name, and they were… happy.

At least they were happy for six months, and then her world shattered around her as David was deployed to England. She cried herself to sleep the night she heard, and David stroked her back softly to calm her. Heather didn’t want him to leave her and see someone better overseas. She was sure that women would throw themselves at David’s feet, begging him to kiss them, touch them, fuck them, like whores in the street of Babylon. She couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else touching him, looking at him the way she looked at him, talking to him the way she did in his ear late at night. She begged him to try and find some way out of it, scared to lose what was rightfully hers, but he couldn’t. He left that week.

At first, it was just six months, but then it stretched out into a year of deployment—a year spent being faithful to a man across the Atlantic. She called him when she had time, wrote letters to him, sent him emails, and constantly contacted him in any way she could.

When he got home, it was clear that all her efforts had gone to waste. David was distant. He would sulk in corners of their home on his phone. He would lament on and on about how England felt like his home and how he missed it. She couldn’t stand it. This house they bought together was his home, and it always had been. Why was he struggling to see that?

The more he talked of his deployment, the more Heather became frustrated with him. Then he started to go out more. At first, it was just to speak with some Army friends on base a few spread-out weekends in the month. Then it was every weekend.

Heather found that the only thing that could keep him home was sex. So they had sex constantly, like animals in heat. Disgusting and rutting against each other any moment they could. However, the second that it was over, he would withdraw again. He would get dressed and say he had to get to the base.

Then he was coming late, drunk and slurring, as he pulled her to the edge of the bed and woke her up with sensual touches and dirty talk. She took this as a good sign he was coming home to his wife. He was fucking her and no one else. But slowly, he stopped coming home. He would call her late at night to tell her he would stay with a friend for the night. The following day, he would come home smelling sweet.

Heather felt lost, searching desperately for something to save her marriage. She was devoting all of her love to a man who no longer wanted it, and she could feel him falling out of love with her.

Her saving grace was the morning that she found out she was pregnant. She called David with tears in her eyes and told him softly over the phone, and she heard him laugh for the first time in months. And just like that, he was back.

His soft touches, kisses in the grocery store, and dancing with her in the living room were all back. Her devoted and dotting husband had returned home to her. She could feel the dark cloud of the past couple of months dissipate and the sun shining on her.

That light lasted a good three months. Heather sat up straight as pain coursed through her body, thundering in her abdomen as she shook David awake with tears streaming down her face. Something was wrong with the baby; she knew it. He drove her to the hospital as fast as he could, but it was too late. She had already miscarried.

Heather took a small sabbatical from work and took time to think about her life. She would stare out of their living room window blankly for hours. David was attentive at first, coming home after work and tending to Heather’s broken spirit. But he soon became bored of that routine.

When Heather returned to the pediatric oncology unit, David was notified that he was being deployed again to Okinawa, Japan. He was packed and ready by the end of that month. She didn’t see him off at the airport, picking up an extra shift at the hospital to distract her from the fact that he was leaving her again.

David called her two months into his leave to tell her he wasn’t happy. He wanted a divorce. Then he hung up before she could get a word in. That’s when it all started. Her obsession with consuming anything romantic was almost debilitating. She would visit bookstores and attend readings at the public library, sometimes calling off from work to sit at home with her romances. That’s when she saw you again. She thought that you would have stayed in Norfolk. You had once told her that you loved the water. You liked how it could look gloomy and promising on different days, with mist rolling off the surface.

She tried not to talk to you. She did. She didn’t want to scare you away like she scared David away. No, no, no, she was sure it would all work out this time. So she loved you from a comfortable distance, watching you from her car on the weekends at night, leaving you her gifts on your windshield—a silent courting.

She couldn’t help herself on Valentine’s Day. She had slipped into Nicole Smith’s room without Adeline recognizing her, and she gave the table with Adeline’s purse on it a gentle knock with her hip. Heather apologized quickly, telling her not to worry. She promptly dropped to the floor to gather the spilled contents from Adeline’s bag, and she slipped a labeled key connected to a keychain that read ‘or die’ into her pocket. Once she had copied the key, she quickly returned the original to its owner.

She felt electric when she entered your apartment on Valentine's Day in a dark outfit, a hood covering her face, and four dozen rose petals in a container. She breathed in your perfume as she perused through your bathroom. She traced the spine of every book she could touch on your shelves. She gently dove into your dirty hamper and quickly pulled out a pair of dirty underwear, blood on the inside of them as she shamelessly slipped them into her pocket. Then she got to work spreading the petals throughout your apartment. By the end, she stared at her work, panting lightly as she lay across on your rose-covered bed.

She had to have you.

Now- March 5, 20XX

Derek and Spencer managed to get to the public library an hour before closing. They pulled your coworker, Valerie, aside. She was a pretty brunette, glasses resting on her face delicately as she stared at the two men with a soft look of disappointment. She knew that if they were here, they had yet to find you, and the thought made her feel like breaking down in a fit of tears. She fought the urge to cry as Derek asked her a question, sliding a copy of the Polaroid you had received on your windshield. “Do you happen to remember anyone coming in with a Polaroid camera?”

Valerie stared at the Polaroid with a soft frown, trying to remember something helpful. Spencer spoke quickly, “Sometime around January fourteenth, maybe?”

Valerie chewed on her bottom lip before the memory washed over her, “Yes! Yes, oh gosh, she was blonde, I think. I remember telling her we didn’t like flash photography in the library. I only saw the back of her head, but I remember the back of her head and the flash of a camera.”

Spencer tilted his head slightly and nodded at Valerie’s words, processing the information silently.“Are you sure it was a woman?” Spencer asked softly before Valarie enthusiastically nodded.

“Yes, it was definitely a woman who took the picture.” She confirmed in a soft voice before she looked down at the Polaroid with a gentle tenderness in her eyes. “She baked me cookies last week, you know?” She looked up at the two men with a sad smile and tears in her eyes. “My cat is sick, and she made me cookies to make me feel better.” She laughed sadly as the tears started to fall.

Derek placed a soft hand over Valerie’s and gave her a tender look, “We’re looking for her,” The words caused a shaky sigh to escape Valarie’s lips as she pulled her hand away quickly and stood up.

Her cheeks were red as she cried out a soft “Excuse me.” before she turned on her heel and hurriedly left the room.

Spencer picked up the picture and stared at you in the photo. The way your hair shined in the fluorescent light, your eyes and smile trained directly on the person you were talking to. You were personable, and the thought made his stomach turn. He looked over at Derek as Spencer handed the photo back to him.

The two men walked out of the library silently, and Derek let out a soft sigh as he watched the sun starting to settle against the horizon. Spencer walked beside him with his hand stuffed in his pockets, and his head hung a little low in thought.

Derek broke the silence first, “We should get back to the station to see if JJ and Rossi have anything,”

And then they rode back in contemplative silence after that.

March 6, 20XX

You weren’t sure if it was day or night anymore. All you knew was that you were starting to feel uneven. Every creak of wood, settling of pipes, and rumble of the house had your back straightening against the bed. You were sure that Heather would fly in at any moment and touch you.

A million options weighed heavy in your mind at the scenario; you could fight back again, but that would get you sliced again or worse. You could go with it, zone out as much as possible, let her have her way with you. That option made your head spin with nausea. You had to find a way to get out.

You licked at the gash on your lip, gently exploring the cut with your tongue until you could feel the warmth of blood again. You pushed your tongue back into your mouth and looked over at your day-old apple on the nightstand, half-eaten and brown. You tenderly took a small bite that wouldn’t require you to move your lips too much.

You didn’t have much of the day-old meal left; a half-full water and this apple was all you had. You chewed softly, fighting off the nausea that threatened to creep in due to the morphine.

You tried to remember anything that could be helpful to you. It was hard to think of high doses of morphine. You had played with the knob often; when you were ready to sleep, it would go up, and when you were up, it would turn down. But lately, you just wanted it to be turned up.

You tried to think of when Heather came into the pink room. She always stuffed her keys into her pockets. A plan was in the making: Get her out of her clothes, and you could get the keys.

You nodded a little despite your discomfort with the idea of her touching you again. You just had to seduce her a little, which should be easy considering that she was ‘in love’ with you. The only problem with that plan was that you had a mangled ankle and a body running on morphine; she didn’t. Heather’s temper was quick when you talked back, and rage followed if you did something against her liking.

Maybe begging would work. No, you tried that already. Why would begging work? Perhaps you could hurt yourself just enough to force her to take you to the hospital. But that didn’t work either; she was a nurse. She wouldn’t incriminate herself like that, would she? Maybe total submission would be the key.

Convince her that you love her back and somehow ask to be let out with her supervision, but that could take forever.

You started to cry softly as you set down the core of the apple and laid down, wishing to pull your legs to your chest, but the pain of one ankle and the chain around the other made that physically impossible.

You cried until you felt your eyelids become heavy, tears still slipping out of your eyes as you fell into a morphine-induced sleep.

March 6, 20XX

JJ paced back and forth in front of the bulletin board, occasionally flicking her eyes over to the photos pinned to it as she tried to chase what was likely to be a loose end. The number that had called yours and left a message full of sobs had been a burner.

Spencer had tried to tell her to eat something this morning, but as the clock’s hands crept towards nine a.m., she still didn’t feel hungry enough to try. She sighed out another frustrated huff as Emily appeared in front of her. “If you sigh like that one more time, I think I might have to force a croissant down your throat.”

JJ gave her another dramatic sigh before she put her hands on her hips: “I’m sorry, I just feel like we have no leads. We know it's a woman, but Adeline isn’t likely to be the unsub, and all her coworkers have alibis. It just feels like we are running around with our heads cut off.”

Emily smiled and gave her a gentle nod of understanding, “I get it, but you pacing around like this isn’t helping anyone. Let’s get you a drink, coffee, or maybe something to eat.”

“People who eat breakfast consistently are twenty-five percent likely to be more productive at work,” Spencer spoke up from a desk not too far from the two women.

Emily pointed over at Spencer, “See? You’re making Spencer freak out.”

“I’m not freaked out,” Spencer frowned at the comment before looking back at a file on the desk.

JJ’s smile was slow as she let her hands fall to her side and let out a soft, “Fine.” She agreed as Emily walked over to the precinct's breakroom, JJ following her.

Derek was clicking a pen obnoxiously in an off-beat rhythm. He was about to say something when his phone started to ring on his desk. He didn’t recognize the number, but he answered it anyway. “Hello?”

“Hi, uhm, is this Special Agent Morgan?” Adeline’s voice was shaky through the phone.

Derek relaxed slightly as he set down his pen. “Yeah, Adeline. Did something happen?” He couldn’t think of another reason as to why she would call the number he had left with her if nothing happened. He was too focused on the case to think of any other reason anyway.

“Yeah, maybe? I was talking to one of the nurses about something today, and I recognized one of them. I don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner, but it was an old friend from college. She was more Y/N’s friend than mine, but I talked to her a little.” Adeline’s voice dropped to a whisper as she continued, “I mentioned that she was missing, and Heather had a weird reaction. She smiled for a second. I swear, she said she was sad to hear that, but she looked… well, for a second, it just seemed like maybe she was happy.”

Derek picked the pen back up again, ready to write down a name. It wasn’t much, but they could visit her. “What was her name again?”

“Gosh, it was Heather something… Heather, Heather, Heather,” She bit her lip as she tried to think back. “Alexander! Heather Alexander.”

Derek wrote it down and muttered quickly, “We'll look into it, thanks.” As a goodbye, he let Adeline quickly thank him over the phone before he hung up and called Penelope.

Penelope, quick as always, picked up on the first ring. “Center of divine intellect,” was her greeting.

“Good morning to you, too, baby girl. Listen, could you get Heather Alexander's address? Adeline Smith called saying that she had a strange reaction to hearing about our girl going missing.”

“Easy,” was her answer before Derek could hear the sounds of keys being tapped against and a soft humming sound emitting from Penelope’s lips as she pulled up the address: “4432 Lake Margaret Pl., Chesterfield, Virginia.”

“You are an angel, Garcia.”

“I always aim to please,”

“And you never fail, baby girl.”

JJ had begged Derek with her eyes to let her go with Spencer. It was just an interview, not even an interrogation, just to see if the connection between you and Heather went deeper than old college friends. So why shouldn’t she go?

Derek wasn’t one to put up a big fight, so he let her with Spencer. It was only thirty minutes away anyway, so if they needed the team it wouldn’t take too long for them to show up, right? He stayed behind on the phone with Garcia, who was doing her best to see if Heather had any criminal history on her record.

As the car rolled around the cul de sac, Spencer’s eyes struggled to look away from the plethora of plants in the fenced-in front yard. Pink anemones were scattered amongst daffodils, and what looked like daisies were blooming side by side. JJ rolled the car to a stop, parking it against the curb.

“Pretty yard,” She muttered as she took the keys out of the ignition. Spencer nodded a little; he had to admit that Spring came in a close second to Fall as the superior season in his mind. The flowers growing after frozen earth had kept them dormant, the welcomed feeling of the sun getting slightly warmer. It was still somewhat chilly at ten in the morning as he stepped out of the car with JJ, but he had to admit, it was shaping up to be a beautiful day weather-wise.

His head tilted back a little as he stole a glance at the blue sky above them and smiled before stuffing his hands into his pockets and tilting his head toward the house. JJ smiled and walked beside him, happy to be out of the precinct and in the early morning air.

Heather was washing the paring knife she had used on you in her kitchen sink, facing a large bay window in her living room. She swiped at the hardened blood and frowned a little at the memory. Why was she so upset with you? She could hardly remember herself when she got angry like that.

It was almost fitting, her flying off the handle over something so simple as you not being ready for her love. Was she no better than a man? Had she gotten so accustomed to men's vile and sharp ways that she had somehow forgotten how to be gentle?

She felt her hands shake as a voice came into her head, whispering her worst fear: She was worse than her father.

She let tears blur her vision at the thought as she rubbed the knife harder with a sponge, shaking her head quickly. No, no, no, no. She was not like that man. She was not cold like that man. She was lovable. She felt love. She felt overwhelming love for you. She had felt overwhelming love for David.

Her downward spiral was cut short as she lifted her weeping head and saw a black SUV parked in front of her yard. She quickly wiped away a stray tear with the back of her hand and sniffled lightly as she gently slid the knife into the dishwasher, watching two people get out of the van.

Heather’s eyes were glued to the blonde at first, pretty and fair in the morning sun before her eyes flickered to the man beside her. She recognized him immediately. She was sure it was the same man she almost ran into at the hospital yesterday.

She dried her hands as she walked around the kitchen island. As they got closer, her head arched to see how close they were. Panic was running through her veins. Her gun was in her room upstairs, loaded. She just had to get upstairs; her feet were quick to try and run upstairs and stash it somewhere close before they could ring the doorbell. Just as the idea seemed plausible enough, the bell rang through the house.

Heather let out a silent scream of panic as she smoothed out her shirt, fixed her hair, and caught a quick glance of her pretty face in the mirror near the front door before she swung it open with a pleasantly fake smile on her face. Her eyes quickly scanned both of their faces as she smiled. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, hi. My name is Jennifer Jareau. This is Spencer Reid. We’re with the FBI, and we were just wondering if we could ask you some questions.” JJ spoke clearly as she flashed her badge at Heather, a slight smile on her lips as she looked into Heather’s eyes. Spencer recognized her, finding it strange that he had almost run directly into the beautiful woman at the hospital just the day before.

