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link4eva · 3 years ago

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Kiro’s Mind’s Quest: Infatuation Play Translation Part 2 [CN]

Hey! Here’s Part 2 of Infatuation Play. Here is Part 1 if you haven’t read it yet.

Enjoy~ 💛

*Spoilers for future content below!*

[Chapter 4]

MC: It seems I’ve put too much salt in the seasoning….

MC: If it’s salty…. add more water!

Kiro: Haha.

Kiro was amused by what I said, and he shook off a piece of beef and tasted it.

Kiro: Good to eat!

Kiro also gave me a piece, the evening light leaked in from the window, reflecting a small layer of fluff on his face.

In the steam, the spicy and delicious smell seemed to dispel the previously unremarkable smell in the house.

I took a sip of soda and brought up the topic from before. *Changed some wording*

MC: By the way, in addition to encountering the big challenge of an actor’s career, filming NG….

MC: Is there anything else that left an impression on you?

Kiro looked down and thought about it seriously.

Kiro: Does scaring a crying kid count?

MC: Of course!

Kiro smiled when he saw the eagerness on my face to hear the story.

Kiro: This scene is also related to entering the character state.

Kiro: In order to maintain this state, I kept myself bored in the hotel room for a long time….

Kiro: Probably because of my routine, no one reminded me.

Kiro: Later, I didn’t know the exact time anymore. When I came out, I felt that I had been in the dark for a long time.

Kiro: I realized that I was a bit too immersed, so I went to buy a bottle of soda to take a break.

Kiro: Then I met a kid in the crew…. I didn’t do anything, he just saw me and then cried.

Kiro’s voice was very low, and the hot pot gurgled.

I think of Kiro’s immersive performance on the screen, and then I dig a little deeper into what he said just now-- *Changed some wording*

It was as if he had a bitter fruit in his heart, and he desperately wanted to hide it from me. The more bitter it was, the stronger the taste.

In the end, the fruit still found its way into my heart.

I sniffed and couldn’t help joking.

MC: From another perspective, that kid got to watch a scene for free.

Kiro raised his eyes, and I continued with a smile.

MC: I want to watch the exclusive performance of the big star Kiro too!

MC: Thinking about it this way, I feel a little jealous.

I took his hand and his fingertips quivered slightly.

Kiro: Don’t you think I’m not doing well enough? As a professional actor, I shouldn’t be in this situation.

I shook my head.

MC: Remember, you asked me before if there was anything interesting about this business trip.

MC: In fact, in the city where I was on business, there would be lively gatherings at night on the street next to the hotel.

MC: Looking down from the balcony, there are clusters of lights, and everyone sits on the steps and chats casually.

MC: When I saw it, I was thinking, “I must bring Kiro here next time. He will love the sparkling cider here.”

I looked at Kiro brightly. He seemed to be imagining the scene I described with slight waves in his eyes.

MC: I want to share with you all the good and bad, brilliant and lonely times.

MC: You can be imperfect, you can have lonely and dark moments because I will be with you.

MC: We share each other’s lives. No matter what life it is, as long as we experience it together, it is enough.

Those blue eyes staring at me seemed to be lit by some kind of warm light for a moment, filled with soft emotions.

I paused and asked him softly.

MC: I remember that every time you acted in a play, you would bid farewell to them at the end.

MC: You said that you were lucky to participate in a period of their lives and experienced their emotions.

MC: So in the end, you have to bid farewell to the partners you have been working with….

MC: Looking forward to another time and space, they will continue their lives.

MC: Did you say goodbye this time?

Kiro looked at me and suddenly reached out and wiped the oil stains on my lips.

The boiling of the hot pot sounded and there seemed to be some fragments of emotions in his eyes that had melted silently.

He paused, turned his head and raised the bear cup on the table. He raised it in the air, the emotions in his eyes were clear and calm.

Kiro: Americano is still too bitter, I prefer to drink soda.

Kiro: The hot pot made by Miss Chips is delicious. As long as you are with her, even the little things like walking your dog to the supermarket are worth remembering.

His gaze flickered over the neatly coded script on the sofa, and there was a sense of relief in his voice.

Kiro: What you didn’t find, I did.

Kiro: In the time and space I don’t know, you will definitely find what you want, and come back to shine on the stage again.

Kiro: Now, it’s time to say goodbye to you.

The starry sky is gentle, and the steam from the hot pot rises, almost like a response. The wind blows the curtains and the room is full of starlight. *Changed some wording*

We are both covered.

(Cut to the living room)

MC: What’s going on with Cello lately? She seems to be more irritable.

MC: Not only did she knock over the sunflower vase in the living room, but also bit her tail….

I pet Cello who was being held in Kiro’s arms and spoke tentatively.

It is said that the mood of pets will be influenced by the owner. Is Cello….?

Kiro looked away with a guilty conscience.

Kiro: Maybe it’s because the season makes everyone more irritable.

Kiro: [coughs] Just leave her be, save the sunflower first.

He found a new vase in the cabinet and handed it to me. I trimmed the sunflower’s branched and leaves that had been bitten by Cello.

Kiro sat cross-legged across from me and stared at me without blinking. I was a little embarrassed to be stared at.

MC: What are you looking at?

Kiro tilted his head at me and his blond hair swayed slightly. It was obviously a naughty action, but the smile in his eyes was very gentle.

Kiro: Of course I was looking at Miss Chips.

Kiro: Looking at your actions, expressions, the flower in your hand, and….

Kiro’s tone was stretched out and I followed his gaze to see the light-coloured hairband on the side of my head.

The soft end of the hairband slid down my neck and onto my skin.

MC: KI-RO!

I blushed for a moment and when I was hurriedly trying to retie my hairband, my hand was suddenly grabbed.

I looked up and under the frivolity of the sun, I didn’t know when Kiro got so close to me that I could see the creases on his lips.

His gaze fell on the end of my hair. He tucked the hairband lightly and winked at me.

Kiro: Miss Chips, let me help you.

Without waiting for my answer, he took a strand of my hair and maneuvered his hands dexterously, rubbing my earlobes with his fingertips which caused a burst of scorching heat.

The hairband is like a streamer that can be held in his hand, and he is the creator of beauty.

The mood is changing silently at this moment as we stay so close. *Changed some wording*

No matter how difficult the moments we encounter are, they will definitely be healed in the accompanying time.

After a while, Kiro held my face and looked at it with satisfaction.

Kiro: That’s it.

I reached up to touch the hairband and couldn’t help but smile. *Changed some wording*

MC: You even tied a small bow!

Kiro: Of course, this is the exclusive mark of Kiro.

Kiro picked up the end of the hairband and looked down at me tenderly. His blue eyes were like a vast and boundless sea and I willingly indulged in it.

(Cut to morning)

The morning light was in the room and the sound of the phone vibrating awakened me from my sleep. I picked up the phone and pressed the answer button.

MC: Kiki? What’s wrong?

Kiki: Boss, the project you flew abroad to talk about has passed!

Kiki: Anna received the letter of intent last night, and the person in charge there said that he hoped the date of the contract signing could be confirmed today.

Kiki: Where are you now? Come and visit the company!

MC: Okay, I’ll be there.

I hung up and turned my head, Kiro’s sleeping face came into view.

He seems to be having a good sleep and his lips are slightly upturned, he looks particularly meek. *Changed some wording*

MC: ….

It looks like he is still a little sick. *Changed some wording*

The lack of sleep made my brain work a little slow, so I shook my head in an attempt to wake myself up a bit.

Just as I was hesitating whether to go, Kiro woke up with a hint of sleepiness in his eyes. He was startled when he saw my neatly dressed look.

Kiro: [cute sleepy voice] Is something happening at the company?

(If you pick “No”)

Seeing Kiro’s still pale cheeks, I shook my head and smiled at him.

MC: Nothing, I was just talking to Kiki.

But Kiro looked at me and suddenly smiled.

Kiro: Miss Chips, you should go do more important things first.

Kiro: I will wait here for you to come back.

Seeing him look at me quietly, I nodded gently.

(If you pick “yes”)

I was conflicted for a moment and then nodded honestly.

MC: There is a little situation that needs to be dealt with, but….

Before I finished speaking, I saw Kiro stretch out lazily with a slight smile in his tone.

Kiro: I will wait for your return.

He looked no different from what I was familiar with. I hesitated for a moment and finally nodded gently.

[Memory Silhouette]

MC: Hahahahahaha! This episode is so funny!

I laughed so much that my cheeks hurt and I had to lean against Kiro’s arms. He opened his arms and caged me in them.

Kiro: Is the way I eat mustard so funny?

I lifted my head and looked at him as he asked me.

The sun was shining on us warmly through the French windows, Kiro’s milk fragrance also wrapped around the tip of my nose. I couldn’t help but squeeze his cheek with my hand.

MC: No, but I like it.

MC: Didn’t someone say that if there is a person who can keep you smiling, then he must be an important presence in your life.

MC: You make me laugh without even thinking about it, your existence turns cloudy days into sunny ones. *Changed some wording*

As if he had accepted my theory, Kiro no longer struggled with his expression about the variety show, so he clicked the button to continue playing.

Kiro: Okay, I agree with Miss Chips.

This variety show has Kiro as a guest appearance. When he participated in the show, he had not yet joined the cast to make a movie. The show was as bright as a little sun.

In the space between the advertisements, I quickly glanced sideways at the person next to me.

Over the past few days, I can feel his gradual relaxation.

It’s not that I’m always vigilant, telling myself that I have to be happy in front of him, but because when I’m with him, I can relax and smile.

I liked this relaxed and soft Kiro.

MC: But speaking of it, in this variety show, I see you in a way that I don’t usually see.

MC: Planting seedlings, bargaining with the owner of a small shop, and making mosquitos nests by yourself.

MC: So Kiro turned out to be a secret master of life?

MC: So when I was making homemade cranberry cupcakes, a certain superstar asked me to teach him how to beat the egg yolks?

After being questioned, Kiro gave a cheeky “um”.

Kiro: That’s because, in the cast, I need to play the image of SuperHero. This is my job.

Kiro: But in front of Miss Chips, I can be willful and not so perfect, can’t I? *Changed some wording*

He looked at me with a smile in his eyes, like an afternoon orange soda full of refreshing taste.

MC: You said that…. I can’t refute it.

Although I said that, I couldn’t help but laugh.

MC: But two people mixing the egg yolk batter together is always more interesting than doing it alone.

There was constant laughter on screen. I looked at Kiro who was always smiling on the screen and couldn’t help but lean into his arms.

His chin rested on my shoulder from behind and his warm breath brushed my neck.

It’s always a good time to need each other and be together. *Changed some wording*

MC: Next time, teach me how to make a mosquito net.

MC: Maybe in the future when we go on a trip, it will be useful.

Kiro: Okay, let’s make a big and beautiful mosquito net.

MC: Huh? Why does it have to be so big?

Kiro: It can be used as an open-air tent. If you watch the stars at night, you don’t have to worry about being bitten by bugs.

I couldn’t help being amused by Kiro’s serious tone.

MC: Okay, let’s do it together.

Time is moving slowly and quietly, walking forward with a lazy pace. The lazy rest is close to the not-so-perfect Kiro.

Put together a cupcake with a honey-flavoured centre. *Changed some wording*

[Chapter 5]

When I had walked halfway towards the company, I decided to pull out my phone and call Kiki.

MC: Kiki, there are some things on my end that I can’t get away from. You can help me with the people from the other company and change the meeting to a virtual one.

MC: The contract has been sorted out, I will send it to them later. You are responsible for monitoring the online meeting.

Kiki: Mhhm, okay. Sounds good, boss.

After temporarily solving the company’s problems, I returned to Kiro’s house.

In order to avoid disturbing Kiro, who might still be asleep, I opened the door very quietly.

But when I entered through the door, I saw Kiro sitting cross-legged on the floor with his back facing me.

Kiro: Cello, don’t move.

A cat’s tail came out from his side, swinging back and forth uncomfortably, but was caught by Kiro in the next second.

Kiro: A few days ago, I didn’t play with you, which made you unhappy with me.

He was talking to himself, then sighed slightly.

Kiro: From now on I will play with you every day, but you are not allowed to bite your tail.

Kiro: If you bite your tail bald again, I will confiscate your dried fish!

Hearing what he said, I couldn’t help but laugh.

Kiro turned around when he heard the sound and when I saw Cello resting in his arms, I opened my eyes wide.

MC: You made a small flower for her bald spot.

A small flower made of pink wool is tied around Cello’s tail, which was probably taken from Kiro’s clothes. It covered most of the bald spot.

Kiro: Miss Chips, why are you back so soon?

Kiro was a little taken back, but because of my presence, there was an unconcealed smile in his eyes.

As I walked to Kiro’s side, I creased my eyes and opened my mouth.

MC: Because the witty Miss Chips changed the meeting to an online one, if it is synchronized with the time abroad, it will not start until the evening.

Kiro touched his chin thoughtfully.

Kiro: In other words, before the meeting, you still have a lot of time alone with me.

MC: You can think of it like that.

Suddenly I saw the familiar sly smile in his eyes. I was stunned for a second as I realized something and then took a step back cautiously.

Kiro smiled innocently and brilliantly.

Kiro: Miss Chips can’t run away, you came back to me by “getting caught” by my net. *Changed some wording*

In the next second, he hugged my waist and his presence hit me overwhelmingly.

Cello jumped to the ground, licked her paws, and curiously tilted her head to look at everything in front of her.

Kiro led me to the sofa where I sat in his arms, my heartbeat still a little fast.

Kiro chuckled.

Kiro: Why does Miss Chips look like as if I’m going to do something bad?

His palm touched my bare back, arousing a shudder.

He looked down at me, but there was nothing else in his eyes other than like.

I think of his unusual moments these past few days and my heart can’t help but feel moved.

The next second, I reached out and hooked my arms around Kiro’s neck. Kiro looked at me in a daze.

MC: Kiro, all the things that happen to you, I want to be the first person to share them with you.

I paused.

MC: Just as happiness and sadness are all the flavours of life we must experience;

MC: I want to be together in those bleak moments that must be experienced.

MC: Because--friction generates heat.

MC: So next time if you feel empty, let me stay with you.

MC: Let me fill your time.

Kiro’s eyes seemed to have a small sparkle of light in them after hearing my words.

After a while, I was pulled by Kiro and fell back into his arms.

Following his movements, my bag fell to the ground and a clear sound rang out. Kiro turned his head and glanced, leaning over and picking up a lipstick.

I reached out to take the lipstick, but Kiro grabbed my wrist.

He looked at me and suddenly put some on his lips slowly.

In the small and charming space, all his movements seemed to be slow and carefully planned, which made me suddenly think of the fragments I saw in the lens.

Kiro: While eating hot pot, Miss Chips said that she regretted not being able to see my exclusive performance.

He paused for a moment and gave a grin.

Kiro: Well now you can.

He raised his hand and the hot red in his palm brushed my hair and then letting it fall onto my back, bringing the smell of spices.

It’s like a light kiss.

I stiffened for a moment, only to feel that the spot touched by him was burning like fire, making me want to get closer.

MC: Kiro….

I muttered Kiro’s name softly. As if receiving some kind of response, he suddenly took my hand.

Then he lowered his head slightly and pressed his warm lips to my wrist.

Kiro: I’m here.

There was a warm touch from his skin and Kiro’s lips were still pressed against my wrist, but he lifted his eyes to look at me.

I blushed suddenly and wanted to lower my head and look away. The next second, I was firmly grasped with his other hand.

He held my hand and guided my fingertips past his lips.

His look was seductive, like a fairy falling into the world, unknowingly attracting me.

But perhaps, he knew it.

Kiro: Now I am sure that you have filled the most precious time in my world.

His blue eyes are as gentle as the sea and there is only a small me inside of them.

He looked at me and got closer, hot breath fell on the side of my neck accompanied by a soft voice.

Kiro: In fact, there have always been many temptations and difficulties on the way to becoming an actor.

Kiro: It’s a small boat called “Kiro”, sailing on the waves of the world. He often encounters danger, gets injured, and breaks.

The soft touch lingers from the side of my neck to my earlobe, and the breathy whispers fall on my ears very affectionately.

Kiro: But this one person, she found the boat on the boundless sea and repaired his damages.

Kiro: She then stayed on the boat and sailed the world with him to see glaciers and lakes.

Kiro: This person is called Miss Chips, and she is-- the beacon that guides me through the world.

His voice is like falling petals; quiet and soft with the ultimate sincerity. *Changed some wording*

Kiro: In the play, Kiro’s emotions belong to the stage.

Kiro: But Kiro outside the play, his world, everything about him belongs to you.

The scorching temperature left my neck and he looked at me earnestly with undisguised emotions in his eyes, like the surging ocean tides.

I couldn’t help but hug his neck back.

MC: Kiro, you made me the best Miss Chips in the world.

MC: Let’s go to farther places together, see glacial lakes, and sail the world together….

MC: Nothing can make me leave your side.

The sunflower grows enthusiastically and his golden hair is soft and brilliant. The world is flourishing and beautiful, just like himself.

If I were Kiro’s beacon for sailing the world, then let me be that tower that illuminates him.

Because-- he is also the most indispensable part of my world.

End

#mlqc #mlqc spoilers #mr love queens choice #mr love #mr love game #mr love dream date #mldd #mr love kiro #mlqc kiro #mldd kiro #周棋洛 #date translation #IM SO PROUD OF MC!!

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witcher-and-his-bard-archive · 4 years ago

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Alone With You

winter prompts day 5 ❄️ nighttime snow

thank you to @petrificustotaluss for the stunning banner 😍

It's been a long day and now that everyone has settled in to sleep, Geralt can sit and think without interruption. He's glad to have Jaskier with him, still shocked that he managed to get the words out to ask him to come, but glad that he did. But being happy about it and knowing it was the right decision are two different things and Geralt is struggling with the latter.

They had arrived late after a rough trip and Jaskier had been exhausted, yet he had still made the rounds, introducing himself and chatting to the others, telling them how pleased he was to meet them. Then he met Eskel and things were... different. He's never seen Eskel's eyes light up like that before, and the intense focus Jaskier had on him was a little overwhelming, even as a spectator. Geralt hasn't been the target of that intensity for a long time, but he remembers it well.

He had removed himself from the situation after that, not wanting to intrude on their conversation - and he wouldn't have been able to help but listen in. He couldn't be mad about it, really, if there was something there. All he's ever wanted for Eskel is happiness and with Jaskier, he's learning still that he'd rather be alone and watch Jaskier flit off with every second person he meets than to see him lonely. It doesn't stop the thought from hurting, but it does make him feel a little better about it.

Eventually, Jaskier had returned to his side, but they hadn't had time to do much but walk around a little before turning in.

Jaskier has his own room and Geralt hadn't realized how much he had come to rely on Jaskier's breathing to settle him at night. It's fine though. Even if he has to wake up early, being well-rested is optional at the keep (unless he's heading into the mines with Eskel). So tonight, when he couldn't sleep, he'd gotten up and headed out into the courtyard to think.

