#I love that the police officer looks sad for him too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mydarlingclaudia · 28 days ago

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every word I meant to say

note : ermmmm hi. don't ask where I went for like almost a month work is eating me alive and I was sad. this was inspired by that the unsent project thing andddd idk if I really like this it's def ooc but I was thinking about it again today and this has been in my drafts since September so I figured why not

wc : 2.1k

tags : @luvrgreyy @clitorphosis @sonya-semyonova

desc : letters that went unsent. kind of unrequited love, angst (???), more Leon focused, re2r!Leon - DI!Leon, fem!reader, ooc, not proofread

"I meant to write sooner, I really did. I know it's been a year, my life is so different now, I don't think you'd even believe me if I tried to explain it. I hope you're doing better than I am, I'm happy you weren't able to move to the city with me."

Leon hasn't written a letter since, what, his first few years in the academy? Maybe the end of his senior year of high school? He can't really remember, but he knows that this letter is important because it's to you, his friend he hasn't seen since the night he left for Raccoon City. This isn't even an actual letter, he's scribbling out what he thinks might be good excuses as to why he hasn't talked to you in a year on the back of pieces of scrap paper he took from the office.

He's supposed to be asleep right now, same as everyone else in boot camp, but it's been a year since Raccoon City and he's wondering if you ever tried to reach him. Maybe you tried to go to Raccoon City to look for him, only to see the pile of rubble that stood in its place, sectioned off by the government. Maybe you thought he was dead, he wouldn't blame you.

You and Leon had stuck together all throughout high school, even managed to stay friends when he went off to the police academy and you moved a few hours away for college. He doesn't even know if your address is still the same, he really hopes it is, there's no phone-books in boot camp if he wanted to try and call you, you're supposed to have your loved ones numbers memorized.

The last time Leon saw you was the night before he was supposed to move to the city, before he got a letter in the mail the next morning telling him not to come in, he really wishes he had listened. You were so happy for him, starting out as a city cop was a big deal and he had worked so hard to get there, you and a few friends had thrown him a going-away-party, telling him not to forget you once he got to the city. Leon couldn't forget you if he tried.

You had talked about moving to the city with him for a short period of time, it was really just ramblings the two of you kept bringing up. "Oh, when we live in the city..." "I can come visit you at work..." "I'll handle dinner, you'll handle cleaning..." Nothing ever really came of those ideas, but it gave him a warm feeling in his stomach knowing you wanted to come to the city with him.

He hopes you’ve been well, that life has been kinder to you than it has to him. Leon hopes you got that job you were gushing about the last time he saw you, he hopes you still think of him on his birthday because he thinks of you often.

He shouldn’t have gone to Raccoon City, he should’ve stayed home the day he left and instead stopped by your house to bother you about going to see a movie. Or he should have taken you to lunch, anything would’ve been better than walking into a city that was beyond saving.

"I’m not really sure what I’m saying, but I know I miss you. How have you been? I hope I’m able to come and visit soon, everything’s been moving so fast, but I’ll figure something out. Maybe we can get dinner, or something. Whatever you want, I’ll pay for it, don’t worry."

Leon's hands shake a tiny bit when he thinks of you, it's that school boy nervousness that movies portray whenever there's a boy with a crush on a girl who he knows is probably too out of his league. You were friends, at least.

"You're done with school now, right?" He knows you are. "I wish I was there for the graduation ceremony, I know your parents are proud. Do you remember my graduation party? Someone spiked the punch and we both ended up passed out in the bathtub at your house, you looked really pretty that night. I hope your graduation was better than mine. This would probably have been better as a phone call, but I don't know, you said letters were always more thoughtful.

– Leon"

–

That letter never got sent. Every letter needs an envelope, Leon just never got around to finding one, but he kept that scrap piece of paper tucked inside his pillowcase on the odd chance that he got his hands on one. He had stricter rules to follow than the other recruits, being legally dead and all.

But even after he got out of boot camp, he kept the letter. It's hidden away in some drawer in his house, he's not sure where, though.

He didn't make it into the army, he's not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing, but being in the position he was in now wasn't much better. He's stronger now, hardened, more mature.

Leon's written a few more letters to you over the years, ones that still never got sent because he either deemed them unworthy or because he became unsure of himself halfway through writing it. But he hasn't thrown any of them away, he'll send them one day, he swears it.

Leon's not using you as a way of journaling, either, even though he should find some way to actually write down his thoughts to get them out of his head. What he writes to you is mostly memories, telling you that his life keeps changing and that he misses you. He knows you're different by now, too. You're both grown, no longer in high school, no longer in college or the academy. If he could turn back time, go anywhere other than Raccoon City, he would. He thinks that's selfish of him, him not being there would've left Claire and Sherry in that city, but how would he have even known?

"Me again, hope you're doing better than I am." Leon's way with words gets worse and worse by the week, not that he cares. "I met someone who kind of reminded me of you, she's a sweetheart, like you. You'd probably become fast friends if you were ever able to meet."

Leon's not allowed to tell you about his mission in Spain, or about the president's daughter. President Graham is putting more body-guards in place for his daughter once she steps foot in D.C. again, Leon's sure the president considered appointing Leon as one of them at some point since breaking the news that she was going to be coming back home safely.

Leon should stop thinking about you so much, it's not like you were his only friend in the world, you've probably forgotten him, anyway.

"My life is still different, but yours probably is, too. This probably sounds stupid, but I miss being in high school. You probably don't, your mom was up your ass all the time and you worked yourself to the bone. Has that changed at all?

I remember that one year I went to Thanksgiving at your house, your uncles were all drunk and your cousins kept trying to get me to come sit with them, your grandpa was trying to get me interested in football. I haven't had a holiday like that since then, your family was always really nice to me."

He's not sure what to say anymore, these letters always just end up dragging out, but Leon has a lot of memories and he hopes you think of them as often as he does.

"I'm sorry I haven't visited. It's harder for me to get time off of work these days, even though I could really fucking use it. I promise one day I'll come back, it's just not going to be for a little while. Just don't do anything dumb.

– Leon"

–

Those letters he's been writing you have piled up in the drawer of his nightstand.

He's definitely sure that your address has changed by now, you're probably not even in the same state anymore. He could always try to find you on Facebook, explain everything that's been building up over the years in a simple text, but there's still rules he's supposed to follow even in his personal life.

Leon didn't stop writing, though. The letters did eventually get shorter, he's not sure if you like the same things anymore or if you'd even be interested.

He writes now mostly about how different his life would be if he was with you, if he had just asked you out in high school or kissed you the night he was supposed to leave for Raccoon City. It almost feels real to him when he goes to sleep, but that might just be the alcohol numbing his brain, not the dream of you sleeping next to him or the feeling of your breath on the back of his neck, not even the little pitter-patter off tiny footsteps coming from down the hallway.

It does make him feel a bit pathetic, dreaming of a life with someone he hadn't talked to in years. Leon can't help but think of you, he always thought you were pretty, and the past always lives in the back of his mind, but it comes alive late at night.

You're an entirely different person by now, someone who he hasn't had the opportunity to meet yet. You're probably married, maybe you even have a few kids running around, Leon's jealous of that. That could've been him, but it's not. But he's not even sure if you'd recognize each other if you passed by on the street, so is it even worth it to dwell on all the maybe's?

"I'm not sure I'll get to visit you for a while, not without a lucky fucking twist of fate, anyway."

All these letters are starting to sound the same, but Leon clings onto the thought of someday sending them to whatever corner of the country you were hiding in and hoping that there's still room in your life for a stranger.

"Do you still want me over for dinner? You don't know what I'd give to just eat a shitty meal with you right now."

You don't know what he'd give to do anything with you, really. He knows that there's a lifetime worth of things he's missed out on and that maybe every once in a while you think about him in the same way he thinks about you.

"I don't know how to ask this, but are you married? I know you'd look stunning in a wedding dress." You probably are, you're a catch, who wouldn't want to put a ring on your finger? Your husband's probably a better man than he is, too. One who hasn't had years worth of trauma jammed into his brain with the proof of it marked across his body, your husband probably takes you out on a date every week, maybe even surprises you with breakfast in bed and kisses the nape of your neck to gross out your kids. "I really hope you're happy, in my head you are.

I wanted that to be us, I never told you, but I was a chicken-shit kid and didn't know how to say it. You show up in my dreams sometimes, you deserve nothing but the best. I meant to get back in touch with you forever ago, but I think it's probably too late.

– Leon"

–

Two years after his last letter and Leon's still thinking of you, seventeen years after Raccoon City and the image of you sitting across from him for the last time still loops in his mind. He doesn't really remember your voice but he knows that you thought handwritten letters were romantic, and he still reads over the ones he meant to send to you but kept avoiding.

He's done with the letters, hasn't written one in a long time. But he just got back from California and your old favorite song is playing on the radio, and he's remembering how in love he is with your memory.

"I don't know what I'm doing. I'm too old for this and I'm sure you'd tease me if we had somehow kept in touch. I don't blame you if you thought I died in Raccoon City, I hope you're still alive and that life is good to you.

You were always important to me, I think you've given me something to cling to over the years. This letter won't find you and I'm not even really sure if I want it to, but I hope you'd still call me if you were able to. You wouldn't believe the things I've seen, but I'm happy you never got to see them.

Love, Leon

p.s. I'd say I love you but it feels like something you'd say in person"

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #resident evil #resident evil x reader

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dilemmars · 1 month ago

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“ DIE WITH A SMILE. ”⠀⠀───⠀⠀arcane.

⠀⠀𝖾𝗉𝗂𝗌𝗈𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾.⠀( the base violence necessary for change , 9.3k words. )⠀by dilemmars.

1.⠀⠀ PAIRING⠀⠀:⠀⠀violet x f!reader.

2.⠀⠀GENRES⠀⠀:⠀⠀based on the storyline and universe of arcane ( league of legends tv show )⠀; first love trope, started dating recently, stablished relationship, exes to lovers. basically you and vi were dating before the start of the story, then got separated.

3.⠀⠀WARNINGS⠀⠀:⠀⠀i will add the warnings that the tv show has: slight presence of sex and nudity, foul language, alcohol, drugs and tobacco. moderate scenes of fear and terror. high content of violence and gore. in this third chapter, there's a lot going on. mentions of death, injuries, prostitution, blood, fights, and a brief suicidal thought at the end. please do not read if you're uncomfortable with it.

4.⠀⠀AUTHOR 'S NOTE⠀⠀:⠀⠀third chapter out! i'm so sorry thta it took me another full day to post a new chapter. i haven't even watched act 3 yet because i lit have no time, but i managed to finish this. it is very sad. i'm sorry about that too. but next chapter will be slightly more relaxed, with less drama, i promise. happy sunday 🤍

5.⠀⠀IMPORTANT⠀⠀:⠀⠀this is a work of fiction. i do not own arcane or any content produced or owned bychristian linke, alex yee, riot games or netflix. all rights belong to netflix and the writers of arcane. all plot events and character developments that are not related to the main character's story belong to the writers and creators of the series.

It's hard to know what your last breath will be, but sometimes you can feel the moment lurking, like a shadow looming over you, icy and heavy. Crouched on that rooftop, the air had a strange edge to it, as if each breath cut inside. The mist rising from the streets scratched at your throat, but it wasn't just mist. It was the weight of the inevitable.

You paused, frowning, as the usual swaying of the wooden sign of Benzo's caused your gaze to wander towards the entrance of the shop. And before you could comprehend what was happening, the scream came as a jolt, tearing through the silence of the night. It was as if the sound pierced your skin, sinking into your flesh, clinging to your bones. The kind of scream you can't help but hear, a gasp ripped from a throat. A hopeless, desperate voice that forces you to imagine the pain behind it. One last breath, and a body slumped to the ground.

And then, you caught a glimpse of him. A blurred figure, moving with a ferocity that seemed unnatural, unloading a punch on another uniformed officer, the glare of his gaze utterly animalistic. You cowered over the edge of the building, struggling not to look away, and flinched at the brutality of the pounding. The Enforcers all looked the same, with the metal mask and the blue cap, but the creature that had attacked them was familiar. It seemed less human with every movement, a mass of disfigured flesh and purplish meandering veins, but the curve of its chin, the soft wave of its hair... you had been so close to its face that you had come to memorise it.

Deckard. You recognised the sharp turn of his movements, accentuated in that state. You had felt his violence in your own skin, you knew it. Altered into a violent beast, he still retained some of that cruel strength, no doubt hindered by the way his body had grown and deformed. You saw him ignore the authoritative warning of a third Enforcer, and approach her at superhuman speed. In the blink of an eye, the police collapsed at his feet, like a drunk by a tavern door. Her blood spilled down the wall of the tent, sloshing everywhere, and you followed it with your eyes as it slid between the stones, thick, after Deckard had torn her flesh to the bone.

The force of his attack hit you like a shot in your chest, and you clutched at the concrete beneath your hands as if you could somehow anchor yourself to the past. There was silence in the weathered street. You could only hear your ragged breathing, quickening under your skin, and Deckard's silent footsteps as he disappeared. Night had fallen on Zaun like a blanket on your bed, and you felt it on your shoulders, suffocating you. You looked down again, where the rickety bodies of the agents lay like broken dolls on the pavement, their stiff fingers still gripping their pistols, and you could faintly distinguish the movement of someone approaching them in the shadows.

Measuring his pace, as if calculating every step he took, a fourth Enforcer approached the bodies of the fallen agents, his service gun in his hand, and he hesitated. For a moment you wanted to say something to him, to warn him perhaps, that there was a beast loose in the darkness, tell him to run away while he could, but a movement in the dusk stopped you. He was not alone. Behind him, shoulder to shoulder at the entrance to the shop, two frozen figures watched the scene. You felt a knot in your chest as you recognised them: Vander and Benzo. Their stances looked sharp, like a taut bow about to shoot an arrow, ready to defend themselves if necessary.

You leaned forward, caught between the urge to descend and the helplessness of knowing you could do nothing from up there, but something stopped you. You saw something dancing in the fog, the soft walk of a distorted silhouette slowly approaching from the other side of the street. You tried to suppress the shiver that ran down your spine, a shiver that was not only cold, but that also contained more than just that, the fear locked in your ribcage, rising up to feel it pulsing in your throat.

And then, the glow of embers in the night: a kaleidoscope of shadows and flames, pierced by a scar, so different from its twin that they looked like the eyes of two different people. The face, sharp, pale, and an imperturbable pace, so sure of himself that the ground seemed to tremble beneath his feet.

‘Silco?’ Benzo, hesitant, confused at first, turned rabid as he brandished the old silver candlestick in the direction of the unknown man. ‘You animal,’ he said, coming closer, stumbling, ’go crawl back into whatever hole you came out of.’

You couldn't see the venomous smile that tugged at Silco's thin lips, but you did hear the desperate tone torn from Vander's throat as he raised his hands towards his friend, cuffed, useless, trying to prevent the inevitable, ‘Benzo, stay back!’

‘You never did know when to walk away,’ Silco's voice, velvety, echoed down the street, emptying the silence, and your heart stopped inside your chest as Benzo tried to pounce on him.

The motion was too fast for the human eye. One instant, Benzo had raged forward, steadfast, defying the impassive man of mist. The next, Deckard's raw strength had brought Benzo down in a bundle of violet swirls, the body of the one who had cared for you since you were a child lying lifeless on the ground. The creaking of his bones echoed wet and dry at the same time, like tree branches snapping under too much weight, the blood surging beneath his shoulders, as if fleeing from the veins it was ceasing to flow through.

From the rooftop, it all seemed painfully distant. You brought a trembling hand to your mouth, a scream dying in your throat, watching Deckard keep his hand on Benzo's neck. His crooked fingers seemed to tingle from feeling the violence of death again, waiting, hovering over Benzo to check that he was gone, and you heard Vander's torn whimper, his legs buckling under his weight, under the weight of loss.

‘Stubborn to the end,’ muttered Silco, relishing each word with reverence.

But then the Enforcer left standing dropped his arms, defeated, betrayed, half-face covered by the mask they wore so as not to breathe Zaun's toxic air, and questioned Silco angrily, ‘What the hell have you done? This wasn't the deal!’

The echo of his words expanded, vibrating inside your head as if searching for a place to linger, and you stood still, watching from the shadows as that chilling scene unfolded, kneeling on the edge of the building, utterly overwhelmed.

‘Deal's changed.’

Silco's words reverberated on the cobblestone floor of the poorly lit street, ringing in your ears, as you tried to clear your mind. You took a breath of air, which cut, cold, down your throat, and looked down. You could still hear his voice, ominously calm and low, and the clink of coins clattering on the floor. A deal. Between the topside and the underground. You frowned, realising that there were no fire stairs on that front, and accentuated your frown as you tried to understand why someone from Zaun would want to ally himself with an Enforcer, of all people.

Before you could even try to slide down the wall, however, leaping from window to window as you had done in the past, you heard Deckard's heavy footsteps on the cobblestone floor, and you raised your head. He was slowly approaching Vander, with no sign of a reaction from the owner of The Last Drop, letting out a low growl as the beast finally took up a position in front of him. His arm swung once like the pendulum of an old clock, and the punch blew against Vander's face with a low, muffled thud, causing him to stagger under its weight.

Your throat closed as you watched him anchor his legs to the ground to keep from falling. You saw him drop his shoulders, defeated, as if he had forgotten his own strength, and he stood just as still as you did whilst Deckard shoved his hand through Vander's hair, grabbing him violently and pulling him to the ground. You watched him, because you were unable to do anything else, as if fear had slid liquid across your skin until it solidified around your ankles, the monstrous creature dragging Vander across the ground.

It was the certainty. Vander, who had picked you up off the street at your weakest moment, who had taught you how to defend yourself, who had shown you the resilience that characterised him like a class while learning how to make Powder's favourite juice, had been reduced to a shadow of his former self by a punch. What could you have done to stop it? To stand between Vander and the one who had abused you as much as he had wanted? To face Deckard's vicious eyes once more, risking losing him all the same?

It wouldn't have helped.

You watched them walk, Silco's figure turning away from the chaos of shadows and death he left behind him, while Deckard followed close behind, gripping Vander's hair with a bruising strength. Your fingers itched. You had braided that hair many times, elaborate and funny designs as you grew up, but those hands were treating it cruelly, a monster freed of any kind of sentience. And it hurt. Watching them disappear into the fog, the Enforcer staggering down the street to the other side, it stung like an open wound. You bit your cheek, holding back the tears that threatened to slide down your skin, and felt the blood on your tongue like a foul aftertaste.

And then you heard it. The cry, choked and broken, that pierced your chest like a sharp knife. You stood up, waking the legs that had felt numb against the concrete edge of the rooftop, and moved on instinct, ignoring the insignificant discomfort of your ankle every time you leaned on it.

It was Vi. You slid across the roof, your feet seeking support on the nearest window ledge, hanging on to it to climb down to the next, and continued descending. You followed the heartbreaking sound of Vi's voice, drowning out her own sobs, and swallowed all the emotions you didn't want to feel, focused on finding your girlfriend. The polish of your nails peeled as you buried your fingers in joints between bricks, clinging to them to keep from falling to the ground, and you closed your eyes tightly before you took the last leap, placing most of your weight on your good foot as you landed on the ground.

You rose to your feet, a shiver running through your skin, as you heard the piercing cry of frustration, and turned to face it with a jolt. It had come from Benzo's shop. Had she been there all that time? You frowned, restless, and turned towards the massacre, clenching your jaw and staring straight ahead. You had to get Vi out of there. That was your priority. You couldn't afford to look at the ground, to collapse. Every breath you took, the air sounded slightly ragged, as if you were about to scream but held back, and you clenched your hands into fists as you dodged the bodies sprawled on the floor.

Your first step into Benzo's shop was hesitant, like an unconfident fawn's. You didn't want to think that it was the first time you would enter the place knowing that its owner would never come back to wait for you behind the counter, but the certainty came back to you again and again, as if brought by the tide. There was almost no light, the little oil lamps that were scattered around the shelves were off, as if they held a mourning you had not yet faced, and the darkness brought with it a feeling of coldness that dug into your bones.

‘Vi,’ you whispered, your choked voice faintly spilling across the room. ‘Vi!’ you repeated, louder.

You heard your name, low, dazed, almost vanishing into thin air, and tried to follow it. It was the storage room. She had been locked in the storeroom.

‘Wait!’ you said, rushing to the counter, ‘I'll get you out!’

You tried to piece together what had happened, your hand searching in the gloom for the spare key Benzo always kept in the wooden drawers. It was in Vi's nature to have tried to fix everything herself. It was inherent in her, to carry as much of the burden as possible so that her siblings —and even you, if you got into trouble— wouldn't have to suffer the consequences. You didn't know how she could have warned the Enforcers, but you knew they had come to Benzo's shop for her. You knew it as clearly as you knew you would have done the same for her if it had happened.