Heather laughed softly and nodded as she stepped aside, opening the door wider to let the two agents inside. “Of course,” Her hands were shaking, but she gripped the edge of the door tightly, half tempted to slam it directly in their faces and go upstairs to shoot Catherine and herself to freedom.

They weren’t on to her yet; she was sure of that– especially given their lack of people– just two against one. She was quick to shut the door behind them before leading the two of them into her living room. “Can I get you two any water? I have some juice.”

The two agents shook their heads in a polite ‘no, thank you’ way as they sat on the sofa across from Heather. Heather sat on a chair with a soft “Okay” as she eyed them carefully. “Am I in some kind of trouble here?”

“No, We just wanted to ask you a few questions regarding an old college friend of yours, Y/N L/N.”

“Well,” She smoothed out her long skirt slowly, remembering to breathe normally, “What about her?”

“Had you been in contact with her at all? Did she mention anything about someone following her?”

Heather let out a gentle laugh as she shook her head, “I haven’t really had the time to reach out to old friends lately,”

Spencer’s interest peaked as he joined the conversation, “How come?”

Heather’s gaze became a little pointed at the question. Of course, the man has to ask her, “I lost a baby recently, and my husband was deployed soon after, so forgive me for not becoming pen pals with someone I knew at eighteen.” The words were direct and vicious, but she couldn’t help herself. She blew out a soft sigh before she let out a gentle and timid, “I’m sorry,”

Spencer licked his lips nervously as he leaned back against the sofa slightly, trying to resist the urge to disappear into it. Self-isolation wasn’t uncommon for women who had recently suffered from a miscarriage. That feeling more than likely increased as her support system was ripped away from her.

JJ gently touched Spencer’s knee before she cut the tension. “I’m sorry to hear that, Mrs. Alexander. We’re just trying to piece some information together.”

Heather ran a hand through her hair before she gave JJ a tight-lipped smile. “I understand that; I’m sorry. Would it be alright if I ran upstairs for some medicine? I feel a headache coming on.” She spoke fast with a tense voice, trying her hardest to pass it off as pain with a rub of her temple. When JJ nodded, she stood up and headed upstairs as calmly as she could manage.

JJ looked over at Spencer, watching Heather walk away carefully. “She seems angrier with men than anything.” Her voice was slightly amused before Spencer frowned.

“Doesn’t mean she’s in the clear; stalking is often a form of intense infatuation, but it's also used as a way to control something. She’s struggling with two things that could be our stressors: she’s craving control or dependency. She-” The soft ringing of his phone cut off his whispered rant. He answered it, happy that at least it was just Garcia calling, hoping for a better lead than his ongoing hunch.

He stood and looked at JJ, who was mouthing for him to go outside, “Hey,” He answered as he slipped out of the front door.

“Hey, nothing is coming up anywhere on Heather’s record for criminal activity—sorority sister, wife, nurse, clean as a whistle. However, considering we don’t have much right now, I decided to see if she had any warnings at work.”

“Right,” Spencer looked over his shoulder at the front door as he walked away to stand in front of the garage.

“Well, last month, she got a write-up for stealing some morphine; her supervisor forced her to go see a therapist after Heather said that she was using it for some leftover pain she was experiencing after her miscarriage. But Heather never showed,”

Spencer was walking a little further down the driveway as he listened to Garcia talk on the phone, counting the number of windows in the house. His eyes narrowed slightly to try and block out the sun before he looked away. He licked his bottom lip gently before acting on his little hunch, “Could you check her credit report? See if there are any purchases that you can find that seem odd around March third?”

“Could I check her credit report,” Garcia repeated with a laugh, “Hold on, boy genius.”

Spencer could see the top of JJ’s head from the bay window, and he turned away slightly, finding ease in the fact that she was still there. Something felt off, and he couldn’t put his finger on it. “She went to the store, but nothing crazy. Bought,” He could hear typing, “Bleach and rubbing alcohol.”

Spencer chewed on the inside of his cheek as he asked, “When was her husband deployed again? Did she buy anything from a florist around Valentine’s Day?”

“Husband was deployed December first and,” she hummed gently before she sighed, “Bought some flowers on Valentine’s day, rose petals.”

Spencer felt that feeling when something connected in his brain, a rush of adrenaline as he felt his hunch slowly turn into a plausible accusation. The roses were just that, roses. But the bleach and rubbing alcohol? That’s a recipe for chloroform right there. And finally, Heather’s husband was deployed at the beginning of December, stressor number two. It made him feel slightly hopeful about walking back into the house. “Thanks, Garcia.” He said as his feet reached the end of the driveway. He hung up the phone, walking back towards the house at a fast pace when the familiar and startling 'crack' of a gun reached his ears.

His hands drew his gun out of the holster, running back towards the house. He pushed the front door open with his foot as he heard the thumping of footsteps running on the stairs. He rounded the corner to the living room before lowering his gun as he saw JJ bleeding from a bullet wound in her thigh.

“JJ!” His voice panicked as he reached her groaning side, kneeling low to the ground next to her. “What happened?”

JJ shook her head quickly, “I’m calling for backup. She ran upstairs. She didn’t even try to,” her eyes squeezed shut tightly as a sharp pain rattled through her inner thigh, “Just go!” She urged him as she reached down for the phone in her back pocket, her free hand pressing on her gushing wound to try and slow the bleeding.

Spencer’s eyes were filled with uncertainty as he let out a soft, “No, I’ll stay here until everyone gets-”

“Spencer, go!”

Spencer felt his spine straighten at the second command. He gave her a grim nod as he stood up, readied his gun, and started for the stairs. His footsteps were soft and calculated as he ascended, pink light flooding the floor as he approached the top of the stairs. He could hear gentle begging in a voice too soft and thick to be Heather’s.

“Please, Heather, please, my love. Don’t, please don’t.” Repetitive cries for mercy made his legs move faster until he approached an opened door. The regular-looking bedroom door gave way to a steel one just behind it before revealing the scene of what looked like a demented love nest.

Spencer swallowed a lump in his throat as he took in the scene. Gun pointed carefully at Heather as he spoke, “Heather, put down the gun. You love her. You don’t want to hurt her. You know that.”

Heather jumped a little at the sound, her pistol clicking softly as her sweaty palms tightened their grip. She was quick to turn her body around to face him with the gun aimed directly at him as she spoke. “Don’t pretend like you know me or her. You don’t know our relationship. She wants this just as much as I do.”

“You know she doesn’t look at her. Look at what you’re doing to her.”

Heather’s eyes drifted to you, chained to the bed, watching as you hyperventilate softly. Heather felt her bottom lip quiver before she looked back at Spencer. “She’s just scared. You’re making me do this. She knows you’re making me do this.”

Spencer’s eyes drifted to your crying form on the bed, trying to keep your sobs quiet as you stared at him with wild eyes. He glanced over at the morphine drip next to your bed before his eyes settled back on Heather. His lips parted to say something more, but she cut him off quickly, “Put your gun down, and I won’t do it.”

Heather’s body language gives her away as she motions for him to put his gun down, her eyes crazed and large, her hands shaking and rigid against her pistol. “I’m not going to-”

“Put your fucking, gun down, or she dies,” Heather yells so loud that it elicits a soft sob from your lips, your arms coming up to protect your head, ready for the shot to be administered and for your brains to be blown out in front of Spencer in that very moment.

Spencer holds up both of his hands at that; he swears he can hear the soft sounds of sirens in the distance as he lowers his gun to the floor slowly, his foot gently kicking the gun away with a soft ‘clack.’

“Now you,” his calm voice says as he raises his hands, inching closer. Tears stream down Heather’s face now as she shakes her head gently.

“I have to,” Is her tear-soaked reply as she keeps the barrel pointed at Spencer’s head, her fingers twitching lightly as they move for the trigger. Your shaking voice cuts through the scene, and Spencer is pretty sure it’s the only thing that is stopping him from diving for his gun a few feet from him.

“Heather, baby,” Your voice betrays you as you speak the pet name, coming off a little too forced, but you continue anyway. “He can help. You don’t have to hurt anyone else. We can be happy, and we can get away. He can help, right?” Your arms relax around your head slowly as you look over at Spencer, who nods silently.

“I can, but you have got to put your gun down.”

Heather chokes out a strangled sob as she looks over at you, watching as you smile at her. You know it’s forced, but Heather can only view it as the prettiest thing she’s ever seen—a great parting gift.

She feels spit thick on her tongue as she evaluates her options: kill Spencer and go to jail. Kill you, and she might not have enough time to kill herself. Killing herself seems like the best plan out of the three, so she holds her gun steady at Spencer as she looks at your now bleeding smile.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” Her voice is soft, almost so human that you feel your heart clench in pity before that clenching feeling turns into pure anxiety as you see the movement of her arm. Spencer’s feet aren't quick enough for him to tackle her to the ground as Heather raises the gun to her temple and pulls the trigger.

Her body drops to the edge of the bed, sliding down it as you feel blood coat your legs. Your ears are ringing, and your mouth is wide open as you scream. At least you think you’re screaming. You can’t hear much but a pathetic muffle of the sound as the ringing in your ears increases.

Your hands are quick to try and wipe off chunks of what looks to be part of a skull off of your exposed stomach, and you can’t seem to stop staring at Heather’s limp body at the edge of the bed. The image of her mangled head oozing blood has you gagging softly, feeling yourself getting ready to be sick before you feel two hands cup your face.

You’re screaming or sobbing; you can’t tell anymore as Spencer Reid’s face blocks the view. He keeps your face steady in his hands as you try to read his lips, your breathing heavy as he strokes your hair gently. His voice creeps in through the ringing until you eventually hear the soft repetition of, “I got you, look at me. Just keep looking at me; you’re safe.”

You feel your breathing slow, your arms reaching up to grab him before your eyes roll back as your body slumps against Spencer’s, and everything is engulfed in black.

Tag List: @dollykisses4reid @babyspiderling @cocobean16 @kodzukenie333 @mmmunson

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thiswaytwoinfinity · 6 months ago

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Emma's Epic Multi-Fandom Rec List: 'Top Gun: Bob' Edition

This is technically like, part 3.1 since I've been working on pulling a giant 'Top Gun: Maverick' rec list together, with all the daggers. I wanted to have this done a little while ago (because August was when I joined the TGM fandom, etc.) but frankly everything has been nuts and so I just figured it was better to share what I had ready rather than wait for the whole thing.

Please cut me some slack, my puppy just got spayed and she insists I hold her bone for her while she chews so I have like one free hand and two brain cells at the moment

I do my best to reblog as much as possible but sometimes I miss it so this is my attempt to make up for that and give all of the amazing creators on here the credit they deserve. Thank you all so much for sharing all of your work with us. This past year has been a long and difficult one for me, especially mental health wise, and being able to escape into these stories has been so valuable and important to me.

If you read anything on here that you like, please reblog and/or comment on these pics to show the creators some love!

AN IMPORTANT NOTE: While not everything listed here will include smut, many of these authors have 18+ blogs. Please, please, please respect their boundaries and DO NOT INTERACT WITH THEM/THEIR CONTENT IF YOU ARE A MINOR.

Stories marked with ❤️‍🔥 contain NSFW content

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd

Full of Surprises ❤️‍🔥 by @withahappyrefrain — You have to admire a fandom that takes one look at the bespectacled, quiet-seeming character and goes “This guy fucks.” I also had that exact thought when I first saw Bob Floyd (along with several other, increasingly filthy thoughts), so when I read this story for the first time I went “oh, yeah, definitely. This guy fucks and this is how he fucks.” Just like our beloved WSO, it starts out so charming and sweet and then gets so incredibly steamy and sexy. 10/10. And when you’re done, there’s an equally hot Part 2.

Behave ❤️‍🔥 by @withahappyrefrain — Bob Floyd bicep choking. Let me repeat that, a little louder: BOB! FLOYD! BICEP! CHOKING! It’s even hotter than you think it is.

Whodunit? by @attapullman — Fun fact: my absolute favorite genre of fiction (books, movies, games, you name it) is a whodunit mystery. So, naturally, I have been obsessed with this series ever since Mo started teasing it way back when, and I love everything about it. Bob and Fanboy are the perfect goofy amateur sleuths, the teasing hints of cameos from all of the other Daggers keeps you on your toes and there’s a dose and campy ‘80s nostalgia running through the whole thing that I adore. It’s just pure, giddy fun.

The Neighbor!Bob Universe ❤️‍🔥 by @attapullman — I am on record as adoring every single version of Bob that Mo cooks up, but neighbor!Bob holds a special place in my heart. He’s so handy and confident and sexy and he needs help dodging the firtations of all of the older women in the neighborhood who are equally obsessed with him! My bff and I once joked that the perfect man could build you a table and then do both you and your taxes on it, and well, that’s neighbor!Bob to a tee.

do you wanna make somethin' of it ❤️‍🔥by @theharddeck — Hi, hello, are you looking for a Bob fic so hot it will MELT YOUR ENTIRE BRAIN? This is that fic. Bob has a secret side hustle as your favorite audio erotica performer (username: BullRiderRhett) and he is just as brain-scramblingly hot in person as he is in your headphones. I finished this fic and said out loud, to nobody, “omg I need him.” And because the universe is kind, there is an equally scorching sequel.

you don’t have to be a star by @sunlightmurdock — Sweet, perfect Bob deserves a sweet, perfect fic where he gets to hear all about how lovely and wonderful he is, just the way he is. Fluffy and warm and the kind of story that gives you the urge to kiss him all over his perfect little face.

Something in the Orange ❤️‍🔥by @sorchathered — I’m a sucker for a “right person, wrong time” situation and this one is a gut-punch of angst followed by a swoon-worthy reconciliation. I imagine it would be impossible to ever truly move on from Robert Floyd.

Delicate ❤️‍🔥 and I Want Your Midnights by @laracrofted — *Tyler Owens voice* Are y’all ready to pine? Bob Floyd is an absolute dream boy and he’s at his most hesitant and lovestruck in these two gorgeous stories. These give me the same like, sinking stomach-feeling I get when I stare at pictures of Lewis for too long — like just the tiniest bit of melancholy that makes the whole experience sweeter and more emotional. Does that make sense? It’s one of the highest compliments I can give.

Covering the Classics ❤️‍🔥by @roosterforme — BOB AND ANNA! ANNA AND BOB! I COULD SCREAM ABOUT THESE TWO FOR HOURS! I love them, this is such a beautiful, heart wrenching, emotional roller coaster of a story about learning how to find yourself and your people after heartbreak and trauma. Anna is such an interesting, complicated character and Bob meets her at every turn with love and tenderness and the biggest open heart in the world. (And also the steamy scenes are BEYOND, like, damn, Bob, neither Anna nor I was ever gonna be able to resist you.)

I Heard Screaming ❤️‍🔥by @oncassette — Yes, it’s a classic fanfic trope — I heard noises and walked in on you enjoying some *private time* while thinking about me — but it’s a classic for a reason. I love it and I reread it all the time.