It's dark, but Geralt's eyes adjust quickly enough and he finds himself keeping to the upper levels, looking out over the valley. It had been a long, hard journey up, harder than usual, and Jaskier hadn't complained once. Geralt smiles to himself, remembering the bright-eyed boy he'd picked up in Posada who had immediately complained about wearing the wrong boots. A lot has changed since then.

He's leaning against the wall when he hears footsteps crunching in the snow behind him. When he looks back, he's surprised to find Jaskier smiling up at him as he climbs the stairs.

"What are you doing out here?" Geralt asks. "You'll freeze."

"Guess you'll just have to keep me warm then, hm?" Jaskier ducks under his arm and presses himself against Geralt's chest, looking over the wall. "It really is stunning, isn't it? I mean, I guess you've seen it too many times and it's just normal to you now, but it's incredible."

Geralt pauses, waiting for something more, but Jaskier falls surprisingly silent. He tips his head, resting it against Geralt's shoulder and he sighs softly.

"Thank you," he whispers, "for bringing me here. I know it couldn't have been easy for you to bring a stranger home."

"You're not a stranger," Geralt blurts and as soon as he does, he regrets the words, but Jaskier will just ask anyway, so he clarifies, "they all know about you. The songs."

"Right," Jaskier hums, "the songs."

"You and Eskel seemed to get along well." Geralt spares a glance when Jaskier doesn't respond immediately and finds him red in the face. He should have known.

"It's fine," he says at the exact same time Jaskier says, "it's not what you think."

Geralt looks down at him and Jaskier squirms, out of his spot, leaning against the wall so he can face Geralt.

"Geralt, you weren't worried about it, were you?"

"No," he says too quickly. Jaskier huffs a quiet laugh and ducks his head.

"Oh my darling, you have nothing to be jealous of-"

"I'm not," Geralt insists, but Jaskier takes a step forward and looks up at him with those big, right eyes. Geralt can't even look at him.

"Promise me you won't get mad," Jaskier says, "Eskel was just saying how glad he is that I'm here... because you're always so sad over the winter."

"He- Eskel-" Geralt stammers and he can feel his own face burns.

"I thought you were happy coming up here to see your brothers?"

"I am," Geralt says and when he meets Jaskier's eyes, he realizes that's not going to be enough. "I miss you," he admits, staring firmly at the ground, "when I'm up here and you're away in Oxenfurt."

"Oh!" Jaskier gasps and it takes a moment for Geralt to realize Jaskier's attention has been redirected. He's not sure whether he should be relieved or offended, but then he looks up.

There's snow falling lightly around them, and Jaskier is enthralled by it. He's beautiful in his fascination, soft flakes landing his hair, and Geralt wants to keep this moment forever.

"I've never seen the snow like this," Jaskier breathes, "On the coast, it's so wet and heavy- it doesn't stick like this. It's beautiful."

When he looks out again, the valley is shrouded in a veil of white, the flakes falling too quickly and densely now to see much past the edges of the keep. It truly is beautiful, he thinks. Maybe Jaskier is right and he takes the views for granted or maybe it's just his presence that makes Geralt's romantic side come out. He doesn't think too much about that.

"Do you think about me?" Jaskier asks abruptly, "when you're tucked away up here for months? I think about you in Oxenfurt. What you're doing, whether you're safe up here, who keeps you company." He doesn't look like he expects a response, but Geralt tells him anyway.

"I do. Think about you." He reaches out, flicking a particularly large snowflake from Jaskier's fringe. "Almost every day. It's too quiet up here without you."

"Oh. Why didn't you ask me to come sooner."

"I... didn't think you'd want to. Didn't want you to say no."

"I would never say no to you, my darling. Not in a million years." Geralt offers up a half-smile, but he doesn't believe him. Evidently, Jaskier realizes this and closes the remaining distance between them.

"Listen," he says, "you're a grump and a grouch and you can pretend all you like, but I know you're soft under all this Witcher nonsense. I know you're sad when Ciri winters with Yen and I know you pretend to be this lone wolf, but really, you crave affection - even if you won't let me give it to you. But I'm here now and there's only so far you can go with the valley being snowed in as we speak.

"Geralt," he whispers, "I know you don't share my feelings, but don't pretend like you're oblivious. Stupid doesn't suit you."

"Your what-?" Geralt's mind reelings, afraid that he's misunderstood, but Jaskier is standing there before him looking so soft and sincere that he doesn't know how he could have.

"Geralt, what did I just-" he doesn't get to finish his sentence because Geralt acts before he can think too much about it. He runs his thumb over Jaskier's bottom lip, effectively silencing him, and for a moment he can't do anything but stare at him.

Jaskier's fingers slip around his wrist, gently pulling his hand away, and he slips up into Geralt's space, bumping their noses together. He hesitates only for a second before pushing forward and kissing him softly. Geralt's mind shuts down for a moment as he tries to register Jaskier's mouth against his own, but then he's kissing him back, arms slipping around Jaskier's waist like they belong there.

Jaskier lets out a little moan as Geralt deepens the kiss and he slips his arms around his neck, holding him close. It does something to him that he's not expecting and Geralt moves automatically, lifting Jaskier onto the wall and pressing in between his thighs.

He's wanted this for so long that he doesn't think and it's not until Jaskier pulls away to breathe that he realizes what he's doing.

"Sorry-" he starts, tugging backward, but Jaskier hauls him back.

"Don't you dare," he breathes, wrapping his legs around him and pulling him into another kiss.

Geralt lets himself be drawn in, wondering how the hell he managed to read things so wrong for so long. But as the snow continues to fall around them and Jaskier pulls him impossibly closer, he decides that it doesn't really matter anymore.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #winter prompt challenge 2k20 #nighttime snow #rex writes

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egcdeath · 4 years ago

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campers’ quarrel

pairing: steve rogers x reader (ft. mentions of other avengers)

summary: who would’ve guessed that a camping trip with your team and a man who you couldn’t stand would go south so quickly? (that’s a rheotical question.)

warnings: mentions of a broken bone, kind of enemies to lovers, swearing

word count: 2.4k

author’s note: i’ve honestly never gone camping before. hopefully that’s not to obvious. enjoy!

You and Steve never really clicked. From the start of your work as an Avenger, he’d clearly been wary of you, and being new, you didn’t want to make his disdain any worse than it already was.

This didn’t go unnoticed by your teammates. The more adjusted you became to the team, the more the teasing from them grew. And unfortunately for you, it mainly revolved around your tense relationship with Steve.

Tony constantly paired the two of you up on missions, specifically ones where you’d have to pretend to be in a relationship. Sam and Nat would tease you relentlessly at parties, sitting the team down, looking at both you and Steve, then declaring that playing spin the bottle was a necessity.

With no thanks to your teammates behavior, Steve’s wariness towards you quickly turned into animosity. At least once a week, you’d both butt heads over something as small as leaving cupboards open, or as severe as not carrying your weight during a mission.

When this tension came to a head, Tony suggested that the team go on a ‘bonding’ trip to the woods. You were not completely thrilled at this, but you were a team player, and you knew for a fact that if you refused, you’d be accused of not wanting to be around Steve for an extended period of time.

That’s how you ended up in the back of a Subaru, looking at the window aimlessly while attempting to drown out the intense conversation between Natasha and Bucky over the efficiency of some gun you’d never heard of with the music in your headphones.

“Hey,” you felt a little tap on your shoulder, and you lifted one of the earbuds out of your ear. Steve gave you a right smile, “Can you turn it down some? I can hear your music from over here.”

You sighed softly. It was always something with the super soldier. “Sorry, Steve. Not all of us have super hearing.” You turned your music down regardless, but sent a bitchy text about Steve to Wanda after doing so.

“It doesn’t take a super serum to hear all of that,” Steve muttered quietly to himself. Fortunately, for the peace of everyone in the car, you didn’t hear the comment. However, you did notice Sam looking back and forth between you and Steve, and it did make you ask yourself what exactly you’d missed.

You really were not looking forward to this trip.

——

Soon after your car arrived, the camper containing the rest of your teammates made it to the campsite as well.

“All right guys,” Tony announced while rounding everyone up in a circle, “We need to experience the full camping experience. That means no powers to create whole campsites, looking at you Wanda. It also means now crushing small game with metal arms to feed the rest of us.”

“Wonder who that’s directed at,” Bucky muttered.

“Now, everyone has a part to play in setting up shop. Take it away, Pep.”

You couldn’t help but to giggle at the fact that Tony and Pepper were treating this like some sort of Keynote presentation.

“Thanks, Tony,” Pepper looked down at the clipboard she was holding. “Okay, Bucky and Sam, you’re on tent duty. Nat, Wanda, find us something to eat. Y/N, Steve, grab some firewood for us. Banner, Rhodey, once the firewood is here, you’re responsible for starting the actual fire. Good luck everyone!” Pepper said cheerily, before waving a dismissive hand to send you all off.

To say you were pissed about being paired with Steve was an understatement. But you refused to make a scene. You silently began walking behind Steve, who seemed to not want to interact with you either.

That’s how the majority of your trek for wood went. Silent and tense. You really just wanted to find any piece of wood, but it was just your luck that the ground was extremely damp, and all the wood that you came across was similarly damp and unusable.

It was strange, because time seemed to be going by very slowly, yet extremely fast at the same time. You swore that in a matter of moments, the sun was already making her way down, indicating that night was near.

“Jesus Christ, Steve,” you broke what felt like the century long silence between the two of you. “Can we just give up already? I mean, we’re clearly not gonna find any good wood, and we keep getting further from camp, and we’re about to be in complete darkness.” “It’s fine, Y/N. I brought a flashlight and I’m sure that we’ll find something somewhere. Stop being such a downer.” You swore you could hear Steve roll his eyes as he went about crouching in the dirt in his search for fallen tree branches.

“I’m not being a downer, I’m being realistic. We need to go soon. We can just explain to the team that all the wood was bad,” you stood up straight, pacing around the area Steve was searching in.

“You really wanna let everyone down?”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“You’re not being dramatic enough. Look, I just found some dry wood. Come’ere and help me find some more.” He beckoned you over with his hand.

On your way over, you failed to notice a rather large log, and tripped rather forcefully over it, twisting your ankle dramatically in the process.

A sharp, searing pain traveled up your entire leg, and you yelped out in pain before falling onto Steve’s back, which hurt almost equally.

“OW! What the fuck!” You yelped before rolling onto the damp forrest floor.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Steve quickly turned around, and leaned over your sprawled body.

“I swear to God I just broke my ankle. And then your back decided to cripple me some more. Did you even feel it?”

“Of course I felt it. Hey, get up. Let’s see if you can walk. It’s probably not even broken,” He stepped back then stood up, extending a hand down to you to help you up. You hesitantly took his hand, somewhat nervous of what holding this man’s hand could awake in you, then attempted to stand up.

The moment you felt the weight shift to your left foot, you collapsed back onto the floor with a groan. The pain made tears well in your eyes, and you quickly became embarrassed with the emotions you were displaying in front of Steve.

“I can’t Steve. Can you call 911 or like, Tony or something?” You turned your face away from Steve’s eyeline so that he wouldn’t see you cry, but you knew the waver in your voice was betraying you.

He slipped his phone out of his pocket, then shook his head, “No reception. I’m sorry, Y/N.” The apology felt genuine, and it was kind of throwing you off. The air of annoyance that had seemed to always be between the two of you felt like it had faded away, for just a moment of seriousness.

“Can you, uh,” you awkwardly rubbed your warm cheeks at the thought of what you were about to ask. “Can you carry me back to camp?”

“I guess we don’t really have any other option.”

“Let’s just… not mention it. If anyone ever asks, this never happened. And you need to forget about it ever happening too,” as Steve began to scoop you up, you added one more thing. “I’m not even joking, Steven. I swear to God I’ll make Bruce make an amnesia serum so you forget this ever happened.”

You could feel the laugh vibrate from Steve’s chest as he carried you bridal style. You just hoped he couldn’t feel the butterflies fly throughout your stomach.

----

A few hours into being carried, the situation began to lose its novelty, and you were beginning to become more annoyed as you realized that Steve was very lost.

“Steve, do you have any idea of where you’re going?” You questioned.

“Of course I do. Just have a little patience, okay?” He glanced down at you with furrowed brows.

“Mhm.” You said sarcastically. “I swear I’ve seen this exact tree like, three times already.”

“I’m sure you have.” He responded drily.

“What’s up with you and that attitude, Steve? You’ve always had a problem with me, and I never did anything to you.”

Steve scoffed, “what attitude?”

“That attitude!” You gestured wildly with your hands.

“Well, you’re no better. It’s not like you ever tried to be my friend or anything like that.”

“That’s not true at all. I remember during one of our first team bonding nights, I kept trying to talk to you, and you kept shrugging me off.” You pushed a finger into his chest.

“That’s because you kept asking me stupid shit, like if I’d heard of Beyoncé before or if I knew what garlic powder was. Put that finger away.”

You obliged and shrugged, “maybe I don’t remember that night as well as you do. But asking you questions like that can’t be the only reason why you dislike me so much.”

“I don’t dislike you,” Steve began while walking up a new path.

“So why do you act like that to me? How was I supposed to know that?” You looked up at Steve, and in the dark, you were still impressed by his sharp facial features.

“Can we talk about something else?” Steve glanced down at you.

“Yeah, let’s talk about how this is all your fault. If you weren’t so stubborn and just gave up on finding this damn wood, I wouldn’t be here with a broken ankle and spine. And I wouldn’t be feeling your heart racing like a hummingbird’s against my back.”

Steve blushed at this, he hadn’t considered that you could feel his heart racing. If your eyes weren’t deceiving you, you could almost make out a light red tint on his face.

“Shut up, Y/N,” Okay, Steve was definitely blushing. “If my heartbeat is annoying you so much, would you rather me leave you out on the ground for the bears to find you, and for you to become worm food?”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would.” He stopped in his tracks, then began to lower you down, excruciatingly slowly.

“Steve! Okay, okay. I’m sorry for pointing out your heartbeat. I just wouldn’t want your geriatric ass having a heart attack on me. Now hold me.”

The both of you erupted in laughter. You honestly wondered if you and Steve stopped being such sucks to each other, if you could actually form some kind of relationship. You could see yourself being good friends with the man.

Once you both stopped laughing, a comfortable silence flooded the air. It was late, and exhaustion was clearly beginning to plague both of you. “I’m so tired,” you whined, breaking the silence.

“Me too. Should we sit down somewhere and call it a night?” Steve’s pace began to dwindle.

“I guess. It’ll probably be easier to find our way back to home base in the sun.” Steve nodded at this comment.

“I’m gonna set you on this log while I roll out the tarp. Give me a sec,” Steve followed through with his statement, then looked through his backpack to find the blue tarp for you two to lay on.

You waited patiently for Steve to roll it out, then when he did, you slid onto it, wincing in the process at your throbbing ankle.

“You okay?” Steve asked, a genuine concern in his voice as he sat down next to you on the tarp.

“‘m fine.” You mumbled, throwing your arm over your face and sighing.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get you to the campsite.” Steve said softly beside you. “Really.” He closed his eyes and turned his head away from you as you turned your head to look at him.

“It’s okay Steve. I’ll probably be fine. Nothing a night in medbay can’t fix, right?” You smiled a bit, even though you knew he couldn’t see it.

Even in your uncomfortable position, sleep was quickly overtaking your body. Your brain was barely functioning at this point.

You reached a hand over onto Steve’s chest, and you once again felt his heartbeat pick up. “I’m sorry that I act like this,” you mumbled, your words slurring together. “I think you’re really great.”

Steve’s hand landed on top of yours. “You’re not so bad either,” he slurred sleepily. “You know, the reason why I act like I don’t like you is ‘cause I like you a lot. You’re pretty… cool. You’re pretty and cool.”

“Aw Stevie,” you sighed happily. Steve turned his head to you and gave you a smile that you could only faintly see in the dark. “Are you cold?” you asked abruptly, interrupting the moment you two were having.

“Yes! I thought it was just me. It’s like negative 500 degrees out here-“

“Spoon me. Let’s conserve our warmth,” you hummed out, and Steve quickly and happily obliged. With that, the both of you were out like lights.

——

“Fucking finally!” Bucky cheered, making your eyes open abruptly.

“And to think we thought we’d lose our lovebirds forever.” Rhodey laughed.

You had to blink a few times before your vision (and brain) finally cleared enough to acknowledge what was happening in front of you.

The sun was up, and your whole team had showed up in front of you and Steve, watching you two spoon affectionately in your sleep.

“Ew, what?” You scooted away from Steve, then groaned at the persistent throbbing of your ankle. At this point, Steve shot up as well.

“What is going o-“ his eyes practically bulged out of his skull when he saw his teammates. “Oh shit.”

“You two have lots of explaining to do,” Sam laughed at the situation.

“Let’s start with this: I think I broke my ankle yesterday. So who wants to help me get back to camp?”

——

You sat at the kitchen table of the camper on your way back to the compound, a mug of lukewarm coffee sitting in your hands while you contemplated the weird ass night you’d just had.

While deep in your thoughts, a seat was pulled out, and none other than Steve Rogers sat right down in it.

“So, are we gonna talk about what happened yesterday?” He asked you with a bit of a smirk.

“No. I don’t think we will.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america x you #chris evans x reader #avengers x reader #avengers fanfiction #hey i wrote that lol

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ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa · 4 years ago

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Wicked Ones

(A Max Phillips x Reader Smutty One-Shot)

Summary: So, a couple months ago I was sent THIS POST like 900 times by all of you screaming at me because I tagged it as “Max Phillips” so...here it is. This is straight up PWP--Max is the big shot boss that we know and love and you are his long time girlfriend. You both call out in favor of staying home and spending some quality time together--but he has an important meeting that he just can’t miss...no matter what he is doing when he gets the call.

Pairing: Max Phillips x Reader Word Count: 3k Warnings/Ratings: NC-17/18+ - smut, pwp, choking, dirty talk, rough, teasing, established relationship, vampireness, slight exhibition kink, hand-over-mouth, having sex while on the phone with your job--MAX. BEHAVE. (spoiler...he doesn’t)

[MASTERLIST]

You weren't sure how this had started. This insane competition between the two of you that seemed to be escalating with each round. It was attributed to the fact that you were both stubborn, cunning, and meticulous in your efforts to please one another. But it had to stop sometime. Right?

If you had to think about it, it probably was your fault. It probably all started on that day you brought him lunch to his office. But it wasn't food that you had in mind. You locked his door, twisted the blinds closed and dropped your black pea-coat revealing the white lingerie that he had gotten you on your anniversary. He seemed to understand then--you were lunch.

He was a walking cliché in the sense that white was his favorite color on you when it came to lacy underthings. He liked the way balconette bras made your breasts into pillows perfect for sleeping, or biting. He liked the way you always wore your panties on top of your garters, meaning he could take them off first and keep the latter on to frame the swell of your perfect ass. And he liked the way the white made you look like something about to be sacrificed, and he was the willing volcano. His second favorite color on you was red...typical.