But if Vander had shown up, it was also because he had discovered her. And if he had been wearing the handcuffs, it had been him who had locked her in the storeroom. To stop her from doing another stupid thing. Maybe Vander wasn't her biological father, but a strained smile tugged at your lips at the thought that they were more alike than they allowed themselves to think they were.

When your fingertips brushed against the metal frame of the key, you grabbed onto it, running the few meters between the countertop and the door behind which Vi stood. Your hands trembled as you slid it into its lock, holding your breath as you tried a second time, and you turned it on its axis twice, as you had done so many times in the past, pulling the heavy door off its hinges so that you could wrap your arms around Vi's body.

She clung to you tightly, choking her sobs in the crook of your neck, and the silence grew heavy around you, empty of hope. You felt Vi's hands squeeze your shirt, squeezing your body against hers, her warm tears sliding down your skin. You looked up at the ceiling, letting out a shaky sigh between your lips, and ran your hand up her back until it was tangled in her hair. Her shoulders shook under your touch to the rhythm of her own sobs, and you stayed still beside her for as long as she needed, allowing her to collapse.

‘Did you see what happened?’ you finally murmured against her hair, as her breathing slowly regulated.

‘Not much,’ she replied, her voice broken by tears, pulling away from you to rub her hands across her face. ‘Did you?’

‘It was Benzo...’ you began, and you hated the way you faltered before continuing. ‘They killed Benzo. And the Enforcers, some of them...’

‘And Vander?’

‘He's alive,’ you said, sliding your hand down his arm. ‘They took him.’

And your breath hitched as you realised.

He was alive. They had taken him, but he was still alive. Your mind was scrambling, trying to plan an impulse that came to you like a tug at your heart, watching the tears glisten on Vi's freckled cheeks. You couldn't let her lose someone else. Piltover had taken enough from her. Vander was still alive, you told yourself. He was still breathing, his chest was rising and falling, even if he hadn't had the strength to rise and confront them. He was alive, and you still had a chance to fight for him.

Your face took on a more worried tinge, ‘We need to find out where they've taken him.’

Vi looked up at you, her unfocused eyes darting across your face, but she nodded.

‘I know where,’ muttered a voice behind you. You turned abruptly, brow furrowed in distrust, and felt the pain wither against your ribcage. Ekko.

Little Ekko, never as small as he looked at that moment, his shoulders slumped forward and his crystallised gaze fixed on you. You took a step forward, ready to take him in your arms, but it was he who crossed the distance between you, taking refuge in your embrace. The pained expression on his face melted into tears as you snaked your hands around his back, and your own lump in your throat threatened to unravel as you felt him cry against your chest.

‘They killed him,’ he murmured, over and over against your skin, choking back his own tears.

‘I know, kid,’ you replied, unable to understand what you were supposed to do at that moment. You felt the warmth of unshed drops in your own eyes, and fought against them, burying your face in his hair as you felt one slide down your cheek. ‘I'm sorry, I'm sorry.’

‘We'll get them, Ekko,’ Vi promised, resting one hand on your back, stroking you comfortingly, and another on the boy's shoulder.

He parted slowly, rubbing his hand over his cheeks as Vi had done a few minutes before, and looked at the two of you, trying to gather the energy to speak. You couldn't stop to think what it must have felt like, watching Benzo die like that and still finding the strength to follow the perpetrators, the murderers, just so you could have a glimmer of hope of getting Vander back. He had been very brave.

‘It should be quick,’ you said, cradling his face in your hand, the pain shining in your gaze. ‘An hour and a half, maybe, tops two hours.’ You slid your gaze slightly to Vi, who was watching you with her brows furrowed in a helpless gesture, and added, ‘If we're not back then, please, go to my Mom's, yeah?’

Your mother would know what to do. She always did. She would take care of Ekko.

‘But...,’ he stammered, and you decided to ignore the way his chin began to tremble again, new tears gathering in his almond-shaped dark eyes.

‘No buts, Ekko,’ you replied, interrupting him gently. You took a breath of air, tangling your fingers in his short pale hair, pulling him to your body, and held him tightly in your arms. ‘I need you to be safe, please,’ you implored.

‘I don't want to lose you,’ he murmured against the fabric of your shirt, and you felt every movement of his lips, your own face struggling not to cry.

You looked up, blinking back tears, sighing the lump in your throat, ‘You won't,’ you told him, stroking his white curls, ‘you have my word. I'll come back in one piece.’

You forced yourself to pull away from him, your hands on his shoulders, and slid your thumb over his cheeks to wipe away the strands of tears that had leaked from his eyes, trying to muster the courage to flash a crooked smile. It wasn't easy, but you couldn't afford to look weak. Not in front of him, not when he needed you more than ever.

‘Besides,’ you whispered, unbuttoning your waistcoat, holding the pocket watch between your fingers, resting it against his chest in a graceful motion, ‘who's going to look after my watch while I'm gone?’

‘Are you going to let me keep it?’ he asked, cupping it in his two hands as if it were a treasure. He slid his fingertips over the silver curve of its circumference, over the twelve chipped numbers you had drawn above it - all Roman numerals - and looked up at you.

‘Forever,’ you promised, nodding solemnly.

He pounced on you, wrapping his arms around your waist, and you melted into his embrace with closed eyes, memorising every detail. Vi joined in a sigh, wrapping her strong arms around you, and for a moment you remained buried under your own skin, wishing that it was all a nightmare and that when you opened your eyes, the rapid breathing, tears and screams were just part of yet another of your childish games.

Reality was far crueler than a kid's imagination.

You felt Vi's hand intertwined with yours like a shackle pulling you back to consciousness, the faint discomfort of your ankle keeping you sane as she led you to The Last Drop. You hadn't exchanged a word since you had left Ekko in the same room of broken glass you had fled from that morning, hidden in the rafters of the ceiling, and both of remained trapped in your minds, thoughts running at too much speed.

It was difficult to face such a situation. As inhabitants of Zaun, loss was part of your DNA. You came into the world crying for the loss of your future, a future that had been taken from you at the founding of the city, and you mourned the violence that you would inevitably encounter, ever-present in the streets of the underground. Vi had endured the death of her biological parents, as had Powder and the rest of the Vander children, and you had been born without knowing who your father was, growing up surrounded by brutality.

You didn't know what your girlfriend was thinking, but you tried to remember if you'd ever spent enough time in the docks to have been able to investigate the large building that loomed over the water, as if it were floating. Ekko had claimed to see the man of mist and Deckard disappear within its tall brick walls, but had refused to come any closer. You had left a soft kiss on his forehead as a farewell, and in a glance you and Vi had known what to do.

Vander had trained you for such a moment. He had spent years teaching you how to defend yourselves, practising boxing with you, training you to take care of your own. You had always assumed it would be complicated, any fight was. But as much as Vander had been a proponent of using violence, in his past, you had also learned peace. It was clear that Silco would not accept a dialogue, a bargain of any kind. He had negotiated with that Enforcer for Vander. Vander had been his target.

The importance of acting was to do it right. And if you sneaked in and out, as you'd done so many times before to get some food, you'd all sleep on the top floor of The Last Drop that night, listening to Vander's snoring, the sheets moving every time Powder rolled over in her bed, and Vi's body warm against yours.

The bar was dead silent when you slipped in through the back door, and you assumed Vander would have closed up before he went to find Vi. You waited a few moments for her as she went inside to fetch the gauntlets Vander always kept hanging over the counter, and slipped down the stairs to the small room in the basement of the building when she returned with a shake of her head. Someone had taken them.

‘Vi?’ uttered Claggor, turning to you as she opened the door. He added your name, avoiding the hint of a question. You tried to force a smile as you realised that they had always assumed that if one of you was there, the other would appear shortly after.

Vi came down the stairs two at a time, ignoring the two boys, and slid her eyes around the room, searching for the gauntlets, ‘Where are the...?’

You sat on one of the steps, listening to the soft thump of Powder's body as she pounced on her older sister, and pulled your trousers up to your knee, untying your laces at full speed. Whenever Vi was set on something, she acted on instinct and with great speed. You didn't know if she would look for something more —except perhaps other weapons— but you delegated finding them to her. You had little time to slow down the way your ankle was going to worsen its condition irremediably in the remainder of the night.

Nor did you have much more strength than she did to explain what had happened.

You pulled off the bandages you carried in your pocket, resting them on the old wood of the stairs, as you heard Vi's quickened breathing echo through the room, pulling your injured foot up a step to remove your boot. You looked up when you heard Mylo protest, ‘Hey, those are Vander's,’ he said, grabbing Vi by the wrist. ‘Slow down. What is going on?’

‘Benzo's dead,’ she muttered, and you closed your eyes for a moment, before continuing to untie the tight knot in your shoes.

‘Dead?’ Claggor repeated, and you wondered if you were better off waiting outside. You removed your sock, shook your head, took a breath of air, and picked up the bandages, placing your foot on the knee of your other leg.

‘They took Vander.’

‘Who took Vander?’ added Claggor, as you began to wrap the bandage around your ankle, taut, inflexible on your skin, tense enough so that when you came back your joints wouldn't resent it. You did it angrily, trying to bury all the emotions you had managed to control so far.

‘I don't know,’ you heard Vi reply, and her voice sounded slightly closer as she turned to include you in the conversation, ’we're gonna help him.’

‘We're going with you,’ Mylo replied, almost as if he was hurt that it hadn't occurred to you earlier.

You put your sock back on when the bandages felt like a second skin over your foot, and tied your boots tightly. A bloody sprain wasn't going to stop you from rescuing Vander. It wasn't going to stop you from bringing him back, safely, home. You weren't going to let it. You looked up, sighing, and tried to intervene.

‘Whatever killed Benzo...’ you said, and your breath caught in your throat.

‘It was nothing like I've ever seen,’ Vi continued, and her voice trembled as much as yours. ‘It tore him apart.’

You saw the way her shoulders tensed before even the first sob slipped from her mouth, but you didn't have a chance to approach her before her brothers, who embraced her warmly, all united by stubbornness and impotence. Vi put her hands to her face, covering the obstinate tears she did not want to let fall down her cheeks, and you knew she had come to the same conclusion as you. They were both going to want to go with you, and you were going to need their help, no matter how much Vi wanted to keep them safe.

‘You're not doing this alone,’ Claggor stated, determined.

‘He's our father too,’ Mylo added, his hand tracing circles on Vi's back. ’Do we know where they took him?’

‘Ekko followed them,’ you interjected, clearing your throat as Vi stowed what her brothers had left on the table in one of the backpacks you always left lying around. ‘The old cannery next to the docks. He said...’

You looked up from the backpack, calming yourself once you realised it had been the boys who had taken the gauntlets, but the muscles in your back tensed again as you noticed Powder standing in front of you, a look of determination on her face, and a suitcase in her hands. Of course she wanted to go with you too.

Vi turned to you as she heard you hesitate, and exhaled an exhausted sigh at the sight of her sister.

‘I need you to sit this one out, Powder,’ she asked, approaching her.

‘What?’ her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and your heart crumpled in your chest. Ekko had been easier to convince because he had seen what had happened. He was shocked, willing to wait for you to return. But Powder had always followed his sister's example, longing for a chance to show her worth and to stop being treated like a child.

‘You're not coming,’ and Powder's expression was worse than if she'd received a slap in the face.

‘I'm not afraid,’ she replied, desperate within the quietness of her response.

You couldn't intervene on this occasion. Nor were Mylo and Claggor going to. It went beyond their sense of responsibility, this was a blood sister fight to see which of the two would get their way. And the older one always had the upper hand.

‘It's too dangerous,’ Vi added, and you didn't have to see the gleam in her eye to know that she needed Powder to listen to her, to understand why she was asking so much of her.

‘But families stick together,’ Powder continued, accentuating his frown, ’you said it yourself.’

‘I know what I said...’

‘I want to fight,’ she announced, and the freckles creased on her cheeks as she looked up, raging, at Vi. ‘I can help.’

‘You're not ready,’ Vi replied, and her sharp tone cut over Powder's determination, shattering what hope remained. You saw how Vi held her breath for a moment, regretting her choice of words, and tried to correct them in a whisper. ‘You're all I have left,’ she said, resting the palm of her hand against Powder's cheek. ‘I can't lose you.’

‘Here,’ you uttered, in a soft, conciliatory tone, approaching them with one of the flares you had in a box under the stairs. It was a blue smoke one, a symbol you had talked about more than once with Powder, making jokes about the colour of her hair.

Vi took it gently from your hands, handing it to her little sister, ‘If they come for you, take this and run,’ she whispered, her gaze locked on Powder's pale pink eyes. ‘Wherever you are, light it up and I'll find you.’

Eyes shining, you almost couldn't hear the last words, a gentle ‘I promise’ murmured against Powder's face as she leaned down to rest her forehead against her sister's, memorising the warmth of her body before parting. You turned, beckoning Mylo and Claggor up the stairs, and you followed, leaving the sisters a few more seconds together.

The mood seemed somewhat subdued, Mylo's mouth closed in an altogether uncharacteristic muteness, and you peeled back your lips to make some comment to cheer them. The words died in your throat when you reached the landing, suddenly surrounded by Claggor's arms, and you held your breath in surprise.

‘I'm sorry,’ he said, and Mylo repeated it, both of them hugging you.

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself a moment of weakness, and let out a choked sob against Claggor's shoulder, still feeling the lump in your throat.

‘It's not your fault,’ you murmured back, ’it's not.’

‘It's not yours either,’ Vi uttered, and you turned your face towards her, who had just appeared through the door.

You tried to curl your lips into a grateful smile, your eyelids quivering to keep from shedding a tear, ‘I know.’

But it wasn't true, because you could never find out what would have happened if you had come down from that rooftop before Silco appeared, if you had warned the Enforcers of Deckard's presence. It was already in the past, you had lost your opportunity. Maybe, if you had confronted them while Vander and Benzo were still conscious, everything would be fine. Maybe your presence would had led them to fight back. And that was something Vi didn't know either.

You trailed behind, but kept pace as Vi led you through the crooked streets of Zaun, turning corners and ignoring drunken men, towards the city borders. The docks were not a highly desirable place, though one to which Madam sent many prostitutes on the days of disembarkation. Most traders transacted goods with the topside, and its bright and shiny harbours, but those who dealt in coal and alcohol had to make a stop at the Lanes, and the black market in its streets.

That building, however, looked even darker in the moonlight, the mist rising from the water creating a cloak of eerie mystery around it. You walked around its perimeter in a couple of minutes, trying to figure out which entrance was the most secluded but best accessible, and it was your keen eye that located an open window on the first floor. You climbed onto Claggor's shoulders, a rope at your shoulder, and clung tightly to one of the pipes, checking with a smirk that it would be able to support your weight.

Of the four of you, you were the best at climbing. You were elusive, small and slender for your age, even more so than the children of Zaun, no doubt a consequence of the fact that on many days your mother had been unable to offer you food to put in your mouth. The need to hide had made you learn to duck between the rooftops of the city, and though Vi was better at leaping from building to building, you were certainly the sneakiest of the bunch.

You even seemed to glide along the facades, you'd been told, clawing at bricks and picking out which spots on the wall were best to rest your limbs on, as you were doing at the moment. You panted as you managed to get your arm over the window sill, sliding your leg over so that you could slide into the building, and held your breath as you glanced down the dark corridor. No one seemed to be there. You grabbed the coiled rope you had slung over your shoulder and began to drag it down the window, waiting for Vi's two tugs before you crouched on the floor and braced your feet against the wall.

You held on, with the rope wrapped around your waist and tugging at it while the others climbed, and left it hidden under the window once everyone had climbed up. In case any guards found it, they wouldn't know where to start looking, and you doubted you would need it to escape. Vander was too heavy and too weakened to get out the way you had come in.

You scanned the corridors of the warehouse, rusty platforms stacked in a narrow space, and hurried to take up position behind Claggor, the four of you forming a line with Vi in front and Mylo last, slouching forward under the riveted iron pipe railings. Vi signalled to you when she realised that there was a poorly lit room on the upper floor, and you all hurried up the stairs, still crouching.

When you reached the other side of the corridor, Vi leaned forward, peering quickly, and turned to you with a triumphant smile, voicelessly pronouncing that Vander was there. You rested a hand on Claggor's shoulder as you felt Mylo's on your waist, and you advanced at a rapid pace until you reached the room, where Vander sat, defeated, in a big iron chair, all his limbs imprisoned by metal straps, fastened by padlocks.

You saw him spit blood, his broad chest straining to breathe out a hoarse cough, and he whispered a soft ‘Vi,’ his unfocused eyes closing as he felt his eldest daughter's arms slipping around his shoulders in a hug. His tone became more urgent as he realised you were really there, ‘What are you doing here?’

‘We're breaking you out,’ Vi explained, as you picked up the backpack she had left on the ground.

You opened it, kneeling on the ground, and pulled out the lock-picking device you had built for Mylo. It didn't always work, but it was the best you had. ‘Mylo,’ you called, and tossed the gadget to him.

‘On it!’

You turned towards the door, rising to your feet to check that no one was coming in, your fingers tingling to check the time on a watch you no longer had, but you froze when you heard Vander's husky voice.

‘How... how did you get in?’ he said, stuttering hurriedly over the words that were building up in his mouth. ‘There's guards everywhere.’

Oh God. Of course it had been a trap.

‘It was easy,’ you heard Vi reply, her tone losing its strength as the realisation dawned on her. ‘We found an open window and...’

You rushed over to the backpack, hastily pulling out the weapons that Claggor and Mylo had gathered, as you saw Claggor's figure hurrying to grab his favourite dagger, trying to release one of Vander's wrists from its prison. The man made eye contact with you, Vi stepping behind you to watch the door, and you held back a sob as you heard Vander again, ‘You have to get out. Now.’

No. You weren't going to leave him again. You weren't going to fail at the same task twice. There had to be time, you could do it. Silco's men probably hadn't even realised you were in yet, you had a chance, you could....

But you heard a clap reverberate through the warehouse, soft and dangerous, and your breath caught in your throat.

Silco.

‘Welcome,’ he murmured, his voice flowing like a river down its course, the sound of his rhythmic clapping coming hopelessly closer to you, ‘you have my congratulations,’ you tried to ignore it, to keep the memory of his tone from bringing back the vision of Benzo's body falling to the ground, but it came to you with the force of a storm, leaving you breathless, ‘but i'm afraid this will be a very short reunion.’

You refused to turn toward him, your hands instinctively gripping Vander's gauntlets, and Vi positioned herself at your side, shooting a defiant glare at the man of mist as she held out her arms for you to place Vander's weapons on her.

‘Have you heard the rumours?’ he added, and you could hear the amusement in his voice, ‘Vander the coward fled town with his children. And they were never seen again.’

You finished knotting the second gauntlet to your girlfriend's wrist, the straps stiff but comfortable on her pale skin, and exchanged a glance with her. You were going to make it. You rested your hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly, and she gave you a fragile but sincere smile, real, just for you. Vi was the best at boxing. You took a quick glance back, your gaze hardening as you saw that Silco was surrounded by his followers, a bunch of buff men and women, all of them ready to fight. You sighed, determined. If there was anyone who could take on a man two heads taller, and visibly stronger, it was her.

You moved your hand up to the nape of her neck, stroking the lower part of her hair, and closed your eyes as you rested your forehead on his. It was a good-luck caress, a wish to go home, a temporary goodbye. She took a breath of air, parting from you reluctantly, as she always did, and positioned herself at your back. You saw the way Claggor's dagger broke from too much pressure, and heard Vi's first step toward the door.

‘Claggor, see if you can find another way out of here,’ you ordered him, rotating your shoulders. You saw him nod, watching out of the corner of your eye as Mylo wrestled with the device in the lock on Vander's right leg. Claggor nodded. Vander looked at you, concerned.

‘You don't have to do this,’ he said, but you knew he was talking to Vi.

‘Yes I do,’ she replied, determined, resolved.

Your priority was to get Vander out of there, to get everyone home safely. You ignored Vander's strangled gasp as Vi's quickened footsteps echoed over the metal lattice floor of the corridor, and you brought your hands to your head, grabbing the two long metal bobby pins you wore in your hair, both sharp and U-shaped. You crouched down next to Vander's other leg, and picked up the padlock. Inventions were your thing, you had to figure out how to open it.

You looked over your shoulder when you heard a thud behind you, momentarily startled, but smiled as you saw Vi, exultant in the middle of the bridge, and in the floor the body of the giant tattooed man you had seen when you turned around. That was your girl. You inserted one of the hairpins into the lock hole, noticing how Vander relaxed minimally against the seat as he saw that his daughter was perfectly capable, and then turned the other, recreating the teeth of a key. You imagined the mechanism under the padlock's metal cover, turning its gears to loosen.

Everything was going to be all right.

‘Mylo,’ you heard Vander, and saw out of the corner of your eye that Mylo had slipped the device to the floor. ‘You can do this.’