Four Eyes ❤️‍🔥by @promisingyounglady — I’m going to quote what I wrote the first time I reblogged this wildly, delightfully, insanely filthy fic: “I need to sit in a dark corner and replay this fic in my brain like a movie now.” It’s that good

Misc. Lewis Pullman Characters:

Dancing Beneath the Moon ❤️‍🔥by @delopsia (Rhett Abbott) — Del is *the* Rhett Abbott fic writer, in my opinion, and choosing just one of their fics was so much harder than I thought. But ultimately, I’m still so spellbound by this one, where Rhett is a ghost haunting the former Abbott ranch. It’s atmospheric and moody and gorgeous and the pining is top notch — as is the image of Rhett being a grumpy, mischievous house ghost. Also please check out their Floytt universe which I also adore.

Coyote ❤️‍🔥by @delopsia (Miles Miller) — An omegaverse with a twist! The reader is a wolf being married off to broker peace with another prominent wold family … only to run away with the sweet, gentle coyote who works at the desk of the El Royale. Dip You in Honey So I Could Be Stickin to You ❤️‍🔥by @laracrofted (Harrison Knott) — Harrison Knott, the man that you are. And the man that you are in this fic, specifically. I need him desperately. Carnally. In a way that is concerning to feminism.

#fic recs #favorites #emma's epic rec lists #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fandom #tgm fic #tgm fanfiction #robert bob floyd #my beautiful husband bob floyd #harrison knott #miles miller #rhett abbott #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott x reader #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fanfiction #bob fucks #outer range fic

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mulders-too-large-shirt · 6 months ago

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my favorite scully and mulder moments from s3

mulder bursting into his apartment in episode 2 after actually returning from the dead, only to find scully and skinner holding each other at gunpoint. he immediately asks if she is okay and pulls HIS gun on skinner, too (yes, he WILL threaten to kill their boss for her, thank you very much)

(and then they have this moment where they reunite for real and she smiles at him- i thought they were going to kiss but they didn’t, but either way it was so precious and genuine it made me lose my mind)

this exchange in the disease center archives: “lots of files” “lots and lots of files” yeah <3

after they flee through the back exit of the archives escaping what seemed like the entire US military, they meet skinner at a little diner in maryland, with all things seemingly forgiven between them

how he holds her after she learns melissa passed away, and how they both agree that they need to get back to work in order to keep them from going mad with grief (they were both in mourning at the same time- his dad's death was still very recent- and it is so touching to me how they were there for each other at every step)

they way they glance at each other while the “psychic” stupendous yappi is making incredibly vague claims about the killer at the crime scene in episode 4 (omg... does anyone have this gif?)

(and when the psychic claims that mulder has “negative energy” and needs to leave the room, she leans in and says “i can’t take you anywhere)

later in the episode, he comes in with the news that the item at the crime scene was made of chantilly lace, and he says “you know how i like it” in reference to the song by the big bopper. she makes the FUNNIEST face!!! it's a momentary mixture of horror and disgust before she composes herself. it is hilarious, i’ll see if i can find it. then she slaps a file on his chest and wishes him good luck in observing bruckman.

also, he is nearly killed in that episode, and scully shoots his would-be murderer- then they have one of those “comforting each other on the floor after nearly dying moments” that are like catnip to me

“imagine if it were true, scully. imagine if you could come back and take out five people who had caused you to suffer. who would they be?” “i only get five?” “i remembered your birthday this year, didn’t i?” <3 (from episode 5)

in episode 7, scully noticed that mulder had been carrying dental x-ray plates throughout their whole investigation, but never bothered to ask why because they were at the point in their relationship where such things do not need to be discussed

scully learning in episode 9 that she is slowly dying from the tests they performed on her while she was taken, and breaking the news to mulder- how he softly says “but you’re fine, aren’t you scully?” because he cannot bear to lose her (AUGHHHHHHHH) (and she confesses that she doesn’t know if she really IS okay… why do they place so much sorrow on her shoulders?)

mulder trapped on a ticking time bomb of a train in episode 10, calling her to say “scully, let me tell you, you haven’t seen america til you’ve seen it from a train” “DAMN IT MULDER, WHAT HAPPENED?!” <- lmaooo he has this constant Need to diffuse tension with a quip

scully is going through A Lot of Emotions in episode 11, and when it is time for them to go, mulder holds out her jacket for her to put on <3 and then goes and does the statement by himself as per her request so she can go “run an errand” (confession for the first time in 6 years), which he obliges without question

so much of the episode 12 dialogue: “mulder, you’re not thinking about trespassing onto government property again, are you?” “it’s too late, i’m already inside” (incredibly deep scully sigh) “well, what’s going on? what do you see?” <- yeah that’s them. if you’re gonna break federal law, at least tell her about it in depth.

scully sleeping with her phone on her pillow, waiting for another of mulder’s calls. when it finally comes, he’s going on and on about bambi and she is clearly displeased. finally, he asks “scully, can i confess something to you?” and she VISIBLY winces, with pain in her voice, but pushes through and says “yeah sure, okay” (this one KILLED me because she did NOT want to hear about his love life but she wanted to be a good friend... scully is so kind)

(and all he had to say was that he hates insects lmao)

((and how the episode starts with the two of them making a planet of the apes reference, then ends with bambi and dr. ivanov flirting by making a different planet of the apes reference))

mulder is losing his damn mind in episode 14, hadn’t slept for days, and was sneaking out to a crime scene. scully is so worried she tells him to stay exactly where he is and that she will be there soon so they can “work this thing out together, okay?” trying to talk him back into being himself, making sure he is safe... that's partnership <3

in episode 16, mulder gets in a car crash, but wakes up to find scully next to him in the hospital. he has a bandage on his head looking all pathetic, and she greets him with a smile. i wanted to bottle this moment and drink it like fine champagne.

their drive to north dakota after scully confronted the man who shot skinner and her sister- how tense that ride had to have been. what did they say? anything at all? i need to know, i need 10 fics NOW

and their conversation at melissa’s grave- how they both bring flowers, how he touches her shoulder, the way she shares her father’s friend’s theory that the dead speak to you from beyond the grave, which is a conscious. and how he, the man who is always pondering the meanings of life and death and what comes between, says honestly “that’s interesting. i’ve never thought of it that way”

her falling asleep on his shoulder during the stakeout in episode 17; how he lightly taps her face to wake her up and says “i think you drooled on me”, which prompts a very fast and very embarrassed apology (!!!!!!!!!)

(also, pusher kept calling mulder "g-man" over the phone, so when they hang up he turns to her and calls her "g-woman" <3)

their very excellent coordination between scully grabbing the fire extinguisher and mulder using his jacket to douse the flames that episode

(and all the times in pusher they lean their heads together to share a phone <3)

when mulder has to go into the hospital to catch the pusher, he leaves his gun behind so he won’t hurt anybody- and he’s terrified and so is scully, so they look into each other’s eyes while holding hands before he departs

how she runs into action when he is in danger in the hospital; how she interrupts his game of russian roulette with pusher, and how she SCREAMS when he puts the gun to his head and pulls the trigger; that visceral "damn it, mulder!" filled with so much emotion in just a few words

how he fights the pusher’s mind control to prevent shooting her harder than he fought the mind control that made him fire at himself (!!!)

and after mulder escaped, having fired every round into pusher so he knew he wouldn’t hurt anyone else ever again, he watches as he is on life support. scully grabs his hand, having seen how terrified he had become, and tells him not to let this man take up any more of his time.

in episode 20, they receive roky’s fantastical report on his men in black encounter, which mulder reads aloud while scully lies on the bed of their hotel room, looking baffled (it is so CUTE!!!)

waking up to mulder in her room soon after that, having been under some mind control influence the night before, wondering why he was in there, and mulder trying to explain no, she actually invited him in!!

walking into the bait shop together in episode 22, sharing an umbrella while she holds the dog's leash <3

mulder offering to join her walking her dog, but she smiles and lifts up her jacket to show her gun and says she’ll be fine

the whole conversation on the rock, but some highlights include “hey scully, do you think you could ever cannibalize someone?” and how she compares him to ahab (they’re both “so consumed by your personal vengeance against life, whether it be its inherent cruelties or its mysteries, that everything takes on a warped significance to fit your megalomaniacal cosmology”, which he responds to with “scully, are you coming onto me?”)

but then he gets very serious, talking about how he wishes it were enough to just Persist Despite It All and be free of expectations, how he loathes that “you’re actually expected to make something of your life- achieve something, earn a raise, wear a necktie”, and he is the antithesis of ahab because he might be happier with a pegleg. and god, that one makes me emotional.

(and then they both quote a line from the book <3)

oh, and i could not finish this list without this banger from episode 23: “he’s lied to me from the beginning. he’s never trusted me” “scully, you are the ONLY one i trust”

(cue tears as scully collapses into her mother's arms) (cue tears at mulder's dogged persistence he could bring her back, but it took a mother's love instead) (and cue tears that such love had been extended to him by mrs. scully, so much so that she knew he would never, ever threaten her baby)

#screams for a very long time #so much of this is from pusher but it really was a god tier ep so i can't complain #okay this wraps up my s3 stuff!#still mentally recovering from “but you're fine aren't you scully?”#gonna go CRY i love them so much #the x files #txf #msr

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ravenyenn19 · 2 years ago

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Six of Crows future head cannon:

Alby Rollins joins the Dregs.

Picture it: 1920’s-esque Ketterdam, 10 years post Sweet Reef/ Ice Court. Slick Rolls Royce cars line the cobbled streets, a city spiraling toward a new age. Rain drenches the obscure signs & hidden arrows pointing to the Speak-Easy halls. In a time of prohibition… down, down, down must one go in the Barrel to find the most notorious of them all. A slice of sin, six feet under. A crowd drunk off vice served in black tea cups.

The young man walks into Kaz Brekker’s office (after fighting his way there), sits himself in a chair opposite a great obsidian desk. Winded & lip still bleeding from his tousle with the men at the doors, Alby wheezes: “Teach me.”

In turn, A near 30 year old Kaz smirks. “I thought lions preferred their pride.”

Alby, barely pushing 17, gives a smile of a golden boy, nervous but strong enough to hold the gaze of a devil. (He’s practiced.) “I thought Crows scavengers. Here I am, a shine for the taking.”

“Still have that crow, little lion?” A feminine shadow whispers from the corner. Unnoticed by the young man previously, he clicks his teeth but still refuses to show fear. A serpent-like bead of sweat slides down his spine, a shiver chasing after. He holds firm, biting his cheek to hide the startle.

He knows this shadow, this phantom. She haunted him, once.

“I buried it with my father,” the Kaelish prince whispers, “or rather, in place of him. Never did find a body. Pity.” He shrugs.

Kaz’s eyes glint like a cat’s, his smile a loaded gun. A gloved hand stretches halfway across the table in offering. “All right, cub. What do you want?”

Alby reaches forward, feeling the cold black leather of Dirtyhands’ grip between his fingers. The moment is a stormy crossroads, a whip between his shoulders reminiscent of his father’s favorite belt. He smiles, for this is a pain Alby has been walking toward since the day he woke up clutching stuffed black feathers.

(His blood never did bleed emerald.)

More than one answer to Kaz’s stinging question come to mind, nettles along the path of his thoughts. Yet, only one pricks Alby into speaking, the rage in his voice real rather than bravado. “Revenge.”

The Wraith giggles roughly, slipping herself to the arm of Kaz’s chair on silent feet. Alby swallows.

“On me?” The leader of the Dregs rasps, a brow peaked with amusement. His wife smiles with closed lips, knives glinting along her body like hungry specters. For here, her teeth are shown. Alby knows she Captain’s a fleet of the deadliest ships in the True Sea. He drags his gaze from her quickly.

“No.” Alby stutters, but he does not lie. Kaz Brekker bested his abusive father, and he does not care about Pekka’s death. In fact, sitting with the suspected murderers, Alby finds he rather prefers their company.

Kaz reclines in his chair, a hand lazily splayed on Captain Ghafa’s knee. He regards Alby with black eyes, a sharpness that pierces through his strength but doesn’t shatter it. A blade meant to probe. A test of mettle. Alby has waited too long for this audience, he cannot lose it. A moment passes.

Dirtyhands looks to his wife, his Wraith. She quirks her head in the silent exchange. Six heart beats have passed, and Alby Rollins is certain he won’t leave this room. He waits for the snap of a cane to bank his vision, a warm blanket of red to cover him from the jugular down.

He waits for death, but does not invite it. It does not come.

Instead, a voice like choking smoke, “Then let us begin.”

Alby Rollins releases a breath. His knuckles loosen in parts. A tattooist is called in.

The Crow & Cup bleeds as it settles, accepting the fresh skin as it’s master’s tithe.

Alby sits taller, a prince of a different kind, a darker throne.

I don’t make the rules but this is now my personal agenda & important that u agree

Crap now I have to put it in a fic

Should I do it?

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cyberneticfallout · 10 months ago

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Chapter Two: The Wastes

Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7 - Ch 8 - Ch 9 - Ch 10 - More Coming Soon

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Reader Summary: As you trudge through the wastes looking for the doctor, you and the ghoul decide to set up camp. Tags: Slow burn (and I mean SLOWWW), angst, eventual smut, language, canon-typical violence, more tags will be added Posted on AO3: Smoothie and The Ghoul Word Count: 1.2k

Navigating the barren wastes was never a task for the faint-hearted. The scorching sun beat down relentlessly, the dry air sucked the moisture from your pores, and the ever-present radiation kept you on edge. Easy work for that damn ghoul, you thought. A sense of unease always lingered in these parts despite all the years you’ve done this.

The ghoul maintained a steady pace ahead of you, with the dog forging an even greater distance in front as she diligently followed the trail of her missing owner. Doctors have always been a sought-after commodity, but the substantial reward offered for this one hinted at something deeper. So far you’ve seen a ghoul, a knight of the Brotherhood of Steel, and a vault dweller mixed up in all of this. Who else is after this man?

The mangled remains of an old Soviet satellite loomed into sight as the dog bounded towards it, barking excitedly. Upon reaching the ruins, you spotted a pair of legs emerging from the debris, followed by a torso. But to your surprise, that was all that seemed to be present seeing as the head seemed to be sawed off.

"Oh, shit," you whispered as the ghoul knelt down to examine the body. The dog sniffed around, whining softly before resting her head on the lap of the headless corpse. It appeared that the doctor hadn't gotten far, evident from the unsettling sight of a bloody metal foot attached to one of his legs.

The ghoul starts to cough and wheeze violently, a sight that has become all too familiar to you from past experiences. Without hesitation, he retrieves a vial from his satchel resembling the one you had previously shown him and inserts it into an inhaler. Inhaling deeply, he lets out a long sigh of relief.

"How many of those you got left?" You quip.

"I keep forgettin you’re here, you’re so damn quiet," the ghoul complains, slightly annoyed by your presence.

You raise an eyebrow, undeterred by his irritation. "Answer the question."

Grimacing, he carefully places the inhaler back inside his satchel. "Enough to get me through. Besides, you bribed me with a vial, so I’m assumin’ you got more. Don’t know why I ain’t just shoot you now and take it," he mutters, frustration evident in his voice.

"I'd make sure to break the shit before you even draw your gun." With a smug smile you take a seat next to the doctor’s corpse. “We’ve been walking for almost a full day now. Wanna rest?”

The ghoul looks at you wearily, his eyes scanning the desolate surroundings. "That vault dweller won't make it too far, so I suppose we can hunker down here for the night."

As the sun begins its descent, casting a warm glow across the desolate landscape, the small fire you managed create dances aflame, providing a small comfort in the darkness. Sticks of iguana meat, graciously hunted down by the dog, roast over the flames.