That day he had spread you out on his desk and eaten your pussy like a man starved. No paperwork was safe from the way you swept your arms above your head when he sucked your clit. Unless they were deaf, you were certain everyone in the office had heard you whine his name as he pounded into you hard enough to make the wooden desk creek with protest. But then again, no one dared say anything because he was the boss. Making you, his girlfriend, untouchable.

This morning you had both called out in favor of staying in bed tangled up with one another. And this was the day you realized you were destined to lose this war.

"Max…" you said breathlessly as you put a hand on the headboard above you to push yourself against him as he pounded into you relentlessly.

"What is it, sweetheart? You like waking up to my big dick? Beats the hell out of going to work--" he grit his teeth and gripped your hips, yanking you down the bed and slamming himself inside of you to the hilt.

"Yesss," you whined, closing your eyes and palming at your own breasts.

It was moments like these that Max made you feel incredibly desirable. His desperate, needy nature in the sack was the exact opposite from his calm and collected management style in the office. You did that. You broke that composure down to its purest form and it was a rush of power so exquisite you coveted it as a prized possession.

“Come here,” he growled as he leaned down and picked you up enough to roll you with him to where you were straddling his lap and he was sitting up against the pile of pillows on your now disheveled bed. His large hand came down on your ass cheek and he grinned. “Fuck yourself on daddy’s dick.”

“Max!” you laughed as you put your hands on his chest. “You did not just call yourself daddy--fuck..” You bit your lip as you started to bounce on his lap, the new position making the movement more intense. The head of him hit the end of you easier and it was a pleasant sharpness deep within your lower abdomen.

“Too much?” he chuckled, and the sound went right to your core.

“You’re always too much.”

“And you love it,” he smirked.

"Nah, I only do this for the extra vacation d-AYS!" You yelp when he pinches your nipple in retaliation for your jest before grinning as you fall into a fit of giggles.

"You're bad, you know that?"

"Says the vampire." Before you can continue to ridicule him, he leans up and kisses you hard, stealing any bite that was left to your words.

His lips were almost as bruising as his fingers that were digging into the soft flesh of where your hips met your ass. You felt the solid press of his fangs inside his mouth and you hungrily asked for more. He opened and gave it to you, letting your tongue trace along his own, and up to his teeth. It had taken a long time to perfect the art of kissing him. You had lost count of the number of times you had nicked your tongue or lip when your mouths and bodies were intertwined. But, Max was a patient man, and it helped that practicing was extremely enjoyable.

He pulled back abruptly and shoved two of his fingers in your mouth, barely giving you time to draw a breath. "Suck--good girl." He grinned and he felt your cunt clench around him as he praised you. His fingers pulled from your lips with a soft pop and he shoved them between your bodies to play with your clit as you continued to ride him.

"S-shit," you breathed, the action bringing you closer to the edge. "Is this my payback for earlier this week?"

"What? That little stunt you pulled in my office?" He shook his head after you gave a nod. "No, your payback for that was me eating that perfect pussy on my desk--now everyone knows how good I make you feel."

Although you knew you should--you didn't care. This was part of that power trip that Max seemed to give you when the two of you fucked. And, well, if anyone did dare to say anything...he would eat them. You were certain he had made it his mission to fuck you all over that corporate building before they sent him to his next assignment at another branch.

"Did Evan hear?" You teased, knowing full well about his past with the previous acting sales manager.

"Why do you think I moved his desk closer to my door?" He snarled and flipped you back over, pinning you to the mattress and jack-hammering his hips against you hard enough to make you cry out.

"Fuck!" You yelled as you dug your nails into his back and held on for dear life. The both of you knew that if you said 'stop', he would, but like hell you wanted him to slow down when your orgasm was so close.

"You good?" He panted as he looked down at your scrunched up face and you nodded.

"Right there. Right-there-right-there-right--" your jumbled pleas fell from your lips in a truly embarrassing manner but you were beyond caring. You were just so close.

His cellphone started to ring on the nightstand to your left and he slowed his hips and the both of you looked at it. The flat black device buzzed so violently that you thought it might fall off the edge. Max continued to piston his hips against the backs of your thighs in such a way that you thought he was going to let it go to voicemail. You should have known better.

"Don't move," he said in a tone that it made you clench around his dick. He groaned as he put his left hand on your lower abdomen as if to hold you down, and leaned over the edge of the bed to grab his bluetooth with his right. "Max Phillips," he said, formally as he slipped the device over the shell of his ear and adjusted his knees back between your thighs. "Yes. Sure, that's fine."

You let out a small huff as you looked up at the ceiling and then back to your boyfriend kneeling between your legs. Surely he wasn't going to just sit there, buried in your cunt while he took a fucking call? The thought made you want to cross your arms at him in annoyance. The both of you had called out for a reason, to avoid your jobs. But despite his skills in delegation, Max was a workaholic--even if he refused to admit it.

"Yeah, I do apologize. I woke up and just felt terrible--"

You raised an eyebrow at him as a small grin slowly overtook his well-kissed lips.

"Is this a good time?" He looked down at you and you started to shake your head, eyes widening as if you could suddenly read his mind. "Actually...it's a perfect time. Fire away."

He thrust forward again, sheathing himself inside you to the hilt and grinning when it made your back bow off of the bed. "Max!" You gasped his name and he put three of his fingers in your mouth, gripping your chin and pushing you back down on the pillows, causing a small gag to come from your throat.

"No, that's just the TV." He chuckled and you swear you felt the sound against your clit. "Yes, I'm sure. I'll turn it down...make sure it's quiet."

You opened your mouth to protest not only the situation but his oh so loving metaphor of speaking about you as an inanimate object. Instead, he leaned forward, clapping his large hand over the bottom half of your face. You yelped against his palm and it just came out incredibly muffled. He put more pressure on your body as he held himself up with one arm and let the full weight of his pelvis and belly press against you as he resumed his thrusts.

"Yeah, I originally told them I wanted thirty percent--"

Your eyes were wide as you looked at him, desperately trying to convey with a look how hard it was to be quiet when he insisted on continuing to rail you. You gripped the sheets on either side of your hips and he shoved your leg up higher with his knees and the tip of his cock stroked that beautiful spot deep within you.

"Mhmm," you moaned against his hand, the sheer patheticness of your own voice shamefully making your libido spike. He had you. This was his show. The bedroom was currently his boardroom and as always he was running it.

"No, that's bullshit," Max shook his head, not even sounding like he was exerting himself in the slightest. "They're trying to low ball you, Ted. We talked about this, remember?"

He removed his hand from your mouth and grabbed a handful of one of your breasts. You arched into his hand, biting your lip as he tweaked your nipple. Obviously only half listening to what was being said on the other side of the device, he gave you a wink and your heart did that mildly annoying flop that it had been doing quite a lot lately. He gave your nipple a small tug and when you squealed, he slapped your tit roughly, stealing the sound from your throat with pure surprise.

"Oh...oh fuck, Max," you breathed quietly, but apparently, not quiet enough because he stopped thrusting.

"Just a minute--yeah, just one second, Ted." He clicked the mute button on his earpiece and looked down at you sternly. "Now, if you can't be quiet, I'll make you be quiet." He gave a deep grind of his hips, pressing his cock slowly back into you and you pressed your lips together in a firm line to stay silent. Max smirked, "There’s a good girl."

Oh, you were going to get him back for this.

Max clicked the button again and said, “Alright, champ. I’m back.” He leaned down and kissed you hard, the press of fangs against your closed mouth, a silent promise that made your clit throb. "Yeah, put him on."

Max pistoned his hips against you as they obviously tried to conference call in a third party. The squeak you gave when he hiked your left leg over his right shoulder was apparently justified because he didn't chastise you for it. "Bryce! Talk to me, baby, what's going on? Ted tells me you're thinking about backing out of our arrangement."

He turned his head and nipped the inside of your calf, smirking as you bucked your hips up against his pelvis. You gripped the pillow and shut your eyes tightly trying to think about all of the ways you could one up him--and yet all you could think about was how this new angle had the tip of him brushing against your cervix. It hurt, but in the best way, a short, blunt, feeling followed by the pleasurable drag of his length back through your heat.

He pinched the fleshy part of your skin where your ass met your thigh and mouthed for you to 'open your eyes'. When you complied, he continued.

"Here's the thing, Bryce. A deal this big might be scary at first--but you're never going to reap the rewards if you don't take the risk!" He leaned forward on his knees, pressing your leg back towards your chest and sinking deeper into your cunt. "When you have an opportunity like this in front of you, you have to grab it. Sink your teeth into it, and don't let go until. You. Are. Balls. Deep."

He accentuated each word of his disgusting metaphor with a hard thrust and you reached for him, desperately wanting to hold him close, bury your hands in his hair, anything. Instead he held himself up by locking his left arm rigidly on the bed and grabbing your throat with his right. Your breath caught, and the moan you were about to release was nothing more than a silent vibration against his fingers.

“You heard me--” Max grunted as he slammed his hips against you. “So, just tell me--” He gave a hard thrust and a deep sound of exertion. “What I want to hear--” thrust. “And we can both walk away--” thrust. “Richer men.”

He was close, you knew it, surely he wasn’t audacious enough to finish while he was still on the phone. Who were you kidding? It was Max--of course he would.

You reached up and tried to shove his face to get his attention, put your fingers in his mouth like he had done to you earlier. He obliged and turned his head to suck your pointer and middle between his lips with a loud ‘pop’, laving them with spit. You took the opportunity to then shove them between your legs and play your clit in time with his sloppy thrusts.

“Perfect!” Max said suddenly, and loudly enough to startle you, causing you to buck up against him. “That’s what I like to hear! Ted will send over the paperwork and I’ll get it on Monday--fuck, shit--no, Bryce not you--” he bit his lip and squeezed your throat. The added pressure was just what you needed to peak over the edge of your orgasm. Your eyes rolled back and you hand stilled between your legs as you clenched down around his cock and it was apparently enough to bring him with you.

“Max!” You said, strained against his grip around your neck as you leaned up into his body, and held on tightly to his sides.

“Yeah--yeahthatsoundsgreat--Bryce, shut up. Ask Ted--bye---fuuuuuck!”

Max all but flung the Bluetooth across the room as he collapsed almost his full weight on top of you. He buried his face in the crook of your shoulder and groaned as he came deep inside of you, hot and hard like his breath against your already flushed skin. You clung to him, drawing full breaths now that his hands were occupied with digging into your back.

“I can’t--” you panted against his hair as you turned your head to kiss his temple. “Believe you just fucking did that.”

“What?” he chuckled against your collarbone as he held you tightly and grunted as his cock gave a last twitch inside of you. “You think those big wigs never have a Skype meeting without their secretary under their desks sucking their dicks?”

“That’s different--gross. We’re not debating this.”

“You have to admit, it was at least kinda hot--” he grinned against your skin as he kissed from your pulse point down your clavicle, to the tops of your breasts. You rolled your eyes, putting your hand in his hair as he continued to nibble on all of your weak spots.

“Don’t think you can use your mouth to get out of trouble. I mean it Max--” you words stopped as he took one of your nipples in his mouth and bit down gently.

“Uh huh, yes, of course, sugar tits--ow!” He laughed as you gripped his hair and pulled at the nickname you hated. He settled his face between your breasts and you kept your tight grip on his hair.

“I swear to god, if you try to motorboat me right now, I will kick you out of this bed.”

“You’re no fun.” He pouted as he kissed down your stomach and you slowly loosened your grip on his hair. His hands slid down your body, over the swell of your hips, pausing only briefly to cup your ass as he walked his knees down the bed.

“And where are you going?” You watched him, raising an eyebrow as he rolled his eyes back up to you with a smirk.

“Using my mouth to get me out of trouble--lay back,” he breathed gently against the insides of your thighs and ran his tongue along the front of his teeth. You knew he wouldn’t out right ask, but if he made you come again, you’d gladly let him feed from your thigh.

“You sure you don’t have another phone call to make?”

“It’s going to be awhile before you quit holding this over my head, isn’t it?” he chuckled.

“Oh, you bet your ass, it is. Get to work, Mister.” You put your hand back in his hair and pushed his head down against your cunt. The moment his mouth opened to envelop your clit, you leaned back against the pillows with a heavy, contented sigh and closed your eyes. “Hmm, that’s the ticket...champ.”

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#max phillips x you #max phillips x reader #max phillips #bloodsucking bastards #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro character fic #pwp

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whitexwingedxdoves · 3 years ago

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you want me [request]

Pairing: Negan x Younger Reader Pronouns: She/Her Warnings: Language Era: Pre- Apocalypse Summary: Falling for your dad’s friend, you do everything in your power to make him yours, only problem being you’re far to young for him.... for now! A/N: thank you @jinxeee for trusting me with this request and for being my MUSE <3 I hope you love it just as much as I loved writing it <3 ITS IN TWO PARTS BECAUSE I GOT FAR TOO ENGROSSED WITH THIS!

You hated your parents stupid parties they insisted on throwing almost every month, you’d watch as your mother would scramble around the house like headless chickens making sure everything was perfect. Your father would keep himself busy with trips to the store to get whatever food or drinks were on his list. There was only one thing that made the night worth making small talk with your parents, co-workers and friends, Negan, oh god even his name sent your stomach into a whirl. Negan had been friends with your dad for a while now and became a regular face at your home, it was almost love at first sight for you, the way he held himself with so much confidence and talked to you like an adult. You’d find yourself thinking about him during class, when you’re out with your friends... hell you’d even dream about him.

Your parents didn’t realise that you’d actually put effort into your appearance now, they probably just thought it was some teenage hormone thing. You stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching your mum run over the wooden flooring with the vacuum for the 5th time today. Your thumbs pulled at the hem of your skirt, hoping your parents wouldn’t notice how high it rested on your thighs. They weren't, of course, far too occupied with the lay out of party food on the counter of the kitchen. Your mum however did comment on how nice your hair looked curled and how you should do it more often. You listened to the same lecture they gave you every time someone was coming over, how to behave and all that patronising crap.

As people came spilling in, you knew not to get your hopes up just yet, Negan was always the last one to swagger through the door so you just sat on the sofa, twirling one of your curls between your fingers. Without warning, a large hand grabbed a hold of your shoulder, your eyes immediately finding who the hand belonged to. The butterflies in your stomach became more and more aware of the gaze that sat on you. “Hey kid! Shouldn’t you be asleep... isn’t it a school night” your eyes rolled at his teasing words but on the inside you became instantly weak at the tone of his voice.

“I'm not a kid!” you retorted pulling yourself up from the sofa. You followed the man into the kitchen presumably looking for your dad. You managed to get ahead of him, your walk changing almost instantly attempting your best sexy walk but to any onlooker it was just plain awkward. You peered around at him, catching his confused gaze which only made your teen heart throb much more aggressively. “What? You don’t like my outfit?” the teasing tone of your voice made the older man shudder a little as he reached the counter, placing down a bottle of gin he brought along with him. You leaned against the counter directly opposite him, your fingers finding your curls again, your lip taking the brunt of your teeth as you naturally eyed up the tall man.

Negan kept his eye on you, watching your actions with caution as he unscrewed the lid from the bottle. Once his mind had come to a conclusion as to what you were playing at, his muscles relaxed and he allowed a chuckle pass his lips.” What are you doing kid?” His question made you stand up straight almost immediately, catching you completely off guard. “You wanna be some sort of jail bait for one of these losers?” his words felt like daggers going straight through your heart.

“No!” you snapped at the man, pulling at your tight shirt attempting to become a little more modest. He gave you an unsure nod before he met you on your side of the counter island.

“Look, i'm a flattered kid but erm – you not exactly my type” you couldn’t bear to look up at him, the embarrassment was far too much for you to deal with right now “You’re just a kid, far too young for me!” Though he was teasing, he couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty. He remembered how strongly girls loved at that age and he couldn’t bear the thought of having to break your heart like this but it had to be done.

You didn’t speak a word to anyone else that night, you took yourself to your room and cried yourself to sleep, well that was the plan anyway but you couldn’t. The rage wouldn't allow it. If he wanted a mature girl, you’d give it to him. You spent most of the night throwing things out of your closet that seemed too adolescent for ‘grown ups’ and watching videos on how to do your makeup to make you look more mature. You had approximately two weeks to get your act together until you saw him again at your dad’s big birthday barbeque.

You spent the last two weeks changing almost everything about yourself, all for this day. You sat in your garden watching over the brim of one of the books you stole from your mum, Women are from Venus Men are from Mars. You had no idea what it was about nor did you care to find out, it was all part of your plan to prove to Negan you were in fact a woman. Everyone was in their own little circles talking over cold beers and almost burnt hot dogs, your gaze looking through each and everyone of them before settling at the large gate that allowed access to your garden. You saw it move ever so slightly, causing your heart to stop for a moment... There he was, looking as irresistible as ever, time seemed to slow down as he made his way in allowing you to take in every inch of him. Time came rushing back as soon as you saw his perfectly sculpted hand pulling something in with him. A girl.

Your book dropped from your face, allowing the fluster of red that gathered in your cheeks to show. Who the hell was she!? Why is she here and why the hell is she hanging off his arm like some cheap bracelet. Despite wanting to, you just couldn’t look away as she flaunted her win over you, your breathing became uneven without you even noticing. Negan looked for you in the crowd of people and once he saw you, all flustered and angry he shot you an innocent smile accompanied with a wave to be sure he got your attention. He made you watch as he pulled the women he had dragged in, into a hug. What the fuck was he playing at.

You couldn’t move from your spot, you thought everyone was pointing and laughing at you for even thinking your plan would work. It could have but you never got the chance to try it, not now that miss big tit’s, blonde hair was here. Granted no one was actually even looking your way at all and it wasn’t like you had a ‘I heart Negan’ shirt on but still the situation was far too embarrassing for you to even try to socialise right now. You buried your head in your hands, attempting to cover up your crimson cheeks.

“Y/N, Come here!” The ringing of your dad’s words caused you to groan before you reluctantly pushed yourself away from the deck chair and dragged yourself to his side.

“Y/N, This is Jennifer... Negan’s girlfriend.” Finally you had a name for the bitch, you plastered the best fake smile you could possibly muster at this moment and held out your hand for her to shake, she did of course.

“So nice to meet you, Tiffany!” you smiled, your hand gripping hers a little tighter than you initially planned.

“it’s Jennifer” she finally pulled away making you feel like you already had the upper hand

“Whatever” at the sound of your cheery tone you felt your dad’s arm nudge you slightly, your eyes rolling underneath your sunglasses.

The night was going fine, all things considered. Negan continued to wrap his arms around Jennifer whenever you even looked in his direction but you decided to go the grown up route about it and simply avoid him. The sun had set and the air was getting pretty cool, a few of your fathers friends had already left. Laying back in the swing chair that occupied the back porch, you let your thoughts occupy your mind. Why was he even doing this? Did he really think that getting a girlfriend would prove some sort of point? Like getting Jennifer would prove some sort of point? Your thoughts couldn’t get away with you too much because at that point you were brought back to your dull reality at the sound of someone clearing their throat. Your eyes circled the area before they settled on the exact man you were just thinking about. He stood tall over you, a sinister smirk occupying his face. You snapped up as soon as your thoughts caught up with you, sitting straight now on the chair though at the velocity of your movements, it made it swing slightly.