You looked over at Claggor, your fingers struggling against the lock, and saw that he had found a crack in the wall. There were enough tools in the backpack for him to open a hole. Perfect. You took a breath of air, forcing your wrist to turn the downward facing bobby pin all the way around, and the locking bow opened with a soft snap. You removed the hairpins, withdrawing the lock, and Vander rested his leg on the ground.

‘We're gonna get you out,’ you murmured, crouching down next to Mylo. ‘Hey, Myls,’ you said, laying your hands on top of his, helping him move them nimbly, ‘big breath.’

You felt him inhaling briefly, closing his eyes to feel the gears of the device against his palm, and you exchanged a glance as the smooth sound was repeated, releasing Vander's other leg.

‘We got this,’ he whispered, more encouraged.

‘Of course we do,’ you replied, placing a hand on Vander's knee to pull yourself to your feet.

Vi's soft panting continued to echo off the walls of the warehouse, to the rhythm of the punches of her gauntlet-covered fists as they impacted against the bodies of Silco's minions, and you looked back once more. Vi was rising against a bare-chested man, her shoulders tense, turned so that she could deliver another blow.

You focused on the lock on Vander's wrist as Mylo did the same on the other side of the chair, holding your hairpins tightly, moving your hands as fast as you could. You listened to your heart pounding in your ears, for a moment drowning out all sound from outside, like every time you secluded yourself in your studio, until you heard the first howl.

It reverberated in your mind, emptying it of all thought, like a shadow stretching over you. Deckard. You turned, eyes widening in horror, the mass of flesh that was the boy who had once abused you looming over Vi, and for a moment your heart stopped in your chest. In the darkness, you were only able to make out the fluorescent violet color of his veins, Vi's light pink hair, facing each other. You had seen what Deckard was capable of. You weren't going to let Vi end up like Benzo and those Enforcers.

‘Mylo, hurry,’ Vander pleaded, as you twisted the hairpins urgently, releasing the lock as soon as it gave way.

You turned toward the backpack, watching in horror as Vi leapt toward Deckard, and grabbed the first thing you saw. A piece of pipe, thin and hard against your hand, long enough that you could strike without getting too close. It wasn't a sword, but it would have to do. You looked up, checking that Claggor had already begun removing bricks from the wall, and advanced toward the deck, ignoring the way Deckard had grabbed Vi by the neck.

‘Silco, let her go!’ shouted Vander, slamming his free hand on the armrest of his chair. ‘This is between you and me!’

‘You had your chance,’ Silco replied, not even flinching.

Vi coughed, a choked, desperate sound, followed by a scraped gasp in her throat, seeking oxygen, and you slid onto the metal walkway. Deckard was barely aware that you had moved behind him, too focused on snatching every last breath of air from your girlfriend's lungs, and he dropped her against the ground as you jumped, unloading the pipe against his skull with all the force you had.

Deckard grumbled, an anguished scream spilling from his mouth, and you let go of the pipe, running to Vi. You slung one of her arms over your shoulders, one of yours around her waist, and carried her back to the room where Vander was, panting, the pain in your ankle beginning to awaken. You gritted your teeth, leaving Vi on the floor, leaning against the wall, and charged over to the sliding iron door, doing your best to close it. When you felt the door slam as it hit the wall, blocking Deckard's access, you pushed past the latch, collapsing against the floor, your shoulder pressed up to the door, just in case.

“You did good,” Vander whispered, looking at you, at Vi, his gaze clouded with admiration.

You merely nodded, exhausted, as Claggor continued to throw bricks, opening a large hole in the wall. You felt light, despite your tiredness, and leaned your head against the door. Mylo was struggling with the last lock, but you knew he was going to make it. You allowed yourself to close your eyes for a heartbeat, sighing, a moment of quiet before the first bang came. It echoed through the room, metallic and dry, and you felt it coursing through your body. Deckard was trying to reach you all.

You watched as Vi sat up, the one fist that still retained a gauntlet resting on the ground to stand, and tried to crawl to sit beside you, her chest rising and falling at full speed. There was only waiting, you knew. A slow, agonizing wait, until the boys were done with their part of the mission. You felt Vi lean her head on your shoulder, your bodies moving in time to Deckard's pounding, straining against the door to try and hold on as long as it took, and you clenched your jaw.

You were going to make it. A knock, a furtive glance at Mylo, and you heard the soft sound of the lock being released. You were going to make it. One punch, your shoulders tensed, and Vander was finally free. You. Were. Going. To. Make. It. One punch. A gentle squeeze on Vi's free hand. And Claggor finished tore a hole in the wall. You stood up, advancing forward, and then, just silence.

Suddenly, an explosion. You stopped, alert, your eyes wide, and turned to Vi. She had the same terrified expression on her face, one hand resting on the door to pull herself to her feet. You listened carefully over your ragged breathing, your ankle throbbing, your throat dry. Another explosion, closer this time. You turned to Vander, frowning, looking at him as if he could have some kind of answer. He extended his hand toward you, gesturing for Vi to hurry towards them.

A third explosion, and the world around you ceased to exist.

The crackling of the fire, soft and malleable in your ears, was what greeted you when you woke up. Your mouth felt dry, ragged, as if you had swallowed dust, but you opened it anyway, taking in a big breath of air. The oxygen burned your tongue, your eyes still closed, and you tried to move your hands, but you were unable to. You were caught.

The weight of certainty hovered over your ribcage, imprisoning it against the ground, and you moved your head on the cement beneath you, the ground warm against your forehead. You breathed in a second time, your respiration becoming more erratic, and then it hit you. Ashes. There were ashes everywhere, flames eating up the space in the room as if to make you disappear.

You opened your eyes, hearing a faint cough somewhere, and tried to focus your gaze on some point, but you saw only shadows and fire, dancing over you, coming closer, taunting you, and then going away again. You turned your head, looking for some familiar figure, Vander's comforting gaze in the darkness, Vi's soothing touch on your skin, but you were alone. You clenched your jaw, trying to fight against the stone that held you prisoner on the ground, but you found it impossible.

And then, a cry. In a déjà vu, you stirred again under your stone prison, turning toward the desperate sound of Vi's voice. You couldn't see her, but you knew she was there. Your chest was beginning to ache under the weight of the stone, each time managing to breathe less and less air, but you gritted your teeth, struggling, and managed to get a hand out. You mumbled your girlfriend's name, calling her name amidst the chaos, and sobbed when you got no response.

It seemed like the end. You felt dirty, drenched in sweat, stiff under the night of Zaun, and you were unable to perceive your legs, dumb under the stone. They were bricks, probably. Or the roof, perhaps. Snippets of the explosion came back to your memory, the dull sound against your ears, the brutality of the shockwave, and you looked straight ahead again. Vi was there, somewhere, and you had to get to her.

You fought against the cement block above you, trying to move it with your hips, with your arms, doing everything you could to get out of there, until you heard your name. In a wail, low and desperate, to your right. You turned, ignoring the laceration from the edge of the stone on your torso, and saw her. Her clear, frightened gaze, calling for you, the desperate gesture of her body. She was trapped under the metal door.

A growl, a large, dark silhouette in the smoke, and pounding. But you ignored them. You tried to turn a little more, struggling to reach Vi, your fingernails clawing at the ground and the ashes under your hand, dragging you towards her. Then the floor began to shake under your fingers, the ringing in your ears intensifying. The door imprisoning Vi flew off, and she crawled over to you, her hand outstretched in search of yours.

You stretched out your arm to reach for her, flinching as you heard a pained shout from Vander, extending your fingers, reaching out as far as you could for her, but before you could finally touch her fingers, a monstrous figure loomed over both of you, snarling, and grabbed Vi's body, leaping out of the building.

Your hand fell to the ground, defeated, and the walls that were left standing shook with the force of another explosion. You closed your eyes, stubborn, and shook yourself. You had to get to Vi. You had to find her, and Vander, and together you would search for Mylo and Claggor. You would return home. Nothing would have been in vain.

The flames crackled louder around you, almost warning you that getting up was a bad idea, but you ignored them. You weren't going to listen to them. You rested one hand on the ground, the other pulling the stone above you. You weren't strong enough to be able to lift it, but maybe you could wriggle out from under it. You were good at crawling, you could do it. You heard a cry of pain, distant but sharp against your chest, wholly yours. Your shoulder began to burn.

The first drop landed on your cheek. For a moment you thought it was blood, thick and dark against your skin, but then another fell on your chest, light and cool, and a next, and a next. Rain. It was raining. Water, cold and clear, that made the fire sizzle around you. You breathed a sigh of relief as you rested your shoulder on the ground, the dust and rain soothing the burns that threatened to sear your flesh, and leaned forward again. One arm in front of the other, ignoring the pain, pulling yourself back up as you fell to the ground, slowly and achingly moving forward.

Your legs wobbled as you tried to stand up. The bandages on your ankle were soaked in blood, which slid down from your thigh, staining everything in its path. Your torso was bruised, throbbing against your hand, and your ears were ringing. You leaned against the stone that had been above you, towering over it, and blinked, sliding your gaze around the room.

And then you saw them, Mylo and Claggor. Buried under the pieces of ceiling that had collapsed on top of you, motionless, drained of blood. Your breath caught in your throat, and you took a step toward them, a sob piercing your throat. There was nothing to be done, you knew. Still you knelt beside them, stroking Claggor's face, running your mangled fingers through Mylo's hair. You couldn't leave them. They were your family, you had to take care of them.

Powder's desperate scream echoed across the starry sky of Zaun, and your heart pulled forward in your ribs, your head turning toward the giant gap in the wall. Powder. She was supposed to be safe, in The Last Drop. She wasn't supposed to see any of this. She was supposed to wait for you to come back, in a couple of hours, and hold each other, perhaps commenting on it all as a successful anecdote. Mourning Benzo, honoring his memory.

Powder wasn't supposed to be there.

You rose to your feet once more, brow furrowed in concentration, gritting your teeth as you braced your injured leg on the floor, crawling, leaning against the walls to get out of there. You walked the metal corridors of the deserted building, of the cemetery of concrete and fire, descending the stairs one at a time, holding back the screams of pain that threatened to spill out of your mouth. You had to get to her, protect her, look for Vi, find Vander. Together you'd be okay. You always had been. You could make it through, with Ekko, with your mother's help. You would make it. You could fix it.

The night air greeted you like a slap in the face, the empty street echoing your footsteps. No one was there. You had heard Powder, you were sure. But she wasn't there. In a haze of light and shadow, you saw a body on the ground. Everything was gone, but there was another corpse right in front of you. You approached slowly, limping, gasping for breath, until you were able to recognize his face.

It was not Deckard, as you had wished. It was Vander's bruised and deformed face, turned into a monstrous beast, the violet blood spilled under his body. You put a hand to your mouth, falling to your knees beside him, collapsing. And the lump in your throat finally burst, a scream leaving your mouth, resting your forehead on his chest. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair.

You looked up, the loneliness caressing an uneasy shiver across your skin, and stared before you, seeing nothing.

Sometimes your last breath doesn't belong to you. It is stolen, ripped away by others with firm and merciless hands. One second, one heartbeat, one desperate look. One second, one heartbeat, and life leaves your eyes. Other times you hold your breath, the emptiness opening in your chest, deepening as you try to contain it. You tell yourself it's the end, that you need it to be. But it isn't. You end up breathing. You let the oxygen invade you again, even though it feels like a weight on your chest. You keep breathing, even though you wish you weren't.

⠀⠀𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍.⠀( send an ask or comment under the series to be part of it , just if you're going to interact with it ━reblogging with feedback. )⠀@im-just-a-simp-le-whore , @celestialzdiviner , @corpsebridenightamare , @louissst28 , @astr1dblogs , @notsolarry , @starlostastronaut , @yoonkinii , @padsfirewhisky , @luvrluvrr , @ssqra , @darkmoonchic , @urlocalsabito , @spicetouched , @astrxwitch , @deadlynightshadebylana , @bachirastoe , @pickmmeup , @your-scarlett-world

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stressfulsloth · 1 year ago

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I've seen a couple of takes about Disco Elysium being copaganda going around recently, and beyond the fact that DE is relentlessly critical of the police force in general and makes explicit reference to the failures of the system that allow the officers in game to abuse their power, I also think it's important to note that there very literally is an in-world version of copaganda that the writers of the game use to parody that romanticised view of the brutality of policing. The RCM at their inception were structurally inspired by in-world copaganda- their culture, their "fashions, even weapon preferences, borrow heavily from classic Vespertine cop shows." Every investigation is it's own little drama, every officer imagining themselves to be the bad-ass hero of their own crime serial. Detectives name their cases like they're naming episodes of a TV series in a "robust but literary system"; a title that "draws inspiration from snoop fiction and Vespertine cop show staples". They give themselves nicknames to sound like cool, suave fictional officers- Ace, Dick Mullen, etc.- from the cool, suave world of copaganda.

The legend of the RCM's inception, the "point of contention" over its uncertain origins, is even an extention of that; the whole organisation is shrouded in this self-fictionalising mythos that allows for distance that in turn obfuscates much of its violence to the officers that participate in it. They get to convince themselves that they're not abusing their power; they're the hero of the story! The dichotomy of "good guy" taking out the "baddies," a manifestation of the libertarian fantasy of the "good guy with a gun" who does what it takes, just like in Annette's detective novels, and at the same time who rails against oversight bodies like Internal Affairs/'the rat squad' because due process slows down the immediate satisfaction of Swift Justice, despite Internal Affairs existing to protect the citizens from overreach on behalf of the police. "Wanton brutality" from police in their real world is a cold bitter reality but Dick Mullen was "made to crack skulls," "bend the rules and solve cases no one else can," and which version of that story is more comforting to the overworked, underfunded officers of the RCM?

The level of fantasy and detachment required for the cops to still see themselves as the good guys after everything that they do in the line of duty mimics The Pigs and her breakdown too; she parallels Harry so clearly. Both "did right by the kids" in the past, hoping for a better future- Marianne (The Pigs) by looking out for Titus and the Hardy boys when they were young, Harry in his role as a gym teacher. Both abandoned and left behind by the system that the RCM uphold- a brutal capitalist landscape with no safety nets. Both turning the source of their trauma into a costume, a performance, a shield, shaped by "radio waves and cop shows." The Pigs uses RCM items scavenged from the Esperance where they'd been thrown away, while Harry uses the Dick Mullen hat that Annette gives him but both are essentially in costume.

Harry identifies himself with the fictional detective as a kind of wish fulfilment; Dick Mullen is "wicked smart." He doesn't fuck up his cases and when he's sad it's not pathetic; it's effortlessly cool brooding and everyone sympathises. Everyone loves him. His violence- "skull crack[ing]"- is justified because he's a "good guy" enacting that violence against the victims of police brutality sorry "bad guys". He doesn't ever face repercussions; "Dick Mullen won't be sent to the clink for the sake of some legal niceties!" So if Harry is Dick Mullen then his failures, his breakdown, they're all just a part of being a "bad-ass, on-the-edge disco cop." He's not wrong, he's a hero! This idealised fictionalised idea of the police force, this "new, sadly better, reality" that both Harry and The Pigs cling to is "escapist stuff," "receed[ing] into a ludicrous fantasy world," so far removed from the brutal material reality that they're in.

My point is, idk. Disco Elysium is so far from being copaganda. It is a multi-million word long dissection of it, of the purpose of policing, of state sanctioned violence and its interaction with capital and the fallout experienced within the wider community as well as the trauma cycle created for individual officers. A dissection of how copaganda interacts with RCM culture and perception, and by extension how we interact with irl perceptions of police through that lens.

#ouaghhhhhhh disclaimer; i am bad with words and im not sure that i've properly expressed what i'm trying to say but this is getting so long #the cops are not meant to be the good guys #if you think i've missed something here pls let me know!!#disco elysium #harry du bois #DE rambling #marianne leplante #the pigs #actually just one last note- this isnt in response to any one particular thing ive seen but a few different posts comments and articles

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darling-i-read-it · 1 year ago

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Burns

Charlie Swan x fem!reader, Carlisle Cullen x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: age gap (for both men, both are legal but carlisle is like 223297493 years old so do with that what you’d like lol), burns (second and first degree), doctors office, me knowing too much about twilight

Author’s Note: IM WRITING A PART 2 RN BUT WANTED TO SEE IF YOU GUYS LIKED THIS <3 I literally randomly had a burst of inspo to write this and i lowkey love it…

Summary: You’re a waitress at the local diner to pay off tuition in the summer. You have a small crush on the chief of police who comes in to get his coffee from you. You thought that was all it was until you met the resident doctor when you have a mishap and now you’re stuck between two incredibly charming men that both have a little crush on you.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

Forks, Washington was under a near constant cover of rain. You were aware of it when you woke up in the morning, prepared to see the dreary weather that greeted you through the window. You could smell the rain on the pavement before it came, see it in the clouds as they hovered above. You were always prepared for it, always ready for it.

Today, the sun was out. Summer usually calls for something more temperate. You found that those days weren’t necessarily unwelcome, but never your favorite. Everyone went outside when it was sunny. You could see people you hadn’t seen in ages. You never made an effort to see them in the first place for a reason. There was an uncharacteristic amount of skin showing. It may only be mid 70s but everyone suddenly acted like the ocean water was a relief to their burning skin.

You sweat easily, especially in the diner. The Lodge had little to no air conditioning and the sun brought people in droves. Everyone wanted a bite to eat. They all remembered the diner had milkshakes. It was never a great mix for a waitress.

You turned the corner on your heel, giving a quaint smile to Cora, your coworker. She looked like she was going to melt away.

“Do you think anyones gonna leave early today?” she asked quietly behind the counter. You shook your head. She had the coffee pot in her hand and was holding it tightly so it didn’t spill. You looked around the packed diner, laughter bubbling from sections where it normally was silent. You shook your head, giving her a sad look.

“We’re in for one.”

“I should’ve called out,” she muttered. “You should’ve called out. This place needs us.” You shook your head.

“You’ve gotta put food on the table,” you reminded her. She had a kid who was going into middle school. You had met her when Cora brought her in, her headphones stuck in her ears and reading some trashy teen novel.

“Always the voice of reason,” she muttered. “Plus, you gotta pay tuition.”

“Don’t remind me.”

You were going to college in Seattle but always worked the summers back in Forks. You loved the little town despite its insanity. You found that most of it was quiet, even on louder days. Plus, it was always easy to find a job back home. You were practically shoved the waitress apron when you returned this summer. You had been doing it since you graduated high school, always trying to find something to keep yourself occupied. You were coming upon your senior year in college and the extra money helped immensely.

“Hey, your boyfriends here,” Cora teased. She pushed herself off the counter to refill someone’s coffee cup. You furrowed your brows in confusion even though you knew exactly who she meant.

You watched as chief of police Charlie Swan walked through the doors with a clink of the bell above his head. He met your eyes and gave you an awkward half wave, which you returned slightly more enthusiastically. He walked up to the counter, squeezing between the people sitting there. Someone said hello to him and he gave them a nod in acknowledgment.

“You guys are busy today huh?” he questioned, scoffing.

“Just a bit,” you admitted. His presence never ceased to bring butterflies to your stomach. Maybe you were harboring a small/not so small crush on the sheriff but you tried your best not to show it. You assured Cora it was just something silly for you to feel as you passed through your work day. Still, her eyes lingered on yours as she went around the counter to greet someone else because she knew you were busy. “It’s the sun.”

“Brings out all the loonies,” he said.

“I imagine you’re busy out there too.” He was always scanning around to make sure no one was doing anything wrong. His eyes flicked from you to the people beside him, then back to you.

“Taking my 15.”

“Just to see lil ol me?” you teased. Even as the words left your mouth you felt self conscious of them. This time though, he gave a half smile.

“You make the best coffee I’ve ever had,” he promised. You tried not to get flustered.

“Well, it looks like you need a double today, Sheriff.”

“Charlie, how many times do I have to tell you?” You rolled your eyes. He leaned against the diner counter even though there were no seats. You turned around, every other table lost in your mind. Cora would help you out until he left.

“Well Charlie, it might be too hot for a hot coffee. You could’ve gone to one of those fancy coffee shops,” you offered, grabbing a coffee pot.

“Yeah, can you imagine me ordering there? I have a hard enough time with you.”

“I think I get what you mean by now,” you joked. You poured him a cup and grabbed three sugars and two creams. “Anything else?”

“You always this quick with your service?” he questioned, looking at the people down the line who hadn’t gotten their food.

“I’m just the coffee girl with a pretty smile. I don’t control the food orders.” You handed him a stirring stick as he opened his sugar packets. “Plus, you’re the chief of police Charlie. I don’t wanna get arrested.” He chuckled, a real genuine laugh.

“I think I’ll let you off for this one.” You smiled at your success. The laugh was guaranteed to be the highlight of your shift.

“Thanks Charlie.” You turned back to the kitchen which was starting to call things out. “Anything else?”

“No ma’am.” He grabbed some cash out of his wallet. “Keep the change.”