The ghoul lies flat on his back, his body weary from the day's journey, patiently waiting for the food to be ready. In this moment of stillness, you take the opportunity to observe him more closely. Despite the absence of a nose and the scars that mar his skin, you realize that, all things considered, he doesn't look too bad for a ghoul. There's a certain resilience in his eyes and a hint of humanity that shines through the decay.

"What're you staring at, smoothie?" His gruff voice cuts through the silence, abruptly pulling you out of your thoughts.

Startled, you quickly avert your gaze, hoping he doesn't notice the slight blush that creeps onto your face. "Nothing!" you hastily reply, trying to regain your composure. "So, uh, what's your name?"

"No," he curtly responds, his expression guarded.

"Okay..." you exhale, not wanting to push him any further. Sensing a need to shift the focus away from his guarded demeanor, you dig through your pack and retrieve a pipboy. With a few flicks and taps, you check on your radiation levels, noting that they are not alarmingly high but still present.

As you glance up from the pipboy, you notice the ghoul looking at you curiously. His gaze lingers on the device, and you can tell there is a spark of interest in his eyes.

"Scavenged a vault a long time ago," you casually remark, hoping to initiate a conversation. The ghoul nods, his gaze returning to the night sky above. Not a big talker, you think to yourself as you grab the cooked sticks of meat from the fire and toss one towards him.

He catches the meat with a swift motion, his eyes momentarily softening with gratitude before he takes a bite. The flavors of the wasteland dance on your tongues as you both savor the nourishment.

As the night sky envelops you in its dark embrace, you settle into a companionable silence once more. The crackling of the fire and the occasional sound of chewing provide a comforting soundtrack to your temporary respite. The dog rests her head on your lap as you eat the rest of the meal, saving a bite for her even though you watched her eat an entire radroach earlier.

As you offer her the morsel, a glint of appreciation shines in her eyes. She gently takes it from your hand, savoring the treat as she curls up beside you. You take a moment to observe her, the flickering firelight casts a warm glow on her fur, accentuating the gentle rise and fall of her breathing.

You reach out to stroke her fur, offering a comforting touch. The dog looks up at you with eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and longing. It's as if she understands the weight of her loss, yet finds solace in the companionship she has found with you.

Unbeknownst to you, the ghoul has been silently observing your interaction with the dog. A flicker of emotion passes across his face, a brief but genuine smile that hints at a hidden softness beneath his hardened exterior. He turns on his side, settling in for the night, and offers a simple instruction.

"Make sure to put out the fire, smoothie," he says gruffly.

Looking up at his back turned to you, a small smile creeps onto your face. You rise from your spot and take a moment to extinguish the crackling fire, ensuring that all remnants of its warmth and light are gone.

Returning to your makeshift bedroll, you lay down next to the dog, who has already settled in for the night. The quietness of the surroundings wraps around you like a peaceful embrace. Gazing up at the stars, their brilliance shining through the vast expanse of the night sky.

As you lay there, the tranquility of the night begins to lull you into a peaceful state, coaxing your eyelids to grow heavy. The wastelands may be ravaged and unforgiving, but for now… there is a quiet peace shared among you, a ghoul, a dog, and a headless corpse.

Tag List: @fallout-girl219 @ellabellabunny123

#here is chapter twooo #I'll upload chapter 3 in a couple days :) it's also muuuch longer #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x reader #fallout #Smoothie and The Ghoul #the ghoul #cooper howard

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immajustvibehere · 1 year ago

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Are You Afraid of Ghosts, Arthur?

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x gn!Reader

summary: You get lost in the forest and Arthur walks you back to camp as you discuss each other's fears.

warning: fluff, slight angst (because fears, you know), fear & comfort

>>> Happy Halloween, basically =D

Masterlist

1700 words, 10 minutes reading time

"Who's there?", Arthur's voice echoed through the dense forest. He raised his lantern so the cone of light would reach the trees that grew next to the little path that travellers and wild animals had created over the course of years. The feeble light struggled to penetrate the thick veil of darkness and for a few moments, there was nothing to be heard besides the rustling of leaves nearby.

"A-Arthur?", your voice was shaky and merely a whimper, but Arthur immediately recognized it to be yours and called out your name. Slowly, a figure emerged from the darkness. Arthur had to dismount his horse and walk towards you, before the light of his lantern was enough to make out your features.

The tear-streaks on your face immediately worried him. You were pale and skittish. Arthur's initial thoughts were that you might be heard or escaped from some Murfrees.

"I thought...I thought I was done for", you whispered, another tear ran freely down your cheek.

"Yer safe. I got ya...", Arthur said and gently put his arm around you and led you to his horse. He fastened the lantern on his saddle before having a proper look at you. "Are you hurt?", he asked with gentle and caring voice.

You shook your head.

"Why are you out here?", Arthur required while getting out of his jacket, which he then caringly put around your shoulders. As he brushed your hands in the process, he found them eerily cold for such a warm night.

"I wanted to-", a sob interrupted you, "wanted to look for some herbs by the river. But I got lost...and then it got dark and-" You swallowed heavily.

"It's okay. We are not far from camp", Arthur explained, looking at you sympathetically. But you didn't answer. Instead, you looked down to your boots for a moment and remained silent, as if you were waiting for something to happen.

Then, all of a sudden, you said something which Arthur hadn't expected: "The trees are talking."

Arthur wasn't someone to be easily frightened, though the way you delivered the words had a slight shiver run down his spine.

"What?", he asked, just to make sure he understood correctly. All the while, he took the reins of his horse and started to lead it forward. It trotted slowly alongside you two.

"I heard the trees whisper earlier...", you said. You knew what you'd heard, and you were convinced of it. There was nobody around, only the forest, and it had surely whispered. The act alone of recalling the memory made you feel sick. But you weren't alone in the dark anymore, Arthur was right beside you.

"Probably just yer imagination. Also lot of wild animals around here...", Arthur commented in an attempt to calm you, again putting his hand on your back. But something didn't sit right with him either, because just a few nights ago, he could have sworn he had heard whispers in the forest. And he had been convinced he was hearing things because it was late and he was tired, in fact, he had forgotten all about it, but now that you've brought it up again...

"It sounded human", you persisted.

"Well", Arthur put his hand on his gun, "Last time I checked, humans aren't immune to bullets so if anything is out there scaring you, I'll shoot it."

"You can't shoot ghosts, Arthur", you said.

"They wouldn't do much harm anyways", he joked, assuming that you had also made a joke. But your face remained strangely stoic.

"Do you believe in ghosts?", you then proceeded to ask.

Ghosts? Arthur wasn't entirely sure, but that's not the answer you needed right now. So he sighed and said:

"No. Believe me, I have killed so many people that if ghosts existed, they'd have hunted me to hell already."

You looked at Arthur, at his sunken-in cheeks, his red eyes. You knew he was sick, even though he hadn't told you about it. In a way, he looked like a ghost. But he surely didn't feel like one, because the hand returned to your shoulder, and it was warm. And his smile was genuine and comforting, though the chill hadn't left your bones yet.

"It's the living ya should be scared of. It's they who hunt you down and seek revenge. Not a bunch of ghosts", Arthur elaborated.

"So is there nothing you're afraid of?"

Arthur thought for a while, before he answered in a monotonous voice.

"Dying…"

"You serious?", you asked incredulous. Arthur looked at you confusedly.

"My teeth are clattering because I got lost in the forest half a mile from camp and I'm moaning about ghosts. Sometimes I screech when a bug launches at me out of nowhere. A damn nightmare had me at the edge of my bed and you tell me you're afraid of dying? Couldn't you have said something like heights or, I don't know, bugs? Just to cheer me up?", you quipped, nervously giggling in hope Arthur wouldn't take offence.

"I-I guess...", Arthur stammered, "Back when we were in Rhodes there were some women marching for their right to vote or something... I thought they'd tear me apart if I said something wrong, that gave me a good fright."

He finally saw a slight smile on your face.

"Or when Miss Grimshaw asks me to do something but I forget…Bless her, but ever since she was young she'd start looking like a monster when she's angry."

You smiled up to him, "Thanks Arthur."

You continued to walk in silence. Every second that passed without conversation, the tension seemed to thicken. There was a pervasive sense of dread that hung in the air that made it impossible to ignore the unsettling feeling that creeped up in you. You both felt it, though neither of you wanted to address it.

The shadows seemed to grow longer and more menacing. Every rustling of leaves had you twitch and even Arthur tensed up when there was a sound that wasn't strictly what one should hear in a forest at night. You felt his fingers slightly dig into your shoulder when there was something awfully similar to a scream, far far in the distance.

Arthur was sort of glad when you broke the silence with a moan and declared: "I won't be able to sleep tonight, that's for sure."

"Then don't. Can offer ya some rounds of cards", Arthur suggested.

"You sure? You just returned from a day's long journey, wouldn't you need some rest?"

"I'm fine, ain't that tired yet anyways", which was a lie, but he figured he'd manage an hour or two of playing cards. Especially if it meant you'd feel better and calm down.

Back in camp, Arthur met you in his tent. He closed the flaps, something which he seldomly did, but he realized how skittish you were around the gaze of Micah's companions, and he understood. Arthur sat on his bed and you took a seat on a chair. Then you started to play.

He noticed that with time, you took longer to play your move, and after your third yawn, you realized that it wasn't polite to impose on him any longer.

"I'm sorry...maybe I should head to my...", you sighed. The thought of going to sleep, of lying alone with no protection from the forest, the whispers, the eyes of Micah's rats, it frightened you. You were afraid of the nightmares you'd surely get.

"Ya can sleep here, if ya want", Arthur offered. He stood up and got a spare bedroll.

"Really?", you asked in disbelief

"Sure. Can't promise the nightmares'll stay outside, but if it helps", Arthur shrugged.

"I-I mean...are you sure?", and when Arthur nodded, you said with a smile, "Thank you Arthur." You hugged him gently, which he reciprocated hesitantly. Quickly, you arranged a spot next to Arthur's cot, bedroll and blanket readily laid out. The fear of nightmares was quickly replaced by warm feeling of excitement. The fact that Arthur had sacrificed an hour of sleep to play cards with you had already sent some butterflies to your stomach, but that he allowed you to sleep in his tent...

It's safe to say that Arthur noticed the big grin on your face when you got under your blanket. He was half-recumbent on his bedroll, looking down at you with furrowed eyebrows.

"You won't scream all night when a ghost appears in yer dreams, will ya?", he asked sceptically.

"Depends", you grinned, "Would you let me sleep on your cot with you if I did?"

Arthur blinked in utter shock and surprise. How you could go from scared shitless and falling asleep to cheekily flirting was beyond him. But he realized quickly that he had lost advantage in the conversation when your question had him speechless for a few moments.

"I'm just kidding", you smiled gently, steering back in case this was an inappropriate time.

"If it shuts ya up, I probably would", Arthur finally answered. The corners of his lips tugged into a cheeky smile.

It was agreed that the lantern would stay on, though its light was dim, it calmed both of you that you were able to make out the shadows of the objects in the tent. If it hadn't been for the two lines of flirting you had just exchanged, which you were busy turning over in your head, you would have been asleep already.

"Thank you for today", you whispered, unsure if Arthur was asleep yet.

"'course. Nothing to thank me for", Arthur replied quietly.

"I'm sorry I can't do anything about your fear...", you said sombrely.

Arthur cleared his throat. He didn't know what to say to that. He hadn't expected you'd worry about it.

"Can I haunt ya?", Arthur asked, "When I'm a ghost, I mean..."

You chuckled: "Oh please. I insist."

"Now I'm kinda lookin' forward to it", Arthur answered and you heard how his lips curled into a smile. For a moment, he lifted his upper body, looking down at you. Then he let one of his hands dangle down, brushing your hand seemingly accidentally. You got the hint and took his hand, holding it gently until one of you was the first to fall asleep.

#arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption community #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr #rdr fanfiction #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x gn!reader

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stormdragon23 · 7 months ago

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My Top 10 Solo Leveling Characters

Inspired by this post

I'll keep the explanations short, but if you want a more in-depth explanation, feel free to ask for more (or look through my blog. It isn't that hard to find with how much I post about certain characters)

Choi Jong-In

Gee, what a surprise-

What I like the most about Choi Jong-In is how complex his character is when you actually analyze him. He comes off as a confident, sly person who does what he wants to get something for himself, but when you read between the lines, there is a lot about him that shows nearly the opposite

One example is how he exudes confidence, nearly borderline arrogance, yet when you observe his physical actions, he almost always doing something with his hands, as if he is nervous and holds back from fidgeting. He also cares a lot about other hunters yet does so very subtly, like during the double dungeon when he was giving orders to the other hunters to try to keep them safe. He reacted like how Baek Yoon-Ho did during the Red Gate incident when he learned about what happened with the high orcs A-Rank gate, showing that he does care about his hunters' safety

Okay, I need to stop

2. Baek Yoon-Ho

This should have been expected from just looking at my blog

Baek Yoon-Ho was actually my favorite character early in the story. I love how despite his intimidating appearance, he is actually very kind and a rather sensitive person. He is one of more fleshed-out side characters in terms of his relationships with other side characters and how his backstory before the gates appeared is talked about a lot in various forms of Solo Leveling

He also has a rather complex personality with how serious he appears in public and how it is clear he cares a great deal about the hunters in his guild, yet with people he is close to, such as his friends, he is very expressive and reacts quite a bit to being teased and such

3. Go Gun-Hee

He needs to show up in the game soon

I love how caring he is with the other hunters, specifically Woo Jin-Chul and the other S-Ranks. He makes teasing remarks towards them and is quite soft with them despite his powerful aura. He definitely has the energy of a grandfather, so I like to think he gets along with all the S-Ranks very well

He also seems very protective of them as he was furious about the Japanese Hunters Association's Chairman's plan to eliminate Korea's S-Ranks. He is like that one quote

“There are three things all wise men fear: the sea in storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man.”