“What’s wrong, where’s Tiffany?” your question only caused his smirk to grow as you allowed your head to hang slightly.

“Jennifer and she’s waiting at the door for me. We’re heading home” his voice was so deep it sent vibrations through your body. Allowing your gaze to finally meet with him. “Just saying bye!” a small laugh left his lips before you stood up.

“Bye” you answered simply before pushing past the man.

“What, not gonna say bye to Jen?” you stopped dead in your tracks, your face starting to flush again and your hands slightly shaking, taking a moment to process your actions. Finally you turned to him, mimicking his smirk.

“Oh so you did all this to make me jealous?” you teased, stepping a little closer to him. The power you felt as you watched his expression go blank. “You really didn’t have to go through all this trouble, Negan... really!” Finally standing so close to him, you could feel his body heat against your cheeks. Standing up on your tiptoes, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug allowing your lips to rest against his ear. “You can have me whenever you want” you whispered as seductively as you possibly could, ignoring the swirling of butterflies that swam around your stomach. You couldn’t soak up the feeling of his body against yours for long as he pushed you away as gently as he could. His hands landed on your hips, as he came to your level.

“Never gonna happen kid!” You’ve heard it before but it still stung, not giving you any time to react, the older man made his way past you and out of sight.

Every holiday or party after that he would bring a new Tiffany to the house, flaunting her in front of you at every chance he got but you never backed down, you did everything you could possibly think of to degrade her in front of everyone and at the end of every night you’d hold onto him a little bit too long like a lioness marking her prey. Nothing prepared you for his last minute appearance at Christmas though! Strolling in, in that stupid Santa hat and that stupid bimbo. The audacity of him to ruin my Christmas like that, to corner me like that! What made it worse was the gift he got you, a fucking Barbie. You made some quick retort about how you were too old for Barbie’s and how Tiffany would probably enjoy it more, he’d correct you on her name like usual but the boxed doll was a constant reminder of how he managed to get under your skin every single time

Part Two

#negan x readrer #negan x y/n #negan x you #negan x younger reader #twd negan fanfic #twd fanfic #twd x you #the walking dead Negan #the walking dead fanfiction #negan x you pre apocalypse

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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years ago

Text

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 14 | S.R.)

Summary: Separated and terrified, Spencer and Reader rely on their unique skills to survive. The team, minus Penelope and Derek, don’t know who the strange girl in the bank is, but they find out very interesting things about her history.

A/N: I don’t know how banks work. Idk how heists work. I know nothing. I hope you enjoy it anyway! Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader   Category: ANGST. Just. All of it. All of the angst. Every bit.   Content Warning: Gun violence, discussions of death and dying Word Count: 10k

MASTERLIST

—————————————————

“Hello, my name is (y/n)(y/l/n) and I’m calling from the Bank of America on K St. Northwest to report shots fired. The shots sounded like burst-fire from multiple semiautomatics.”

When adrenaline kicks in, there are a lot of things that don’t feel real. Time seems to warp into some ominous presence weighing down on you, but your body has never felt lighter.

“Ma’am, where are you?” Her voice sounded so far away. My own just felt foreign, like it belonged to someone else entirely.

“I’m inside the bathroom. Listen, I might not have a lot of time. There’s a federal agent inside the bank. His name is SSA Dr. Spencer Reid with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. Call...”

My mouth blanked on the names of the two men Spencer talked about the most. I’d met them both, why couldn’t I remember?

Several more shots rang through the building as an answer. It was enough to shake loose the names, which flowed from me before I could even comprehend where they came from.

“Call SSA Aaron Hotchner and… Derek Morgan.”

“Can you remain on the line?” She sounded insistent — which is against their protocol by the way. My eyes were glued to the bathroom door’s hinges.

“Only until the door opens.”

The sentence conveyed my thoughts without actually forming the words. Once that door opens, I’m probably going to die. It wasn’t a completely irrational fear.

“Okay. I need you to remain calm. Did you see any of the gunmen?”

Jesus, it was like everything I’d just told her had gone completely over her head. “No, I’m in the bathroom.”

“Does the agent have his service weapon?”

“No.”

If she didn’t ask me a question I could say yes to soon, I was going to lose my fucking mind.

I tried not to think about Spencer outside, but I couldn’t help it. All of my thoughts were on him, even before the commotion.

Was he even still alive?

“Help is on the way, Ms. (Y/l/n).”

“Please hurry.”

My entire body shook from the hormones, my instincts telling me to do anything besides sit crouched on a toilet in a bathroom stall. I don’t even know why I bothered hiding. They would definitely kick them in, or just shoot straight through the doors.

“We’ve contacted Agent Hotchner and he’s also on his way.”

Finally, some good fucking news. I released my breath as quietly as I could, closing my eyes for just a moment to compensate for the fact I hadn’t blinked in several minutes.

“Thank you,” I whispered, clutching the phone like it could actually do something for me past this point. But it couldn’t. No amount of breathing exercises would help me through this one.

Suddenly, there was movement outside the door. A crowd of people were shuffling past the door, and I heard the distinct sound of a toddler wailing.

“I have to go.”

“Wait, don’t hang up—“

I couldn’t wait, though. With trembling hands, I erased the evidence that I’d ever called them in the first place. And then I resumed my position as a sitting duck; quietly and as ready as I ever could be.

I listened for his voice, but I never heard it.

—————————————————

Three seconds.

Did you know that a semiautomatic weapon can fire up to three rounds per second, depending on how fast the user can pull the trigger?

After the first shot is fired, no one moves. Puzzled and alert, people are paralyzed. Your first reaction is to look for the source of the sound. It’d been a second before I turned to see the three armed people and two dead security guards behind me.

It takes the average person one and a half seconds to cognitively process that they're in a potentially life-threatening situation. It takes another .7 seconds for a physical response to kick in.

Three seconds.That was long enough for a maximum of nine shots per person to be fired- twenty-seven shots in total; it was long enough for the air to be filled with the sudden outburst of helpless screams the patrons of the bank, and it was long enough for me to realize that I didn’t have my gun and that my girlfriend wasn’t by my side.

“Everybody get down on the ground!”

Amid the chaos, I felt that all too familiar twisting sensation in my gut that begged time to reverse just enough for this to be a dream. Enough time to reverse the decisions that led us here.

But time was a cruel mistress, and she did not plan to bend to the whims of mankind, no matter how desperate.

Another deafening burst of sound rang through the air, shots fired into the ceiling now as myself and the others fell to the ground.

My gaze was fixed on the bathroom entrance. I couldn’t breathe. Please, I begged, stay hidden.

“Listen up! If everyone does what we say, you can all go back to your boring fucking lives.”

Injuries occur in less than two percent of bank robberies. Deaths occur in less than one. Saturdays are the second to least likely day for a robbery to take place. In the past 5 years, less than 10 people have been killed in bank robberies, and most of them were the perpetrators. Statistics usually calmed me down and helped me focus.

But these people didn’t care about statistics. They were defying the odds I had just recited to myself. They had already killed two people. Our luck was already stacked against us.

“Take everything out of your pockets and put it in front of you.”

As soon as the order was given, I was running through an inventory of everything in my pockets. It didn’t take me long to realize that with a cursory inspection of the items, they would figure out who I was.

But what were the odds that they would actually scrutinize them? I figured they were fairly low; you don’t rob a bank to get cheap jewelry and petty cash, even in a bank. What were the odds they would notice if I left something in my pocket — especially if my wallet was in front of me. If it wasn’t large enough to be a weapon, and I put out my objects of value, why wouldn’t I put out the rest of the contents?

So I decided to take the risk, removing my wallet while retaining my separate identification.

Luckily, the attention seemed pretty far removed from me. If I wasn’t too busy being extremely grateful, I might have been offended that they didn’t consider me a threat in the building.

“Alright ladies, all of you get up and follow my lovely friend here. You’re going on a little trip. Fellas, you stay right where you are.”

The sound of my heart pounding drowned out the instructions that weren’t intended for me. It was fine, I hadn’t planned on moving, anyway. As long as I could see the door to the bathroom, I was perfectly fine right where I was.

But I still felt for the terrified women that were shakily rising to their feet. To my right, I saw a woman struggling to hold a small infant. My heart was fracturing at the struggle, wishing I could help her. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t risk doing anything that might draw attention to myself.

I felt like a traitor. I felt useless. I was quite literally trained to handle this exact situation, but now that I was here, I couldn’t move. I wasn’t thinking about strategy or how to maximize efficiency; all I was thinking about was her.

“Jake!” A woman’s voice screamed from the other side of the room. When I turned, I heard the sound of a rifle cracking against bone before the man hit the ground.

“Jake, huh?” The man above him laughed, using the business end of the rifle to turn the disoriented man on his side. “Well, Jake, how would you feel about your girlfriend watching you die?”

“Please don’t hurt him!” The woman sobbed, scrambling up off the floor that she’d resisted leaving. I wondered if (y/n) would have refused to leave me, too.

The man prodded the woman with the gun, urging her to follow the rest while simultaneously providing easy enough instructions. The man apparently named Jake made a few noises of desperate protest as he watched her leave.

“Shut the fuck up!”

“I’m sorry,” Jake pleaded, “I’m sorry, please don’t hurt her. I’ll be quiet.”

Smart man. I understood his hesitancy, though. His girlfriend kept her neck craned back until she was no longer in sight, gazing back at him for as long as she physically could. I closed my eyes just for a moment, to try and combat their current strain.

Unfortunately, just like it always seems to happen, that’s when they spoke the words I had been dreading.

“Hey, you check the bathrooms yet?”

“Nah, I got it.”

I closed my eyes tighter now, scared that if I opened them, I’d give myself away. There was no possible way that I could hide the terror I currently felt. To be fair, I think it was only natural to be scared — but not like this.

There was a loud crashing noise of doors slamming, and the voice I knew better than I knew my own reached my ears, making sounds I’d never heard from her before.

Don’t fight them. I pleaded again, Please, don’t fight them.

“Let go of me!” She screamed as the door to the bathroom swung open. Unable to keep my eyes shut any longer, I opened them to see her clawing at the ground as she was dragged out by her ankle. “I can walk by myself! Let go of me!”

I wasn’t sure if she didn’t see me in the commotion, or if she’d just made the decision to act like she hadn’t. Either way, I was grateful. Still, my worries were justified as one of the three unsubs walked over to me.

“Why are you looking at her like that? You know her?”

Craning my head up, I shook my head no. It must not have been very convincing; the rage in my heart at them for thrusting her into this situation evident in my eyes.

“You wanna play hero, kid?”

“Sorry. No.” I muttered, taking a deep breath in a failed attempt to regulate my heart rate or my voice, “She’s… very loud. I get headaches.”

“Yeah well, deal with it.”

That might have been the end of it, if I’d played my hand better. But it turned out that the risk I had previously elected to take was woefully miscalculated. I didn’t meet their eyes anymore, knowing that doing so might threaten whatever frail illusion of masculinity they possessed.

It still didn’t stop them from holding the gun to my head.

“Empty your pockets.”

“Okay. I can do that, but I have to put my hand in my pocket.” I explained, moving my shaking hand to my back pocket, “It’s not a weapon.”

For once, I was grateful that I was the resident wimp when it came to stressful situations. Sure, I could handle myself, but I definitely didn’t look like I wanted to be there. Had I been any more of a visible threat, I was certain they would have figured out my identity long before this point. They might even have killed me right away.

“Hurry up.”

Swallowing hard, I pulled the identification from my pocket, flipping it open and holding it up for him to see, my gaze aimed fully forward. He snatched the badge away, a cheeky chuckle and a smile in his words.

“FBI, huh? Well, aren’t we lucky. You just became our most valuable player.”

—————————————————

Morgan arrived on the scene relatively unhurried and mostly just curious. The information Garcia had sent over text message was vague, likely due to the crime being a local one. Nothing about this seemed to be the BAU’s usual fare.

It took him almost no time to find Hotch, dressed in casual clothing, surrounded by the massive response team swarming around the bank. But Hotch hadn’t spotted him yet, fully involved with SWAT.

“What’s going on?”

Finally turning to notice his arrival, Hotch gave his normal matter-of-fact report in his simple, succinct manner. “Three people stormed the bank approximately 20 minutes ago and killed two security guards. There are 19 confirmed hostages inside the bank.”

But there was one significant detail that seemed to be missing, and Morgan started to scan the crowd for familiar faces as he spoke. “Hotch, this doesn’t sound like anything we’ve been working on. Why are we responding?”

“The caller alerted us that Reid is inside.”

The words were so unexpected that Morgan actually did a double take, his eyebrows furrowed and bowed as he replayed them in his head. “Wait, how did the caller know that?”

“I don’t know,” Hotch said with an equally perplexed look, gripping tighter to the communicator in his hand, “but she referred to us and him by name.”

‘She?’ Morgan thought, his heart stopping for a second as he excused himself from Hotch’s side, pulling out his phone and frantically calling Garcia, who had already made her way to the BAU.

“Hey there handsome.” It was a mild nickname for the famed Penelope Garcia, but Derek knew that she was probably already in a tough spot. After all, it’s not every day that one of their own is in these situations. At least, not unexpectedly.

“Hey Garcia, do you have eyes on the people in the bank?”

He could hear the feverish click-clacking of keys on the other end, followed closely by her equally frantic voice. “I’m working on it but so far I can only see the main lobby. They separated the women and the men for some reason. Why would they do that?”

“Just focus,” he calmly reminded, “Can you see the women?”

“No. All the women and children were moved to the back.”

Rubbing his face to try and relieve the tension that had quickly made its home over his jaw, Morgan glanced over at the entrance to the bank. It was strange to think that so much had happened so quickly.

Garcia had mentioned twice now that the women had been moved to the back, and he was trying to figure out why they would do that beyond the usual control mechanisms.

“I’m trying to see in the back now, but apparently banks take their video surveillance far more seriously than everything else. Last I checked, a camera never stole money or fired a gun!”

“Focus, babygirl.” It was an instruction for himself just as much as it was for her.

“Sorry, I’m nervous, and you know how I get when I’m nervous!” She squeaked, “I don’t like seeing you guys on my screens. I’d much rather see you in person, safe and sound and preferably smiling.”

Trying not to lose his patience, Morgan just sighed. It wasn’t her fault. It was no one’s fault, except that of the bastards who just had to go and ruin a perfectly nice weekend.

“Can you at least tell me who the caller was? Did they call from inside?”

“They were inside and, one second, let me check, it was... oh.” Her voice cut off abruptly, dropping into a high pitched, desperate whisper. “Oh no.”

“What?”

“It’s... the girl from the movies,” Garcia’s voice got faster and more panicked, “Derek, it’s (y/n). It’s Reid’s girlfriend. Reid’s girlfriend is inside the bank.”

Now that his suspicions had been confirmed, he wasn’t really sure what to do with the information. Because now that he knew Reid wasn’t alone, he felt the need to tell Hotch.

A profiler with a loved one involved was in dangerous territory. It wasn’t just Reid, but Morgan had personally seen just how unhinged Reid could get when it came to (y/n).

“Can you see her?” He asked, his voice lower than it was before.

“Oh, god, yes! I can!” It was not the kind of excited exclamation Morgan had hoped to hear, but at least he had confirmation she was alive. “She was in the bathroom but… They’re dragging her away…”

Morgan had tried not to pry too far in his best friend’s life before, and he took a moment to consider whether his next request was honestly necessary, or if he was just trying to find a reason to snoop.

But he wasn’t. There was something off about that girl. It wasn’t that she was bad or wrong, but she was far too comfortable in situations that didn’t call for it. The way she carried herself told him that she had held her own hand too often.

“Garcia, I know I’ve already done this to you once but... I need you to tell me everything you can find on her.”

—————————————————

My entire body ached; the sensation of an unfamiliar hand clenched tightly around my ankle burned long after I was released. It was definitely sprained, at the very least. I didn’t dare try to touch it, though. It wouldn’t be worth the trouble, and the bristling discomfort kept me where I was.

Which, for now was on my knees in the backroom of a bank lobby. Beside us was a large, heavily reinforced steel door with way too many different contraptions. I decided then that this whole arms race between burglars and corporate America had gotten a little fucking ridiculous.

But however annoyed I was by that, I was far more irritated by the hushed bickering between the man and woman holding rifles on the other side of the room. I could only hear every couple of words, but I got the gist of what they were arguing about.

Apparently, they’d never heard of an alarm system that’s connected to locks, which seemed extremely stupid for people who had gotten this far. In hindsight, that should have been my first clue that something was off about this entire situation.

Still, I couldn’t deal with them making the same fucking arguments over and over, so eventually I blurted out what I’m certain any millennial in the room would know. “The keycard won’t work if they’ve sounded the alarm.”

The statement earned me a gun to my face, and after a brief second of confusion, I flinched away from the cold metal of the barrel.

“What was that, sweetheart?” She was clearly looking to gauge my reaction rather than actually ask me to repeat the information. That was fine. I wasn’t exactly a talented actress, and I didn’t see the point in pretending to be meek.

If she was going to kill me, she was going to do it. Although I was certain Spencer would disagree, I chose to believe that our fate is dictated long before it happens. I was not a profiler; if I survived, it would be because I had been taught to survive through brute force and spite rather than calm negotiation.

“The keycard system is linked to the alarms,” I said, slower now, “Someone hit the alarm, so the cards aren’t going to work. You’ll need to use the old school keys.”

Her eyes narrowed, her voice dropping to a much lower register as she crouched down to my height. “How would you know? You work here?”

“No, my dad worked security.” It wasn’t a lie as much as it was an understatement, but she didn’t need to know that. I guess that’s one of those good things growing up with the dad I did; I got very comfortable speaking in vague generalities. Spencer hated it.

“Well, your daddy isn’t here to help you now.”

Wasn’t that the damn truth. But that didn’t mean I was alone, I reminded myself. Despite being dragged and my vision turned literally upside down, I had caught a glimpse of him in the lobby. He was alive. That thought alone was keeping me sane right now.

“The different keys you need for an override are probably kept on separate people so one person can’t do it alone. Probably the different managers.” I muttered, nodding to the side where one of the employees flinched at my words. Anything to get away from the fucking gun in my face.

“Is she right?” The woman sneered to the manager, turning her full attention to someone else. I felt a little guilty, since the poor manager seemed a lot less put together than I was. But hey, they needed her, too.

“Yes, I already gave you my keys,” she squeaked, holding her trembling hands up, “Th-There’s another set behind the desk I think.”

“Would you look at that...” It was the first time the man in the room addressed me since he had pulled me out of the stall, and I had to admit I wasn’t exactly a fan of his. But at the same time, I knew that he was going to be remarkably more receptive to me than the woman. She seemed to be the one who was actually in charge.

“Little miss problem was actually helpful,” he cheered, raising his weapon to point to the ceiling as he approached me. I chewed nervously on my cheeks, trying to meet his eyes but finding them uncomfortably bare.

“You should turn off the camera too, I’m just saying.” This time I didn’t nod, using one cautious finger to point to the small device that was currently staring right at me. I understood that it was probably helpful to Spencer’s team to be able to see, but I wasn’t really keen on my death being videotaped... as well as anything else I might end up doing.