“You’re my favorite customer Charlie,” you joked at his more than generous tip of 100%. He did a little salute with his finger and raised the cup to you.

“Go do your job otherwise you’re bound to get more angry customers than I am.”

You nodded once and bowed out of the conversation gracefully. You grabbed the food from behind you and started to bring it out. Cora gave you a look as you passed her, the smile plastered on your face a clear tell of your conversation.

“Peach cobbler,” you said to one of your regulars. She was a small old lady who always came in on Saturdays, at exactly the same time. You enjoyed talking with her and catching up on her life. She got the same thing each time and the consistency was something you appreciated. “Sorry it’s been slower today Miss. Heidi. The heat has the whole of Forks out!” She shook her head, brushing you off.

“No worries at all,” she assured you. “It’s not like I’m not gonna come back.” You shared in her shaky laughter. She picked up her fork just as you were about to leave and pointed it at Charlie. “You making heart eyes at the chief over there sweetheart?” You flushed immediately. Maybe you weren’t so great at hiding it.

“Maybe. But keep your mouth shut Heidi,” you whispered with a smile. She chuckled. Her eyes lingered on Charlie who was finishing his coffee already. He had started a conversation with the man beside him. Charlie seemed to know everyone in town.

“Aren’t you a little young for him?” You rolled your eyes.

“It’s perfectly constenting and legal,” you assured her. “I’m plenty older than his daughter if that’s what you’re gonna say.”

“I was gonna mention.” Her eyes wrinkled at the edges, shaking her head. Her movements didn’t feel like she was disagreeing with you. More so that she was gossiping with a friend, just girls being girls. “He had his heart broken by her mother, you know. He’s a good man.”

“Is that your consent Heidi? Because I don’t even know if he feels the same way.” Your voice was lighthearted. She grabbed your hand, her saggy skin feeling comforting.

“I wouldn’t worry too much sweetheart.” You scrunched your face a little and shook off her words. You were still on the clock.

“Enjoy your peach cobbler Heidi.”

You brushed your hair out of your face. The sun had finally subsided for the evening, giving way for the clouds. You embraced their presence, appreciating the way that the cool air felt on your overworked skin. Cora was still hanging around after her shift, waiting for her husband to come pick her up. You sat on the back steps of The Lodge, watching the trees sway.

“The air feels so crisp,” you muttered.

“You say the weirdest things,” she grumbled, laughing. She was leaning against the building. “It’s the trees.”

“I know.” You were going to leave right after work and finally drive back home but you needed a moment to sit and enjoy the day. It had been a long shift. Cora and you were officially trauma bonded.

“How was the chief?”

“Good,” you promised. “Sweet.”

“A guy can be sweet and catch criminals?”

“He’s assertive,” you argued. When Cora laughed she did it with her whole chest.

“Honey, you’re down bad.” You rolled your eyes and stood up. Cora’s eyes followed you as you did so, turning back to the door inside the diner. “You’re goin back into that hellhole?”

“Forgot my phone,” you said. “Also, I am not. It’s a work crush. I’m entitled to one! Just like you like the produce guy!”

“I do not like the produce guy. I think he’s hot. Big difference!” You rolled your eyes as you opened the door back inside. The heat hit you again, unpleasantly. You had to weave through the cooks to get back to the front. You couldn’t remember when you had put your phone down. You were making a phone call during your break. Maybe you had left it on hte steps outside after all?

“Hey Jerry?!” you called to the cook in the back.

“What?!”

“You seen my phone?”

“No! All I’ve seen are burgers!” You rolled your eyes harder this time and dipped underneath the counter to see if you had put it with the sugars and stuff. You let out an annoyed groan when it wasn’t there.

You turned too quick and ran right into the closing waitress. She was holding a hot pot of coffee and effectively spilled it all over you. You gasped involuntarily, the feeling of scorching coffee seeping through your clothes. The gasp turned into a seethe as you packed up. You could hear her speaking, the high pitched, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” reverberating off your eardrums. You had dropped coffee on yourself before. All you could think of was that you needed a towel and some cold water.

You turned on a dime and walked back to the kitchen. You turned on the sink back there and fumbled your hand around for a towel to use.

“Jerry, towel,” you mumbled, the burning skin now setting into a tingle. He turned his head around and saw you. He started to fumble around. You walked in front of him to grab the towel and just barely lost your balance, causing your hand to fly up onto the table.

Right onto the stove.

This time you yelped. The coffee was already forgotten as there was now more of an issue at hand.

“Woah dollface!” Jerry exclaimed. He grabbed your wrist because you were just staring at your red hand. You had put your entire palm down. You looked up at him, tears staining your eyes from pain, and he brought you over to the sink.

“Oh fuck,” you groaned as he put it under the cold water. It didn’t subside any pain, just added another sensation. “Jerry that hurts!”

“Hey Y/N, I have your phone in my apron.” Cora came through the door to witness you breathing heavily next to the sink, Jerry the cook practically holding you down.

“She burned her hand on the stove,” he explained.

“She spilled coffee on me,” you blubbered childishly. You could feel all your body parts at once, like you were on fire. You had no brain power to say anything else.

“Oh Jesus,” Cora muttered. She rushed forward, grabbing your wrist to look at it. “You gotta get this checked out honey.” You gave her a somber looking face. “I know, I know. I’ll take you. Where’s your car keys?” You reached in your apron with your non burnt hand. It was soaking wet from the coffee.

“Is she okay?” the waitress asked, sticking her head through the window.

“She burned her hand on the stove,” Jerry said.

“She what?!”

Cora put her hand on your back, leading you out the door. You took deep breaths, in through your nose and out through your mouth. You were fine. You were gonna be fine.

“I’ll be okay,” you whispered. “You have to g-”

“I’ll have Steven do it,” she said. Her husband. You gave her a look of pure thankfulness as she helped you into the passenger seat of her car.

“I really don’t have to go to the hospital over this,” you tried to say.

“I know you don’t. But I think it’s safer than waiting.” You put your head against your headrest.

Cora dragged you by your free arm to the front desk. She was the one who gave your name and your information as you stood beside her, holding your hand. You looked like a mess, given the coffee all over you. You were sure this could all just be fixed by some water and ointment from the store but Cora insisted.

She rambled on about how a family member hadn’t gone in for a burn and it ended up being more severe then they thought, damaging below the skin. Her words were not comforting.

Eventually they called you back to be looked at. You sat on an exam table with a thin paper on top. A nurse had come in to check on you and give you something for your hand while you waited for the doctor.

You were in a row of beds. Cora pulled the curtains aside to give you privacy.

“I really don’t think that’s necessary,” you said.

“They don't get to know all your business. HIPAA or whatever.” You squinted.

“I don’t think-”

“Ladies.” Carlisle Cullen stepped through the curtain at the open side. He was holding a clipboard, a charming smile plastered on his face. Your breath hitched at the sight of him. He was gorgeous. “Y/N, I hear you burned your hand.” You nodded.

“And her chest,” Cora muttered. She must have noticed Carlisle’s looks as well. Or maybe she just noticed your reaction to him. You cleared your throat.

“I had coffee spilled on me.”

“No, you should check it out. It’s bad.” You gave a look. Carlisle’s smile remained, shaking his head. You had heard of him but never had a reason to come out and see him. You wouldn’t even call this a valid reason.

“Sounds like an awful case of bad luck.” You nodded. “Can I take a look?” He sat on a spinny chair and pulled it towards you. You extended your hand to him.

“I’m gonna go call Steven,” she said to you. You nodded. She patted your back, her eyes lingering on your doctor even as she left. Carlisle held your hand in his, gently looking it over. You looked down at him.

“A stove did this?”

“Yeah. It was dumb,” you promised. “I lost my balance looking for a rag for the coffee burn.”

“And that’s okay?” You nodded.

“I think. I mean, my hand feels way worse,” you assured him.

“Your friend seems to think otherwise.”

“Cora’s dramatic by nature.” He laughed gently.

“Well the stove fought back.” He wheeled backwards towards the table beside your bed. “It looks like second degree burns on your hand. I’ll send you home with some ointment for it and you’ll wanna wrap it up so that you don’t get it caught on your clothes or anything.” You nodded. “I’ll wrap it for you first, show you how to do it.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” He stood up and fumbled in the desks drawer. “Are you sure you don’t want me to check on the coffee burns?” He glanced back at you. You looked down at your shirt. It had mostly gotten your stomach. You could still feel pain there, probably driven by the fact you never got to clean it off.

“If you think it’ll help?”

“Stomach burns are interesting just because of their placement. It’s harder to wrap them. I think it would be beneficial for me to make sure they’re only first degree, if anything.” You nodded. You would listen to him read the phone book.

“Okay.” He walked back over. Before even touching your shirt he made eye contact with you.

“Only if you’re comfortable. I can wait till your friend comes back if you want me to.” You shook your head.

“I’m okay!” you promised. You cleared your throat and grabbed the hem of your shirt. You carefully lifted it up over your torso, holding it just above the wet spot. Carlisle’s eyes went down to your body.

“You said the hand hurt more?”

“By far.”

“Can I touch you?” Please. You cleared your throat again.

“Sure.” He put an icy hand on your hip, lightly brushing your burn with his thumb.

“How much does that hurt? Scale one to ten?”

“Five.” He applied more pressure.

“Now?”

“Seven. Your hands are really cold, which could be worsening the effects,” you joked. He chuckled, his lips turning up a bit.

“Sorry about that.” He backed up a bit. You put your shirt back down. “Those are first degree burns. It only hit in some spots. Should feel numb or touchy for a couple days. You can put the ointment there too but you shouldn’t have to wrap it up.”

“The hand needs it.”

“The hand needs it,” he agreed. He had put some stuff on the counter, which he now took in his hands. He squeezed something out a bottle and put a bit of it on his finger, taking your hand back in his. “Let me know if the pressure is too much.”

You watched him, your free hands fingers curled under the bed you were sitting on. He gently covered your hand, using such a light touch that it was like he was barely there.

“You’re good at this.”

“It’s my job,” he said, smiling. “Are you from out of town? I don’t think I’ve had you in here before.”

“Just lucky,” you quipped. “I go to college in Seattle too so I’m usually out there.” He nodded slowly.

“Fancy.”

“The drive back is beautiful.” He nodded slowly. His hand lingered on yours as he examined his work. “So is this town.”

“Do you work at the diner?”

“Yeah! That’s where I got this beauty.” He scooted back, grabbing the bandages.

“I think my son’s seen you there. He’s graduating high school in a year and likes his seclusion,” he explained.

“Son?” you asked.

“Edward.”

“No, I’m just stunned you have a child. You look far too young,” you said, laughing incredibly. He grinned sheepishly. You tried not to think of him being married or the lack of ring on his finger.

“He’s technically my foster son,” he described.

“I see. Do you do it all on your own?” You winced. That was aggressive. “I don’t mean to pry.” “It’s alright,” he said, shaking his head, completely cool. “Yes, they’re all under my care. I haven’t found the right one quite yet. Plus, she’d have to take on more than a couple stragglers with me.” His eyes flicked up to yours. They met for a moment longer than they should have. You had to look away.

“Sounds like a task.”

“It’s definitely not for everyone.” He tightened your bandage. “There. I’ll send you home with some of this, it’ll be sent to wherever you get your prescriptions.” He stepped back from you. “Try to be careful around stoves next time.”

“Yes sir.” He gave you one more look, a kind hearted smile and then was on his way. You followed him until he was gone out of view. You were glad he hadn’t checked your pulse because you were sure it was beating out of your chest. Cora came around the corner.

“He’s too old for you too,” she said. You laughed dryly, shaking your head. You could practically still feel his touch on your hand. So gentle.

“You’ll learn to get used to it,” you teased her. She rolled her eyes. “Were you waiting out there the whole time?”

“Wanted to give you and Doctor Dreamy some alone time.”

“You’re such a wingwoman!”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell the Sheriff.”

Part 2

#carlisle cullen x reader #carlisle cullen x fem!reader #charlie swan x reader #charlie swan x fem!reader #carlisle cullen x reader x charlie swan #charlie swan x fem!reader x carlisle cullen #twilight imagines #twilight fanfiction

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atlabeth · 9 months ago

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price of dreaming

series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader

summary: luke's spiral and the part you play in it.

a/n: this is so sad i'm sorry. like it's just a couple thousand words of luke being sad with a cute little flashback and a percy mention to make it all more sad. i don't know what's wrong with me why did i start writing this series

wc: 4.1k

warning(s): pretty severe angst bc this takes place after hurricane's death and goes up to mid tlt. death ideation, minor descriptions of injuries, luke isn't the best person, just a whole lot of sadness.

Luke returns to camp two weeks after your death, nothing more than a shell of himself.

Half of his time was spent sitting in an interrogation room in a Boston police station, mumbling his way through questions he doesn’t know how to answer. It’s not every day that a teenage girl is found nearly ripped apart in the middle of a city with her boyfriend completely broken next to her. Two EMTs had to literally drag him away from you—at least, that’s what they tell Luke. Everything after your heartbeat stopped is a blur for him. He doesn’t really even know how he got to the station.

And that’s how it is for a while. He talks to detectives who don’t believe him, he stares at the wall and wishes you were here, he goes home with your mom. She’s being asked just as many questions, and she refuses to leave him out on the street or take him back to camp. She doesn’t understand that Luke’s done it all before.

Eventually, the officers settle on a freak animal attack. It didn’t make sense for an animal capable of doing that to be in the city, but mortals see what they want to see. Luke is just thankful to be out of it.

But he doesn’t know what to do next. There’s a huge gaping hole in his chest and in his life without you, and he doesn’t know how to live without you. Every time Luke closes his eyes he sees your face, and he hasn’t been able to sleep through the night since it happened. He only really manages to stay out when his body practically shuts down from exhaustion.

Your mom treats Luke like a second son while he’s living with her, and it pains him more than anything. She asks him if he wants to stay with her, try and finish out the semester. He was surprised she still wanted anything to do with him.

Luke declined. He loved your mom, but being in that apartment without you—walking past your room and knowing you would never be there again, seeing a space you carved out for yourself knowing the most integral part was missing—was just too much for him. The full reality of you being gone still hadn’t sunk in yet.

He’s soured on the city of Boston as a whole. He’s felt your blood on his hands since the moment it stained his fingers, and for as long as Luke lives he will never forget the look on your mother’s face when she showed up at the police station.

Your mom offers to drive him back to camp, and though he wants to say no to that as well, he doesn’t. Luke can tell that she needs a distraction, and he doesn’t really know how else he’s gonna get back to camp. They don’t talk very much on the way there, but neither of them burst into tears, so he considers it a victory.

She parks at the bottom of the hill and hugs him so tightly he can’t breathe, but he welcomes any kind of feeling.

“Stay safe, Luke,” she says, her hands on his shoulders. “And if you ever need a place to stay—”

“I know,” he interrupts. “And I’ll try.”

She nods a few times, and she blinks back tears as she looks up at him. “Thank you for everything you did for my daughter. For all those years that you kept her safe.”

It clearly wasn’t enough, Luke wants to say. If it was, he wouldn’t have lost you back then, and he wouldn’t have lost you now. But that wouldn’t help anyone, so he nods. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his throat still dry as a desert.

“Always.”

“I know how much you meant to each other,” she says softly. “I’m so sorry, Luke.”

He holds back his emotions. “So am I.”

Your mom nods again and they say their goodbyes once more, hugging one last time. When Luke reaches the top of the hill, he looks back to see her still standing there. He wishes he could do something to ease the pain, but he doesn’t even know how to deal with his own.

Luke stops at Thalia’s tree, and he already feels that lump in his throat.

“I hope you’re together in Elysium,” he murmurs. “I always thought you would like each other.”

The beginnings of tears prick the back of his eyes and he clears his throat, shaking his head like it’ll help silence the millions of thoughts scattered around his brain. If Thalia lives on like this, he hopes your spirit is still around somewhere.

“I love you,” he says quietly. “And I’m sorry I failed both of you.”

Nobody at camp knows. How could they?

Luke wasn’t expected back until the summer, though, so his presence at the top of the hill is telling in of itself. Especially alone.

He ignores everyone that tries to talk to him and gets to the Big House to break the news to Chiron. Thankfully, when he dissolves into tears, it’s behind closed doors. Chiron takes it in a saddened stride, and Luke wonders how many heroes have died in his lifetime.

You have no siblings to make a burial shroud, so the Athena cabin takes up the responsibility. Annabeth invites him to take part, but he can hardly stomach the thought.

It’s beautiful. They emulate the ocean through embroidery and Annabeth even gets a little Red Sox patch in. They let Luke burn it, and he’s amazed he even makes it through the ceremony. But the entire camp shows up, and there isn’t a single dry eye. He hopes you at least know how many people care about you.

Chris takes over as counselor for the indefinite future, which is probably a good thing when Luke can barely muster the strength to get out of bed most days. He picks at his food when he’s able to make it to meals, and his prayers to Hermes have never felt emptier. He used to do one for Poseidon every so often, especially when you were at school, but the thought makes him sick. His eyes never stop trailing over to Cabin Three’s table.

The Poseidon cabin is empty again.

Luke doesn’t fully realize the path he’s taken until he’s standing in the doorway and the scent of salty air hits him. He’s so used to hanging out with you after dinner that he just went there automatically.

It feels unfinished. It is unfinished. You had a whole box of things back in Boston that you wanted to bring back to camp to decorate.

Your posters still hang on the walls—Blondie, Pearl Jam, Alanis Morisette. Fairy lights are falling down in the corner, and they’re unplugged. Luke had to remind you to unplug them before you left for the school year.

You should be standing next to him, smiling and laughing and dragging him in behind you as you rant about capture the flag or the canoe race you definitely didn’t cheat in. He blinks away the tears building in his eyes and he takes a step back.

You should be here. You’re not.

(How many more times is he going to end up here chasing ghosts?)

There are some things a person just can’t get over.

And that’s how his days go. He barely manages to get out of bed, picks at meals that taste like sand, musters what little strength he has to lead sword lessons, endures pitiful looks and sympathetic speeches.

Luke gets lost in the past more than he should, oftentimes sitting on the beach talking to you as he watches the waves roll in or sneaking out to the dock in the middle of the night to be in the company of the only person he can stand.

By the time summer comes back around, Luke is sure of three things.

He isn’t ever going to be the same again.

You should still be alive.

He won’t rest until he’s torn Olympus down brick by brick.

“It’s quiet here,” Luke said.

“That’s what happens when you don’t have any siblings,” you murmured.

His eyes trailed over to the door and you nudged him with your shoulder. “What do you keep looking over there for? Scared someone’s gonna catch us?”

He shrugged. “We’re technically not allowed to be in here together.”

“They can’t say anything,” you said. “We’re both counselors. And no one’s in this place anyways. Besides,” you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips, “we’ve earned all the time in the world.”

Luke smiled and snaked an arm around you, pulling you closer to him. “You think so?”

“We lost two years together,” you said, laying your head on his chest. “Far as I’m concerned, no one can say a damn thing to us.”

“It always feels like we talk about the past,” he said. “What about the future?”

“All I know is I want you in it,” you mused. You always loved resting on his chest because you could hear his heartbeat, could feel the slight rise and fall from his breathing. It meant he was alive, and after what you’d been through, that was more valuable than anything.

“Obviously,” Luke said coyly. “I want you in mine too. But what about the details?”

“We gotta finish high school first,” you said. “Have you thought about what I said?”

“...Yeah,” he nodded. “It’s just been a while since I’ve left camp. Going back to school seems rough for someone who hasn’t been in classes since elementary school.”

You shook your head. “Which is exactly why my school would be perfect for you. We left at the same age, remember?” You took his hand and began to trace the lines of his palm. “It took some getting used to, but I made it. If I can, so can you—and I’ll help you every step of the way.”

Luke chuckled softly. “I’m a little worried about leaving Annabeth.”

“Annabeth of all people would support you going for your education,” you said. “And it’s not like she’ll be on her own—everyone likes her here.”

“...Talk me through it,” Luke decided. “Say we both go back for the school year. What does a sophomore year for the two of us back in Boston look like?”

“Well, we’d be living together. We have an extra room in our apartment, and I’m sure I can convince my mom to let you take it.” You let out a sigh as you shifted, moving closer into Luke’s side. “We’d take the T together to school, but you don’t have to worry because I can show you around everywhere.”

He chuckled. "I could use a refresher on Boston. Don't have the fondest memories there."

"We'll just make some new ones," you promised. “I’m on the soccer team, too. I was JV this year, but I’m gonna make varsity next fall—mark my words.”

Luke rubbed your shoulder as he hummed. “And I’d come to every game.”

“You better.” You glanced up at him with a smile. “You could try out for something too. I think you’d make a killing in basketball.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Do you not remember all those pick-up games we played when we were younger and bored? I was gods-awful.”

“This’ll be different,” you insisted. “You’ll actually be sleeping on a bed every night, and eating consistently. I think that makes you a better athlete. Plus, you’re not three feet tall anymore.”