4. Sung Il-Hwan

Why couldn't he have seen Kyung-Hye one last time-

I also love Sung Il-Hwan's caring nature even though it was only shown after he fought Hwang Dong-Soo and was helping people get out of destroyed buildings and fire. It was nice foreshadowing to him being a firefighter in the past

He's fairly similar to Go Gun-Hee in terms of his protectiveness of the people he cares about and his optimistic/teasing nature even though Sung Il-hwan's personality wasn't shown that much. I admire how he wanted to give up his memories of the previous timeline to properly take care of his son the way he wanted to though. It was very sweet

I want him to be the main character, not his son-

5. Park Kyung-Hye

She should have appeared more. She's so pretty

Not much of her was shown in the manhwa, but the moments of her that stood out to me the most were how she looked out for her family before her own well-being and how she was still waiting for her husband to return

Even when she had just awakened and found out how long she had been asleep for, the first thing she did after getting a grasp on her surroundings is comfort her son. All she knew was that her son had worked hard to take care of him and could see from his hands that he got hurt while doing so. She doesn't know what exactly Sung Jin-Woo did in the years she was asleep yet still thanked him

6. Woo Jin-Chul

Of course he's on the list. Why wouldn't he be on the list

There are many admirable traits that Woo Jin-Chul has, but I think the one that stands out to me the most is his sense of justice and desire to do everything he can to make the world a better place. It doesn't get to the point where it is all he thinks about or does, but it is enough to show that he is passionate about what he believes

His demeanor is also something I like. The way he is stoic and reacts accordingly based on the situation he is in. It makes me wonder about what his personality is actually like behind the mask and when he is not working. Some of it was shown in the side stories, which was very nice to see, though I wish the manhwa had included more moments of him from the novel

He would be higher on the list, but I'm a sucker for parental figures

7. Min Byung-Gyu

The reason I have a strong grudge against Sung Jin-Woo

Min Byung-Gyu is a much stronger person the more you analyze him (I'm working on an analysis of him, so I'll be going into more detail there). The way he is clearly traumatized by the third Jeju raid and had already told Baek Yoon-Ho that he would not be going on the next Jeju raid, yet he still showed up in the end

He likely couldn't bear the thought of the S-Ranks dying without him there more than the possibility of him not being able to save them. Compared to the other side characters, he was actually fleshed out quite a bit, and he was a very unique character compared to the S-Ranks in terms of his personality

He did NOT need to die

8. Son Ki-Hoon

Most underrated character right here

I don't think much about Son Ki-Hoon as he didn't have that much of a presence in the manhwa, but I really like how he was portrayed as a good leader. After all the other raids Sung Jin-Woo had been on prior to this raid, I was really worried that Son Ki-Hoon was going to be selfish like the others. But thankfully, he chose to go the route that would be the safest for the rest of the team (I think he, unfortunately, has bad luck though)

He was also very adamant about protecting his guild members despite it seeming certain that they would die. Not in a self-sacrificial way (which is a trait I personally dislike), but in a way that would the others the best chance of survival while still doing his best to stay alive

9. Park Hee-Jin

She's so pretty alsdkfjafda

Not much of Park Hee-Jin was seen other than the Red Gate, but the game went in depth about her backstory, which I enjoyed watching. To summarize, Park Hee-Jin had "hunches" whenever something is about to go wrong, and although she doesn't know if something will actually happen or not, her instincts are usually right

However, when she tells other people, they usually don't believe her, and when something does happen, they blame her for it. Yet despite the accusations against her, she doesn't let it bother her and just ignores them, focusing on keeping herself and those who do believe her safe. Similar to Park Kyung-Hye, she also has a caring nature with other hunters, especially those younger than her.

10. Eun-Seok

I know he was only in the anime for like. 3 minutes, but hear me out

Despite Eun-Seok not being on screen for long and barely being mentioned anywhere else, the effect he had on the surviving hunters was very impactful. It clearly affected his close friends, Baek Yoon-Ho and Min Byung-Gyu, the latter of whom retired after the raid. It's not clearly stated, but in the game, he also seems to be the reason why Lim Tae-Gyu seems rather jaded at times, so I assume the two must have been close

As for his personality, he seems like someone who looks out for his friends often yet has a playful side to him as well. I hope we get to see more of him later, whether it's in the game or in a flashback in the anime, but already in the anime, they gave him a lot of features, including a whole character design along with very unique powers

I'm very weak towards selfless people who are humble in case you couldn't tell

If you made it this far, congratulations. Have a cookie 🍪 I don't know what other foods to give. Maybe a fruit next time

#solo leveling #choi jongin #baek yoonho #go gun hee #sung il hwan #park kyung hye #woo jin chul #min byung gyu #son kihoon #park heejin #sl eunseok

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lemonnsss · 5 months ago

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Moral of the Story: Chapter 10

Credit: @comixology

A/N: I'm hoping to have the Battle of NY( or at least the first half of it) in Chapter 11, thank y'all for sticking around!

MotS Masterlist

Taglist: @vicmc624 , @mostlymarvelgirl,@yvonneeeee, @beetlejuicesupremacy , @moonlightreader649 , @whattheduckisupkyle , @chrisevans-realwife , @nekoannie-chan , @mrsbarnes32557038 , @imyourbratzdoll , @weallhaveadestiny , @oldsoulmagic

Word Count: 1.7k

"What are you doing, Mr. Stark?" Fury came in yelling.

"Uh...kind of been wondering the same thing about you." Tony replied.

"You're supposed to be locating the Tesseract."

"We are. The model's locked and we're sweeping for the signature now. When we get a hit, we'll have the location within half a mile." Bruce said, barely batting an eye.

"And you'll get your cube back, no muss, no fuss. What is PHASE 2?" Tony prodded.

Steve dropped an old-looking assault rifle, "PHASE 2 is SHIELD uses the cube to make weapons.

Sorry, the computer was moving a little slow."

Am I mistaken or is the Nick Fury backed into a corner, "Rogers, we gathered everything related to the Tesseract. This does not mean that we're..."

The blue crystal looked too familiar. I got up and pulled it out of the gun.

"I'm sorry, Nick." I looked up to see Tony turning his monitor, filled with weapons of all kinds.

"Why were you lying?"

"I was wrong, director. The world hasn't changed a bit." Steve and Bruce looked pissed, while Tony seemed to be as calm as one can be. Fair enough, he's always held the cards.

Natasha and Thor entered the lab. Poor timing, really. Bruce looked at Natasha before asking, "Did you know about this?"

I phased out Bruce and Natasha's conversation to look at the Director. "The same thing you used to rain hellfire on us." I held up the crystal, "Blue fire and brimstone."

The director shifted his focus from me, "Because of him."

"Me?" Thor was stunned.

"Last year earth had a visitor from another planet who had a grudge match that leveled a small town. We learned that not only are we not alone, but we are hopelessly, hilariously, outgunned." Fury defended.

"My people want nothing but peace with your planet." Thor appeared, understandably, offended.

"But you're not the only people out there, are you? And, you're not the only threat. The world's filling up with people who can't be matched, they can't be controlled.

" Like mutants, Fury?”

"Like you controlled the cube?" Steve contested.

"Your work with the Tesseract is what drew Loki to it, and his allies. It is the signal to all the realms that the Earth is ready for a higher form of war." Thor explained.

"A higher form?" Steve asked.

"You forced our hand. We had to come up with something." The director still played diplomat, always coming up with excuses.

"Nuclear deterrent. 'Cause that always calms everything right down." Tony laughed.

"Remind me again how you made your fortune, Stark?" Fury pushed.

"I'm sure if he still made weapons, Stark would be neck deep..." Steve criticized.

"Wait! Wait! Hold on! How is this now about me?" Tony asked.

"I'm sorry, isn't everything?" Steve said sneeringly.

"I thought humans were more evolved than this."

"Excuse me, did we come to your planet and blow stuff up?" Nick asked the god.

"Did you always give your champions such mistrust?" The god responds.

The room was in utter chaos, yelling surrounding me.

"Are you all really that naïve? Captain America is on S.H.I.E.L.D monitors potential threats." Natasha states bluntly.

"Potential threats? Watch list?" Steve asks, obliviously.

"You're on that list?"

"I swear to God, Stark"

More and more of these people's conversations blur together until I can't distinguish what's being said.

"Where? You rented my room." Bruce raised his voice, pulling me out of whatever trance I was in.

"The cell was just in case..."

"In case you needed to kill me, but you can't! I know! I tried!" A moment of collective silence passed, "I got low. I didn't see an end, so I put a bullet in my mouth and the other guy spit it out! So I moved on. I focused on helping other people. I was good, until you dragged me back into this freak show and put everyone here at risk!"

Bruce grabbed the scepter, "You wanna know my secret, Agent Romanoff? You wanna know how I stay calm?" Fury and Natasha grabbed their guns.

"Doctor Banner... put down the scepter." Steve said softly.

"Got it," Tony assured.

Banner put the scepter down and walked over to the computer, "Sorry, kids. You don't get to see my little party trick after all." Holy shit, Doc.

"Located the Tesseract?" Thor asked.

"I can get there faster."

"Look, all of us..."

"The Tesseract belongs on Asgard, no human is a match for it," Thor argued.

Tony starts walking out, "You're not going alone!" Steve grabbed him.

"You gonna stop me?" Tony slapped him away.

"Put on the suit, let's find out."Steve said.

"I'm not afraid to hit an old man." Tony said coolly.

"Put on the suit." Steve affirmed.

Bruce leaned closer to the monitor, "Oh, my God..."

An explosion sparked through the air vents, shoving everything, and everyone, into the walls. The sound of glass shattering took a backseat to a structural beam, throwing me into the wall.

I could hear my head ringing. My vision felt blurry as the world spun around me.

"Put on the suit!" The Captain gasped.

"Yep!" Stark groaned.

The two men got up and ran out of the room.

I tried to stand up, my vision going black for a moment before I fell back down. I heard

Fury yelling, a few words remaining intelligible, "Coulson... detention section... armory..." Before he too left the room.

I looked through the room before shoving the beam off of my abdomen. The dull, yet sharp pain towards the base of my ribcage was already subsiding. I stood up, my vision going dark around the edges. After a moment of leaning on the walls, I moved to the behind workbench.

Everything on the table was broken in one way or another. I saw the scepter lying on the ground by my feet. I leaned through the window frame, careful not to cut myself on the pieces of glass still in the frame. I looked down to see Natasha lodged under some debris, streaks of green flowed around Bruce’s neck and arms.

“We’re okay, right?” Natasha asked him softly.

I ran out of the Lab, across the hall- the flood of agents swarming the halls, shoving me around and stopping me in my tracks-, and down the stairs before being stopped in my tracks by what I can only assume is the “Hulk” running through the wall to my left.

After a moment I turned around and went back up the stairs, pulling some agent aside to ask for directions to the detention sector, thanking them, and running over there.

Of course the detention center was in the opposite direction of foot traffic.

I shoved my way through the flood of agents until I found the stairwell the agent mentioned, luckily for me, empty. I ran down the stairs, occasionally tripping over my feet. When the stairs ended I cautiously peered around the corner, eager to avoid being run over by the Hulk. Finding that the lower levels were empty, I ran through the hallways- occasionally hitting my feet against the bottom of the bulkheads.

Then I heard it. The sound of the cage’s mechanisms dropping, though stalled for a moment, released. I knew I couldn’t have been far from the detention center.

I found my way to the second to last bulkhead when I heard the screeching of tearing metal.

I did my best to find where the sound of the blast came from and head there. I knew I’d found it when looking through the first open door; I saw the side of the room with a gaping hole in the far wall.

I ran into the room, barely given a moment to glance around before hearing Coulson’s weak voice calling out to me. I turned around to see him leaning up against the wall across from the gouged wall with a weapon that seemed vaguely familiar and a gaping hole in his chest.

“PHIL!?” I darted over to his weak form, kneeling by his side as I examined the perforation in his thoracic cavity.

“Hey, kid.” Phil rasped out with his regular soft, kind voice.

“It’ll be okay, I can fix this… I think?”

I saw the cavity filling with blood. Whatever had stabbed Coulson had pierced his chest and cut straight through, severing the left pulmonary artery.

He pulled my hand off of his chest, “Don’t. It’s okay.”

“What do you mean? Of course it’s not! I can help you.” I grabbed his hand, pleading with him.

I felt my tears pricking my eyes. I looked down, closing my eyes. I felt a hand tilt my face up. I opened my eyes, knowing it’d would be the last time I’d see Coulson’s kind, soulful eyes.

I heard the sound of footsteps, and while Coulson turned to see who it was, I couldn’t tear my eyes off of him.

I hadn’t known him for a year, and yet, he had become such an important figure in my life. I wanted to remember the details, how he’d gone out of his way to make me feel comfortable when healing Capsicle. How he’d covered for me when I’d accidentally spilled about Xaviers and my time there. How he’d comforted me when he learned about Logan. The way his eyes creased when he smiled. How every time I was uncomfortable in a conversation, he’d give me an entry point in his. How he’d made me feel safe in this otherwise terrifying situation.

How do you encapsulate what someone means to you? The depth at which they have changed your life, and the lasting impact they will never get to see? When the time comes, and you lose the words to tell them how much you care? The realization that they will never know how you treasured them.

“I’m sorry, Boss. They got rabbited.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Fury kneel on the other side of Coulson.

Taking Coulson’s hand in his own, he said, “Just stay awake. Eyes on me.” It was the first time I’d seen the director genuinely desperate.

“No. I’m clocked out here.”

“Not an option.” Fury fired back.

“It’s okay, Boss. This was never going to work… if they didn’t have something… to…” Coulson struggled with the last words, turning to me, he smiled and wheezed out his last breath.

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soupthatistohot · 7 months ago

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BSD: An Absurdist Analysis - Chapter 10

Friends and Foes

[Masterpost]

The chapter opens with the agency getting news of Atsushi’s capture after last chapter’s events. At first Ranpo and Kunikida respectively argue that the ADA isn’t responsible for saving Atsushi and that they have too much other work to worry about on account of a job involving the ministry.

But then Fukuzawa appears, demanding everyone to suspend their work to track down Atsushi. Ranpo tries to argue with "logic," but Fukuzawa completely bulldozes him, asserting that Atsushi is their comrade and that he must therefore be their top priority.

Fukuzawa stands out as the absurdist here to me, forgoing all typical professional protocol simply because one of his employees is in potential danger. Bureaucracy would want the agency to continue work as usual, favoring completing the assignments given to them over Atsushi’s safety, but Fukuzawa is not one to bow down to greater powers (at least, in this instance).

Fukuzawa’s argument is one of humanity. Empathy. Care. For him, all these values trump Ranpo’s cold logic as he prioritizes the life of his employee over a government assignment. It's quite absurdist of him.

And finally… the moment we all have been waiting for… the infamous soukoku dungeon scene with the one and only babygirl himself, Chuuya Nakahara. What a lovely view indeed.

But in all seriousness, there’s something inherently absurd about the whole situation. Dazai has allowed himself to be captured by not only an enemy organization, but one he is a traitor of— all in the hopes of gaining information. Let it also be noted that Dazai’s coworkers have no idea of his plan at the current moment, he’s gone completely AWOL. And on top of that, he has willingly put himself in the position to converse with his former partner who undoubtedly resents him not only for his betrayal, but also for merely existing.

And it works.

His plan works! Despite not having seen or interacted with Chuuya for four years, he is able to flawlessly manipulate him into revealing the information he came for and gets off primarily unharmed (except for the bruises I’m sure will form from Akutagawa and Chuuya’s hits). Yes, Chuuya calls him out on his bluff (he knows he got captured on purpose), but Dazai is still able to convince Chuuya not to kill him.

This is an example of a protagonist embracing the absurd and it working in their favor. Dazai could have tried a more conventional way of obtaining his intel, but he opted for this seemingly insane method instead. Very often, the absurdist protagonist has to take a wild chance on something despite the possible pitfalls. Put simply: you’ll never know if you don’t try.

Not only is the situation inherently absurd, but so too is their interaction. They bicker. They tease. Dazai makes Chuuya do an impression of a rich girl. It’s fucking ridiculous and it’s also all par for the course for their relationship.

I would like to quickly note here that in these analyses I will not be making a case for any ship, and that includes soukoku. It is no secret that I very much ship these idiots, but I can also acknowledge that Asagiri did not write these characters with the intention of building a romantic relationship and reading it as such is simply my interpretation. However, this does not mean that soukoku don’t have a very complicated, close, soulmate-esque bond. Platonic interpretations can still involve these traits.

Admittedly, I am jumping the gun a bit here, as this interaction doesn’t resolve until the next chapter, but I’ve read this scene so many times that I know what I want to say about it, so there it is!