‘Never leave a trace.’ That’s what I’d always heard.

‘Keep’em guessing. Even if you think it’s gonna kill you, because you don’t want to live with that over your head.’

“Fine. Do that and go get the keys.” He sounded intrigued, and I felt his searing gaze against my face.

“I think you should do it.”

The tension from before, when the two were arguing, had quickly resurfaced. She clearly didn’t trust him to be alone in the room, which solidified my belief that she was calling the shots, and he was just being dragged along for the ride.

In another life, I might have respected her ability to order stupid men around.

“Why the fuck is that?” He snapped, earning a bored roll of her eyes. The next thing out of her mouth was expected, but unfortunately the last thing I wanted to hear.

“I want to talk to her alone.”

Great. And naturally, her idea of ‘talking’ to me included weaponry. Using the end of the gun to tilt my head up to her, she gave a suspicious smile.

“Why are you helping us?”

“I want to go home.” It was my immediate and instinctual answer. It was the truth. I was helping them because I wanted to get the fuck out of here.

But you know, people expect everyone to have a squeaky-clean moral compass, so I decided to give a few more reasons.

“And I don’t give a shit about a massive corporate bank. I was just here to go to the bathroom– I don’t even have an account here.”

Maybe that was too many reasons, because just as her hesitance waned, it was back in full force. Shoving the barrel against my throat, she sneered, “I don’t believe you. You’re too comfortable with a gun in your face. You a cop, too?”

Cop?

I tilted my head to the side, baring more of my throat to her as I drawled, “Who’s a cop?”

For once, I was glad that Spencer had made such a point of reassuring me that he was not ‘a cop,’ because otherwise I’m certain the terror would have been obvious in my eyes. But for now, I could trust the numb apathy that was washing over me.

Please don’t be talking about Spencer. Please don’t know that. Good things never happened to law enforcement in situations like this. Hell, the two security guards had been dead in seconds.

“I think you know.” She was smiling, and I realized that this fucking psychopath was sharper than she wanted me to think.

“I don’t.” The words were said through clenched teeth, and I prayed that she would see them as insistent anger over the fear that lie beneath them, “And why would you kill me if I was helping you?”

She smiled, drawing the weapon up and down my throat until it landed lower at my chest. The movements were slow and light, a playful glint in her eyes when they met mine again.

“For fun.”

I didn’t move a muscle, my body remaining tense under her ministrations as I forced myself to hold my gaze steady. If she wanted fear, she wouldn’t get it from me.

“Then do it.”

The look she gave me told me she had seriously considered it, probably a little annoyed with my presence. But there was something else there, too, that same soft recognition that in another reality we might have been friends. I’m sure she saw herself in me a little bit; or at least somebody useful.

This confirmed my suspicion that I’d never really be able to read a psychopath. I didn’t understand how Spencer could do it every day. It’d only been a few minutes alone with her and I could feel myself losing the happy memories of the day.

Luckily, the man returned at the same time I saw a plan developing in her mind.

“Hey, come help me,” he called to her. Her response was surprisingly swift, the metal that was tracing over my collar bones disappearing without another word. He was holding a small bag of money, which seemed to seriously irritate the woman.

“Did you get that money from behind the counter?” I asked it before she had a chance. I wanted him to trust me. Or at least look at me more. It wasn’t that I wanted his attention as much as I knew I could distract him fairly easily.

He looked over at me, a dumbfounded look on his face. Men are so fucking stupid, I thought. The pissed off expression on his partner’s face told me that she agreed.

“It’s going to explode if you mess with it or it leaves the area. Probably with tear gas. If you’re escaping in a car, you’re not gonna want it.”

“Yeah, we know about dye packs, bitch.” She snapped, grabbing the bag of money and tossing it to the side of the door they intended to use.

I stared at the locks they hadn’t even bothered trying to touch. The same locks they apparently didn’t look up or know anything about when they came. Suddenly it hit me why this all felt so very off.

It was strange enough that no one was wearing a mask, and as far as I’d heard, no one was really trying to get out of this situation. I was certain that by this point there was a large crowd of armored men outside.

“Just trying to help,” I muttered as I started to scan the room, looking for telltale signs of tampering. The anxious whispering of the man distracted me just long enough to get more information.

“Won’t that set off some shit? Chain reaction shit?”

“Shut the fuck up,” the woman responded with a swift elbow to his gut as she started to walk away, “you are an absolute moron.”

As soon as she was out of earshot, I heard the faint curses that fell from his lips. As he picked up the bag just to toss it away again, I noticed the presence of odd packages in the corner of the room. He really did not want exploding dye packs near those boxes, which seemed remarkably out of place.

“Why does she think she’s in charge?” I asked, finally ripping my eyes away from the objects that now seemed glaringly obvious. “You two guys outnumber her.”

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you.”

Relaxing my body as much as I could, I shifted back and forth on my knees, rubbing the tired muscles of my thighs. “I may have been told that once or twice.”

He actually chuckled; his eyes drawn to my legs like the absolute moron he so obviously was. She definitely had gotten that one right. The other women in the room were watching me, but I tried not to pay them any mind.

I didn’t know when or why they decided to let me do whatever I wanted, but I appreciated their apparent comfort in letting me try to kill myself. He made his way over to the boxes, each a specific size and shape. He carried them so carefully.

“I figure there’s no point in being scared if I’m going to die anyway.” I finally said. Shocked gasps and whispers filled the room, but I didn’t divert my attention to them– No matter how much I wanted to tell them to shut the fuck up.

They would distract me from the way his mouth curled into a smile when he closed the gap between us, his hand sliding down my head and over my shoulder to follow the braid Spencer had meticulously woven an hour before.

“How about you just shut up and sit pretty for me, sweetheart.” I tried not to let the disgust show as his hand slid behind my neck, holding my head so that I had to look up at him. “You seem like you’d be real good at that.”

Ha! If only Spencer could hear him say that. But I could play the good girl for just long enough.

“Do you need help?” I asked with a tiny shrug, “I might be little but I’m pretty strong.” Strong enough to break your fucking hand if you don’t get it off of me.

“Nah.” He ordered, his hand on my neck getting tighter. “But I don’t doubt that you could be useful. You look real good on your knees.”

My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might be visible through my ribs. I just needed an excuse to move. If he could give me an excuse to move, I could do so many things.

“Please let me help,” I begged, raising my hand to his forearm against my shoulder. His eyes began to shift, moving just enough to tell me that he wanted to look to the hallway. He could hear her footsteps, too. She was coming back, and I only had a few seconds left.

Once both of my hands were on his arm, I got the feeling he knew something even worse was coming for him.

“I’d love a chance to get to show you how helpful I really am.”

—————————————————

Hotch had spent the past five minutes on the phone with the male unsub in the lobby, and the conversation was going absolutely nowhere. For whatever reason, they just seemed to deflect any opportunity provided to them.

They didn’t seem to give a shit about anything beyond pushing the buttons of each person they interacted with. Which, they did quite successfully.

“Didn’t realize one pig would bring the whole flock of you here,” he laughed, clearly motioning to Spencer on the video, “How bad do you want him back?”

“What do you want?” He responded without hesitation or a surprise. It was such an expected question to ask that he’d barely even thought about his words before they came out.

“Easy. A chopper, and for you to fuck off.”

That was the equally stereotypical response, meaning it was entirely unhelpful to them. From what they could deduce, they were equally confused as to why this heist seemed to follow all the rules, but match none of the motivations. It was like it was a show, a game, rather than an actual attempt to maximize profits.

“We can do the helicopter, but we can’t give you a pilot.”

“That’s fine,” he responded with a shrug, “Don’t need one.”

It was the first piece of useful information he’d gotten so far on the call. Because if they didn’t need a pilot, it meant one of two things: either one of them possessed the skill themselves, or they weren’t ever intending to use the helicopter.

Briefly pulling the phone away, Hotch turned to Morgan. “Tell Garcia to check our list with people with pilot’s licenses or any other connection that might provide them the skills to fly a helicopter.”

He returned to the call, continuing the usual script for these situations, trying not to act like he’d learned anything new.

“Can you release the women and children?”

“Nah,” the guy said with a chuckle, “I’ll wait.”

Hotch listened to the sound of the receiver for a moment, staring at the entrance to the bank like it would provide him the answers he still needed. He had his suspicions of what might be happening, but with no eyes in the back anymore and the trigger-happy group that had formed around him, he wouldn’t have the resources to convince them not to go in guns blazing.

“We’re ready to move in.” Which is exactly what they had requested.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He stated before finally moving to look at the man next to him, “Something isn’t right here.”

“Yeah, a lot isn’t right here. There’s 19 innocent people in there.”

It didn’t really matter how many times he went through this situation; the results always seemed to be the same. No one listened, even when it wasn’t one of their men inside.

“Storming the building isn’t going to help them. There are three armed perpetrators inside, and they’re each in a different area. It would be impossible for us to take out all three at once. Especially now that we can’t see in the back. There could be explosives in there for all we know.”

The man was unpersuaded.

“If we can’t save them all, minimizing casualties is the name of the game.”

“Wait a few more minutes. I’m waiting to hear back from our analyst. If they have the capability of flying a plane, its highly likely they also have the knowledge and skills to create weapons that we aren’t currently prepared to handle.”

Although still unconvinced, the man grudgingly gave in to the request. Hotch closed his eyes, trying to be grateful for the extremely small victory; they’d gained a few more minutes. But the relief was short lived, with Morgan putting his phone aside for a second to mutter the same thing Hotch was thinking.

“Hotch, these people are way too confident. It’s like they know there’s a way out.”

As soon as he said the words, the two just looked at each other.

“Garcia, can you also check for any other way out of the bank?” He asked, walking back over to the table laid out under the nearby tent. This would have been a great time for Reid to be here, he thought as he stared at the ridiculously complicated schematics.

He understood they didn’t want people to be able to figure them out (so they couldn’t rob the bank), but this was just ridiculous. It looked ancient.

“Sure thing, but… Morgan, I think there’s something else you should see.” The nerves dancing in her voice told him that they were about to switch subjects. “You know how the guy disabled the camera feed in the back room. I was reviewing the footage we do have and it looks like… (y/n) told him to.”

“Why would she do that?” He asked, furrowing his brow as he glanced over to the ornate bank doors. Part of him wanted to joke that things would’ve been a lot simpler if he didn’t have to worry about Reid’s weird girlfriend, but it didn’t feel as funny when they were both in danger.

Maybe later, he thought hopefully, when they were all together again.

“I… don’t know why. But I did what you asked, and I went through her record and found a ton of sealed files on her and also her dad…”

Morgan’s attention was definitely piqued at that point, but he wasn’t entirely sure what to say. In the stunned silence, Penelope spoke again.

“Should… Should I unseal them?”

It was the same question he was debating in his head, and he honestly didn’t know. Although a long shot, he hoped that she could provide at least the bare minimum of context before they made that kind of decision.

“What kind of files are we talking about?”

“I can’t be sure until I unseal them b-but, I mean, they’re sealed for a reason and I’m talking scary sealed. Like, it might take me a minute sealed. Giving me the heebie-jeebies sealed.” She grew more frantic as she continued. Morgan knew they were running out of time.

“I get it.”

“Is Reid okay?” She switched gears, recognizing that Morgan’s hesitance meant it was probably a bad idea. She wasn’t going to push it unless he did. They didn’t even know if she could help even if they unsealed the files. Especially without a visual.

“They know he’s with us,” Morgan sadly admitted, “I don’t know what’s going on. Did you find another way out of the bank?”

“Right.” The conversation was going to give everyone involved whiplash at this point. “Yes! There is an access way through tunnels underneath the bank but it would take a massive distraction for all three of them to be able to get out of there without us meeting them on the other side. I’m talking earth shatterin–.”

She didn’t finish the sentence, her tongue halting the second her mind caught up with her voice. Morgan was equally concerned, recognizing the kind of distraction that this might require and the perfect way to escape with maximum damage.

But that wasn’t what got his attention. There was no fiery explosion or shouted epiphany, because at that same time there were the muffled sounds of gunshots coming from inside.

“Oh my god, what was that?!” Garcia yelled, accompanied by frantic clicking as she filtered through each individual camera to try and locate the source of the noise.

“Garcia, do you have eyes on the main room?”

“Yes! But it wasn’t in the main room, Derek, it was in the back!”

It was a difficult and necessary job, to consider what those sounds might mean for the young girl they’d met only a few weeks earlier. Morgan’s thoughts went even further, not only worried about her safety, but his best friend’s sanity. Lord knows Reid didn’t need another thing weighing on his conscience. Especially not about her; it just might destroy him.

“What does the unsub in the main area look like? Does he look confused? Surprised?” The words were coming, but he didn’t know where from. His body was on autopilot, desperately seeking any validation that they could still save everyone.

“I-I don’t know! He looks grainy! The image is like an inch wide!” She was clearly growing frustrated, which was a feeling they all shared at this point. “This camera is from before I was even born!”

“Try, Penelope,” Morgan pleaded, “Give me something.”

But the other men weren’t willing to wait.

“That’s it. We’re moving in.”

Morgan turned to them, his hand clutching tighter to the phone just in time for her to speak.

“He’s calling for them but they’re not coming out. He looks… Oh no. He’s yelling at Reid now. And... And it looks like someone is coming down the hallway? But he’s not looking–”

It was impossible to focus on everything that was happening, heavy boots and massive commotion as people began to take their positions. But if someone was coming down the hallway, and the unsub didn’t know, that could only mean a few things. Either he was about to be proven disposable, or someone else had fired those shots.

Either way, one thing was clear.

“Wait! We can’t go in there yet!”

—————————————————

There was a point in time where I might have questioned whether I would ever get used to a gun in my face. There was also a point where I actually had gotten used to it. But nothing could have prepared me for this moment, this terrifying realization while staring down the barrel of an assault rifle that I didn’t want to die yet.

I used to think that my life was somewhat disposable. Sure, I was helpful and useful for my job, but ultimately, I considered myself replaceable. The next person to come might not have the same credentials, but they probably wouldn’t also have half the flaws I do.

But now I wasn’t thinking of work. I wasn’t thinking about how replaceable I was, because it wasn’t my life that mattered.

I didn’t want to die yet, because I wanted to see her again.

So I just stared at the weapon, trying to remember that it was still a great possibility that I could. I tried not to think about what was in front of me, choosing to use most of my brainpower to picture what it would feel like when I had her in my arms again.

The vision inside my head ended swiftly, with the sound of rapidly fired weaponry coming from down the hall. Through the commotion of screaming, I surmised that at least two guns had been fired.

Silence followed. It was a stifling, exhausting, painful silence.

What broke it was even worse, with the gun in my face smacking into the side of my head as the man holding it lost his grip at the sound.

“What the fuck was that?!”

He looked at me like he expected me to have the answers, but I didn’t.

“I don’t know. I-I don’t—“ Not only did I not understand why two guns would fire, I didn’t know who had shot them or for what reason. There was one thing I did know. “It sounded like your weapons.”

“Hey, what’s going on back there?!” He shouted, twisting his body just enough to see around the corner.

There was no reply.

“Did your people get in here somehow?” The panic was obvious, and I didn’t know how to calm him down without arousing suspicion. He was continuing to devolve, stepping closer to me as he stuck with his original thought, “How the fuck could they have done that, huh?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is there anything you do know?”

It was a question I’d been asking myself. The longer the silence continued in the back, the more rapidly my anxiety rose. There are only a few reasons why we wouldn’t hear more screaming.

Either someone had managed to get remarkable control over the situation, or all of the hostages were dead. Including (y/n). I forced myself to consider the far less likely, but still possible third option: She was dying, and I could still help her.

“I know that there is still a way for you to get out of this.” I barely recognized my own voice as I rambled, “Is it possible your partners… Is it possible they were planning on leaving together?”

“What?” He sounded disgusted and exhausted, but simultaneously insecure. It didn’t take much effort to realize that he was the weakest of the crew. I’d already had my suspicions that whatever the next step in this journey was, he wasn’t going to be making it with them regardless.

“It was their decision to leave you out here, right? In the place with the most windows and the first access to the door? They put you with all the people most likely to fight back. And now it sounds like…”

I paused, my lips unable to make the next words without a deep breath. “It sounds like they killed the people in the back as a diversion to send in SWAT. Does that sound like something they would do?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

That was enough confirmation for me. It was definitely something they would do, and he knew it. He probably suspected it himself. Thankfully, it gave me enough courage to push back for the first time in this encounter. “Then go back there and see if they’re still there.”

“And just let you be hero and save all these guys? No chance.”

I wanted to laugh; if only he knew the real reason I wanted him to go back there. As terrible as it was, I didn’t care at all about the rest of these men right now. As far as I knew, they were relatively safe. In fact, they were in a better position if what I’d deduced was true. This man, while violent, wasn’t the kind to murder everyone in sight, even when cornered. He’d more likely be shot by SWAT.

“I’ll come with you.” It was a plea, a desperate attempt to get more information that I both wanted and feared. He watched me carefully, trying to read the terror on my face to determine where exactly it was coming from. He knew the hostages were useless to him if he had me, so I wasn’t particularly scared for my life.

At least, not just yet.

“Fine. Get up.”

I willed my legs to stop shaking; to just carry me far enough that I could see her face. I just needed to know that she was okay.

But then I felt a fine mist over my skin— it almost felt like the noise happened after, but I knew logically that couldn’t be true.

A gun fires before the bullets hit their target.

Time seemed to move slower as his body fell to the ground in front of me. My eyes followed him to the floor, but only until I saw the person holding the gun through my peripherals.

“...(y/n)?”

And there she was, clutching tightly onto a rifle, her body barely upright as she staggered forward. There was something remarkably off-putting about the sight of her holding on for dear life to something so morbid. A jarring contrast I would not soon be able to forget, if I ever could.

There was something even more unsettling about the ease with which she carried the weapon, and the fact that she had managed to fire something that powerful without a single stray bullet.

“They’re dead!” She boomed across the room, dropping the weapon onto the floor before she yelled again, “Everyone get out! Hurry!”

No one moved. All of the men, myself included, stared at the tiny girl who’d just saved all of our lives.

“Get out now! There’s a bomb in the back!”

Those were the magic words to stir a panicked crowd into action, people stampeding to the single double door at the entrance, but my eyes were fixed on her. She staggered forward, her arm around her waist and her eyes beginning to roll back.

Perhaps I was just clueless, my one-track mind too slow to navigate the scene in front of me, but it took me that long to see it. My brain rioted against the visuals it took in, the dark crimson dripping down her body. It looked like it would swallow her whole.

I tried to will my body to move, to run to her and do something, anything to help her. But I couldn’t, frozen in place as her small steps got weaker. It wasn’t until I saw her begin to sway that I lunged forward just in time to catch her before she hit the ground.

“Wait!” I screamed to anyone who would listen, my eyes frantically trying to meet someone in the crowd, “Someone get a medic!”

The woman with a child was the last one to pass. She stopped among the commotion, looking down at the carnage in my lap before bolting towards the door.