Luke laughed as he intertwined your fingers together. “The star soccer player and the mediocre basketball player. We make quite a couple.”

“You’d be better than mediocre,” you said. “Anyways—we’d play our sports and kill it, I’d introduce you to all the friends I made last year, I’d show you all around Boston, and I’d get you hooked on the Red Sox.”

He leaned back against the headboard with a chuckle. “You’re really never gonna let this go, are you?”

“It’s my sovereign duty to put you onto the Red Sox,” you said, “especially surrounded by all these Yankees. I’m gonna get you to a game one of these days. And after we kill sophomore year, we’ll kill junior and senior year.” You tapped on his chest for each year with your free hand, and his smile grew. “Then we’ll graduate high school together. With honors, and monster-free.”

“You have such high standards,” Luke said wryly. “I’ve always thought I’d be lucky to pass with C’s.”

“You haven’t always had me,” you mused. “And when we’re together, we can’t lose.”

Luke smiled as he looked at your intertwined hands. “Y’know, I think your plan sounds pretty good. I’m pretty sure I could put up with school if it meant more time with you.”

You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. Luke moved his hand to keep you there, and when you pulled away, a delicate blush painted his cheeks and pure love danced in his eyes. You couldn’t help but smile.

You were the luckiest girl in the world.

“Thank you,” you said.

Luke offered a sideways grin. “For what?”

You shrugged. “For being you.”

“Thank you, then,” he said.

“For what?”

“For sticking with me,” Luke said. “Through everything.”

“I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else,” you murmured.

The second year isn’t any easier.

Luke is back to being year-round. There’s no point in going home—not when Connecticut hasn’t welcomed him in years. Not when he would just be another problem for your mother in the midst of her grief.

So he stays at camp. Endures the pitiful looks from everyone, lies his way through attempted therapy with Chiron, trains more than ever before. No one seems to know how to treat him, because he goes from completely alone to swarmed with sympathy to completely alone again. It takes two months before his friends are acting like he’s a normal person again, and even then it still feels like they’re walking on glass.

Luke can’t find enough inside of him to care.

He practices with his sword until he feels like his arms might fall off, only narrowly avoiding the harpies each night. His siblings ask how he does it, why he does it, and he just says he wants to get better.

But Luke refuses to let it happen again—not when his surrogate sister is all he has left. Not when he sees you every time he closes his eyes.

His birthday comes and goes, but seventeen is empty without you. He replays your past conversations in his head, about traveling together and graduating together and maybe even going to college together. Demigods aren’t meant to think about the future, but he dared to dream with you.

And the worst part was that you were right. You made varsity. You were in the middle of killing sophomore year, despite Luke struggling his way through with C’s and the occasional D—you had always been smarter than him. You got him out to a Red Sox game, and gods forbid, he actually enjoyed it.

You were living the life you deserved, a life of happiness and success and with Luke, and you didn’t even make it past sophomore year. You were meant for so much more, and every day he questions why it was taken from you. Every day, he questions why you’re gone and he’s not.

The year chugs on in all its misery, and for the first time since he all but rejected him as his son, Hermes appears to Luke.

His father gives him a quest, and he takes it despite the inherent insult of it. Maybe some part of him hopes he’ll die out there and finally get to see you again.

(Another part wonders if he’s even worth Elysium. Luke lost you once, then he lost Thalia, and now he’s lost you again. Some kind of hero he is.)

He goes it alone. It takes him back to the first couple of months before he met you, and when the thought hits him, it almost overwhelms him. Everything makes Luke think of you, but it makes sense. He’s only living half a life—he’s missing the other half of his soul.

Luke fails his quest. He manages to get a claw and he manages to nearly lose an eye. There’s no glory in a repeated quest, but there might be even less glory in this.

And once more, Luke staggers back to camp as a victim rather than a hero. Someone only worthy of pity, someone so weak that Chiron bans quests unless they’re absolutely necessary. It takes weeks for the scars on his body to heal, and the mark on his face even longer. He becomes well-acquainted with the cycle of Apollo kids that take shifts in the infirmary.

He feels nothing but disgust every time he looks in the mirror. After all, the claw marks ripping their way through his body match yours. Sometimes he wishes Ladon finished the job.

It doesn’t make sense why, after everything, he’s still here.

Luke can hardly stand to be at camp, but he’s got nowhere else to go. He gets better at hiding his emotions, better at acting like he’s gotten through it. New demigods show up and he’s not the bereaved counselor anymore—he’s not introduced with his grief. He hides it away.

No one wants to deal with all the problems he’s racked up. His mom, his dad, Thalia, you. He’s a demigod. Demigods are resilient. So he plays the part—he’s been through a lot, but he’s past it. He promises he’s not a burden anymore. He’s just a normal kid.

And for a while, Luke is almost able to believe it himself. He’s never going to be over you, but he starts feeling like a person again rather than a ghost of one. He’s fully taken over the mantle of counselor again, and he’s actually present during sword-fighting lessons. He even manages to get a six-month-long capture the flag winning streak going on.

And then Kronos appears in his dreams.

Luke knows Greek mythology. It’s hard not to pick up a couple things when you’re fighting stuff from the history books, but they teach some lessons at camp. It’s nice to know what you’re up against before you die a brutal death.

Kronos killed his father. He ate his children. Every wicked deed was done for power, and power is what he offers Luke.

And maybe there’s something wrong with him, because it’s the first time he’s felt hope since he left Boston.

Luke finally has an answer to something. He’s been silently cursing the gods for years, trying to figure out a way to tear everything down without getting himself immediately killed, and he’s got one.

Kronos speaks to him most nights. He remembers the dreams you shared with him in your final year, all the restless hours spent sitting together on the fire escape as he soothed you. You thought Kronos was the reason for it, but he couldn’t have been. His dreams were nothing like yours.

But still, Luke wonders every day what you would say if you were here, if you knew the treacherous path he’d embarked on. Kronos promised power, freedom, an end to Olympus and the reign of the gods.

He doesn’t care about power. He just wants to hold you again. He wants to hear your laugh again. He wants to see your smile in more than pictures.

But he can’t. And he wants to destroy everyone responsible for it.

So he does everything the Titan Lord asks of him. He hones his skills even further, he lays low, and when the time is right, he steals Zeus’s bolt and Hades’ helm. Luke even nearly beats Ares when he’s caught, but Kronos doesn’t lead him astray—he speaks of divine war, and he gets out of it.

He continues to see you. Kronos doesn’t lead him astray, but he punishes him for such a close call. Luke wakes in the middle of the night, eyes wide and chest heaving with labored breaths, and he feels your blood on his hands all over again. He sees you die over and over again and he can do nothing to stop it.

You always told each other about your nightmares.

That’s the hardest part of it all. You’ve always been so closely intertwined with Luke’s life since the moment he saved you in that aquarium years ago, and he can’t see any way to let go of you. He can’t—even though you’re gone, you’re still a part of him. His first instinct in any situation is to tell you, and it kills him that he can’t.

And maybe things would have turned out different for Luke if you were still around. He’s never going to forgive himself for your death, and he’s certainly never going to forgive the gods. Thalia pushed him to the edge, but you were the breaking point. Luke is only nineteen and he’s loved and lost more than most.

Maybe things would be different if you were here. But you’re not, and they aren’t. So when a new demigod shows up, covered in monster dust and nearly dead on camp’s doorstep with Grover in tow, Luke doesn’t hesitate.

He killed the Minotaur, and his mom is dead. Skilled enough to take on a quest, desperate enough to ignore a couple warning signs. Percy Jackson is the boy Kronos told him about.

So Luke takes him under his wing. Shows him around camp, welcomes him to the Hermes cabin, trains with him one-on-one.

Something about his spirit reminds him of you. It’s the grit, he thinks. The determination. The refusal to back down even when it’s the smartest option. When he asks about you that night in the Hermes cabin, Luke’s heart stutters. The kid is too sharp for his liking.

It doesn’t take long before Luke manages to cement himself as one of his friends, maybe only third to Annabeth and Grover. He’s a lost kid that’s been thrust into a world he doesn’t understand, and Luke is the closest thing to a rock most campers have got.

It’s supposed to just be a guise, but sometimes, he forgets himself. He likes Percy too much—he just feels too much like a younger brother, and that’s not really good for the already growing guilt in his chest.

Maybe it’s because Luke sees himself in Percy. Someone playing a part he’s not aware of, an unfortunate pawn with no choice in the matter. Luke tries to push it away. Kronos wouldn’t lead him astray—this was the path he had to take if he wanted anything to change.

But it’s not like that makes it easier. Because gods, Percy has never looked more like a kid than when he’s suited up in armor for capture the flag. It almost makes Luke regret the plan he has to enact.

Almost.

Annabeth has a plan as usual, and thankfully Percy plays the part of bait. Luke tunes out of everything else and lets his battle senses take over—things have already been set into play, and now all Luke can do is hide in plain sight. Soon enough he’s got the red team’s flag past the boundary line, and he’s hoisted up onto his teammates shoulders. Luke is almost able to forget what he’s done.

…Almost.

A howl rips through the forest, and the hellhound Luke summoned after the start of the game launches itself at Percy. He’s on the ground before he knows it, the flag forgotten in his hand as he rushes over with the rest of the campers.

For some ungodly reason, Annabeth tries to step in front of him, but she’s thankfully too slow. The monster swipes at Percy and its claws shred through his armor. For a split second, Luke is back in Boston and his chest stills.

Chiron solves the problem with a cluster of arrows, but the camp is in immediate disarray. Clarisse instantly accuses Percy, Annabeth is trying to make sure Percy doesn’t die, and Luke just hopes his shock is believable enough to hide his annoyance. He’s just a scrawny kid—how the hell is he still alive? But then the unthinkable happens.

Annabeth tells Percy to step back in the lake. The instant he’s in the water, what should have been a fatal wound starts to heal.

And then a glowing blue trident appears above Percy Jackson’s head.

Luke feels sick as he lowers himself to one knee with the rest of camp. As the hellhound he summoned melts into the shadows, as he stares at the sacrificial lamb of a demigod meant to unknowingly enact his plan.

“Poseidon,” Chiron says. “Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses. Hail, Perseus Jackson, Son of the Sea God.”

Your brother.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan angst #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x reader #x reader #daughter of poseidon #child of poseidon #sadie writes

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sunrisesfromthewest · 5 months ago

Text

First Encounter Part 8

Previous Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

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Receiving an amused expressions from the group and a stressed out one from Mike, you attempt to shut down your fathers' comments.

“Dad for the last time I’m not pregnant....and plus it doesn’t work that fast!" you exclaimed crossing your arms annoyed that he keeps trying to speak a child on you.

Pursing his lips in disagreement your dad, sends Mike a look, "She's in denial but don’t worry Mike, this is your chance to get reconnected with your son and future grandchild.”

Closing his eyes Mike lets out a frustrated sigh, "Marcus, I don’t need to be thinking about a nonexistent grandkid when I’m still trying to get used to having a son and a wife!"

Shaking his head, he looks at Armando who has been silently listening to the conversation, mind seemingly lost on the possibility of bringing a child in this world.

“No Mike this...” pausing Marcus gasps loudly in realization, which startled everybody, "THE VISION! OH, how could I be so stupid.” Without any explanation Marcus walks away mind now occupied with this new spiritual hint he has received.

“Okay...should we go ahead and head towards the location.” Kelly says bringing the conversation back to the mission.

“Yeah, there should be a safe house not too far from the meet up spot, lets gather what we can and load up." Mike replied to Kelly with an exhausted tone.

With that everyone proceeds to make their way to the lake house, except for Mike who ask if Armando could stay behind for a second.

Hearing this you glance at Armando who has a contemplating look on his face, sighing he gives your hand a small squeeze, and makes his way back to his father.

Sending Mike a smile you continue walking with the others, allowing them to have a private moment.

Reluctantly Armando brings his gaze to his father, "Did you need something?”

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

While everyone collects things for the mission you go through your medical bag, double checking your supplies as Midnight lays on your lap sleep.

“Hey,Y/N I meant to ask you to check out Rita, she got into a scuffle with Lockwood before we had reached them." Kelly says while zipping up a duffel bag. Glancing up at the mention of her name, Rita shakes her head in disagreement, "I’m fine, we should save the supplies for when it’s needed.”

Standing up you lay Midnight by your bag, as you make your way over to Rita with concern, "I got plenty of supplies and you should let me determine if your fine or not.”

Sighing she says, "You're not going to leave me alone, until you check me out aren’t you." Running your eyes over her, you let out a small laugh, as you reach her tense form, "You know me so well. Are you hurting anywhere?”

“Leaving the elevator, it was hurting at first but the pain is dull now." she says pointing to her head, while glaring at Lockwood. Pressing your hands down softly on her head, you asked if she felt any pain, while you palpate and look for any bruises.

“No, mostly mentally hurt than physical." she says removing your hand from her head, looking up she gives you a sad but reassuring smile.

Leaning down near her ear you asked her if she wanted you to prescribe her some “Medical” Hemp, on the low. She turns to you with an amused expression, "Are you trying to sell a police officer weed?”

Raising your hand up, in defense, you say with a smile,” Hey, you said it, I’m just trying to help a friend relax and take her mind off of a useless asshole.” Walking over to your bag, you glare at Lockwood, who glares back at you.

“Some men just don’t deserve a woman's love, especially from a caring woman like you Rita." you say still glaring at Lockwood as you rummaging through your medical bag, for some ibuprofen.

Lockwood looks like he wanted to reply but with the duct tape over his mouth and hands handcuffed behind him all he could, do was roll his eyes and huff noisily through his nose. Giving Rita the pills she takes it nodding her head at your words, but making a skeptical expression, while looking down at the pills in her hands.

” Take them pills Rita, ain’t nobody tryna slip you some weed." you said watching with a big smile as she debates about taking the medicine or not. Rolling her eyes, she takes them while glaring at you playful, "If you gave me some weed Y/N, I swear...”

Cutting her off you say, "Girl that was pain medicine, you weren’t hiding your flinching very well, when I was examining your head for any swelling.”

Shaking her head at your words, she points at you with a knowing look, "Can't get nothing past you, Huh?”

“You already know, you want me to get you some water.” you said heading to the kitchen. Hearing a ‘please’ you make your way to the fridge, smacking Dorn shoulder playful, while passing by him.

Unbeknownst to you Mike enters the house with a solemn expression, while Armando trails behind him, eyes narrowed as he traced the room for you.

Moving around Mike, he heads further into the house, briefly looking in the living room before turning his head towards the kitchen, where he sees you grabbing some water.

Sighing he walks over to you almost hesitant, as he watches you glance away from the fridge.

Seeing Armando approaching form you smile, but it immediately drops when he doesn’t return it with a playful smirk. Concerned you close the fridge door, setting the water on the counter as you walk towards him.

“Hey...is everything okay?" you said blinking up at him as he looks everywhere but at your worried expression. After not receiving a response, you grab his hand bringing him further into the kitchen, so you can talk to him without any curious eyes watching y’all.

Feeling him snatch his rough hand out of your soft ones made you turn to him with raised and curved brows.

“Mand-” before you can question him, he cuts you off, "Don't call me that,Y/N!” Even more confused you try to reach out to him, but he just steps away from your comforting hands, while frowning at you.

Defense immediately coming up, you pull your hands back opting to wrap it around yourself as you look at him completely lost on why he was acting like this all the sudden.

“Mando....baby what’s wrong.... did I do something?" you said chewing at your bottom lip nervously as you wait for his response.

Brown eyes glancing down at your lips, he shakes his head eyes flickering back up to yours while he lets out a frustrated sigh, "No... I did...whatever was blossoming between us, it stops here.”

Letting out a stunned laugh you say “What?” fully hearing him but lost by this random change of heart.

“You heard me, Y/N.....and plus this was just a one-time thing, like you said.... Shit we both just needed to scratch an itch.” he says watching as you wince at his words, while avoiding his gaze.

Blinking your tears away you laugh bitterly, "Wow, after all that defending I did for myself...and you... is that what you thought this was.... the need to scratch and itch!” you said with a clenched jaw while glaring up at him.

Pursing his lips Armando goes to speak but you cut him off, "You know what Fuck You Armando! and to think I was starting to have a change of heart about you......I should’ve listened to Kelly!”

“Yeah, you should’ve and you already did the first part!" Armando says as he watches your face flush with anger.

Shaking your head in disbelief and hurt you shove pass him hard, as you make your way to the restroom, not wanting to face the embarrassment or the looks you’ll receive from the other, as you had no doubt that they heard you guys' arguing.

As you walk away Armando’s angry facade slips away as he drops his head into his hands, with regret.

He knew that what he did was for the right reasons, even before his conversation with Mike, even when he had first met and seen you, he knew that something was different about you. But the life that he had lived so far has been so devoid of love.... not just affection but real love, that he jumped at the opportunity to experience it with you once it was finally offered.

And now as he leaned against the counter with his head in his hand, he wiped away at his tears of frustration, while staring blankly at nothing. Did he fuck up the only chance he had at happiness?

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Everyone could sense the tension between you two but chose to ignore it ,as you all gather up your things and load into the van. Seeing that the back was going to be crowded you choose to sit in the front with Rita, not really wanting to be in Armandos presence, as y’all make your way to the safe house.

Noticing this Marcus closed the back of the van doors, confused on why his daughter wouldn’t want to sit next to the boy in front of him. As the van begins to move Armando could feel everyone stares, as he leaned against the van walls, eyes closed as he attempts to relax.

Sighing when he starts hearing slight muttering to his left he opens his eyes, "Speak up, If your gonna talk shit about me, at least have the balls to do it to my face.”

“You know you're a fucking asshole,right!” Dorn says face red with anger from the way Armando spoke to you.

Humming in agreement Armando stares emptily at him, "Heard that one before.... anyone else got something to say." Tilting his head to the left he see Kelly glaring at him with the same angry expression. "She genuinely started to like you even when I tried to warn her, she chooses you of all people to show love and affection; just for you to act like that asshole Rafe!”

Sitting up at this, Armando furrows his brows at her words, "Who's Rafe?”

“Y/N ex-boyfriend and an ex-member of the AMMO Squad, you ran into him a couple of times when you were still working under the cartel." Marcus says crossing his arm as he watched the scene unfold in front of him.

Rolling his eyes as he remembers that smug member of the group he scoffs, "I'm nothing like that asshole,get your facts straight before comparing me to him.”

“Nah the comparison is pretty accurate, and you both done her wrong." Dorn says looking like he’s ready to launch at Armando.

Becoming frustrated he shakes his head in disagreement, "You don’t have a fucking clue about the way I feel about Y/N,so mind your fucking business!" Armando says feeling anger flare inside of him.

“Oh Yeah! If you felt so strongly about her, why the hell did you treat her like that in the kitchen!" Kelly says with frustration, seconds away from pulling her gun on him again.

“Y’all just drop this convo-” Before Mike could defend his son, Marcus cuts in "No! Mike you been defending this boy all day, I need to know the reasons behind his actions, especially when it comes to my daughter!”

Groaning in frustration Armando glances at his father debating if he should tell the others or not. Staring his son down Mike shakes his head in disagreement but after seeing his son almost pleading stare he sighs, "Tell them what you told me.”

Everyone looked at the two confused as Mike says this, "What have y’all been keeping from us!", Marcus says with worry written all over his face.

“Before I completed any assassination, I liked to study my victims, you know learn their habits and hangout spots....” Armando says face harden as he reflects on his memories and actions. “During that time, I learned how you all worked and function, even knew that you two were fucking even, before I completed my observations." Armando says pointing at Kelly and Dorn who become flush at his words.

Sighing he rubs at his eyes, "I was supposed to execute each and every one of you, the night after I shot Mike.”

Everyone froze at his words except for Mike who grimace from the memory of being shot. Armando shifted in his seat as he watches the unsure gazes of the people around him.

“I know you killed Captain Conrad....but why didn’t you go after the rest of us." Marcus says wondering what stopped him from continuing his assassinations against the squad.

Closing his eyes for a split second, he runs his hands through his hair before looking up at Marcus with a shaky smile,” Y/N. ”

Not expecting that everyone stares at Armando confused and surprised as he says your name. "She wasn’t even involved with the case, when you were after the squad!" Kelly says thinking that Armando was lying.

“Yes, she wasn’t involved in the case but I always keep an eye on the family members just in case something goes sideways, but one night when I was scoping out the station, I wasn’t watching where I was going and I ran into her." he says smiling softly at the memory.

“She seemed upset and tears was clouding her vision, so I can see why she doesn’t remember me.” Pausing Armando look at the others before continuing, "It was the way she franticly apologized and made sure I was alright... that had me second guessing my orders......how could someone who was clearly experience the worst pain in their life, disregard her feelings to make sure a stranger was okay." he said glancing around at the team.

Everybody just sat there and listened about how your one act of kindness, potential saved them from knocking at deaths door. "That's why when she walked through the door this morning, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her.”