As always, I’m always open to chat about my analyses! I love hearing feedback and additional thoughts, so feel free to reblog or drop questions in my ask box :)

[Previous]

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd manga #chuuya nakahara #dazai osamu #fukuzawa yukichi #atsushi nakajima #bsd chapter 10 #bsd 10 #bsd absurdism analysis #soup rants

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muse-write · 5 months ago

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Towering Past

Here's my entry for the 2024 Inklings Challenge (@inklings-challenge)!

Jan. 12, 2023

H.,

Sorry for not responding to your Christmas letter…or your New Years’ letter. Really, I am! I know you probably think I’m tired of this method of communication—and I can’t rightly say I’m not—but there was more to my lack of response than sheer avoidance. I know you well enough to know you haven’t watched the local news anytime recently, so you might not have heard about the October explosion on the upper east side of the city. They’re saying it was a bomb planted in the subway system. It took out half the Northern line and a couple of blocks in every direction.

I have my own story to tell about that explosion, but I would sound insane, so I’ll leave this letter at that. And anyway, my hand is hurting from scribbling this letter out in record time now that I feel up to writing at all. You at least know I’m alive and hopefully you believe I wasn’t avoiding responding on purpose.

How are Jen and the kid doing? If you weren’t so set on letters like this you could text me pictures, you know! Why can’t you just call me like a normal person, H.?!

Love,

Frankie

Jan. 17, 2023

Dear Frankie,

Thanks for responding—finally. I was about to hop on a plane or send a strongly worded letter to your commanding officer just to make sure you hadn’t dropped off the face of the earth. I suppose a cellphone would make this kind of thing easier, but we’ve had that conversation too many times to rehash it now. Jen’s doing fine. Eric is running around and getting into trouble, and we both know who he takes after on that score. I always was a good son, Mother always said. If you please, you might want to drop by and visit next time you’re in the area; you might have some tips born of experience for how to deal with a little boy who insists on coloring on the walls.

What a vague way of ending your story; you aren’t saying you were anywhere near the explosion, are you? I know it’s your job and all, but don’t blame a man for getting worried when his sister defuses bomb threats on the daily. Anyway, you know I wouldn’t find any of your stories insane, and you must tell me your version of events. Just don’t wait another two months to do so, or I really will send your CO a letter asking after you.

Glad to know you’re alive,

Henry

P.S. In the envelope is a bracelet Jen borrowed from you a few years back. She was very worried that you thought she was planning on keeping it forever.

Feb. 10, 2023

H.,

I’ll tell you what happened if you insist. But you have to promise me not to laugh. I haven’t told anyone else what happened; I’m not entirely certain it was not a vivid dream. And you know I’m not much of a storyteller, so it won’t rank among your beloved novels. But it will be what happened to me, as accurately as I can put it. Forgive the late letter. This took days to write down.

First off, the explosion wasn’t an explosion at all—so you can put your fears about me being among the defusement team to rest, at least this time. I had woken that morning to a leisurely day, not having so much as a drill to look forward to on my day off, and that meant I had a clear view out the window at the precise moment a tower erupted from the concrete sidewalk only a block or two away from my apartment. When I ran from my complex down the street, I had no thought of entering the tower—I didn’t even know if it was that kind of tower, one that could be entered—but I knew someone had to check it out, and that someone had best be me, with my gun and military training. I brought my Sauer and phone with me (not being a technophobe like you) and approached the tower.

It was not pretty or elegant or admirable in any way. In fact, it was rather ugly, with sharp jagged peaks—I forget what they are called—at the top, and the walls made of black brick—except it wasn’t brick, it was more like marble or stone, lopsided and uneven, like the tower had been thrown and glued together. And it was completely silent. Nothing moved, except at the very tip-top there was a flashing blue light. Like a signal. It didn’t seem to be Morse code or any other signal method I could make out.

And then something moved in the very highest window, and through a pair of binoculars I took from a man next to me (there was a crowd forming by now) I peered up at it and saw that it was a human.

Henry, do you remember Lieutenant Gorsk? A few years back. It was him. Somehow he had found his way into the tower and all the way to the top, and any doubt of my venturing in there was put to rest.

I would find him.

I am ashamed to say that I didn’t prepare. I was so afraid that if I went back home and returned with gear it would prove to be a dream that I marched straight up to the entrance—I know you’ll beg for a real description, but all I can say now is that it was a door, black and wood of some kind, with an ornate gilded knob for a handle—opened it, and walked through, my hand on my Sauer the whole time. I still had the binoculars from the man outside.

This is where it gets insane, H. The interior of the tower was like one of those ancient cathedrals, you know the ones, like in England. The ones tourists go to and exclaim about and take pictures of sunlight streaming through the windows. Though there wasn’t any stained glass here. And the windows—don’t laugh—they didn’t look out onto Seattle, H. They looked onto a completely different world.

I can’t describe it. I can’t remember it all that clearly, either, it’s a huge blur in my head, after the hospital and…anyway, I remember that outside the sky was red—like blood-red, and below there was a dark river, sluggish and black and I didn’t like to look at it for very long, so I turned away and looked at the tower instead. It was Gothic, I guess. You’re the architecture freak. I’ve attached some pictures below, so make of them what you will.

Anyway, I’d entered a large foyer-like hall, with a great staircase sweeping up the far side and climbing the walls in spiraling loops. There were statues in this room, tons of them, but they were—they had such terrible expressions of sadness and terror that I couldn’t look at them for long, either. Even more than the sights, it was the feeling that stays with me, even months later; there was something utterly depressing about the place despite its eerie beauty. It sank deep into my bones and chilled me to the core. But I had to get to Lieutenant Gorsk. I tightened my fingers on the Sauer and began up the stairs, ready for…well, anything. I had no idea what to expect from a place like this.

And what I encountered, I had no way of expecting at all.

What descended down the stairs towards me when I had only climbed a few steps was a horde of—I don’t know what to call them. Demons, I suppose. They were not like the demons you see on church windows under the feet of angels. Some of them almost looked human, but were spindly and covered in scales like lizards or dragons or fish, scales that were matte and dark and reflected no light. Others weren’t human at all, but animal-like, though they resembled no animal I’ve ever seen except that they traveled on four legs, or maybe more. The horde of things surged toward me and I raised my gun to shoot.

I have killed people in my career, H., you know that. I’ve spent entire nights awake in my bed unable to get rid of their faces. I killed these things almost too easily, though the scaled ones gave my bullets some trouble. I had to resort to picking up a sword, fallen on the ground a few feet away from a bleached skeleton, to pierce through the gaps in the armor. It was helpful in preserving my ammo, since I’d only brought the few rounds that were in my gun, and I would need one round for when I reached the top--though I wondered what kind of other world I’d stumbled into. Who had this person been who had ventured in and died with a sword in their hand?

I proceeded up the stairs past the corpses, which were dusting away as though they had never existed in the first place. The tower reared up above me. Along its walls were grotesque tapestries of things I do not wish to remember, and I kept my eyes on the stairs and the gaping doorways I passed, waiting for another horde of demon-like things. I have been a soldier for decades, and never have I been more grateful for it than when I was ascending those stairs. My training kept me safe.

I reached the first landing and had to fight through another horde. I will not describe them all—some of them I don’t remember clearly enough, and others were simply too odd to put into words. All I know is that, with gun and sword, I managed to clear a path up the stairs.

But then one of them got the first hit in. I remember these clearly: three large, hulking things, with mouths like lions and bodies like eagles, large golden wings sending strong wind swirling around the landing. I could not move forward. My bullets barely pierced their hides. My sword could not break through their guard, and one of them sent an arm forward and its claws slashed my shoulder to ribbons. It burned like a gunshot wound, and I knew there was no hope of me defeating all three of them. I could only run and hide and hope they didn’t pursue me, so I turned and left the staircase to venture into the rest of the tower.

This floor was full of branching halls and large empty rooms that smelled of decay. The red sky outside left a garish red tint to everything that unnerved me, but I ran down hallways at random and tried to remember my way back to the stairs in case I lived long enough to return. The lion-eagle creatures chased me, but gave up soon afterward, and vanished into other areas of the tower. I ducked into an empty room and used the relative peace and quiet to inspect my arm. It was bleeding heavily, and I made a note to myself to check it for infection later in the day, assuming I survived that long.

I could have turned around. Abandoned my quest. Left Lieutenant Gorsk up at the top of the tower and returned to the peace of my house, a peace I had fought so hard for and tried to attain for so long. But you know what he did to me, Henry.

At the time, it seemed obvious to me that this was my second chance at justice. My chance to make peace, finally, with what had been done to me, and leave it in the past.

It never occurred to me to wonder how Gorsk had found his way here, or what had been done to him in the process, until much later on that day.

I wrapped my wound in strips from my shirt and hoped it would hold and wished I had some antiseptic, but a dirty shirt would have to do as gauze. Then I tried to creep out of the room, but realized that the door was locked. I had not closed it.

Demons appeared in the room around me, the scaled spindly ones I had fought off before, and I had become used to their movements and attacks and knew with relative certainty how to defeat them. A few strong strikes with a sword would weaken them, a gunshot through the head would finish them off. I would rely mostly on the sword now; I was running low on ammo, and I did not know how many more floors I would have to fight through. I refused to think about the fight back down once I reached the top. There had to be ten demons in the room, and my shoulder was burning and slowed me down, and there were quite a few close calls I prefer not to think about. I don’t know what it would have been like to be killed by one of these things and I don’t want to imagine it. They had sharp teeth meant for ripping and biting, and at some point after I killed a few of these I began tearing those teeth from the corpses’ mouths for extra weapons.

Ten of these demons were more than enough to test me, but with a lot of luck I managed not to die, and had a pocketful of demon teeth-blades to show for it at the end.

The door unlocked by itself as the last demon corpse dusted away.

I ventured back to the stairs, losing my way a few times in the process, and it was amazing what a relief it was to see the familiar grand staircase spiraling up over my head once again rather than the red wash of the old windows. The castle grew darker as I headed further up, and there were less and less windows, and less and less red, until I began to long for the light, eerie as it was. It was never dark enough to blind me, but it was surely dark enough for the shadows to shift and move and look like demons. I have had decades of experience calming terror in combat; this tower tried my nerves in a way I have never experienced before and hope to never experience again. In all of those books you’ve read, have you heard the phrase, “bear wrongs patiently”? In the military, I turned that into a talent. I bore the hazing, the combat, the setbacks and the horror and the fear. I tried to do that here, too, but the tower seemed to steal that control away from me, until even I was left trembling like a little girl surrounded by monsters. I gripped my gun in one hand and my sword in the other and ventured on, wishing more and more that I did not feel such an urge to find the Lieutenant. Wishing that I could be normal and move on from that time.

You can maybe understand why it took me so long to finish writing this letter.

I will leave it at that for now, so that you can get your letter in two months and not feel the need to call up my superiors. Though I think a glare from you, looking like some Oxford don, might just frighten Commander Paik more than all the roughest thugs in the city.

Love,

Frankie

Feb. 18, 2023

Frankie,

I don’t quite know how to start this.

First, let me say thank you for trusting me with your story. I don’t think you’re insane, and I didn’t let out a single chuckle.

Second, I am familiar with that tower. It appeared in my own city—around the time yours did. It looked exactly as you describe, and the pictures confirmed it. It was the same, or one of the same type. I entered the tower, though not at all for the same reasons.

You see, when I looked up at the top of it, in the window I saw Jen. Of course, I couldn’t leave her there.

I did not tell you of this before because I did not wish to worry you or cause you alarm; after all, what transpired became something much greater and more beautiful than I could have imagined when I first stepped through the door.

I sympathize with your quest to get to Lieutenant Gorsk. I remember him very well, and I wish I could have been there too, to punch him in the face (a second time, if you remember!). I don’t know if I can condone your mission, nor the intentions you implied, but after what the man did to you, I can’t say I wouldn’t have considered the same. And considering you are not writing me from a jail cell, I need to know the end of the story as soon as you can bring yourself to give it to me.

I did not bring a gun with me—you know my stance on them well enough—but, as with you, there were plenty of demons. I have never been a fighter, but I picked up a stray sword and a dagger or two and managed to hide and slip past many, and fought those I couldn’t. It was with a great deal of trepidation that I climbed those stairs—I can only imagine you, flying up them like a goddess of vengeance with wings at her feet! It was an eerie experience for me; the light made everything look as though blood covered it. The sun outside was not—right. It was deep and vibrant and would have maybe been pretty if not for the sickly pallor to the sky around it, like when a tornado is about to touch down.

I deciphered that I had entered a new world a little earlier than you. I had found a storage room to hide in—and what a storage room, with jars and masks and boxes—and could not help reading a few of the files I found stuffed in drawers (I know you’re rolling your eyes at me about now, so stop it!). The files were plain documents, just text written in a crusted brown substance I refused to consider any further than necessary, but I couldn’t read a word of it. It was not Latin, nor Greek, nor any derivation of any language I have ever come across. The letters themselves were indecipherable, and anyway I felt like it was best not to know what was written in them, so I shoved the papers back into their drawers and did my best not to wonder. I am not very good at that, but it was time to move on, and my survival (and Jen’s) relied on not being overly distracted by the theoretical.

I reached the top of the tower perhaps slower than you, but with far fewer injuries (please tell me you went to the hospital, Frankie!), and emerged from the stairs into a long corridor that extended to a single door. This part of the tower was not a maze, as I had discovered in the lower levels; it was very straightforward and clear about where I was meant to go. That door was my destination, and behind it must be Jen, and the window through which I had glimpsed her.

There were no enemies laying wait for me along that corridor, but I fully expected there to be some monstrous creature waiting for me behind the door. I grasped the knob. It swung open easily, terrifyingly easy.

I assume this room looked much the same for me as it did for you—circular walls, broad windows letting in that wash of red light anew, a view of a mountain range of some other world, dark and strange, stretching out beyond. Jen was there, and I called her name, but saw that she could not move, because, though she stood, she was enclosed within a barrier of some sort—her hands, I saw, were burned where she had attempted to push through it. There would be no breaking it.

And then the monster—appeared. I mean that very literally; one moment it was not there, and then I blinked, and it was. I could not make sense of it at first; it did not fit your descriptions at all of any of the demons you encountered. It was hulking and winged, but appeared to be made of chitin all over its body, like an insect has, and blue flame flared from the gaps in this natural armor. It bared teeth—I suppose would be the expression, on something that had such an unnatural face—at me, and there were two rows of sharp needle-like prongs.

This terrified me.

But it held Jen, my wife, the mother of my son, and what would I ever say to Eric if I let this beast harm her, or whatever it planned to do with her? Whisk her away? Kill her? Keep her imprisoned here, like some damsel out of a fairy tale, to lure adventurers with?

I tightened my grip on my sword, feeling a sense of hopeless doom fall upon me (yes, that was the only way to describe it, let me have my sense of poetry once in a while without mocking me, Frankie!). There did not seem to be a way I could triumph over such a foe. But neither could I hide or flee or distract it. So fight I must, even if it led to my own death.