I had to trust that she would care enough to do something, because from that point on my attention wouldn’t be leaving (y/n). Her eyes were glassy, staring off into the distance and wandering aimlessly despite my face being in view.

“Hey, hey little girl.” My voice crackled as I held her cheek, “Hey, look at me.”

She was finally able to meet my gaze, her eyes filling with love with a small, delirious smile gracing her lips.

“Hey old man.”

The grin didn’t last long, the sounds of her choking and coughing replacing it as blood filled her mouth. I tried to turn her enough that she could spit it out, but it was obvious she was struggling to get any air at all.

“We’re gonna get you some help, okay?” I said with a false confidence, the twisted curve of my lips not even barely resembling a smile.

“It hurts,” she sobbed, her hands slipping in the blood on her stomach.

“I know.”

There wasn’t anything I could do; all I could do was sit there and stare, trying to decide where my hands should be. She was applying pressure to her wound on the front, but I could see the wreckage that was once her back. My hands wouldn’t be enough.

“I’m sleepy.”

“I know.” I was trembling, tears dripping from my face and mixing with the bloody mess; they still couldn’t dilute it, somehow make it vanish. “I know you’re tired. But you’ve gotta stay awake, okay?”

“Okay, I’ll try.”

At first, I wanted to say the innocence in her voice was surprising, but it wasn’t. She was innocent. She was just a young girl, trying to live a happy, normal life before she met me.

“You’re doing great.” I tried to convince myself this wasn’t my fault, but it didn’t work. She had said it herself — she wouldn’t have ever come to a bank on her own. The statistics of the rarity of this situation kept playing on a loop in the back of my head, but it was just a low hum beneath the sound of her pained whimpers.

“Spencer, I need to tell you something.” The newfound insistence in her voice twisted in my gut, and my hands held tighter to her arm.

“No, don’t,” I begged, already anticipating what was going to happen. “Please, don’t do this.”

“I have to tell you right now.” And then her voice was calm, a smile on her face as her blood-soaked hand left her stomach, trying to raise to touch me. It didn’t make it.

“No, you can tell me later.”

The words were so slurred and pathetic, I’m surprised she understood them. But she did, taking a deep, whistling breath. It was clear it hurt her to speak, and I wanted to tell her to be quiet, but the masochist in me needed to hear the words all the same.

“Spencer, please. Just listen to me.”

This sounded too much like a goodbye.

“I love you.”

Our bodies rocked as I realized I hadn’t taken a breath of my own in too long, the pain in my oxygen deprived lungs not nearly enough to distract me from the genuine softness of her voice.

“I love you so much,” she whispered, “Do you know that?”

I don’t know how she wasn’t crying, her eyes barely open but too tired to blink. That rosy complexion had faded, her skin blanching the longer she lay in my arms.

“Yes, I know.”

“I love you with my whole heart.”

My mind was flashing images from only a couple hours prior, her warm laugh as she laid on my lap, the way her hair slipped between my fingers while I wove it together.

‘You think you’ll still be around?’

‘If you’ll have me.’

The memories were blurring together, creating a symphony of promises that were about to be shattered in front of my eyes.

‘Forever,’ she’d said. ‘Forever.’

‘A white picket fence. Two little bratty genius babies. Just a normal, domestic life with Dr. and Mrs. Reid.’

Rejecting the thought, I shook my head, “You’re going to be fine.”

“I understand what you meant when…” Her voice was too quiet, too distant, to be this warm. “When you said it was nice to be able to say it.”

The heavy footfalls and sound of a transport bed wheeling across the floor alerted me that I would have to let her go soon. Whether this would be the last time I ever held her, I couldn’t be sure.

“They’re gonna come take you now, but I’ll be right behind them. I promise.” I barely got the words out before their hands were all over her, those tired eyes shooting wide open as unfamiliar hands replaced mine.

“Wait, Spencer!” She cried out, her body too limp to make a meaningful attempt to stop them, “Don’t leave me!”

Her screams and sobs were ringing louder than the gunshots had, my body slowly making its way upright as I watched them place her on the bed.

“I’m not leaving you, I promise.” I tried not to let the panic bleed through, raising the volume as she started to be taken away from me, “Stay awake as long as you can.”

I couldn’t see her, but I could hear her attempts to scream. If she was calling my name, it wasn’t recognizable. I’m not sure which hurt worse— the sound of her tired lips butchering my name, or the silence that followed.

She wasn’t able to scream anymore.

When I emerged from the bank, the sun burned my eyes just as much as the sight of my team shocked to see me covered in blood. But I couldn’t focus on them at all, immediately bolting after the paramedics without another thought.

The extra time it took them to carefully load her allowed me to jump into the back of the vehicle before the doors shut. There were no words to describe this situation, nor make it any better.

So I just stared in horrified fascination, trying to gauge her odds as they rapidly changed in front of me. Of 107,141 firearm injuries last year, 31% died. How many of the 69% had assault rifle wounds? I couldn’t remember any other statistics. My brain had turned itself off, focusing only on the frantic beeping and scrambled voices.

“Where is he?” Her tiny voice cut through both the internal and external noise.

“I’m right here.” I nearly shouted from my precarious position standing in the back of the rattling ambulance. I wanted to move closer, but I was too scared. There were so many hands on her, and I didn’t want to get in the way.

“I’m scared.” She said, mirroring my exact thoughts.

“I’m right here.” I repeated, closing my eyes to hide from the carnage long enough to put words together that might make her feel any ounce of comfort, “You’re doing so well. I’m so proud of you.”

Taking an experimental step forward once the paramedics seemed settled in their places, I came to stand behind her. My hands were tinted red and trembled as they reached out to touch her cheeks.

She took a sharp inhale at the sensation, just barely holding her head up straight. I couldn’t tell if she was leaning into my touch or just couldn’t control her neck any longer. Her skin felt like ice, and although she was still beautiful, the blue tint creeping over her face struck fear in my heart.

“How much longer until we get to the hospital? Her body temperature is dropping.”

If she heard me, she didn’t respond. I stared at the paramedic who was obviously more concerned with other things at the moment. They were kind enough to give me a response, even if it wasn’t a satisfying one.

“Just a few more minutes. We can’t do anything until we stop the bleeding, sir.”

“Spencer…” Each time she spoke was simultaneously terrifying and comforting. It was confirmation she was alive, but also troublesome, because I knew that she should be reserving her efforts for staying alive.

“Hang in there, little girl. We’re almost there.”

She opened her eyes, staring up at me with clouded vision. I could see the pain so clearly it might as well have been me on the table.

“Please help me,” she sobbed, “help me.”

“I-I can’t.” They were the two hardest words I’d ever had to say. Frustration mounted in me, but none of it was directed at her. She didn’t do anything wrong. Myself, on the other hand, I hated myself in that moment.

She was begging for me to help her, and I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything but stand here and watch as she bled out in the back of an ambulance, a stranger’s hands practically inside of her stomach.

“I don’t want to die.”

The way her voice cracked took whatever was left of my sanity with it, and I felt my fingertips slip in the blood as I pressed against her face.

“You won’t,” I tried to assure her, “You’re going to be fine. Just stay awake.”

“I can’t.” The usual spunk in her voice had faded, leaving behind the sound of a twenty year old girl with no fight left in her. “I’m so sorry, Spencer…”

‘Sorry?’ I thought below the horror, ‘for what?’

When her eyes shut, they couldn’t even make it all the way. It was an expression I’d seen before on the field. I wasn’t meant to see it on her.

“No. No, no, wake up.” I urged, patting her cheeks softly before closing my hands around them more tightly, “Wake up, little girl, please.”

I was talking to no one, because I don’t think she could hear me anymore. Absolutely nothing in her body changed, even as the paramedics became more rushed.

“I’ve located the bleed!” The woman beside me yelled as the ambulance began to rapidly slow down. “I’m sorry sir, but we need you to move.”

“Whatever you need. Please, just help her.” I’d said the words, but my actions didn’t follow. She stared down at my hands that were still tethered to (y/n)’s face, trying to provide the warmth that she desperately needed.

Somehow, I was able to wrench them away, only then realizing the bloody handprints I’d left behind. Her face still wasn’t moving.

“Please, I—“

Before I could say another word, they were already out of the ambulance. I followed as closely as I could behind them, trying to focus enough to ensure that every word said could be played again in my mind. Because the second she crossed the threshold into the surgery suite, I wouldn’t be able to hear them anymore.

I would have to wait. I would have to wait for her to be better, or wait for a declaration. And in that vast silence, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop from torturing myself with every single word uttered in this building before the doors closed.

The doors were ahead of us now, and I wished time could slow down enough that I could give her one more kiss and tell her to be strong one more time before she went into the Schrodinger’s Box that was the emergency room operating table.

I wanted to tell her that I loved her, and when the thought crossed my mind, I realized that I’d never said it back. She’d said it three times, but in my adamant denial I’d failed to return it.

It was so much like us, I’d almost laughed. She’d made such a point of worrying about me leaving her, neither of us had ever stopped to think about how I’d live without her.

How would I live without her? The only person I trusted to have an answer was wheeled into the room, the door shutting abruptly in front of me.

In the reflection of the metal door I saw myself, drenched in the dark liquid. I tried to clean my face with my hand only to realize that they, too, were dirty with her blood.

The world had fallen silent, and I let myself be crushed by the overwhelming loneliness of an existence without her.

‘Don’t miss me too much, Dr. Reid.’

It was too late.

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| Part 15 |

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #Criminal Minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid series #reid series #dr spencer reid #h2m #spence reid #spencer reid request #reid request

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sevenkittensinatrenchcoat · 3 years ago

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Cats 1986 (and Others) vs. 2016

A post I made a few months ago comparing information gathered from interviews with different Cats casts has come up again recently and I’ve heard even more interviews since, so I want to add on to that a little and elaborate on the things I’ve already said.

CW: Some of the language regarding Demeter’s backstory is a bit darker than I’ve previously mentioned

So, I’ve now heard interviews from US Tours III, IV, and V, spanning from 1986 to 2012. They’re all Broadway-based, and the Broadway Revival went in a very different direction, but the three tours were all very similar to each other.

In both the tours and in 2016, the cast was sat down before rehearsals to hear the “story of Cats”. However, this meant two completely different things. The Tour casts were told the plot of the show, who their characters were and what they were meant to be doing. The 2016 was told the story of how the show Cats was created, how ALW had the idea and made a show out of it. No mention of the story and characters. This means that the Tour casts were given useful information for building their characters, while the 2016 cast got something that was interesting but did nothing to help them do their jobs in the present. More emphasis was put on the show’s legacy than on how to actually perform it. Trevor Nunn did the 2016 explaining, I believe, and it sounds like he was on an ego trip, talking about what he did instead of what the cast was supposed to do. Trevor Nunn is one of the few people who knows how the show works, so this is quite frustrating.

Though the Tour cast was given a whole story, most of them only remembered the perspectives of their own characters. The point of learning the plot was so that they knew what they were doing. It wasn’t supposed to matter to the audience. So, everyone mainly focused on their own jobs. But, everyone knew Demeter’s backstory, because it was the first thing they were told and it caught their attention. It almost became a meme that the first sentence of the plot was “Demeter was raped by Macavity”.

The story begins with Demeter having just escaped from Macavity. He kidnapped and raped her. Though she didn’t want it, she kind of enjoyed the sex, which messed with her head quite a bit. Bomba went through the exact same thing, but because she enjoyed it, she acts like the whole thing was nothing more than an annoyance. The two react to the same situation in different ways.

Jacob Brent was either given a toned down version of the story (he mentions kidnapping, but not rape), or he chose to give a toned down version to avoid the uncomfortable subject.

The 2016 knew that Macavity and Demeter had some sort of backstory, but they weren’t very clear on exactly what happened. They decided that they’d had an abusive relationship, but that the whole thing was consensual and there was no kidnapping, because the only element of this story that the audience can pick up without context is that there was some sort of sexual relationship between Macavity and Demeter, but she’s now afraid of him.

At least one cast member said that Macavity was a rapist, but she didn’t elaborate.

This messed with Demeter’s character far more than anyone expected. The rape element honestly isn’t necessary. Demeter and Macavity had some sort of sex, but it could’ve been consensual, with Demeter enjoying the sex but hating the man. That’s actually what Gillian Lynne seemed to have implied in interviews. However, the kidnapping part of the backstory is important, because it establishes the connection between Demeter and Grizabella. While hiding from Macavity, right before the story begins, Demeter sees Grizabella on the Bad Side of Town. Due to not being a Jellicle before this night, she doesn’t know who she is, and therefore has no bias against her. She just sees this woman living on the streets, humans wondering aloud why she isn’t dead, and felt sympathy for her.

So, when Grizabella appears at the ball and everyone hates her, Demeter wants to intervene, but she doesn’t want to upset her new friends. She came to the Jellicles for protection and is afraid of them rejecting her for siding with their enemy. Still, she tells the tribe what she knows about Griz, possibly trying to convince them to be nicer to her, but it doesn’t work and Demeter just starts following the crowd.

The lyrics Demeter sings, by themselves, are musical exposition that doesn’t imply sympathy. A line like “You’d really have thought she’d ought to be dead” sounds like it could be played as an insult. The words can either mean “I’m surprising the poor thing’s still alive in her condition” or “Why can’t the bitch fuck off and die already?”. Without the context of Demeter’s backstory, Kim Faure picked the latter, when with the context, it’s clearly meant to be the former. So, Demeter’s delivery of her lines in Glamour Cat in 2016 is venomous, almost sadistic.

Later on, towards the end of act one, 2016 Demeter reaches out to Grizabella like she does in most other versions, despite the earlier delivery. What made her change gears? I have no idea.

So, there was a lot of insight on Demeter. She’s the character with the most detailed backstory, making her the closest thing the show has to a protagonist.

Another character that gets a lot of attention, as he demands, is Tugger. Many Tugger actors were interviewed. I think he’s the favorite character of the host of the podcast. Different Tuggers from different eras responded to certain topics differently. Tuggers from the 1980s were unaware that Tugger was commonly interpreted as Not Straight and that Tuggoffelees is a thing. But, the more recent the show their from, the more they’re aware of and interested in the topic. The Tour V Tugger joined very late, during the last few years of the tour. He had access to the internet and could see what the fandom was up to. He played Tugger as ambiguously bi and, though he hadn’t thought of it at the time, liked the idea of the Tuggoffelees pairing. Tyler Hanes, 2016 Tugger, was the only one interviewed who played Tuggoffelees on purpose.

Tyler Hanes was very interesting. He watched the 1998 film while preparing for the role and didn’t seem to like it very much. He wanted his version of Tugger to be his own and avoided taking inspiration from any other version. John Partridge’s Tugger and Hanes’ Tugger being so different from each other might’ve been deliberate.

But, the choreography is what really messed with Tugger’s character. The host of the podcast mentioned Tugger’s pelvic thrusts and Hanes said that he wanted to do that sort of thing, but the new choreography removed all of it. He couldn’t make Tugger as horny or sexy as he wanted to. It was a key part of the character, but the choreography just wouldn’t let it happen. The result is that a bunch of queens fangirl over Tugger, but because Tugger’s defining trait in his number is being vain and obnoxious, the reason why he, of all toms, is considering the sexiest is completely lost. He’s just a dick to everyone (except Misto) and they love him anyway.

Other Tuggers do act like assholes during the number, but it’s not the focus. The lyrics are about Tugger being difficult, but the choreography, often to a comedic degree, isn’t about that. The message of Lynne’s choreography is that DESPITE Tugger being obnoxious, he’s a sex god and that’s what matters to his fans. Blankenbuehlers’s choreography mainly focuses on Tugger being obnoxious, which is a better match to the lyrics, but it makes the character less likable.

Also, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: The two most sexualized numbers are Tugger’s and Macavity’s. Tugger’s number is about a man being sexy. Macavity’s number has two women being sexy. Blankenbuehler redid Tugger’s number, toning down the sexuality, but he left Macavity alone completely, so it’s as sexual as it always is. Male sexuality needs to be toned down, but female sexuality is fine. This is what happens when a woman is replaced with a straight dude. I doubt it was done on purpose, but there was definitely some subconscious bias going on there.

The way the casts talk about the two choreographers is also different. Both of them are treated as the experts on the show, more like how a director is normally treated. But, how well they filled that role varied. Lynne could explain what every single move meant. Those who worked with her knew exactly what they were doing. Nobody has ever described any of Blankenbuehler’s choreography with the same detail. In numbers in 2016 that Blankenbuehler left alone, even without Lynne present at all, everything was clearly explained. Skimble actors, since Skimble’s number wasn’t altered much, describe people who’d worked with Lynne talking them through the choreography. No one talked about Blankenbuehler’s work like that. Every move of Lynne’s Jellicle Ball apparently represented something. Blankenbuehler’s Jellicle Ball looks fine, but there isn’t that level of detail.

The rehearsals of the the choreography were paced differently as well. 2016 was apparently put together in something of a hurry. Most Cats rehearsals begin with several days of the cast studying cats and learning how to move like them. 2016 devoted only a few hours to this. Gillian Lynne reportedly visited a rehearsal and was upset the none of the dancers knew how to move like cats. Cats has unique choreography in a unique cat-like style, but the 2016 team had no time to practice it, so they often come across as a bit too human. They’re talented human dancers, but they’re not very cat-like. Blankenbuehler’s choreography is often in a different, more modern urban style, that doesn’t seem like it was done with cat-like movement in mind.

I don’t hate Blankenbuehler. In behind the scenes stuff, he seems like a nice guy that the team liked working with. But, I don’t think he really understood what his role was. He was a choreographer and he did choreography. This would’ve been fine, even great for any other show, but not Cats.

Most modern musical theatre is based on opera. Characters sing about their feelings and that tells the story. The added element of dance takes the feelings of the song and amplifies them. The actors are emoting with their entire bodies in a larger-than-life way that creates an emotional intensity that audiences can empathize with. The music makes the audience feel what the characters are feeling in a way nothing else really can. Music is kind of magical. You hear a certain melody with certain instruments, and suddenly you’re happy, or sad, or angry.

This, by the way, is why going for realism in musicals is a terrible idea. Musicals don’t exist in physical reality. They exist on an emotional level that realism takes away from.

Cats rarely works like opera. The lyrics are mainly just adaptations of whimsical poems, so they don’t tell you much of anything. Memory, which features original lyrics and no dancing is an exception to this rule. In general, because they’re not dance roles, Grizabella and Old Deuteronomy have to use music and song lyrics to play their parts in the story. Jemima also does this whenever she does something connected to either one of them.

But, Cats is normally more of a ballet than an opera. Ballet tells a story purely through dance. Because the lyrics in Cats matter so rarely, it ends up working like a ballet, because the dance, unrelated to the poems, means something. It’s still a heightened reality where music invokes emotions and actors emote with their whole bodies, like in other musicals, but instead of the dance being an amplifier, it’s the storyteller.

ALW really liked a bunch of poems and wanted to put them to music. The result was a bunch of songs with a similar them but no real connection to each other. That works as a concept album, but Webber wanted a musical, an actual show where people danced to his concept album. He didn’t care about the story and didn’t expect anyone else to.