Leaning over to Mikes ear, Marcus whispers, "Looks like it’s the LOWREYS who can’t keep away from us BURNETTS.”

Rolling his eyes Mike ignores Marcus comments, as he continues to listen to Armando explanation. "But that doesn’t explain why you said those things to her." Dorn says making Armando drop the small smile he had on his face.

Blinking he looks down at his hands, "I just snapped...I didn’t mean for my words to come out that way, I never felt like this for someone....ever, it's like every cell in my body went into defense mode, when they realized that my heart was beating quicker for a different reason other than protecting myself....”

Sighing his eyes squeezed shut as he muttered words that shocked everyone, "I think I’m in love with, Y/N.”

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The drive to the safe house was surprisingly peaceful as you and Kelly talk about your bad taste in men. It’s funny how crying helps relieve the pain, in your chest temporally after being hurt by someone.

“I just don’t understand what happened it was like his whole attitude towards me just shifted......maybe he was finally showing me, his true colors." you said wiping at your eyes.

Pulling into the driveway Rita, puts the van in park before turning towards you, "I wish I could give you an explanation for his actions but men are weird when it comes to dealing with their emotions," Sighing she leans against the driver seat eyes moving to look at the dashboard, "it's like their fight or flight kicks in....and the men I chosen so far always pick the fight, then flight after getting what they want.”

“But the heart wants, what it wants.... right?" you say still apprehensive about the emotions you were feeling at the moment.

Turning towards you she gives you a small smile, "Your young you still have the chance and opportunity on finding someone who truly cares for you....and yes, the heart wants what it wants but don’t forget about this one either." she says pointing to her head while making direct eye contact with you.

“Be smart Y/N,I’m just giving you advice from someone who has let her heart decide on what she needs multiple times......and let me tell you how wrong it’s been." she says laughing slightly, while blinking the tears away that threatens to fall.

“Oh, I know, I've had problems with that too." you said laughing along with her.

You two sit in comfortable silence, allowing the a/c to be heard as its humming noise filled the empty noise around you two. Lost in thought you sit in the passenger seat reflecting on everything you two talked about but before you can completely space out, someone knocked hard on your window.

Jumping from the abrupt noise you turn to see, Kelly standing by the door with an apologetic smile. Rolling down the window you give her an annoyed look, “You ain’t on duty, why you knocking on my window like you trying to give me a ticket?”

Shaking her head at your comment, she laughs while leaning against the passenger door, "Just wanted to see if you had completely left mentally, and everyone already went inside the house,they wanted me to check up on you two.”

“Really, I didn’t even notice." you said unbuckling your seat belt, while Rita turns the van off and complete the same motions as you.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Upon entering the safe house, the men seemed to already have set up a sleeping arrangement as everyone turned in for the night. Glancing to the side you make eye contact with Armando for a split second before shifting your gaze to a different area of the house. Setting your bag and Midnight down you asked your dad where you were sleeping.

“There are only 4 rooms so we decided to sleep in pairs." Marcus says while digging through his bag. Tensing up you look around unsure before Dorn gives your shoulder a light squeeze, while slipping by you, "Don't worry he wanted to sleep on the couch.”

Sighing in relief you nod, as you walked towards what you assumed was your bedroom for tonight. The room was only lit by the small lamp on the night stand, which provided only a little light but other than it looked quite cozy.

Walking back out you go to pick up your duffel bag but freeze, at the sight before you. Midnight must have wonder towards Armando while you explored your room, you had to admit the sight of him playing with your little black fur baby was cute. Watching as his brown doe like eyes move up to meet yours with a hesitant smile, had you roll your eyes as you snatched up your bag, and quickly returned to your bedroom.

Feeling the physical and mental toll of today finally kick in you hurriedly complete your night routine, and quickly get in the bed, opting to just sleep in your shirt. Turning the light off you lay in bed, as you watch the natural light from the moon shine through the windows.

The funny thing about being tired is that the minute your head hit the pillow, you have that random burst of energy that keeps you from falling asleep too quickly. You tossed and turned for a good ten minutes before, letting out a loud sigh as you sit up.

“Midnight usually sleeps with me.”you said figuring out the problem, groaning you throw the comforters off of you before, returning back to the living room. You quietly make your way to the living,and become confused when you don’t see him or Armando on the couch.Hearing quiet meows and a quick shushing from the kitchen makes you walk over wondering what they were up too.

“She’s mad at me...I know.” Armando says staring down at the kitten as it stares up at him. Amused by the sight before you, you continue watching the interaction between the two from a distance.

“What can I say to her...your mama kinda hard headed so she wouldn’t want to listen to me......but I don’t blame her." He sighs as he rubs the skin between his furrowed brows. Staring up at him Midnight tilts his head in confusion, as he watches the man before him.

“Why the fuck would I say those things to her!" he exclaimed quietly as he lays against the table. Midnights lets out a few meows as he rubs his small frame against Armando, in an attempt to comfort the man in front of him.

Sitting up Armando pets the kitten softly, "My bad little guy.... she would've got onto me for cursing in front of you.”

Smiling to yourself at the interaction in front of you, you decided to come out of your little hiding spot. Midnight perks up as he sees you approach letting out happy noises, as he turns his attention to you.

Confused Armando looks up but sucks in a breath as he sees you approaching them, but your eyes only remain on Midnight, as you pick up the small kitten. Laying the kitten against your chest, you give Armando a brief glance before returning back to your room.

Slightly hurt by the way you barely acknowledge him; he gets up and follows you quietly calling out your name so he wouldn’t wake up the other’s.

Hissing out a quiet What, you turn to face him, biting the inside of your cheek as you stare at him expectantly. Admiring your annoyed expression for a second, he asked if you two could talk.

Rolling your eyes, you smack your lips quietly at his response, "You talked enough earlier remember and at this moment I have nothing to say to you." Turning back around you hear the quiet shuffling of his feet against the wooden floor as he followed you.

Before you could close the door on him, he pushed his way in closing the door behind him, while staring at you apologetic.

“Armando, I really don’t have time for your BS tonight, I just want to go to sleep." you say becoming agitated at his persistence.

“Y/N... please, all I want from you is to listen after this, I will leave you alone." he said not really believe that last part but he really just needed to explain himself.

Sighing you sit on the bed, staring up at him quietly as you wait. He couldn’t help but let his eyes wander down your body, as he just realized that you're only wearing a shirt.

Clearing your throat, you bring him back to reality, as his gaze return to your narrowed ones. "I'm not very good at expressing my feelings...so bare with me.” he says nervous as he feels your intense gaze on him.

“It shouldn’t be that hard seeing that.... you were able to talk to Midnight truthfully.” you say watching as his eyes widened at your words.

Nodding his head he sighs as he slowly begins explaining his actions from earlier, and the reasons behind his responses and words. His worried eyes shift between yours and the floor as he explains and apologizes for the way he spoken to you, nerves flaring slightly as he watches you listen to him without a hint of emotion on your face.

After he finished, he stared down at you hoping and praying for any reaction, instead of the blank look that seems to remain on your face.

Anxious to what you’ll say he huskily says your name as his eyes,franticlly move to meet yours. "Was that all?” you said blinking up at him a few times, eyes tracing his form as you wait for his response. Pausing at your words you watch in amusement as he stares at the ground, in thought before nodding his head.

Walking past him Armando watches with confusion as you grab a small pillow from the chair in the corner of the room, and walk over to the bathroom. Placing Midnight on the pillow you leave the light on, as you walk back over to the front of the bed...calmly to calmly for Armandos liking.

Laying against the bed you stare up at him with half-lidded eyes, "I don’t think I’m convinced just yet.....Mando.” Running his eyes down your relaxed form he swallows slightly at the sight of your thick brown legs teasingly opening before closing and the way that your taunting voice calls out to him, makes him blink a few times.

Stepping towards you he hesitantly reaches out a hand to touch your leg only for you to smack his hands away. Confused he looks up at you with hunger but he waits for your response.

“You think I’m going to let you touch me, after all that shit you was talking." you said grinning widely as his eyes move up to yours, watching his expression darken as it seems like he was having an internal battle with himself.

“Shit princess,I already said I was sorry…what else do you want me to do?”he said glancing at the way your harden nipples press against your shirt.

“I think you need help fixing that filthy mouth of yours Mando, and it looks like you're in luck cuz I have a perfect way of doing that." you say beckoning him over with your index finger, as you open up your legs for him.

Shivering slightly at the sight of you, his dilated eyes shifted up to yours as he approached you, "Your sure, Nena?”

Maintaining eye contact with him you nod, as he goes to raise your legs over his shoulder, but you press your foot against his firm chest.

“What’d I say...put that pretty mouth of yours to work...and maybe I’ll forgive you.”

Smirking as he hears the words he said to you earlier be used against him now,made him lick his lips while chuckling slightly.Laying against the bed in front of you,he quickly mutters yes ma'am before spreading your legs wider and diving straight in.

Even though tomorrow was a serious day, you two didn’t get much sleep as Armando showed you just how sorry he really was.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Authors Note:🎙️Y’all thought this was turning into a smut,don’t lie😏🫵🫵,and I know for sure he a eater so don’t fight me on it🧍🏾‍♀️ .

Anyways stay tuned for Part 9,Let’s see who survives 🙂

#armando aretas #bad boys ride or die #x black fem reader #Armando #jacob scipio #armando armas #bad boys #new writers on tumblr #Armando aretas x black reader #mike lowrey #marcus burnett #Will smith #martin lawrence #Armando x daughter Burnett reader #x black y/n #x reader #First Encounter Series

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andreaheartscats · 1 month ago

Note

Hello! Love the blog! May I make a request? A sally face request (I miss the fandom so much)

Just wanna request Sal fisher x fem reader her visiting him in prison and comforting him, like giving him a hug, petting his hair, giving him kisses on his face. Poor man looks so broken during the trial.

omg hii !!! thank you sooo much and i loveee this idea !! :) i hope i don't disappoint !

Sal x Fem!reader comfort!

spoliers(?)

->not proofread, kinda short?

Sal was currently in his cell, anxiously waiting for his upcoming tiral. He wasn't proud of what he had done but he didn't have much of a choice anyway.. Just as he was getting lost in his thoughts the door to his cell opend. Sal jumped up slightly from the sudden sound of the door and his head turned to the officer standing there looking angry per usual.

"You've got a visitor, Fisher."

Words he never thought he would hear. Somone came to visit him? That was a shocker for sure.

The angry officer put handcuffs on Sals wrist and lead him to the talking room where his visitor was waiting for him patiently. As Sal entered the room his eyes slightly widened under his mask at the sight of you, still smiling at him like he didn't do anything wrong. As Sal took a seat infront of you, the officer left the room giving the two of you some privacy like you requested.. Although he couldn't really give you too much of privacy, i mean after all this is a prison.

"Long time no see, Sal."

You spoke gently to him, you missed his blue hair and those eyes that now look so sad and tired under the prosthetic mask he is wearing.

"Yeah..i didn't expect anyone to visit me."

Your heart hurt at his words.

"I think you're innocent, Sal."

As you said those words, you put your hand over his and gently brush against it. You knew he was innocent, you just had to prove it somehow.

"Well..seems like you're the only one that thinks that"

You let out a deep sigh as you tighten the grip on his hand.

"Sal, trust me. I'll get you out of this mess."

You swore you could see the tears swell up in his eyes, but he quickly looked away. You tooka quick glance at the clock on the wall that was ticking rather loudly.

"We don't have much time left to talk."

Sal cleared his throat as the two of you got up. You didn't waste a second and quickly pulled him into your embrace. You could feel his warmth and his heart-beat. You knew he needed this hug but so did you.

"I'll come and visit you again as soon as i can."

You mumble into the hug as Sal tightness his arms around you and hums as a replay.

The door opens abruptly and the two of you let go of eachother.

"Alright, visit time is up."

The police officer said as he got a hold of Sal and lead him out of the room. You and Sal shared your last glances as he left and the feeling of emptiness came rushing back to you without him being here.

It is time to prove that Sal is, indeed innocent.

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wildestdreamsblog · 1 year ago

Text

Latibule IX

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)

Summary: In which you didn’t know who he truly was- until it was too late. Or in which he found heaven in you.

Warnings: Secret Identity, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: ehehehehe enjoy, my loves! The calm before the storm 😌😌😌

Masterlist, Latibule VIII

“Agustd is alive.”

Jung Hoseok raised his brow when his suspicion was affirmed. See, he thought it was all too easy. Everything had gone so smoothly that it seemed…wrong. There was no way that he could kill him that effortlessly. The night that he trailed his brother and boss in that quaint, little province because he fed him wrong information was the fucking highlight of his life. Stabbing him felt like he finally got what he was owed. Watching him bled out managed to release some of the decade-long hatred he kept hidden in his heart.

In his mind, what he did could be considered his very own twisted justice. After all, he did kill her. Min Yoongi killed the love of his fucking life, the only woman who mattered to Hoseok. So why then shouldn’t he kill that fucking bastard?

It only felt right.

It did feel right.

Until it didn’t.

He should have known Min Yoongi was like an annoying cat with nine lives. He was Satan’s long, lost brother and even though he could send him to hell, Yoongi would only come back with a vengeance.

Hoseok slowly lowered his phone. He gripped his phone in anger and disbelief that he failed her again. But no more.

He would end this once and for all.

Hoseok stepped out of his office with a calm facade when all he wanted to do was destroy this whole room. His steps were brisk, his face emotionless. He had just turned the corner when he saw Jimin, the brother he found to be closest with. He was staring at nowhere, his back leaning against the wall and his hands shoved in his pocket in a nonchalant posture.

A stray strand of Jimin’s blonde hair fell on his forehead, and he thought he didn’t see him approach when his eyes suddenly turned to him. He should have known nothing got past his sharp eyes.

“Jiminie,” he called the younger man as he stepped near him. “Are you okay?”

For a moment, Jimin didn’t answer. He merely stared at the man with no ounce of his usual happy emotion. In its place was a somber look. “Hyung…,” he started, his tone flat, so unlike how he usually sounded. “do you wanna go to New York with me for a while?”

That was so sudden, Hoseok thought. He tilted his head before putting his hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong, Jimin? Are you okay?” He asked with worry, not used to seeing him this solemn.

“Just…go with me tonight.”

“I can’t. I have something important to do. But maybe next week?”

He looked into Hoseok’s eyes with unhidden sadness and disappointment as though he already lost someone, as though he was already mourning. Jimin chuckled humorlessly as he stood straight. He slapped his shoulder twice with warmth before walking away from him.

Yet, before he completely stepped out of the police precinct, he turned his head and offered him a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Thank you for everything. God be with you, hyung.”

Jimin thought he needed it the most. After all, hell would rain on earth once Agustd resurfaced.

—-

“It’s no big deal!”

Suga threw you a glare from his position in the kitchen. He had been busy cooking since the moment he heard Jackson greeted you. Had he known it was your birthday, he would have planned better! He thought that your day should be fucking celebrated and you should be treated like the queen that you were. Instead, he was cramming his preparation and you smiling so beautifully at him didn’t help one bit.

“It is your birthday! How can it not be a big deal?”

“I don’t celebrate,” you replied nonchalantly, your eyes trained at him and the numerous dishes he had already cooked. It was just the two of you but the way he was cooking made it seemed like he was feeding three families. It was true, though. You didn’t celebrate since that tragic day. You probably didn’t want to admit to yourself how you loathed being the only one who survived.

They said it was survival’s guilt.

You thought it was just the truth. You didn’t want to survive.

“Well, we do now. From now on, we will celebrate your birthday until you turn a hundred years old, angel,” he grumbled as he was focusing on plating.

You chuckled at his ridiculousness, his lips formed into a pout. “Well, I don’t think I’ll live that long. Do you want to live that long?”

“I’ll live as long as you exist in this world.”

“You don’t mean that.”

He smirked at you, wiping his hands with the towel as he leveled you with his dark eyes. “I do, Angel. I refuse to live in this world if you don’t exist.”

And the way he said it sounded a lot like a promise, like he would see it through. The way he was looking at you, the way his dark eyes bore through your soul made your heart beat faster as though it was in danger. “Should you go before me, I will burn this whole world down and then I will follow you.”

You had always known him to be intense. You were always aware of the darkness that seemed to follow him. At the back of your mind, you were aware of the power he excluded.

You were aware. That was the thing, you knew.

But nothing could have prepared you for the true him.

Suga set up the dinner out in your garden. He spent the whole afternoon putting up lights, cooking and preparing as best as he could. He never even let you helped him and just shooed you away when you attempted. He never thought he would put so much effort on someone, yet here he was. Additionally, he never thought he would feel so much for someone. And yet, here you were, the center of his whole fucking universe. You came just in time when he thought his life was coming to an end like the angel that you were.

You stepped out of the house, your hand clutching your chest as you saw what he did. Everything was so beautiful. It was so simple, so opposite of the beauty that money could bring. No, this was the pure beauty of effort, of simplicity, of domesticity that he brought in your life. He brought so much light in your otherwise dark life, he brought so much color. You thought you were living before he came, but you were merely existing that time. He came, and you found happiness again. He came and suddenly, you were no longer alone in this world.

“Happy birthday again, my angel,” he whispered from behind you. You turned around and there he was. He had his long hair combed back neatly. He donned a white shirt and a nice slacks in exchange for his usual dark clothes. He looked so beautiful, you thought.

And the way he was smiling with his adorable gums showing melted you.

This, you thought, this was happiness.

“How come you cook so well?” You asked as you took another bite of what he cooked. He looked pleased as he watched you eat. You thought he wouldn’t answer once again like he always did. You were so used to his silence when you asked anything about him that you were surprised he answered.

“My hyung loves to cook. He thought me how to, said that all seven of us should know all the basic skills to survive.”

“Seven?” You repeated, grasping at another information he was willingly giving you.

He nodded before he put down his wine. “You met my oldest hyung. That’s Seokjin. I have five other adopted brothers.”

“I wonder what they’re like.”

He smiled at you, “You’ll meet them soon, Angel, when we go to Seoul.”

“Oh, we are?”

“Of course. You’ll love my house. Or if you don’t, we can buy our own house-“

“I’ll live there?”

He scoffed at you before pulling your hand gently to him. “As if I’ll ever leave you here. You’re stuck with me forever, Angel.”

He kissed the back of your hand before standing and walking behind you. That was when you felt the drape of chain on your neck as he fastened the necklace. “I bought this because you love the stars so much. This way, you can have it near your heart.”

You clasped the star pendant in your hand, your eyes tearing up at his words.

“Why are you crying?” He asked with slight panic as he kneeled beside you, clutching your face to his worried one. “Did you not like it? O-once we go back to Seoul, I’ll buy you more expensive ones. I’ll buy you a diamond-“

You kissed him.

Without any warning, you kissed him. “It’s perfect. Thank you so much. I love it.”

You kissed him once again, your lips moving slowly against his. And when you parted, you found him looking at you with so much tenderness as though you were the only one that mattered to him.

And to you, he was the only one you had. To you, he was your family.

“I love you, my Suga,” you admitted to him quietly, you whispered at the silence of the night. For the first time, you said what you had desperately trying to suppress. You said it so softly, so terrified that once the truth was out there that he would see you for who you were. You were terrified that he would turn away.

But he didn’t.

“You can never take that back,” he ordered as he stared at you with so much authority. He said it as though in warning, as though should you take it back, there would be consequences. “You can never stop loving me. Do you understand?”

“I-“ you planted a kiss on his forehead, “love-“ his nose, “you.” And finally, his lips.

Suga would make sure you stayed loving him. He wanted to dig himself so deep in you that there was no way you could remove him from your very core.

No. Loving him meant forever. Now that you loved him, he could no longer go back, and neither could you.

Your love sealed your future.

Suga looked at you for a moment, and then he moved. He grabbed your nape, pulling you close to him as he devoured you. His kisses were hungry, but yours were starving. You were driving him completely insane and you were threading on a dangerous line. The true Suga, both Yoongi and Agustd were already fucking crazy. With you added to the equation pushed them further to the edge. There was no going back.

He pushed his sinful tongue in your mouth. It was just a kiss, and yet you were already trembling against him. You knew his kisses had been dominant before, but heavens was this different. It was as though he wanted to own you, and you wanted to be owned just as much. He wrapped his arms around your waist as he stood up, bringing you along with him. His strong hands supporting your legs, bunching them up on his waist. As much as he was filled with lust, his possessiveness stopped him from taking you out in the open.

No, you were only for his eyes.

You were only his.

Your hands were entangled on his silky, dark locks, desperately trying to get closer to him as he lead you back to your bedroom. He managed to close the distance within seconds and gently, he dropped you in the middle of the bed, the ends of your dress bunched up to your thighs. Suga greedily looked his fill, looked at what was his. He followed your body down, plastering his front to yours.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

And without any warning, he tore your dress down. His knee was in between your thighs, spreading your legs for him. You unconsciously crossed your arms in front of you, hiding your bared breasts from his lust-filled eyes.