I see no reason to regale you with the battle; there was nothing glamorous about it, as you well know. Suffice to say, I charged at it, which was not a good strategy, and my strategy changed to accommodate this. I was injured (and Jen gave me a good lecture about my stupidity later) and the pain nearly made me sick, but miraculously I managed to stay upright. It was a long battle, the monster was fast and strong and wanted me dead as badly as I wanted it dead, and I was afraid every instant, but eventually I managed to get lucky, and the blade sunk deep into one of those infinitesimal cracks in the monster’s chitin, and with a wrench I managed to twist the blade hard into its heart. That is not a feeling I wish to relive, Frankie.

But in the end, the monster lay there, its breath rattling out, and the barrier simply disappeared, just as the monster had suddenly appeared. Jen could move again—she later told me that the barrier had not been there until, presumably, my hand had touched the door; the monster’s doing, I assume—and she rushed to my side. I have never before felt like a brave man, especially when compared to you, brave sister, and I wish it had not taken such awful circumstances to turn me into one.

Jen told me later that she had no idea where she had been; in a moment she had been whisked from the living room of our house to the top of the tower, and for hours she had been staring out at that dark mountain range and the red sky and attempting to find a reasonable way of climbing out. The door had been locked, and the lock had repaired itself even as she had broken it, and escape seemed hopeless, unless she were to throw herself out, and she had not been quite that desperate yet.

Hearing your story, I simply wonder why? Why was it Jen who was picked up and plopped in that window to send me creeping up the stairs? Why was the same done to Lieutenant Gorsk? Was it a punishment? Or coincidence?

Do you have any theories, Frankie?

Henry

Feb. 30, 2024

Henry,

I never would have imagined that you had had such an experience, or that both of us have been carrying it around with us for months without letting on. We’re both stubborn—well, a soldier’s language isn’t something I want to subject you to, so I’ll leave it there.

When I finally did reach the top—though I don’t think it was so much as a goddess of war as a very frightened, very stubborn military-trained soldier—it looked the way you described it. The same long corridor, the same door at the end, the same suspicious lack of enemies. I had one bullet left in my Sauer, and plenty of demon teeth in my pockets.

Except there wasn’t a monster for me. Maybe the tower had decided I’d had my fill. Maybe the final challenge I encountered was the monster. I don’t know. I didn’t think much of it then. I just knew that odious lieutenant was behind that door, and I needed to get in there and shoot him dead, military protocol be damned.

It was a desire for murder, plain and simple, but I wasn’t thinking about the consequences then. I was thinking about those two years of hell, with the king of demons being Lieutenant Gorsk and his stinking breath and wandering hands and my only savior the friendship of Corporal Alice Lewis.

I turned the door, and there he was. Oddly, he was kept in place by the same barrier you described.

H., have I ever told you how easy it is for me to kill someone with a gun? My trusty Sauer, familiar and worn in my palm, my callouses formed around it, my target in its sights. It’s far easier to pull the trigger on my old friend than it is to take my Swiss knife and stab someone in the guts, but I’ve done both. I was prepared to do either, if it meant ridding the world of someone like Gorsk.

By now it’s been…what? Eight years since I was under his command? Not that long, in the grand scheme of things. Two years of hell, and eight years recovering.

I’ve put him out of my mind as best I can. I had almost imagined that I could go my whole life and think only of moving forward, but that vanished the second I laid eyes on him again. All my old rage and hatred and desire for vengeance came back to me in a moment, and propelled me up those stairs. Maybe in that way I was some goddess of vengeance after all.

My gun was lined up with his temple. He stood there, unable to move, his hands and arms burned by the barrier, knowing that I would be the last sight he saw. There was no doubt in his mind in that moment, I’m sure, that I would kill him.

I did. I did kill him, Henry.

I pulled the trigger and he fell back against the wall. It was a clean, cold kill. The door behind me unlocked, and I stepped out onto the stairs again. Going down, there were no enemies to fight, and I relived the moment I had shot him again and again, and did not regret leaving his body there at the top of the tower. I was victorious, the winner, the survivor, and I had killed the man who had made my life a misery for years.

I returned to my apartment, and the tower…crumbled. It fell, brick by brick, stone by stone, back underneath the city, and left no sign it had ever been there. I was quite satisfied with myself, and didn’t feel guilty about what I’d done until that night, when I remembered suddenly that he had had a wife, the last I had heard. Maybe a son, too, but I’m not sure. The next morning, while I ate breakfast, he appeared in the news—but not news of his death. Instead, there was something about some promotion to Major General, and I stabbed myself with my fork and threw my plate across the kitchen.

I realized what had happened soon after that.

I am not writing this from a jail cell, Henry, because to all intents and purposes Lieutenant Gorsk is still living—in this world, anyway. In whatever terrible, twisted mirror world I found myself wandering through, Lieutenant Gorsk is dead, a bullet’s clean entry and exit wound through both sides of his skull. I know I killed him, and I must live with knowing that I was capable of doing so, that I was fully aware of what I was doing. In my mind, he lies in a pool of spreading blood.

Love,

Frankie

#inklingschallenge #inklings challenge 2024 #team lewis #genre: secondary world #theme: patience #story: complete #theme: forgive

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janicho88 · 2 years ago

Text

When It All Falls Apart- Chapter 5

Pairing- Jensen x Padalecki Reader

Word count- 5,709

Warnings- Some language. Jensen isn't the best boyfriend. I warned before this started posting it would contain angst, if you need another reminder, here it is. If I missed something let me know!

A/N-You all knew this part was coming sooner or later, some of you even called for it. Starting with this chapter, we'll start to see things from Jensen's side also. A little off canon, SPN ended after 10 years. We still got all the characters in during that time though. Thank you to @writercole and @leigh70 for your help with this. You two are amazing!!

Summary-Y/N Padalecki loved acting on Supernatural. Working alongside your older brother and your boyfriend, but after ten seasons the guys have chosen to hang up the guns. Now the three of you are moving on to other projects, but that’s all that needs to change right? While you have moved to Austin to be closer to your family and boyfriend, Jensen is working elsewhere. Distance is only the start of your troubles.

Series Masterlist

Jensen takes the rare opportunity to sleep in Sunday morning and is the last one down to breakfast. His sister and her husband Jeremy have already arrived and are sitting at the table with his parents.

“Did someone have a late night?” Mackenzie teases him.

“Not too bad. Just taking advantage of catching up on some sleep,” he answers with a yawn.

“What did you and Y/N do yesterday?” his mom asks him.

“I didn’t see her yesterday. I was meeting with Steve, and we had a few people to go see. Trying to work out deals for a project.”

“What did she do then?” his mom tries again.

“Not a clue, I didn’t talk to her yesterday. I was kind of busy. Why the sudden interest in her day?”

He is filling his coffee cup and doesn’t see the looks exchanged around the table.

“Is everything alright with you two?” His dad questions.

“It’s fine.”

“Yeah, sounds like it,” he doesn’t hear his sister mutter.

Josh and his family arrive after breakfast, while Jensen is upstairs showering. He misses the kids and his brother coming in to wish his dad a ‘Happy Father’s Day.’ When Jensen comes back down everyone is sitting in the living room with the kids playing in the middle of the floor. He takes his phone out to take a picture of his nephews and notices a missed text from Gen, making a note to read it later, he snaps a few shots of the boys.

His family asks him questions about work, and what he has been up to. He inquires about each of them. They grill out for a late lunch before he has to leave for the airport. His mom walks out to the rental car with him.

“You’re sure everything is alright? You aren’t hiding something so we won’t worry?”

“No, it’s all fine mom.”

“Even with Y/N?”

“Yeah. I do have to get going to catch my flight. It was good to see all of you.”

“I’m glad you could make it home, even for a short visit. Your dad enjoyed seeing all of you for Father’s Day.”

He’s double checking his suitcase for his passport and not really listening to his mom at the moment, “Yeah, sure I’ll try and make it home then.”

“What?” Donna asks.

Finding his passport, Jensen stands to give his mom one last hug. “Good to see all of you. Take care, love you ma.”

While sitting on the plane waiting for the rest of the passengers to load, Jensen takes out his phone and lazily scrolls through it. He remembers the message he missed from Gen early and opens that conversation, checking the date, he sees it is actually from yesterday.

‘Did you forget something today Ackles?????????????’

“I don’t know Gen, did I forget something?” he mutters to himself, while just replying with question marks of his own.

Next he pulls up Instagram, it takes him a moment to realize he is seeing multiple posts about Father’s Day.

‘It’s not Father’s Day,’ he thinks to himself, ‘that’s not until the middle of June.”

There is a voice over the intercom telling all passengers to turn off electronics before Jensen has a chance to think more about the holiday or the date. He goes over the next script for ‘The Boys’ and notes from the meetings with Steve the day before, never giving the date another thought.

Your Sunday is spent with your parents and Jared’s family. You and Gen get up to make a big breakfast for everyone. Tom has homemade cards for his dad and grandpa he places on the table. Your mom comes down, and helps the two of you finish it all up.

Jared and your dad take Tom out to the park for some male bonding time after breakfast. Gen, your mom and yourself move to the living room.

While they are talking babies you excuse yourself to go for a walk. You are hoping it will help all the thoughts running around your head. You pass Jensen’s house and pause. You can’t help but think that he has already started to move on without you. You’re the one who just hasn’t caught up with the times yet.

On Monday, Jared and Gen have meetings for Walker, so you are hanging out with Tom. You are used to working twelve to fourteen hour days on set, but somehow this little man wears you out more than those do. The two of you play outside on the swing set, he has you chase him during a long game of tag, you’re in the pool and back inside rolling toy cars around on the floor. When your sister-in-law returns you happily hand your nephew back.

Jensen is on set Tuesday, when Jack is talking to some of the other cast members about his parents’ visit over the weekend.

“They haven’t been to Toronto in awhile and decided to use visiting for Father’s Day as an excuse to come up this weekend.”

“If they were coming for Father’s Day, why did they come this past weekend?” Jensen asks him.

A few people turn and look at him. “Father’s Day was this past weekend,” Chase tells him.

“No, it wasn’t, it couldn’t have been.”

Others are also confirming this. Jensen doesn’t have his phone with him, or his watch on.

“What’s the date?” he asks his cast mates.

“21st of June. Everything all right mate?” Karl asks sitting across the board from him.

“Son of a bitch,” Jensen yells out, “I missed Y/N’s birthday. It was the 18th.”

He gets up from his chair to head to his trailer where his phone is to call you, but is called to set before he has the chance to get very far. It’s after 2 am before they wrap for the night, he’s beat just going straight home and falling asleep.

He forgot to set his alarm before collapsing in bed, when he rolls over Wednesday morning and looks at the clock he has to move it. He has maybe ten minutes before he needs to be leaving the apartment for set.

Once he arrives he is sent straight to hair and makeup before being ushered to wardrobe. His PA takes his bag back to his trailer for him. When they break for lunch he is in the middle of a discussion with Karl and Anthony that completely distracts him. He makes a quick stop by his trailer before he has to be back on set. Pulling his phone out of his bag he sees a missed call from you.

“Son of a bitch, I still haven’t talked to her,” he growls out. He tries calling back, but just reaches your voicemail. He hangs up and throws his phone back in the bag before returning to set.

Wednesday, you finally relent and call Jensen. He never has time to talk long so you make the call on your way to the studio to redo some voice over work for the Netflix show that just wrapped. You shouldn’t be surprised that it ends up going straight to voicemail. The plane ticket you received for your birthday is to fly out Friday morning, you figure you should probably tell Jensen you are coming up. Who knows, maybe just showing up would actually get you some time with him. Leaving your phone in the car you walk into the studio.

Coming back to your car two hours later, you check your phone for messages before leaving the parking lot. You have to reread the name when you see you have a missed call from Jensen, it’s rare he calls you back this quick lately or even at all. Hitting the call button you once again get his voicemail, this time you leave a message.

“Hey Jay, I just wanted to tell you Jared and Gen got me a ticket to fly up to Toronto. I’ll be landing around 2:30 Friday afternoon. I’ll talk to you later, have a good day.”

Getting back to your brother’s place you are busy the rest of the night. The two of them went out with a friend of Gen’s and you volunteered to watch Tom. The little man has a lot of energy to burn tonight. When you finally get him down, you start going through clothes in your room to take with you this weekend.

In Toronto, Jensen has finally wrapped for the night. Today’s scenes were a bit…well, what one would come to expect from The Boys. There is a knock on his trailer door as he’s finishing changing out of his costume. Chase and Jack are on the other side.

“Hey, we’re going out with Karl for a drink after that mess. You in?”

“Definitely, let me grab my bag,” he tells them.

One drink turns into a couple and they are out for a few hours. In the cab on the way back to his place, Jensen pulls out his phone to check his call time for the next day. Seeing a voicemail message, he tells himself he’ll listen to it tomorrow when he’s in better shape. Clearing the notification he checks his calendar before turning off the phone.

Thursday has a noon call time, and sees them filming until two in the morning on location. It was almost four am before he got to bed. Walking up after ten the next morning he has a new voicemail notification. He listens to the call from the director on a schedule change for the weekend. Because Eric is going to be in town for a few days and they want the big man on set for the shooting of certain scenes, they are going to be moved up to this weekend.

Then his phone tells him he has a missed message. “Who'd I miss?” he mumbles to himself. When he hears your message, his eyes go wide in surprise, “crap.”

Just as he’s hanging up from the voicemail, the phone rings with your name popping up.

“Hey pretty girl,”

“Hi Jay, how are you?”

“Fine, tired. I just got your message. Are you sure you really want to?”

He hears the tired sigh you let out, “I’m at the airport, waiting for the plane. If you don’t want me to come up there, tell me now.”

“I don’t know how much time I’ll have to spend with you.”

“We aren’t spending any time together currently, whatever I can get this weekend is better than that.” You just hear him groan over the line. “If you want me to call Jared to come pick me back up I will.”

“No. When do you get in?”

“The plane’s scheduled to land around 2:40, then I have to clear customs.”

“I have to be on set, I’m not going to be able to meet you.”

“Okay, I can take a cab over to the studio.”

“No, just come back to the apartment. I’ll leave a spare key in an envelope with the receptionist,” he tells you.

“Okay. See you soon. Love you.”

“Yeah, love ya.”

His head falls back against the pillow as he hangs up. His easy weekend is now going to be a bit more complicated.

At the airport in Austin, you sit back against the hard seat with a sigh. This was off to a rocky start and the plane hasn’t even boarded yet. Thankfully the flight itself was an easy one. After making your way through customs you exit the building to try and find a cab.

When you arrive at his apartment building, you need to show your ID in order to pick up the envelope he left with the key. The doorman shows you up, at least Jensen remembered to tell him you were coming before he left.

Opening the apartment door, you take a look around. It’s fairly empty, but you shouldn’t be surprised. Jensen is only going to have this place a few months. You take your suitcase down the hall, you think this is the way to the bedroom. It’s the second door you try. There is a photo of you and Jensen on his nightstand, it gives you some hope seeing it there. Taking a few things out of your bag, you then explore the apartment. It’s a little bit of a mess, so you spend some time tidying it up. The fridge is empty, so you go down to inquire about the nearest grocery store. It isn’t too far away, so you decide to walk over. With your hands full, you take a cab back to the apartment.

There are a few items to put away in the cupboard, you make a few meals to freeze that Jensen can thaw later, then prepare pasta, salad and bread for dinner. All this time you haven’t heard a word from Jay, not even checking that you made it in alright. You send a text asking if he knows how late he’ll be working, but don’t receive a response.