But, other people cared about the story. No one knew how to make a musical that’s not about something. Trevor Nunn added Memory and the storyline with Grizabella as an emotional centerpiece. There wasn’t a clear plot, but, on an emotional level, it now felt like something was actually happening. Gillian Lynne had no idea how to choreograph a musical about nothing, so she didn’t. She came up with her own interpretations of things and made the show about something. Several somethings, in fact. Victoria is going through puberty and discovering her sexuality. Demeter is recovering from an abusive sexual experience, with Bomba having a different attitude towards being in the same situation. The women in the story were given detailed story arcs that often revolved around their sexuality.

How sexuality is portrayed in Cats could be its own essay.

Anyway, Cats tells its story with a unique style of choreography. Because the choreographer is the story teller, Lynne had a lot of influence over the show. She was the one who knew all the details. Blankenbuehler was brought in to choreograph a show, like a normal job for him, not knowing what that would actually mean. He came in to have dance amplify the emotions in the song lyrics like in any other musical, not knowing that that’s impossible to do with Cats. The role of choreographer meant a level of knowledge and control that would normally belong to the director, composer, and lyricist. He didn’t realize that the show having any story at all depended on him.

So, he did stuff that looked cool, but didn’t tell the story, or that took the story in a direction that it wasn’t supposed to go. Tugger dancing in front of a giant mirror is funny in the moment, but that sort of narcissism, though funny, isn’t likable, and Tugger needs to be likable. He’s a major character and he helps save the day at the end by hyping up Misto. But, 2016 Tugger hypes up Misto because if feels like Misto is the only cat he truly respects. He has the same respect for Old Deuteronomy that the others have, but he doesn’t sound quite as sincere when he sings about him. He spends so much of his number antagonizing Munkustrap in particular that it’s hard to believe that he has any respect for him.

What can be learned from these interviews is that Blankenbuehler didn’t know what his job truly was and was there because someone important thought Cats would be more popular in 2016 if it was more like Hamilton and got the Hamilton guy to give it a make-over. Nunn was so proud of the show’s success that he neglected what made it successful in the first place, and the 2016 cast was rushed through rehearsals without proper instructions. Everyone tried their best, but they were all stuck.

For the most part, I blame whoever decided to have Blankenbuehler rechoreograph the show. Blankenbuehler did what he thought his job was and the cast did their jobs to the best of their ability. What really ruined Cats 2016 was an executive decision to fix something that wasn’t broken, believing if they made the Old Big Show more like the New Big Show, that would make people love it again. But Hamilton is no more like Cats than a cat is like a dog.

#cats 2016 #lots of cats tours #really long post #andy blankenbuehler is bad at cats #but it's not his fault #a cat is not a hamilton #gillian lynne #don't let her legacy die with her

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baticorngirl · 3 years ago

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Title: Scribbles of Love

Rating: General Audiences

Relationship(s): Talia Al Ghul/Bruce Wayne (Brutalia), Talia Al Ghul & Unnamed Child, Bruce Wayne & Unnamed Child,

Characters: Talia Al Ghul, Bruce Wayne, Minor Original Character(s),

Summary: Miraculously, Bruce and Talia have been married for quite a long time now. In fact, their first year anniversary is coming around the corner, and it's suddenly dawned on Bruce that he doesn't have anything to give her. He soon decides he wants to give her a love poem, but there's only one problem: Bruce sucks at writing poetry. As the anniversary comes closer and closer, will Bruce manage to write a half-decent love poem in time?

A/N: This fic is for @brutalia-week Day 1: “I made it for you”. It takes place in an alternate universe where Batman: Son of the Demon worked out. I think that’s all you need to know before you begin, so... enjoy!

(The fanfic is under the line below, but if you’d prefer to, you can also read it on Ao3(x) and FF.net (x)!)

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Talia was training, as usual. Her feet were planted to the ground like a tree's deep roots, with her knees bent ever so slightly to get a good stance. The smile on her face was soft, but she made sure her strikes were anything but. Like Ra's has taught her so many years back, her moves were smooth and fast, a bit graceful… but powerful. The sword in her hand would've demolished anything in its path, as it zoomed around the room…. if she had been aiming for anything but an imaginary opponent, that is. Her hair flew into the air as she abruptly bent down (while still attempting to keep her feet as well-planted as possible) to swipe her "opponent's" feet. She pulled up and jumped, imagining that they were doing the same move back to her. Continuing to imagine each move, her arm twisted and turned to hit their sword back every time, getting faster and faster and faster and faster and…..

Knock, knock. Talia pulled herself up, mentally clearing herself from the perilous fight, at the sound of knuckles softly pounding on the door. "Come in," She called, slowly trotting over to the door. Just outside the door, Batman stood. His cowl was casually flung back to uncover his real face, and as he began to pull on his gloves and belt, it became clear he was about to get out of the vigilante gear. He sighed, neglecting to look at her as the pulling became more of just fidgeting and less of actually pulling them off.

"I… have to go." He began, his eyes still looking off into the distance. "It's just… a… small errand. I won't be long. Maybe an hour or two, but….. I can't keep watching the baby while I'm gone so I figured I should let you know." He immediately turned and began walking away as soon as he had conveyed the necessary information. Talia's eyebrow rose, noticing the odd behavior, but quickly shrugged it off. Her husband always acted secretive, so she doubted there was anything to worry about.

"Okay, Beloved. Farewell!" She quickly leaned in to kiss him on the cheek a moment before he left. Batman turned back towards her, his classic vacant expression turning into a smile for a moment. It only took less than a moment to go back to normal, though, as he quickly continued walking and went into a walk-in closet to get ready for his "errand". Once he was out of sight, Talia made her own way over to the baby's nursery in the opposite direction.

She swiftly picked the baby up, watching as the baby's eyes lit up in a giggle. The baby continued to smile and laugh even more as she kissed his small, round little nose. Talia rocked her child in her arms, ambling around the nursery. Soon, the high-pitched laughter had faded into the peaceful squeaks of a sleeping infant. The baby was slowly set back down into his crib. Talia patted his little head as gently as she could, before setting up the baby monitor and going to a nearby room to train a bit more.

Meanwhile, Bruce had just arrived at what he had told Talia was just an errand. He went into the front door, and was greeted by a friendly-looking person, sitting on a lounge chair just a few feet in. They smiled at him, and motioned for him to sit down at one of the many desks spaced around the room.

"Welcome. You're a bit early, so we'll just be getting started in a few minutes." They explained. He simply nodded in return. Luckily for him, they seemed to be unaware of his fame back in Gotham. Talia had still been doing some work under Ra's, and so they hadn't been in Gotham for quite a while due to where her father wanted her. Bruce had been enjoying the lack of fame and the dreaded paparazzi through their whole trip, and this was no exception.

Silence followed for a few moments. They both looked down their laps, unsure what to do or say. Awkwardness plagued them both, but eventually, the person in front of Bruce decided to start talking again to get rid of it.

"I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Riley, what's your name?" They asked, reaching a hand out to shake hands. Bruce put his hand out as well, and they shook for a few seconds before he answered the question.

"My name is B-" He quickly got interrupted by a flood of people coming in. The clock had finally ticked that it was 10:00, meaning it was the exact time to start. Everyone sat down quietly. Riley jumped up from their chair, rushing up to the front.

"Welcome to this poetry class, everyone. I assume all of you are here to improve your knowledge of poetry to a level beyond what you were taught in school, or possibly even to build up to a career as a poet. My name is Riley, and I'm your instructor." They explained, and a wave of nodding ran through their audience. Bruce nodded, but stared for a moment in awe of the fact that he hardly remembered even just what he had been taught in school about poetry. He looked down at the desk in front of him, the idea finally occurring to him that maybe focusing all his later teenage years on training to become Batman instead of paying attention to High School was a mistake.

But there was nothing he could do about it now. Poetry hadn't ever been necessary until this situation. But here he was, lying to Talia that he was just "going out on an errand", because there was absolutely no way he could write her a love poem without extra help. It was an embarrassment, really, but poetry just wasn't one of his strong points. It required so much emotion, so much expression of it, and expressing his emotions just wasn't something Bruce naturally did.

"Of course, this is more of a beginner class, so even though some of you may become poets some day, we'll be starting with the basics for today's class." Riley continued the class introduction. Bruce sighed in relief. Perhaps he would actually be able to follow what the instructor was talking about, and be able to give Talia a half-decent poem when it was over. "First of all, most good poems have a lot of figurative languages. These are things that stretch the literal meanings of the words you use, and create an image or effect using them. Some examples are how saying 'Your eyes looked like stars' is a simile, a type of figurative language. There's also metaphors, which are essentially the same thing, but without using the word 'like'."

Bruce thought about this for a moment, and got out a piece of paper to attempt to start his poem with some figurative language. "What's Talia like?" He mumbled, remembering everything about her that he loved so much. She was such a good fighter, and yet kind of graceful, which he was sure he could relate to something, so he took note of that. Her eyes were kind of jewel-like, shiny and beautiful, and her dark brown hair was like chocolate, so he wrote that down, as well.

But most of all, what he loved about her was how much she tried for love. Even though everyone would say that her fighting abilities are her greatest power, her secret weapon, Bruce knew none of those meant anything. Not without the love she used those abilities for, at least. He wasn't quite sure how to say this poetically, though, so he decided to get back to it later.

Eventually, the class ended, and Bruce came back home. Then, next week, he went back to the class and continued to work on his poem. Every week this continued, until their anniversary came around. By then, his poem was nowhere near perfect, but he had tried. There was no way he could back out now, after spending so much time working on it.

Bruce stuffed the poem inside his pocket, and went to their room to get Talia. She sat on a stool, brushing her hair nonchalantly. She had already gotten changed into a beautiful dress, going down to her ankles with embroideries. Bruce stared for a moment, thunderstruck. An embarrassingly goofy smile was on his face, but he quickly shook it off and returned to his default, impassive expression.

"Are you ready, Talia?" Bruce asked, reaching his hand out to help her up. Talia got up herself, but took his hand anyway, nodding. Both bringing along a present, the couple held hands as they made their way to the car. They were planning on going to a fancy restaurant for their anniversary, and exchanging gifts after dinner.

"I can't believe it's been a year since we finally got together, Beloved." Talia said once they were in the car, smiling, "It's been so happy. We were so sad, and we kept having to reject each other, but then this happened, and now… I don't think anything will ever get in between us again." She clutched her necklace, thinking back to the time, almost a year ago, that he had given it to her. For once, she could think about that kind of time with pure joy and hope, instead of longing.

"Yes… I don't usually consider myself cheerful, but you're right. I honestly don't think we could be happier." Bruce looked down at his lap, lost in thought. "That baby is going to have everything. Our love, a family, a home, and of course, happiness. We've really done it." He mumbled.

Talia nodded, right as they pulled up to the restaurant. She scooched out of the car, pulling Bruce along with her. They went inside together, got seated, and ordered their food. As they waited, they decided it might be fun to give each other hints about the presents.

"I'm going to give you two gifts, technically." Bruce explained, feeling his pocket for the poem, plus the earrings he was going to give her along with it. "One's just…. A fairly basic anniversary gift. But the other thing, well, it's a bit more from the heart… I suppose. I don't know, I tried to make it special." He sighed.

Talia smiled, "That sounds wonderful, Beloved. I can't wait to see it." Bruce gulped at the thought that he may have gotten his hopes up for his half-baked writing, but she didn't seem to notice his nerves. "I just got you something basic, too, but it's the sort of thing that's customized to be quite special."

"That sounds wonderful, too." He replied, reaching across to put his hand on top of hers romantically. She wrapped her hand around his in reciprocation. They both leaned in to kiss, smiling.

"Here is your food," They both got knocked out of their romantic moment by the sound of their waiter's voice. They both pulled out of the kiss, and leaned back on to their own chairs. "Oh, was I interrupting something?" The waiter asked with a chuckle, before setting down both their dishes in front of the one who ordered it.

The waiter left, and both Talia and Bruce ate dinner. They talked and smiled as they ate, both attempting to get the other one to slip up and tell them what their present was, with little to no success. Soon, both Bruce and Talia were finished eating, and they quickly got out their presents.

Talia picked up a bag that Bruce had noticed she'd been carrying along throughout the trip, and reached inside. Out she pulled a little box, wrapped in bright, colorful, wrapping. She pushed it in front of Bruce, grinning.

"Go ahead, open it." She insisted. Bruce slowly began to peel the wrapping off, and opened the box that was inside the wrapping. Inside was a beautiful pendant, covered in small gems of all kinds of shapes and colors. The jewels sparkled, almost like magic, and a smile grew on Bruce's face.

"It's… beautiful." He commented, flipping it over in his hands cautiously. He stared, mesmerized at all the jewels. His fingers clutched it tightly. Talia's grin only grew. He was even more happy with it than she thought he'd be, and he hadn't even opened it yet.

"Open the pendant, it's even specialer inside." She nudged, slightly impatient. Listening to her words, Bruce gently flipped the pendant open. Inside, there was a picture of their sweet little baby. Talia reached over, touching a little bump on the back. He flipped it over, realizing it was a knob. Talia turned it, and the image changed to a picture of herself. "There's quite a few different pictures in it, and the knob changes it. I tried to get all of your closest loved ones, plus a picture of yourself in case you're ever in the mood to be vain." She laughed.

Bruce pulled it closer to himself to see it better, and began switching the knob between them all. "I… I love it." He leaned over to her, quickly pecking her on the cheek. "It's perfect." Her smile grew even more than it already had as he opened it. Bruce adjusted the knob to be on Talia again, and put it on.

"I'm really glad." Talia reached over and squeezed Bruce's hand. "Now, would you like to get out what you're giving me?" She beamed with excitement, almost as much as she had beamed when he opened his own. Bruce pulled the earrings out of his pocket, and nudged them in front of his wife.

"I suppose I thought you might like those, but I put a lot more effort into my other gift." Bruce spoke cautiously, too focused to let himself smile anymore. Talia took the earrings, which were actually quite beautiful and expensive, and exchanged the earrings she was wearing currently with them. As she does that, he pulls his poem out of his pocket. "I wrote you something. I know you were probably concerned about how I kept going out at the same time each week without telling you where I was going, but that was just because I had to take a writing class if I wanted to make this even slightly decent."

Talia frowned, "You keep a lot of secrets, but it's nice to know that at least one of them was out of love, and not fear or mistrust. Either way, thank you for the earrings. They are more than beautiful." She let go of the frown quickly after getting it, and gestured for Bruce to go on. "Now, I'm more than excited to hear what you've made. Go ahead."

"When you are here, I can only think about you, But even when you are far, I simply do it with longing, too;

I love you all the time, Day… or night, In the ocean, ground, or even sky, And this why:

Your eyes look like jades, And your smile like beauty in a solid form; You hair looks like silky chocolate, Your entire body is something I adore;

You are stronger than you seem, But so very graceful, as well; You fight stronger than a demon, With an angel's good intent, and morale;

Yes, you move like a swan, But much, much, more than that:

You love deeper than anyone could ever know, Just something that you have taught yourself, Your intentions are more than just moral, But an emotion, in itself;

So with that much personality, It is my honor to be able to love you back."

Bruce spoke the poem as clearly as he could, trying not to stutter or chicken out. It felt odd, showing this much emotion, but in a good way. Once he was finished, he looked up from his poem, smiling. Talia was rubbing her cheeks, wiping away the tears that had formed. Bruce leaned over to kiss the unoccupied hand, desperately attempting to make the moment even more romantic.

Before he had leaned back on to his own chair, Talia quickly pulled him into a kiss, "I love it, Beloved. Almost as much as I love you." She took the paper from Bruce's hand, folding it up and putting it in her pocket. "If you don't mind, I want to be able to remember this moment. Forever."

"Of course," Bruce said, trying to pretend he wasn't surprised that she had liked his poem so much. Perhaps she was simply humoring him to spare his feelings, but if she was, she was doing an incredibly good job at it.

They quickly paid for the meal. Bruce and Talia both beamed as they rode off into the night, hand in hand.

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A/N: Okay, now that you're done, some disclaimers:

I am not necessarily saying Bruce's poem was actually bad. He views it as bad, and it's certainly not perfect, but... I'm not necessarily saying it's bad myself, if that makes sense, (although I definitely did purposely not spend too much time on it when I was writing this).

Also, I'm not sure where this fanfic takes place, lol. It's just not in Gotham, but the rest if up for interpretation.

Oh, and I'm aware this entire fanfic is quite boring. The plot isn't very interesting, I'm afraid, but... oh well.

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cyberdva · 4 years ago

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take me home- b.c.

Summary: Staying with Stray Kids over the holidays via the first-hand invitation from Chan sounded like the perfect vision. When New Years’ roles around tension grew, in the coming days you’d have to leave and someone needed to confess the secret scratching at his core for years on end. With a little plan from your best friend’s bandmates, this new year would be one to remember forever.

Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of Anxiety, and a Makeout Scene

Word Count: 2.3k

Stray Kids Masterlist

Main Masterlist

A/N: (Gender Neutral Reader!!) hey everyone! it’s sort of a tradition for me to write a short little fic for new years. this time i chose to write about chan since he’s turned my life around and brought so much positive change into my life. i’m forever grateful to him and stray kids. thank you for reading all of my sappy drama. life is going to get better!

Being away from the same place you’d called home for the past who knows long felt strange. Don’t get me wrong, it was a major relief to be able to roam around a different area after the entire world was basically held captive in their own minds for the better. Having a second family in the form of an idol group, led by the most talented person you could think of, gave an excuse to seek refuge in their dorms, but this time they nearly begged for your presence for just a few days. Listening to Felix and Seungmin plead over the phone, ironic desperation laced in their tone, for a month and a half took a white flag waving on your behalf. Putting eight celebrities, and countless others, in the possibility of danger was the glue holding you back. Nights of pondering aimlessly always led to the same conclusion. Staying and going was a bitter conflict. Flabbergasted by all the trouble you got yourself into, the thought of leaving was a knee-jerk reaction. Either Felix and Seungmin got their way or the other way around, and if an agreement couldn’t be reached a full-on melancholy would forge in its place.

“Y/N…” Chan’s voice faded in and out with vigor, a perfect speech was freshly prepped in his mind wanting nothing but to have you here with him next week, “I have a question. You have to listen to the whole thing until you answer, okay?” His teeth grazed a chunk of flesh dragging in backwards in anticipation.

“I’ll come visit.” There was a cold breeze, lacing the darkness with foreign excitement, a feeling you had last had back in freshman year when Chris came home to visit you Training was the main priority for him, his young mind opened up the new group his company yearned to produce. Either lead a normal childhood or give the future its star-studded path. It hurt to see him go, more than anything had before, but when your bedroom door slowly creaked open it was worth the wait. Chan still remembers how you hugged him, tightly with so much emotion, it made him come to terms with the feeling brewing in his own mind. Truly cliché, but the way butterflies bubbled in his stomach and hands shook like leaves on a palm tree stuck in a brawny gust gave him desires which laid discrete too prolonged. Your response ignited that same lust, Chan’s voice hitched in between the words collapsing from his delicate lips. It brought a stunted tint to your cheeks, a rare occurrence in general.