Suga did not like that one bit. He growled in displeasure before he pushed your wrists above your head using his one hand, while the other caressed the smooth expanse of your waist. “This is mine. You are mine. Never, ever hide from me, okay, Angel?”

He didn’t even wait for your response before he put his mouth to your breast, sucking your erect nipple with his tempting tongue. You were too defenseless from the onslaught of pleasure he was giving you. You were a mess, a whimpering mess as his hand slid down to your thighs, teasing you with his feathery touches.

You should have known your underwear was not safe with him. And just like your poor dress, he tore down your panties. He smirked at your gasped and looked at you as he brought your wet underwear to his nose.

And heavens, you smelled fucking amazing. If he was insane with lust before, he was feral now that he smelled you.

And once he tasted you?

Who knew what state he would be.

“You smell like heaven, angel,” he groaned, his eyes closed as he sniffed the little piece of cloth that used to hide what was his. He thought it was only fitting that you smelled like heaven for you were his angel.

His.

“I need to taste you,” he said absentmindedly, his brain focused on one thing: you.

Suga removed the buttons of his shirt calmly, but his eyes told a different story as he kept contact with you. He was dashing, so beautiful that even in the dark you could see him. Once he had his shirt off, he pulled your legs closer, putting them over his shoulder. Your squeak of surprise at his prompt movements didn’t deter him. His fingers slid along your core, collecting the wetness on his finger.

“Su-Suga please-“

“Shh, Angel. This is my show. This is mine. So fucking wet, Angel,” he said with his eyes focused on your pussy. You jolted in shock when you felt his tongue on you, a cry escaping from your lips. He licked a path from your entrance to your clit slowly, wanting to memorize you and how you felt.

“Fuck. You taste so divine.”

His tongue circled your clit, playing with the bundle of nerves. You were so wet that you could see your essence glistening on your chin, and yet he didn’t stop. His fingers entered you, his mouth on your clit, sucking, licking, tasting.

He never stopped.

Not when you screamed.

Not when your body buckled up.

Not when you were pushing his face on your core.

His hands secured you to him. You weren’t going anywhere.

“Oh my- fuck, baby p-please-“ you moaned, feeling your orgasm sneaking up on you. “So g-good, hngh-“

And he watched. He watched as you fell apart for him.

Only him.

From now on, it would only be him.

He was kissing your inner thigh as you came down from the high. He lifts his head when you finally stopped shaking, looking at you in adoration and with an unbridled darkness in his eyes. Now that he had you, there was this ugly emotion that pushed him to do everything so you would be safe, so you would never be hurt, never to leave him. He wanted you so fucking tied down to him that you could never leave, never breathe without him.

“Still okay? He asked softly, opposite to how his thumb was drawing circles on your clit, overstimulating you. And you couldn’t move, not with his weight on you, not with his shoulders in between your legs. You nodded, because this was the most okay you had ever been. Here, with him.

“Suga,” you whined, wanting more of what he just gave you. And he knew what you wanted. He crawled up to you, kissing you tenderly, his tongue playing with yours before he peppered kisses on your neck, on your breasts, leaving his marks for people to know you were already owned.

“What do you want, Angel?” He whispered hotly.

“You-“

“Yeah? Do you want my cock, Angel?”

“Yes!” You moaned, his lips wrapped around your nipples.

“Tell me,” he ordered.

“I want your cock, baby please!”

“Then you shall have it, my Angel.”

You heard the buckle of his belt, the exciting sound of his zipper. And then you felt his hardness. He felt so fucking big. So fucking hard.

He lifted your knees up, positioning your heels to his bared ass. He lined himself, sliding his cock in your slit, drenching it with your wetness. He parted your slick folds with his fingers, looking down at your cunt. The bulbous head of his cock slowly entered your tight heat, his eyes full of desire as you watched him watched his member entered you. He looked vicious, his dark hair framing his face, his scarred eye focused intently on you. His movements were gentle and deep- at first. When you finally adjusted to his girth, he thrusted all the way inside you. He moaned so deep, so loud that you felt your core tightened on his member.

Fuck, he sounded so masculine. “You feel so unbelievable. This fucking pussy- mine. You’re mine,” he growled as he thrusted inside you, molding your body to his.

The way he rolled his hips was heavenly, and you were close. His thrusts were precise, controlled, hard. You could feel him hardened even further. He was close, he knew it.

A better man would have pulled out.

Hell, a decent man would put on a condom.

A twisted, devious, manipulative man, on the other hand, would do everything to tie you to him. And if his seed would take root on your womb, then even better.

See, a better man would not come inside you. He definitely would not finger his cum back inside you as you fell asleep.

Alas, he wasn’t a good man that you thought him to be.

He was insatiable.

Suga was like a man possessed, you thought as you winced. The damned prick looked please as he watched you wobbled out of bed. He did make it up to you though by preparing you a hot bath and a massage.

That was an hour ago. He stepped out, remembering the promise he made little Jackson that he would bring him a slice of your birthday cake.

You had never slept as good as you did last night, safely inside his arms. You woke up earlier than him, and you just…stared at him. You wanted to engrave what he looked like in your mind. Your hands caressed his face, tracing every outline with your eyes closed. You were sure that you could recognized him even in the dark. He was your person, you thought.

Someone knocked on your front door. You smiled when you opened the door, thinking that Suga must have forgotten his key.

But it wasn’t him.

You looked at the man with confusion, “May I help you?”

He smiled.

Jung Hoseok smiled, and behind him was a gun hidden from your view.

Epilogue

#bts fic #yandere bts #bts yandere #min yoongi fic #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x y/n #min yoongi x reader #yandere min yoongi #yoongi fic #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts smut #min yoongi smut

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strawbeerossi · 1 year ago

Text

Telephone

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: You and Spencer miss each other whenever he is on a week long case. A phone call should help fix that.

Content/Warnings: Mutual masturbation, phone sex, course language. Let me know if I missed anything

Word Count: 1.3K

Kinktober Day Fifteen: Telephonicophilia

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

Dating a man who could be gone for weeks at a time could be frustrating. Especially on nights like tonight where you were desperate.

You’d decided on picking up a new erotic novel later on that evening after work, a glass of wine beside you on your nightstand while your eyes relished in the smut in your hands. Normally, things like this wouldn’t affect you.. However, Spencer had been gone for a week already, so you had been reduced to a state of touch deprived that you know Spencer would have fun dealing with.

Now a week isn’t a long time to go without sex for some people but you and Spencer have been a different breed lately, sex happening a lot more frequently than you’d care to admit. The girls at work teased you, saying you came in every shift with a post sex glow. The sad part was, you couldn’t even argue.

This week was tough, the stress of your life weighing heavy on you while you were struggling to keep yourself afloat. Talking to Spencer helped, it did. However the normal stress reliever you turned to was out of your reach.

As you’d kept your attention on the text in your hand, you could feel arousal pooling at a particular scene you were stuck on. You missed Spencer..

Unbeknownst to you, he missed you just as much. The impending stress on the case was suffocating him, the unsub knowing what he was doing and able to cover his tracks easily. A week of overanalyzing to the point his big, beautiful brain hurt, he needed a break. “Emily, I just got a message from my mom’s facility, I need to give them a call. Do you mind if I step out?” It was easy for Spencer to lie through his teeth, the unit chief looking at him with a face of concern. “That’s fine, that’s fine. Keep me updated.” She instructed, which made the brunette nod before he was heading out of the conference room. “Is there an open room that I can use? Urgent phone call.” He was holding up his phone to the police chief, who nodded as he led the male to an empty office.

As soon as the door was shut, Spencer was locking it and tugging down the blinds of the window looking in the office before scrolling through his contacts. As soon as he got to you, he took in a breath as he was calling, heading over to sit on the edge of the desk.

“Spencer!” Your voice cheered from the other side, causing a smile to spread across his face. “Hey! I just needed to hear your voice. There’s no sign of this case ending anytime soon..” He frowned, even if you couldn’t see him. “You guys will catch this guy. You always do.” You cooed softly while letting your hand lift the wine glass to sip from it. “I’m glad you called, honestly.. I miss you.”

“I miss you too.. What are you wearing tonight, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Your lip was tucked between your teeth while sitting up a bit straighter. “I’m wearing your Cal-Tech sweater and underwear. You know I steal your clothes to sleep.” It was a given on what attire you were adorned to sleep in.

“I love when you wear my clothes.. God, I miss you. What are you doing? Reading that book, I bet.” He spoke while chuckling softly. “Mind taking a break from your reading? I need you right now.”

The way his voice dropped to a low tone had your pussy clenching around nothing. He needed you so bad he was calling while in the middle of a case. “I don’t mind.”

“Good. Leave the sweatshirt on but get rid of your panties.” He spoke, leaning back against the desk as he could feel his cock hardening at the visual playing through his mind. Thank god for eidetic memory. It was like he could see you right now.

“I’m so wet that it’s uncomfortable.” You whined, finger running through your slit to collect your slick on the digit while brushing against your clit with a shaky breath.

“I bet.. My poor girl.” He sighed, already working on his belt to get it yanked from his pant loops before tossing it beside him on the desk, hand already pulling his throbbing cock from his pants. “I wish I could be there right now, have you squirming underneath me.” He spoke while letting out a low groan as his hand was wrapping around his hard cock, slowly tugging at his dick.

The idea of being between her legs right now was heaven, however his job just had to get in the way. “Why don’t you toy with that pretty little clit of yours, hmm? Wanna hear you moan for me. Show me how much you miss me.”

Your finger swiped over your throbbing clit, the nub sending electricity through your bones as you let your head tilt back with a moan. “It doesn’t feel as good when I have to do it.” You said softly, soft breaths leaving your lips as you massage the bundle of nerves between your legs.

“I know. You’d be pushing back on my fingers by now, crying and desperate for more.” He smirked, his hand speeding up along his cock. Due to the precum bubbling over his swollen tip, he had plenty of lube to easily glide his hand along his shaft.

“Go ahead and push a finger into that sweet, leaking pussy. I bet you’re soaked just from hearing my voice.” His words were like honey, you drinking it up as you complied with the demand, sinking your pointer finger into your tight cunt. The squelching sound of your greedy pussy sucking in as much of your finger as it could get had you tossing your head back as you let out a moan, your other hand holding the phone clutching the electronic tightly.

“You sound so beautiful. God, I can’t wait to get home,” Spencer was whimpering out, the boyish sounds making him sound more innocent than he truly was. “My hand doesn’t even compare to that tight cunt. I bet she is desperate for me,” He grunted as his pace sped up.

“Add another finger, I know that you’re desperate for more.” His words were husky as he let his head tilt back while a few needy whines fell from his lips.

This phone call was what both of you desperately needed, hearing each other to fuel the fantasies flooding both of your brains. This was a time when you wished you could stomach working at the FBI just to always be close to Spencer.

“I’m gonna cum.” You warned, fingers curling and brushing barely against the spongy button inside of you that you just couldn’t reach by yourself. “Fuck. Cum on those fingers, baby. Wanna hear you.” He panted, feeling a bead of sweat running down the back of his neck as his hand moved quickly, his cock twitching in his grasp. Hearing you cry his name in orgasmic bliss was what pushed Spencer over the edge, his cum glazing over his knuckles as he let out a whimper of your name.

There was a brief silence shared between you both as you two caught your breath.

“Please come home soon..” You finally whispered, pushing yourself to sit up in your shared bed so you could stand and go wash your hands in the bathroom.

“I’m gonna catch this guy today, trust me. I love and miss you.” His voice was soft, the both of you sharing your goodbyes, you were both hanging up.

Distance was hard.

The way Spencer fucked you whenever he did end up getting home later the next night was harder.

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achelouise · 8 months ago

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To you, My Lady

fandom: hsr

pairing: gallagher/FEM!reader

warnings: SPOILERS FOR 2.2 AND WRITTEN BEFORE 2.3

a/n: this may be the weirdest and most far-fetched I've ever written in terms of character interpretation, but I just needed to get something out of my system after playing 2.2, I cried like a little bitch

“You’re a History Fictionologist.”

Gallagher doesn’t respond. He should’ve known. You’ve always been too perceptive, no matter how much you mask yourself as a mess.

He doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t have to; he knows the crease in your eyebrows, the raging hurt that is locked behind your frowning lips, tears prickling from the corners of your eyes. He has memorized it by heart, when he had broken your heart on several occasions.

He warned you. He had shut you down when you presented him with a bouquet of flowers, he left you to pack up your date meal on more times he can count, and barked out a condescending laugh every time you show him something you created.

And yet, you stayed. You tried to make this one-sided relationship work, and Gallagher doesn’t understand why. He also doesn’t understand why he didn’t straight-up push you away.

“Finally worked that brain of yours?” he snorts, “‘Bout time.”

Gallagher- he is merely a creation born from another pair of hands. He is a toy, a pawn, with a singular ambition; to make sure The Order never crafts their perfect world, a predetermined disaster.

Perhaps he is the creator. Perhaps he is the creation. He is a branch of the History Fictionologist.

A lie ceases to exist when the truth comes to light. His death is gradual, but he feels the instantaneous switch. The soft pull of the abyss, gently taking a part of carefully-mended facade. It won’t be so kind when the final hour comes. He’s sure you know, too.

This is expected, though. He has a meeting with Sunday later, and he will take him to Dreamflux Reef. There, he will bid the people he barely knew goodbye, and he will leave a single hound to watch over the old man.

He will have played his part.

Why did he delude you into thinking you two had a future together?

“Well.” You are clearly trying to hold back tears. The pathetic display wants to make him laugh. He doesn’t. He still doesn’t turn around. “This is it, then?”

Gallagher polished a glass. “There was never ‘this’, hun.”

“But I’ve seen the way you look at me.” you insist, “You aren’t as emotionally detached as you think you are.”

He pours in High Stakes, and plays around with the drink in the glass. “I didn’t think you were this dumb, love. You deluded yourself into thinkin’ we were something more. We’re not. To me, you’re as important as a passerby in this dreamscape.”

“Then why did you stay?” Your voice cracks. “Why didn’t you push me away?”

He drops in a dash of classic SoulGlad. “Hm. Maybe because you looked too pathetic. I dunno. I don’t feel much of anything.”

“And why are you leaving now?”

You sounded far too heartbroken, beyond the stricken looks you give him on a daily basis.

“‘Cuz you realized my identity. In a day or two, my form will be destroyed. I’ll continue exploring the cosmos in another body.” He squeezes in a Hanu sticker. It looks adorable. It reminds him of the smile you gave him the first day you met.

He still doesn’t turn around. “Darling, you have to realize you’ve been loving a dead man. I don’t know what it is about police officers and bartenders that make you hot’n bothered, but don’t run into another one.”

As he mixes his drink, there is only silence. He half-expects you to leave in a huff, but he knows better. You have never left in the long time you’ve known each other.

“... Then, if all my romantic gestures meant nothing to you,” you say, tenderly and still brimming with a love that annoys him, “Can I get one more kiss?”

“On the cheek.” He says coldly, putting down the drink on the counter. “And only because I’m basically dying.”

He closes his eyes as you turn him around. He hears a quiet hum, still sad and carrying grief, before he feels a soft brush of lips on his cheek. His hands cling to your waist, before they let go.

“Thank you.” you say, “And I’m sorry.”

He opens his eyes. Your smile is fragile and hopeless, but it carries a tinge of warmth, one that makes him close them again, because if he stares longer, something in his carefully-crafted heart may actually want to stay in this dingy apartment.

Will you go chase another man, when all is said and done? Will you marry him? Will he protect you and treasure you? Will he leave you, just as he did?

“Sure.” he answers, sliding the drink into your hands as he backs away.

He opens the apartment door, and doesn’t spare another glance. If he does, he may actually fear.

Before he leaves completely, he stops. “To you,” he murmurs, knowing you will hold onto his every word, “With this glass of ‘Farewell, My Lovely’.”

Leave. Don’t be delusional. Leave.

Hm. Perhaps he was the one deluding himself.

“To unfinished business.”

He shuts the door, and basks in the soft artificial moonlight.

He hears you wail.

He can only hope this is what Mikhail would have wanted.

#hsr gallagher x reader #gallagher x you #hsr gallagher #hsr x reader #hsr #hsr spoilers #honkai star rail #hsr 2.2

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inkdrinkerworld · 1 year ago

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ahhh i love chubby!reader and spencer!! what if she overheard someone talking about her weight in a negative way and when she runs into spencer he instantly goes into his own kind of awkward comfort mode bc he secretly has THE biggest crush on you and any other time he would be VERY proud that he managed to get you to hug him but now you’re crying and oh no he doesn’t want you to be sad especially not over the way you look!!

It’s gross. To hear people make comments about your body behind your back in the way you do.

It’s all snide, backhanded comments disguised as compliments. Your stomach rolls because none of your team is near enough to hear them and you don’t feel like making a scene.

Your mind changes when you hear, ‘And it’s so obvious she likes him but what would he do with a girl like her? He’s less than half her size. She doesn't deserve someone like him.’

Your blood boils and you flick away imaginary dust and lint from your clothes before making yourself known.

“You might not like the way I look but you’re much more unattractive than you find me because that’s just vile. You should be ashamed of yourselves. It's none of your business but Spencer and I are dating.”

The local officers blanch and you walk off ignoring their stunned silence and stutters for an apology.

Your hands shake as you sit next to your team and you’re silly for thinking Spencer wouldn’t notice it. Spencer noticed when you had dusted the ends of your hair a week ago.

"Are you okay?" he asks, voice so low it's barely a murmur. Spencer's eyes remain trained on you as you nibble on your lip trying to decide what to do.

"I've been better," you say and Hotch saves you from more questions by instructing, "Y/N I need you to speak to the local police and get every name they have for people who came in."

No one else notices the way your back stiffens as you stand. Spencer does, "I'll go with her, and we'll call Garcia."

Spencer takes you to a secluded hallway and tips your chin up, "What happened, sweetheart?" it's cruel for him to whip that out at work, but it has the same effect it does when you're at home curled in his lap while reading.

"The locals were saying things about me- which is fine, I'm not everybody's cup of tea. But they were extra mean and rude about it." you debate whether to say the rest, but it comes out before you come to a real decision. "They said they don't know why I think I deserve your attention and they said you're too small to be with someone like me."

Spencer gasps like you've burnt him. He feels heat searing his chest as he replays your words. He doesn't know exactly how to comfort you without his words being hard and rough.

"But I stood up for myself," that eases some of the pressure in his chest. "I told them they should be ashamed of themselves and that I wasn't just some girl pining after you and we were together."

Spencer presses his forehead into yours. "I'm glad you stood up for yourself, but you shouldn't have to defend yourself at work or in general. You're amazing and stunning and you're more than anything I could've dreamt up for myself."

His words are soft, sweet and it melts the remaining worry in your bones that even though Spencer loves you, he had regrets.

"They're fucking assholes," he deadpans quietly and you laugh. "But we have a job to do so we'll be civil for the rest of the time we're here but the second we're done, we're messing with them."

#spencer reid x chubby!reader #spencer reid x black!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencerreid

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deya38 · 1 month ago

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*English is not my real language, so I work with a translator. I apologize for the errors found!!!*

"Cracks in the Heart" Prologue...chapter 1...chapter 2

You loved the rain very much, you and mom and dad often went for walks in it… But the rain took your beloved parents away… now you are alone… with your toy Harley…. This is the last gift from mom… And here comes the rain again. A five-year-old child stands under an umbrella in a black dress, crying and wiping her little tears. Your nanny Lily stands next to you and holds the umbrella. Alfred stands nearby. You watch as your parents' coffins are lowered into the damp, cold ground. Tears roll down your cheeks, your little nose is red from how many times you wiped it with a napkin. The final resting place of your parents is covered with dirt. Alfred placed his hand on your shoulder.

“Lady… it’s time to go…”

I turn to him and hug Lily one last time.

“Lily, I will miss you…”

“(Your/name) I will also miss you, but the best life awaits you… You will have many opportunities… when you come back here, I will meet you with open arms…”

She hugs you tightly.

“Goodbye, little one,” kissing you on the forehead, she let go. Wiping your tears and getting to her feet, she helped Alfred put you in the car. When the car started moving, Lily watched her with her gaze, you looked in response into her beautiful blue eyes that radiated sadness… you watched until she disappeared from sight. Sitting up straight, you turned your attention to Alfred.

“Alfred…”

“Yes, lady?”

“And Bruce… is he good? Is he as good as my dad?”

“Lady, Bruce is your father, and he has a kind heart. You have many brothers and sisters, and your father loves them all…”

A He Will Love Me?

A he will love me? His love for me will be enough? After all, he loves so many people, I am afraid that his love for me will not be enough! -Of course, it will be enough. His love is inexhaustible.

At this point, your conversation stopped. You looked out the window, the trees quickly flashed before your eyes, the rain drummed against the window.