By eight, you fix yourself a plate for dinner and eat alone at the table. Putting the rest away, you curl up on the couch, and find a movie on Netflix. It’s after eleven when the door opens and Jensen finally comes in. Getting up from the couch, you go over to greet him.

“Hey honey,” you say before leaning up to kiss him.

“Hi babe.” He gives you a quick kiss before pulling away. “I need a shower.”

He rejoins you in the living room ten minutes later, sitting next to you on the couch.

“There’s some pasta in the fridge, if you would like me to heat some up for you?”

“I’m good, we ate on set.”

“Okay. Do you have anything going on tomorrow?”

“I’ve got a 10 am call time. Should go till 8 or so.”

You just nod in response. It’s been awhile since you’ve had his arm wrapped around you, and you are just going to enjoy that for now. The movie on the screen ends and you suggest going to bed hoping to feel more than his arm around your shoulders tonight.

You come out of the bathroom ready for bed in a new lace chemise, and find your boyfriend sound asleep. Grabbing one of his old t-shirts from your bag, you turn around to go back to change.

The next morning Jensen is up before you are. You find him out at the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee and what looks like a script.

“Morning, do you want breakfast before you leave?”

“No, I already had something. But thanks.”

“Can I come to set with you today? Hang out in between scenes with you?”

“No, they don’t like other people on set. Don’t want any secrets getting out.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. I guess I’ll go explore the city then. Text me when you’re done, we can maybe grab a late dinner somewhere?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Do you film tomorrow?”

“No, it’s just going over some choreography for fight scenes on Tuesday.”

“So it should be a shorter day?”

“Hopefully. Chase, Karl and I have a tee time at 2.”

“Great.” You’re only here for a few days, but getting a round of golf in takes precedence apparently.

Once Jensen leaves for work you pull out your phone to find something to entertain yourself with today. You decide to start the day at Ripley’s Aquarium of Canada.

The tour of the aquarium takes you first to the Dangerous Lagoon overlook. There you see sharks, turtles, eels and sawfish. A sign says it is the largest exhibit at the aquarium, and has around 2.9 million liters of water. From there you enter the Discovery Center which has interactive exhibits and features Zebra and Blacktip Reef Sharks along with Clownfish. The Canadian Waters and Kelp Forest are next where you see octopus, lobsters, Cod, Wolf Eel, and Paddlefish.

On the lower level of the aquarium you see the Rainbow Reef which recreates the coral seas of the Pacific. Planet Jellies has various breeds of jellyfish. The Ray-Bay is home to five types of stingrays and the Bonnethead Shark. A sign says that back on the main level you can pet the rays at the top of the tank.

Back up top, you stroll through the gallery area next. This is home to Electric Eels, Seahorses, Piranhas, Pufferfish and Mudskippers. A quick tour of the gift shop and you are on your way out.

The aquarium is right near the base of the CN Tower. Being so close, you couldn’t pass that up. The tower was completed in 1976 and stands 1,815.5 feet tall.

Getting off the elevators at the observation level you are currently 1,136 feet off the ground. The glass floor lets you look to the ground 114 stories below. You go up to the Skypod which is 33 stories above the main observation level. It is the highest observation platform in the Western Hemisphere. You can see all the way to New York and Niagara Falls from here. You can also feel the building swaying a lot more up here. You hear a guide mention the antenna above the Skypods gets hit by lightning an average of 75 times a year. The mix of the swaying and lightning are enough to send you back down to ground level.

You grab a light lunch and walk over to High Park to sit and enjoy it. Finishing your lunch you take a walk down one of the nature trails. Walking alone your thoughts drift to Jensen. Once again today, you haven’t heard from him at all. You are right here in his town and he can’t seem to spare you any time.

That afternoon you end up strolling through the CF Toronto Eaton Centre Mall. It is a huge shopping center with more than 250 stores. In your current mood nothing there really grabs your attention.

By seven you are on your way back to Jensen’s apartment to get cleaned up to have dinner with him. At 8:30 you send a text asking if he was going to be getting off soon. Almost an hour later, you receive a reply.

Jensen 💗-On my way back

You-Do you still want to go out and grab dinner?

Jensen💗-No

Alrighty then. You pull leftovers out of the fridge and start warming them up for dinner. When he walks in, you just about have everything ready to go.

“Hey honey, if you want to shower first, dinner is almost ready.”

“I already ate.”

“What?”

“It was a rough shoot, I went out and grabbed a drink with Karl, Jack and Anthony. We ordered some food there.”

He heads off to the bathroom, and you just stare after him. “Well thanks for telling me,” you mutter after him.

No longer hungry you put everything away once more. Entering the bedroom you change into sweats and sit down on the corner of the couch. It isn’t long until Jensen returns, he collapses in the middle of the couch.

“What a day. Anything Kripke was unable to throw at us during Supernatural is sure finding its way out now.”

“Hmm.”

“This season is going to be so sick.”

You don’t respond, just keep your eyes straight ahead on the television.

“What’s your problem?” He turns his head to look at you.

“What’s going on with us?” you ask.

“What do you mean?”

“I feel like I don’t matter to you any more. We rarely talk anymore.”

“We’re talking right now, or I was trying to but you’re ignoring me.”

“I thought we were going to do something tonight, but you went out with your friends while I was waiting for you. You could have at least let me know what was going on.”

“It’s been a long couple of days, I don’t want to fight with you. I’m going to bed.”

You watch him leave, biting your lip, you rest your head back against the couch trying not to cry. That did not go the way you wanted it to at all. Going into the extra bedroom you grab a folded blanket off the unmade bed, and bring it back to the couch, planning on sleeping there tonight. The television keeps you company, while your mind replays everything.

The next morning, the sound of cupboard doors slamming around wakes you up. Stretching as you sit up, you notice Jensen moving around the kitchen. He looks over at you when he sees you move, but doesn’t say anything. He leaves a short time later.

You don’t feel like doing much of anything today. You hang out around the apartment watching Hallmark. Why does everything always work out for them?

Around four, you get a text from Jensen that says he has something with the cast. Another night alone, fabulous. Why did you even bother coming? Changing into presentable clothes you head out to find some food, getting into the elevator you are shocked at who you see.

“Eric, hi.”

“Y/N, how are you? I wasn’t sure if you were in town or not this weekend.”

“Yeah, I just got in on Friday, staying a few days. Doing alright, how are you?

“Good, are you coming to dinner?”

“What?”

“A bunch of the crew is going for dinner. Aren’t you going to meet Ackles? I’ll give you a lift.”

His phone rings and you don’t get a chance to reply. Getting off the elevator you follow him outside, planning to still go off on your own. When the car pulls up, he waves you inside. His phone call lasts almost the whole way to the restaurant, even though he keeps attempting to end it. He is finally able to put it down just before the car pulls into the parking lot.

“Sorry about that. Everything is a huge problem to some of the network execs. Talking with Jared, I thought you were going to be here this weekend, but then I never saw you around set with Jensen.”

“He told me I couldn’t come with him. Are you sure I can be here tonight? Jensen didn’t invite me.”

“I would have let you on set, no problem. Yes, you are more than welcome to join us tonight. Have you met anyone yet?”

“Just Karl.”

You follow him through the restaurant, when he arrives at the large table he calls out, “look who I found on my way here.”

Your eyes are on Jensen who has Claudia’s arm around his shoulders as she is whispering in his ear.

“Hey!” Karl yells, “where have you been hiding?”

He gets up to give you a hug, Jensen gives you a questioning look, while everyone else just stares. Eric looks around the table and asks a passing waiter for one more place setting and chair.

“I’ve been hanging out around the apartment, explored Toronto yesterday,” you finally answer Karl’s question.

“So you come all the way up here, and don’t even visit the set? Should we be hurt?” Karl’s last question is directed at Kripke.

“What are you doing here?” Jensen interrupts them.

“Are you going to introduce us, Eric?” Anthony questions at the same time.

“I ran into Eric in the elevator, and he invited me to come along,” you answer Jensen.

“Why didn’t you bring her?” Eric asks your boyfriend, who just shrugs in response.

“Some of us still don’t know what’s going on,” Jack calls out.

“This is Y/N Padalecki, this lovely lady was Ali Black on Supernatural,” Eric introduces you.

“She also has horrible taste in men, because she’s dating that brute,” Karl tells them as he points to Jensen.

Anthony, Karen, Jack, Erin and Chase all stand up to greet you. A chair is added next to Jensen as everyone but Claudia scoots down to make room for you.

After the group has ordered, Karl looks at you from across the table. “How long are you here for?”

“I have a flight out tomorrow afternoon.”

“We have some fight sequences to finalize in the mornin’, are you coming to tour the set?” He asks.

“I don’t know,” you look over at Jensen, who has remained silent.

As time goes on you notice that Claudia seems to keep touching Jensen, her hand is on her arm, his thigh, and shoulder. ‘Really girl’ you think ‘right in front of me?’

Erin asks about what you have going on now with Supernatural over. You tell her about Walker. Jensen seems agitated next to you, you finally turn and ask if he’s alright. Instead of answering he stands up and nods for you to join him out in the hall.

“I can’t believe you got Eric to bring you along,” Jensen harshly whispers to you.

“It wasn’t my intention, I just ran into him when I got in the elevator.”

“I don’t understand what your problem is.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The attitude you had last night, sleeping on the couch, now putting yourself in the middle of a cast get together. What are you trying to do?”

“When did you become such an asshole? Maybe playing Soldier Boy has gone to your head. If you don’t want me here, and it’s such a big deal to have me here, I’ll leave.”

With that you turn back toward the room to grab your purse. You expect Jensen to stop you, but he never does. The waiter is coming back in and you quietly ask him to cancel your order. Before walking out the door, you turn back to the table.

“It was nice meeting you all. I’m sorry, but I have to be going. Enjoy the rest of your night.” With that you turn and leave.

Eric is right behind you, he can’t get your attention so he grabs your arm once you step outside.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, I just have to go.”

“Y/N, I’ve known you a long time. I can see you’re upset, and you’re barely holding back tears.” He looks around for a moment before spotting a bench. “Come sit down for a minute.”

“I’ll be alright, you should get back inside,” you try to tell him.

“Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

You know he isn’t going to let go, with a sigh you start talking. “Things with Jensen and I haven’t been going so great lately. He barely answers my calls or texts. I don’t know the last time he even called or texted me to start a conversation. Gen thought it might be good for us if I came up here and we spent some time together. I’ve still barely seen him.”

You take a deep breath to try and get yourself back under control, but you can’t help the tears sliding down your face. “I’m afraid our relationship might have run its course, and I don’t mean anything to him any more. I’m just someone he used to have around because I was convenient.”

“Oh Y/N, I’m so sorry you are feeling like this. I don’t know what’s going on with him, but I know you always meant a lot to him,” Eric tries to comfort you.

“Used to. I can’t keep going like this, the last month has been rough. I tried to talk to him last night and that didn’t go over well. Now he’s mad that I’m here. When things were good with us, he would have been the first one up to give me a hug. He would have been the one introducing me to his new cast mates, not you and Karl. We would have spent any free time he had together, going for a drink or golfing with the guys wouldn’t have been more important.”

“I’m sorry, you don’t deserve to be treated like that,” Eric says softly. You can tell he is a bit out of his comfort zone here.

You nod your head, you know what you have to do and your heart is crumbling into pieces. Turning in your seat you give Eric a hug. “Thanks for everything Eric. Will you do me a favor and keep an eye on him for me?”

“Anything for you. I won’t let him get into too much trouble tonight.”

You bite your lip and wipe the tears off your face, “I don’t just mean tonight.”

It takes Eric a second, but after all you’ve just said, he understands what you mean. “I will, you take care of yourself. He gives you a hug before hailing you a cab and returning inside.

You stare out the window during the ride back to the apartment. When you return you start packing up your things. After your bag is ready you pull out your phone looking for a flight out. You aren’t sure you could make any that are leaving tonight, so you change it to one leaving at 6:10 am. Sitting on the couch you wait for Jensen to return.

Over an hour later he finally walks through the door. You stand up as he sets his keys down on the counter.

“We need to talk,” you tell him. softly

“We do. What were you thinking trying to insert yourself like that? I’m still new here, I can’t have you pushing your way in the middle of things, or asking for special tours around set. What are they going to think?”

“As I told you earlier, I didn’t ask Eric to bring me along, I was going out to find my own dinner and ran into him when I was going to do that. He told me to come along, and that it was alright. Karl asked about me taking a tour, I didn’t push for one.”

“I can’t afford to have you rocking the boat here.”

“You don’t have to worry about that, I’m done. I can’t…I can’t do whatever this has become anymore.” You gesture between the two of you.

That catches Jensen’s attention, and he notices your packed bag next to the couch. “What are you talking about? Where are you going?”

“What I started to try and talk to you about last night. I don’t know what’s happened to us, but I can’t take it anymore. I’ve changed my flight to leave earlier. I feel like I am the only one trying to hold this together anymore. Right now you’re more worried about making a bad impression on people you’ve worked with for a few months, then about me. You barely answer when I call or text you. Any of our limited conversations anymore revolve around you, I doubt you could tell me what I have going on in my life lately.”

“That’s not true, you’re filming that…um…that…”

“The Netflix series? Maid, about a single mom fleeing from abuse and trying to make it with her child. We wrapped a few weeks ago. I told you that in Chicago.”

“You’re getting ready for Walker then.”

“You’re grasping at straws, Jens.”

“I don’t understand why you want to end things? What was the point of coming up here? Was it just to break up? Did you meet someone else?”

You shake your head, not believing what is coming out of his mouth. “I came up here to see if there was any way we could save our relationship. But when spending time with you cast mates, who are here with you everyday, is more important than me who you have barely seen, I have my answer. If you really need an answer to the last question it’s no. Honestly, going by all the pictures online, and dinner tonight, I should be the one asking that. But I know you better than that. At least I used to.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know when I became so unimportant to you, something that could just be tossed aside when I wasn’t useful.”

He looks at you in shock. “That’s not true and you know it.”

“I really don’t, not anymore. With everything going on in your life, there isn’t time for me. A backseat is okay once in a while, but it’s not a place I’m willing to stay.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your career is really taking off, and I can’t keep up with everything. We don’t even live in the same county anymore. I just don’t fit in your life anymore, and I deserve better than what I’m getting.”

“Everything I do is for us.”

“You really going with that? After how you treated me this weekend? How you’ve been treating me the last few months?”

“Any girl would be happy to be in your place.”

“I don’t know when you became this self absorbed asshole, but that’s not the guy I fell in love with, the guy I planned my future with. I’m sorry Jensen, but I can’t take the hurt and loneliness that have come from this relationship anymore. I don’t want to cry myself to sleep over us another night, or wonder when you’re going to feel like talking to me again.”

“After everything I did for us, if you think it’s really so bad to be dating me, then there is no reason to drag this out,” he spits out, his anger rising. “Make sure to be out of the house before I get back to Texas.”

You give a small shake of your head, “if you knew how things were going with me. You would know I’ve been staying at my brother’s house because I wasn’t comfortable alone in yours. I don’t have much left there, it will be out soon.”

You grab your bag and head for the door, stopping before you open it. “I did love you, you meant the world to me. I told Jared no matter what happens between us, I didn’t want it to affect your friendship. I wish you the best Jens, and I really am happy for you and everything that’s coming your way. I just wish there was still room for me in your world.” Taking one last look at your now ex, you quickly exit the apartment.

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 6