The man’s eyes fluttered in amazement, “Y-You’re serious, not joking right?” Fingertips grazed the dew buttons nearing the edge of his phone, mimicking his posture at the moment.

“Do I not sound serious?” A puff of humor fell from your mouth, “Just make sure I don’t regret it, I’ll text you tomorrow Chrissy.” Left in his own bewilderment, it only had now begun to register the weight of the situation. His only lover, one-sided in his wit, of a near lifetime, was coming just for him, and his annoying ‘children.’

“I fucking hate that nickname.”

“Are you even old enough to have alcohol?” Buzzing with anticipation, the young woman dashed past an elated Minho forcefully dancing with Hyunjin, who looked about to pass out from drained practice from earlier on. Your hands clutched onto a champagne bottle, it still has a hint of frost to the touch. Jeongin flashed her a pout and gave swift retaliation, “It’s not for me! Hannie told me to open it for all of us!” His long fingers snatched it right back into his possession.

Changbin laid motionless on the couch, "It’s five minutes until midnight! Seungmin could you go grab Chan, I have no clue where he is.” A nod came from the other man, his footsteps faded in a quick manner. The aura swelled cheer through every inch of your body, it has been so long since you’d last experienced such an amazing weekend with the ardent people. Something did feel off, and everyone noticed. Chan just wasn’t as sociable, his time was mostly spent scrambling on his phone or just in utter silence.

An abnormal amount of time passed and Seungmin was nowhere to be found. Your legs cracked a bit as you stood up, your mission was to now find that man-child if it was the last thing you did. Nerves jittered across your arms and wrists, it lingered in the small crevasses between tight joints. You were in love with Christopher Bang and this moment was the same as any other with him, but that sentence never fully processed in your mind. Instead doubts about confessions replayed constantly, it was an anxiety pressed down to the base of your concerns, yet it still bobbed for attention every now and again.

“You alright?” Placing your body against the hard doorframe of Chan’s room wasn’t the brightest idea. A hard chunk of metal pressed directly into your thigh making this conversation more awkward to begin with. Chris was at a small wooden desk, still working his creativity to death, even during a celebration. His large, slick headphones fortunately didn’t block out the sound of your tender voice. It came as a surprise to him, normally Chan wasn’t this jumpy. Even a small amount of embarrassment tainted the normally confident persona of himself. He quickly spun around and tilted his head in recognition, silently motioning you to speak.

Moving from the uncomfortable stance you continued, "You’ve been acting really weird lately. You know you can talk to me about anything. I’ll always be here for you no matter what.” Scanning his face for any reaction probably made things a bit worse, his posture caved in on itself and you couldn’t help feeling bad for possibly brining up something he clearly didn’t want to talk about. For the one moment he looked up at you it brought pang of guilt over your chest.

A sigh escaped you unconsciously, “Sorry if I made you upset or anything, I’ll let you work some more, but at least get some rest later.” Chan shook his hands in retaliation as you spoke, slowly getting up from his seat as he did.

“I don’t know how to say this,” his eyes darted every which way except for you, “I should’ve told you a lot earlier and I regret not doing that and shit, but just listen to me.” You slowly bobbed your head up in down in a confused likeness. He radiated uneasiness in an odd, eager way. The silence between each sentence ate away at your mind.

He reached out for your wrist, slowly moving it up waiting for consent, “Y/N, we’ve known each other for a really long time and ever since second grade I’ve…” he stopped. Now your agitation grew, what was he even talking about? His breathing staggered, “I’ve had like the biggest crush on you.” Did I just hear that right? A wave of panic took control over the two of you.Still yet to response, and react fot that matter, to what Chan said it made him start to plung into some sort of hysteria.

Finally words pieced themselves together, “You’re in love with me?” He nodded, “Why didn’t you say anything.” When Chris would say he was shy you never thought it was to that extent. Imagining how hard that must’ve been to conceal wasn’t that difficult, your feeling for the man definitely were the exact same. Back in high school all your friends would be graced to hear your stories about how Chan is so hot, how much you miss him, how you’re going to marry him, and more and more. It was tough to never see him in person, it stung when you would call him in the rare date he was allowed to.

“I like you too, ever since first grade for me.” His spirit turned into the complete opposite of before, now with a crimson shade of disbelief painted across his lug, “Your ears are red.” You laughed, his hands reached to tuck his hair back over the spectacle.

“What do we do now?” The question floated in the air with the intensity of the conversation peeling away. Neither adult fully understood what was happening. The importance of their relationship crumbled away with small banter and painful jokes.

A bright idea formulated in your mind, “We could kiss.” Chris blankly took in what you said and graced a devious smile, “I like that idea.” Chan grabbed your waist and snatched you closer to his body, which was strangely warm. Not like you were complaining. Brushing a few obscure hairs away from your face he peered extensively at your stunning features, taking them all in. It wasn't long until Chan smashed his lips into your own and you eagerly returned the kiss.

For the next few minutes the two were engulfed in a kiss, making the whole room sway and trip over its own feet. Your grip on him became tighter and you locked your fingers together at his back, making sure you wouldn't lose him. After a few more minutes Chan began to push his lips to your neck, making sure to explore every inch of your skin with his tongue. You giggled and clutched him closer. Your lips caressed his chin and his neck, kissing every inch of them and playing with his eyelashes. Chan opened his mouth to kiss your neck but you put a finger on his lips, but he kept going. You heard footsteps coming closer even with the small noises coming from the older one.

“I found him…” Seungmin walked right through the open door and adjusted to the scene in front of him, “Ew!” his face contorted into a disgusted look, “I found Y/N too.” Now that your expected make out session was confirmed, the rest of the boys peaked down the hallway with oddly happy faces. Chan was beet-red and began muttering quick apologies under his breath. Adorning a beaming smile you took his hand and guided Chan back to the rest of the group, “You talk too much, but that’s why I love you.”

“Love me? Well, um I love you too.. I have for a really long time.” Your heart swelled from his cumbersome behavior, he really never changed much from his youth. With that said your cheeks flushed and a broad smile spread across your face, as your entire body flushed from head to toe. The boy had a way of making your cheeks do a very special kind of glow. With only a minute and a half on the clock it was awfully laid back. Normally people go all out on New Years, but everyone just wanted this one to end as quickly as possible. Spaced away from his large crew you noticed that there was a rather large difference in Chan’s mind and the way he acted. In front of his members there was a much more dominant manner to his actions. He really cared about them, luck was the only way to describe how you felt about knowing him so personally.

Felix was the most thrilled of the bunch, "Twenty seconds left!” He bounced up and down with his grin growing wider than before. Whenever Felix was around the atmosphere automatically lit up. He just has that special feeling to him. While you flashed backed into your mind thinking about random anomalies Chan was gazing at you with piercing eyes and when you threw a glance back at him, he stayed still. Out of the blue, grabbing your hands and holding it tight.

“Ten!” This didn’t feel wrong, nor right, never in a million years did you think your childhood best friend would keep the same feelings for you tucked away. Trying to fill that void with one night stands, relationships that never ended well, and even distancing yourself from Chris wasn’t ever the answer you thought it was.

“Nine!” He was hidden in plain sight, could you be labeled the fool in all of this? Really Chris could too, it took so long to face the truth.”

“Eight!” Putting his career on the line is the next discussion, if fans or media found out about the two of you his contract could be terminated. The hate he faces already is too much, you would never want to hurt him.

“Seven!” The harmonic combination of everyone’s chants was relaxing, calming the storm of thousands of ‘What if..’ questions piling from your brain.

“Can I kiss you?” Chris was now right by your ear, burning straight into your sight. You jerked your body back in reflex, not expecting him to be so close.

“Six!”

“What do you mean?” It was obvious, your mind felt as if it was short circuiting. This was not the first idea that popped into your head when you decided to come visit.

“Five!”

“Yes or no, hurry up.” From the tone of his voice you could tell he was dead serious. Time was running out.

“Four! Three!”

“Uh sure..” You swore a small sparkle in his eyes glistened at the response, his entire face lighting up.

“Two!” Chris leaned closer, grabbing your chin delicately. His finger stroked the sides of your chin as his lips filled the gap and connected with yours. His lips were firm but soft and somehow you felt safe in his embrace. The kiss was soft and feather light. It lasted for maybe a couple of seconds before Chris pulled back. Your lips were still slightly swollen and her lips felt like they were on fire. You breathed slowly and opened your eyes to find him gazing at you.

"That was... good," you said a bit dazed.

He gave you a half-grin. "You're a natural." Your face broke out into a full smile still trying to wrap your head around all of this.

“Do you mind?” Did everyone see that? Slowly your head turned to face the apparent audience all giving different reactions.”

“Minho, why don’t you kiss me like that?”

“Shut up Jisung.” Maybe this year won’t be so bad after all.

“One day i’m going to marry you!”

“Chris were only like twelve, you’re going to find someone a lot better one day.”

“I don’t think i’ll ever find anyone as perfect as you.”

“Stop it!”

“I’m serious! I love you Y/N! Forever!”

“Love you too Chrissy, hurry up before we’re late for your swim practice!”

cyberdva 2021

107 notes · View notes

annaraebananawriter · 4 years ago

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1: Just a Bad Dream; Dying in LA

PLEASE READ NOTE BEFORE STORY:

Yellow everyone! I just wanted to warn you that I’m still kind of recovering from burning myself out, so don’t expect anything too awesome this week. I think Day 1 is actually the best that I’ve written for it, so far, so...It’s really just for me to stretch my muscles out again and get back into the flow.

With that said, this is Dy 1 of Dark Cream Week by @zu-is-here

Fandom: Undertale, but specifically UTMV

Characters: Shattered Dream (Who belongs to Galacii), Cross (Who belongs to Jakei) and mentioned Nightmare (who belongs to Joku)

Pairings: For now, implied Cream/Dark Cream

Warnings: I can’t remember, so let me know!

Word Count: 2096

~oOo~

The moment you arrived

They built you up

The sun was in your eyes

You couldn't believe it

~oOo~

They say that fate determines how you end up in life.

They say that destiny determines what you do in life.

These two things work in harmony with each other, one influencing the other around and around in a never-ending circle. Everyone was touched by them before they were born, the seed for skills necessary to succeed planted in them, waiting to be grown. No matter what happens, nothing pushes you away from what fate and destiny have determined for you.

It does not matter if your actions are good. If you give everything away and help everyone you come across. If you love your friends and family and strangers unconditionally. If you ignore yourself in favor of others.

It does not matter if your actions are bad. If you spit and sneer at everyone around you. If you yell and hit in anger and hate. If you hold your needs in front of everyone else and ignore those who should have just a little bit of attention too.

It simply does not matter.

Your fate and destiny have been determined already.

Why bother changing it?

~oOo~

Riches all around

You're walking

Stars are on the ground

You start to believe it

~oOo~

Cross was familiar with loss and guilt. When you kill your family and friends, try to delete other worlds, you tend to do so out of pain, driven only by a desperate hope that you can fix what you’ve done. But you can’t. Actions have consequences and the world will not let you go without them. He knows this well, almost too well.

Nothing stops the hurt, though. He’s tried. It was still there, stinging through every bandage and healing balm. If it shrunk, it only grew stronger. Other people tried to help as well, but their efforts were also in vain. Guilt comes from the loss that his actions have caused and that guilt causes this pain that will always be there, no matter how small and weak it eventually becomes.

This was his consequence. He’s learned to accept that now.

He’s learned to walk through the hurt and try and be better.

It was hard, yes. Stumbling and tripping over his feet, hesitant to make any decision lest it be the wrong one and reset his progress. There were many times where he thought that he’d stepped over the line and that they were going to quit on him, leaving him alone again. But they didn’t. They stayed, and the stumbling smoothed out to captiousness, the hesitance smoothed into nervousness. He would not be as confident as he once was, not for a while yet, but it was a start.

He was trying. That’s all that mattered.

And now he can stand on a hill, look into the blue sky and see the colours surrounding him and he can smile. A small, serene smile made of pure content, pride for himself. He can relax his shoulders and just breathe for a moment or two.

Everything was getting better.

Until he looks to his left and see yet another consequence to his newer actions, what his pained words snarled in a patient yet hurt smiling face.

Until Dream takes that step off the edge.

~oOo~

Every face along the boulevard

Is a dreamer just like you

~oOo~

“Don’t touch me! Just…just stop trying to help!”

“I lost my entire family, my home, and he gave me the hope that I could get it back. Why should I believe that you’re not just giving me the exact same false hope?”

“Some guardian you are…”

“You don’t know anything about what I’ve been through!”

But Dream did, Cross realized it now.

Dream had lost his family, his home, too, in the blink of an eye. Not only that, but he was put in a position to fight his brother, whom had changed so much he might as well’ve been a stranger, over and over again. The pressure to do that and still be happy, or at least act like it, must’ve been immense. Cross couldn’t begin to imagine it.

They had both lost their family and been hurt in very similar ways.

Cross just wished he realized this sooner.

~oOo~

You looked at death in a tarot card

And you saw what you had to do

~oOo~

Cross didn’t try to stop Nightmare as he ran away.

He was focused on the skeleton in pain in front of them. The one who was crying, black sludge spilling down and covering his bones, tinted gold as if in reminder of what it used to be. The one who reached a hand up, to try and stop his brother from leaving, but didn’t get far before dropping it to the ground, another pained noise escaping him.

Cross was frozen. He willed his legs to move, instinct in his mind saying to turn and run away too, away from danger, away from him. But he didn’t. He stayed put, legs not listening and just watched.

Underneath the instinct was a different kind of pain. It burned instead of stinging and left his soul aching in a way he had never felt before. He was suddenly all too aware of the ring he kept in his pocket, one the skeleton in front of him had turned down. It made a lump grow in his throat and he swallowed, clenching his hands.

Dream hunched over, arms wrapped around himself.

And all at once, Cross realized something.

If his words had had any part in leading up to this…

His legs finally moved and he rushed forward, reaching for Dream, for the one he held so close to his heart, wrapping his arms around him, even though he could not shield him from something within.

If his actions had this consequence, if his consequence had given up on himself, then he would have to be the one that stayed, that brought him back.

He’ll do it, or die in the process.

~oOo~

But nobody knows you now

When you're dying in LA

And nobody owes you now

When you're dying in LA

~oOo~

If fate and destiny have predetermined your story, then what does it matter how you act? If your good or bad, what does it matter? What does it matter if all your actions just bring you back to the path, no matter how far you try and stray from it?

What does anything matter?

~oOo~

When you're dying in LA

~oOo~

Good can be bad and bad can be good.

This is a fact.

But does it change anything?

What does it matter?

~oOo~

When you're dying in LA

~oOo~

“I’m tired.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why can’t you see that I’m just like you?”

“Why do we have to be enemies?”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry”

“Please…don’t leave me alone again…”

“I love you.”

~oOo~

The power, the power, the power

Oh the power, the power, the power

Of LA

~oOo~

Good is bad and bad is good.

What will change because of this?

~oOo~

Nights at the chateau

Trapped in your sunset bungalow

You couldn't escape it

~oOo~

Dream is familiar with emptiness and betrayal. He’s watched his home burn, his mother cut in half and his brother metaphorically die. All of these were caused by the villagers, people Dream once believed to be his friend, no matter how harsh they might’ve been at times. When you see everyone you care about die by the hands of someone you also care about, that is what causes the emptiness.

This emptiness did not mean he didn’t feel, no. He felt quite a lot actually. Happiness, grief, calmness, anger…love…he felt them all, some more so than others. They weren’t smothered or dulled in anyway by the emptiness. No, the emptiness was rather just a numbness he’s gained to certain situations. He can’t change it.

It was his consequence. He accepts this.

He hasn’t accepted fighting his brother nonstop until one of them is dead.

It was disorienting when he started, almost like he was trying to wake on quicksand and every step he took only dragged him further down. Everything was new. He had to learn fast how to shoot a bow, how to dodge, how to block, how to run. How to survive. All while his brother watched and laughed in amusement.

That was what hurt most of all. The amusement. Brothers were supposed to care for each other, help each other stay safe and heal from injuries. They weren’t supposed to laugh at you while you barely dodged the tentacle aiming for your soul. They aren’t supposed to be trying to kill you at all.

He hated it.

~oOo~

Yeah

~oOo~

Apples are dangerous. They’re enticing. You want to take a bite of it, regardless of the effects it’ll do to your body and soul, in what ways it’ll warp your mind. They beckon you and lure you in, until all you can think about is what it’ll taste like, that savoury bite.

Nightmare wasn’t able to resist this temptation.

And if the saying goes that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree…

Then it should only make sense Dream would follow in his footsteps.

~oOo~

Drink of paradise

They told you put your blood on ice

You're not gonna make it

~oOo~

Nightmare ran away from him.

The coward.

Dream doesn’t understand why. Brothers should support brothers when they decide to become better, to change how the world sees them, to try and prove they can’t be all good. They shouldn’t run, horror etched on their face as if this wasn’t supposed to happen, that he’d made such a terrible mistake.

“You can’t make mistakes, you’re positivity! You have to be perfect all the time.”

He runs his hands over each other, taking in the new coating of sludge while he waits for Cross, his lov—subordinate to wake up. It was just like Nightmare’s, the same consistency and everything, though his had a golden tint to it, rather than turquoise.

Of course.

Even corrupted, he was still positivity.

~oOo~

Every face along the boulevard

Is a dreamer just like you

~oOo~

He felt stronger. But weaker at the same time.

Was that a thing?

He felt like he could bend people to his will, make them listen just like he wants the entire multiverse to. He can’t stop thinking about people crying as he plays out illusion upon illusion in front of them, slowly dwindling their hope and love and any other positivity until it was completely shattered.

And yet, he can’t help but get the feeling that there’s a shakiness within him. Something is unbalanced, wobbling in his soul. It feels poisoned. He has no clue what it could be. He did everything the right way, he’s proven his worth, so everything should be fine now, right?

Everything was fine.

It had to be.

~oOo~

You looked at death in a tarot card

And you saw what you had to do

~oOo~

Cross groaned behind him, making Dream perk up. “��Night…mare?”

Were they really that similar now? Interesting. The thought that his brother and him can never stop being twins makes Dream giggle under his breath as he turns, smiling as Cross’s eyes widen.

“Not quite.”

~oOo~

But nobody knows you now

When you're dying in LA

And nobody owes you now

When you're dying in LA

~oOo~

Fate and destiny are predetermined things…but they are not a gift, no.

They are a curse.

Bad gets jealous of good and tries to prove he can be just the same as his counterpart, but only succeeds in cursing himself farther. Good is hurt by this and centuries go by.

Good gets desperate, nothing enough anymore, so he tries to prove tat he can be just the same as his counterpart, both succeeding and failing. He’s cursed himself, too.

Bad runs away, leaving good.

And now they’ve both strayed from their path.

~oOo~

When you're dying in LA

~oOo~

Good is bad and bad is good.

Or are they?

How can we tell? Who are we to say?

They will determine that for themselves, who is who.

~oOo~

When you're dying in LA

~oOo~