_________________Time Skip________________

You stood in front of a huge mansion more resembling a castle. You took Alfred's hand with your little hand, he headed towards the entrance of the house. Opening the large doors, the elderly butler let you inside. You looked around the hall, but there was no one there...

When Alfred closed the door and turned around, his face frowned.

-Alfred... where is dad?-You thought that your new father would come to greet you, but apparently, that is not the case.

-Perhaps he is in the office... I think it is worth notifying him of your arrival.

Going up, you walked down a long corridor, you counted about five doors, and at the very end of the corridor was it... a dark door... shadows emanated from it... as if warning you...

-Alfred, do you see this too?- The elderly butler looked in your direction with a look of confusion.

-What exactly? ...

-Nothing... just seemed so...

The rest of the way to your father's office you spent in complete silence. Here you are standing at the threshold, Alfred raises his hand and with a light wrist movement knocks on the door, and a knock is heard.

Come in, you heard a deep and clearly tired voice that belongs to your father. Alfred was the first to enter the room, followed by you, and carefully closing the door, he straightened up...

-Master Bruce do you remember that Police Commissioner Gordon called you about your biological daughter?

-Yes…-he replied, still hunched over the table, sifting through a pile of papers.-What’s the matter?

-She has already arrived, sir… -Alfred nudged you forward a bit so that your father could see you. You looked at the stern man and hugged your toy Harley tighter.

-Come on, miss, you need to say hello-whispered the elderly butler to you.

-Hello…- during the entire conversation, your so-called father did not lift his gaze to you; he was more interested in the papers on his desk.

-Alfred, place her in one of the rooms and order everything she needs.-

He spoke as if you were not in the room.

-And please do not distract me until dinner if it is not something serious.-

That’s how your first meeting with your “father” went.

————————————————————————

All the rooms are occupied, and now you wander through lonely and confusing corridors.

The walls are adorned with grotesque portraits of people unknown to you and gloomy landscapes that you have never seen.

You hear some buzzing… and it is so familiar… you are being led by some unknown force… Harley hangs in your hand, dark shadows crawling out of nowhere wrap around your legs and lead you… They seem so familiar and dear… You want to cry from this…

Here you stand before a door, voices are calling you… asking you to open this door… Your eyes darted to the portrait hanging next to the door.

It was a woman of unprecedented beauty and elegance.

-This is your grandmother, Martha Wayne.She was like an angel descended from heaven, kind and ready to help everyone.I’m sure you would have liked her.-

Looking back, you glanced at Alfred. a soft smile was visible on his face directed at you.

-You look so much like her.-

Turning back to the door, all the shadows disappeared, and you no longer heard the voices.

-Alfred, I want this room.

----------------- Time Skip -----------------------

Almost a week has passed since your move; new furniture was ordered for you, and you and Alfred went and bought a lot of new clothes and many new toys, but you never parted with your beloved Harley.

You started to see the shadows more often; they crawled out from the corners or the bed, but as soon as someone appeared in their line of sight, they disappeared.

You ran through the corridor playing with Harley.

You began to do this more often; you liked running through the large and spacious corridors.

The ringing laughter echoed through the deserted halls zalam

Harley was dangling in your hand while you were running. Suddenly, you bumped into something or someone, but you managed to keep your balance just in time.

-Baby! Watch where you’re running! You are my new little sister, right? Nice to see you!I’m Dick. The guy ruffled your hair.

-Y…YES! I (your/name) -You exclaimed excitedly, as someone other than Alfred paid attention to you.

-You haven’t seen Alfred? He usually cleans up here at this time…

-He went to get groceries…-you mumbled barely audibly.

-Don’t you want to play with me and Harley? -You shyly averted your eyes and raised the toy so he would notice it. His face twisted at the sight of the toy in a black and red suit, but you didn’t notice that.

-No, baby, I have a lot to do. I’ll definitely play with you next time!

With that, your conversation ended, and you smiled like a silly girl because you finally met one of your brothers.

———————————————————————-

After dinner, you were getting ready for bed. Shadows began to crawl out from under the bed… they became bolder and bolder…

Getting up from the chair, you approached the shadows and extended your hand… A misty little whisker timidly reached out to your outstretched hand, as if studying you… and then, scared of something, it slid back under the bed.

Leaning down and looking under the bed, you saw only darkness that was luring you more and more…

#yandere batfam #yandere #yandere robin #yandere platonic #yandere dick grayson #yandere damian wayne #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere batman

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orphicdreamers-wp · 6 months ago

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Mustang Or Me — Jack Hughes

Summary; you and Jack break up and you head back home.

Content Warnings; angst, breakup, based on ‘mustang or me’ by megan moroney

I packed up my two-door Ford. He don’t love me anymore.

You stare at Jack defeatedly as you stood in the kitchen of your shared apartment , “So you just don’t love me anymore? After 2 and a half years of this you just stop?” Jack looked at you with a sad look on his face, “I’m sorry. God you don’t know how sorry I am.” You shook your head, “Don’t worry about it Jack. I’m gonna pack my stuff and drive back to Pittsburgh.”

Within an hour and a half the past two years of your life were packed up in a boxes in your old beat down mustang. You smiled sadly as you hugged Luke warmly, “Call me man. I’m gonna miss you.” Luke nodded as he hugged you, “I really wanted you to be my sister.” You hugged him back as you stayed silent. You got in your car and dialed your moms phone number, “Hi mommy. Yeah. I’m okay. I’m just coming home. For good. Okay.”

I cursed his name down 65. Need new brakes and new tires. Hell I’m tired.

You groaned as your car drifted slightly into the right lane of the road, “Damn it Jack!” You smacked the steering wheel as you forced the wheel straight. Jack had been on your ass about getting new tires, kept saying it was dangerous that your car drifted because of the cars. You knew he was right but you were too stubborn to listen to him, and you were currently wishing you did.

You also needed new brakes and you had been meaning to get them changed. You had just been so tired lately. You hated fighting with Jack because it made you just so drained and tired. You were just tired of it all. The drama, the stupid fights and feeling invalidated. You were just so tired.

Two years down the drain, two hundred thousand on the gauge.

You sighed as you continued your drive out of Jersey. The ‘Welcome To Delaware’ sign felt like a slap to the face. In the two years you’d been with Jack you saw that sign a handful of times. You two had taken a handful of weekend trips to a ski lodge in upstate Delaware. Two years of your life down the drain haunted you. Almost at much as your car mileage. Two hundred and fifty thousand miles. You shook your head as you were left in silence of your thoughts and the cars passing you.

A broken tail light, a broken heart. How’d we even get this far.

You hadn’t realized how far you had gotten until you saw the flashing red and blue light behind you. You pulled to the side of the dark country road as a police officer approached your vehicle. The man seemed to notice you were on the brink of breaking down, “Good evening ma’am. Do you know why I stopped you?” You tan a hand over your face, “No I’m sorry. I don’t even know where I am honestly. I’m heading to Pittsburgh.” The man nodded, “ You’re in Port Royal Virgina. A little out from Fredicksburg. You have a broken taillight that’s why I pulled you over.”

You sighed sadly, “I’m sorry officer. How much is my ticket?” The officer’s face softened as he took in your current state, “Don’t worry about it. Just get to Pittsburgh safely honey.” You sighed sadly as he walked away, your chest aching like someone had yanked your heart out of your chest.

I’m fighting back tears running on E. Who’s gonna break down first? This mustang or me.

You continued your drive and groaned as you saw the gas tank was hovering on the empty line. It was inevitable that your car would break down. You just hoped it would hold out until Pittsburgh.

A stranger asked if I was okay. Laughed it off said no what gave it away? Was it the leaking oil or the loneliness on my face.

You entered some gas station in the middle of a tiny town in Virginia. You grabbed a energy drink and a bag of chips before heading to the line. An older lady in front of you frowned at your sad expression, “Honey are you okay?” You shook your head with a small laugh, “No, how could you tell?” The woman smiled softly, “You look like you haven’t slept in weeks.” You smiled sadly, “Just moving home after a breakup.” The woman smiled and hugged you softly, “I’m sorry honey.”

I thought I was gonna make it home,but I heard our song on the radio.

You shook the memory of Jack out of your head as you turned up the radio as loud as possible. You hummed along as ‘Fast Car’ by Tracy Chapman was playing. Your head was finally cleared when the song concluded and the next song played.

Who’s if gonna be? I’d put all my money on me.

You pulled your car to the shoulder of the interstate. shutting it off as sobs wracked through your body. You hadn’t cried about the relationship ending until now. You weren’t naïve in any way but you had always thought you and Jack would be together forever. You didn’t anticipate a breakup or Jack losing feelings for you.

#fanfic #hockey player x reader #hockey #nhl #nhl fanfiction #nj devils #new jersey devils #jack hughes x reader #jack x reader #jack hughes #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes x oc #jack hughes x you

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hotchsreader · 9 months ago

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You’re my Last Call

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: You and Hotch had broken up over a month ago. Once he broke up with you, he disappeared, absolutely no contact with you anymore. You didn’t know why, there were no signs he was unhappy until he just broke off everything. Up until a freak accident happens, you thought you had lost the love of your life. What if that was never the case, and he just thought you’d be better off without his sadness?

trigger warning: car accident

read on ao3 here

Now there's blood on the windshield

And there's credit cards on the floor

And I'm crawling out the window of my passenger side door

Your picture's on the dashboard and that's the only thing I saw

You were always first to catch me when I fall

Yeah, I'm sorry you were my last call

- Lyrics from the song 3/13 by Wyatt Flores

Hotch was trying to remind himself of the good days when things felt less heavy and he could have a clear head. These days? Everything felt so heavy that he didn’t know if it was possible not to be stressed out. He had broken up with you weeks ago. Maybe it has been a month already, he was unsure at this point. He knew that his presence was a downer to everyone around him, and you had been too much of a light in the world to let him dull you. He loved you so much, but he knew that letting you go would be the best option for you to succeed.

Everything felt like it was going so slowly. He had left the office about an hour ago and was headed toward the victim's house to do one last walk-through to see if there was anything that the local police had missed. He knew exactly where he was going as he and the team had been there before, so he did not even tell anyone he was going there or put the location in his GPS. He had been paying attention, he wasn't too tired, he had slept pretty well the night before, and nothing but you were on his mind. He looked down at his dashboard, to see the photo of you he kept there. Even though he left, he kept you with him. He always wanted to keep you with him, other than Jack, you were his biggest source of happiness. He had looked down for a split second, but apparently, that was enough time for a far to cross into Hotch’s lane and slammed him into the wall lining the highway.

After the car crashed, Hotch couldn’t remember anything until he felt himself on the concrete ground and saw random faces flashing back and forth over the top of him.

“Sir. Is there anyone we can call for you?” They asked hoping to get an answer from the man lying in front of them. They knew there was a strong chance there was a concussion.

Hotch could hardly muster up many words, all he said was your name. Your name and said check the phone.

You were at work. Everyone else had started going home, and the law office was closed for the day. There wasn’t any noise as you sat typing your last report on your laptop, it seemed peaceful almost. That was until, your phone started ringing incredibly loud, piercing through the silence.

“Maam. This is Officer Finch. I have a man here by the name of Aaron Hotchner, he was in a car accident. He gave us you to call.”

“Where is he? He is a Federal Agent.”

Before the officer even finished giving you the details of where Aaron was, you had already grabbed all of your things and ran out of the office. By the time you hung up with him, you were only ten minutes away.

Nothing would stop you from getting to him. Nothing that happened between the two of you would make you not rush to his side. He was, and would always be, your person.

When you got there, the first thing you noticed were the lights and the sirens. It brought back so many memories from when Hotch was hurt by Foyet. your heart was pounding in your chest and you just needed to find him to see that he was okay. an officer waved you over, and you saw him lying on the ground. There was a cut across his forehead, and his eyes were grimacing like he was in pain. It was killing you, even though you hadn’t even fully gotten up to him to see him in that kind of condition. He looked almost pitiful. you weren’t sure if you wanted to talk to him because of how badly he had hurt you so you stood and talked to the paramedics who said that it was most likely that he had a concussion, but that he was going to be fine he was very lucky. The person had crossed his lane of traffic and when they did, it caused his car to swerve headfirst into the highway wall.

You heard a soft voice call your name. It was very quiet, almost like it was reserved. They didn’t want to be calling your name. They didn’t want you to know that they needed you at this moment. you didn’t know what to do because doing this was wrong to be an emergency contact on a person who had tried so hard to remove you from their life. One day everything was okay, holding hands laughing together, knowing each other’s favorite orders at the coffee shop, to not even a phone call explaining why everything ended with a snap of a finger.

“Yeah, Aaron I’m here,” you said softly in his ear, as you finally walked over to him, kneeling next to him and running your hands through his hair. That was always a small comfort for him when he really needed somebody he loved you running your fingers through his hair.

“ I am so sorry but you were the only person I wanted to be here, I know I am probably the last person you want to hear from right now.” His voice was still very soft, almost like it hurt to speak and he wanted to tell him to stop talking to focus on getting to the hospital, but you also wanted to hear what he had to say. Selfish as it was, you wanted to know why. Why did he end everything? Why did he act like he didn’t exist after two years of a beautiful relationship, why did he call you now he had his whole team that would break down walls to get to him if they knew something was wrong? Why did he call you a person who genuinely couldn’t do anything but be there for him?

“We will talk when you’re able to form a coherent sentence, Aaron, I'm here now and I’m definitely not leaving until I know you’re okay.” You rubbed his face with your hand, and he pressed his face into your palm.

you sat there as they loaded him into the ambulance and asked if you were allowed to ride along. They said yes, considering it was not life-threatening. You could drop your car at a gas station and they would come by and pick you up to take you with him. you did not want to be where you couldn’t see him, but you trusted the paramedics to take care of him for the five minutes he would be out of your line of sight. once you got into your car, you texted the team. You still had all of their phone numbers in case of emergency to let them know what was going on and your phone started ringing off the hook.

“What is going on?” JJ was on the other side of the phone. her voice made you calm down a little bit. The two of you had become very close friends during your relationship with Aaron and even after he had broken up with you JJ always kept in contact.

“They said that a car came into his lane and knocked him into the highway wall. He was conscious and able to talk, and I went with him to the hospital. I have to drop my car off at a gas station so it wouldn’t be stuck on the side of the highway.” You responded, your voice becoming wobbly during your explanation.

She gulped pretty heavily, you knew this was hard for her to hear. as well. “Do you want me to come up? I’m more than willing to come and just be a helping hand for you. I could be the communication between the team to let them know how he’s doing so you don’t have to constantly be on your phone and keep everyone updated. I can do it for you.” She knew how hard this was for you, and that small gesture would be such a relief, and would take so much off your plate that you didn’t even know how to deal with it.

“JJ you mean the world to me. Could you also contact Jessica and let her know what’s going on? I really don’t wanna have to call her even though I love her. This is just so much and I need to check on him and be with him.”

“Absolutely. I’ll see you soon. I love you.” She said you could feel how genuine she was in the last few words. Meeting Aaron was one of the best things that ever happened to you, but meeting her was a close second. You reciprocated and hung up the phone, got to the gas station, got into the ambulance, and off to the hospital you went. You held on to Hotch’s hand the entire time.

The next three hours consisted of people running in and out of the hospital room, checking on Hotch, readjusting him, checking his vitals, and it felt like almost complete chaos. The minute JJ got there you could almost cry out of relief. You needed someone else there, to make this seem like less of a fever-induced dream. To bring you back to reality, almost like a shared experience instead of being alone in a hospital room with the love of your life being poked and prodded by hospital staff.

“Hi sweetie,” JJ says as she walks into the room, tears in her eyes as she looks over at Hotch. You know the two of them are close, he always has talked highly of her.

“Hi.” This was the first time you have heard your own voice in hours and it sounded almost foreign to you. It sounded defeated and hurt.

“Why are you here JJ?” This caused you to jump. Hotch had not spoken the entire three hours until JJ walked into the room. Did he just not want to speak to you? If this was the case, why did he ask everyone to call you? You turned your head over to him, a look of hurt running over your face. He noticed immediately and turned his head away from you to look at JJ.

“You know what, I’m going to go call the team, I’ll be back in a minute. You better prepare yourself for Garcia to run in here with balloons in snacks in a few hours Hotch.” She tried to make the atmosphere less tense before she left, but the hurt and anger in you could physically feel it.

You stood up, walked over to Hotch, and put your hand under his chin, and made him look at you. He stared at you for a minute, tears gathering in his eyes as he did and he tried to open his mouth to speak but you didn’t let him get that far.

“Absolutely not, you do not get to speak right now Aaron Hotchner. You do not get to be the first one to speak after what you have put me through in the last few hours. I get to speak first.”

He nodded at you, tears slipping from his eyes.

“You LEFT me with no explanation. You are the love of my life. I would lay down everything I am and will be to make sure you and Jack are safe and happy. I did nothing wrong to deserve to be deserted. I did nothing, Aaron. I love you so much, I will love you until the day I die. Why would you have them call me? Why would you do what you did?” At this point, you were sobbing, and the last few words that came out of your mouth were gargled.

Hotch raised his hand and wiped the tears from your cheek, you wanted to turn away but your brain and arm betrayed you and you raised your hand up to hold his while it was on your face.

“Honey, it had nothing to do with you. You are the most beautiful, loving, caring person in this world.”

“But then why? What was wrong? What happened to us?”

“It was me. I was bringing you down. I was making everything worse. I didn't want to ruin your life with my hurt.” The last few words were barely a whisper.

You looked up, for the first time since this conversation started, and looked at the man in front of you. He was crying, tears falling down the side of his face onto the pillow. He was gripping your hard really hard, the ring on your fingers digging into your skin. He looked pitiful. He was heartbroken, not just because of what currently happened but because of everything going on in his head. You had wished he would’ve told you this a lot sooner. So much hurt could have been prevented if he had just been honest with you. But you knew this man, you knew he would hide things so deeply inside himself if it meant no one else had to get hurt. You knew he would hide things if it meant you would be protected from the harsh realities.

“Aaron. You are and will always be my world. If something is bothering you, I would like to talk about it. I would like to be able to be there for you if you would let me be. Please, just talk to me. Let me be there for you.” You put your hand on his cheek and he leaned into your palm. His face was flush from the accident and from the tears. He felt, defeated.

“I don’t want anyone to have to deal with me. Especially not someone who has so much to offer this world. I am just a mess of a man. You were the last person I wanted to call because I do not want you to have to clean up after me.”

“If loving you means I have to be there for everything, every sad day, every hard day, every difficult day, I will be.” You said, running your hands through his hair, his favorite.

“I don’t want you to have to do that.”

“Too late, I am already too committed.”

“You know, I was looking at my photo of you on my dashboard before it happened.” He turned his head closer to you.

“You have a photo of me in your work car?” You truly didn’t know this.

“Have the moment we started dating. It's a photo of you smiling at work when I came to visit for the first time. You were so excited to show me around to everyone. Your boyfriend is a Unit Chief in the FBI. You were so smiley the entire time, I wanted to remember that happiness on hard days. So in my work car, it sits, it's comforting.”

“Well, we can take more photos.” You sat on the edge of the bed, he sat up and you leaned into him. You were not going anywhere.

“I love you, you know that. I’m sorry for leaving, I just thought I was hurting you more than I was helping. I thought if you knew how bad I was feeling you would feel responsible or that I would hurt you.”

“I love you more than you know.”

After the talk, and JJ called the team to let them know the extent of everything going on, you decided to walk with her to get some coffee. Penelope had shown up five minutes after JJ ended the call with tons of goodies for Hotch, and you let her and Derek sit in there with him while you took a break. Hopefully, he would be okay, Derek could handle Penelope and Hotch needed a friend.

The two of you walked along side each other in silence until you got to the elevator. Once you got to the elevator JJ finally spoke up.

“Want to tell me what happened?” She looked at you sideways as she finished the question.

“Actually, yeah. What he said made me a bit worried and I need some more insight into what’s been going on.”

“I’m all ears.”

“He broke up with me because he’s having a hard time mentally. Has he been weird or more restricted at work at all?” You asked the question as you got into the elevator.

“A bit. I thought maybe it was due to the breakup but honestly it’s been going on a few months. I try not to pry because while he is my boss and my friend, i don’t want him to think i don’t trust him.”

“I understand that completely. I knew something was up, but I didn’t think he’d leave me just because he didn’t want to talk about it. I think we’re on the same page now, but i’m not letting this go. I love him too much.”

“He loves you too, trust me. Your photo is in his car, on his phone, in his office. You and Jack are his world. I honestly think he’s just scared.” As you got out of the elevator together she turned and hugged you. knowing you haven’t had one since this all happened. You loved your best friend, and she always knew what you needed.

Hotch was in the hospital for a day. They wanted to keep him overnight just for observation, but it turned out everything was okay. He had a concussion and a few cuts on his head but he was going to be fine. you were by his bedside the entire time you slept there you only left to go to the bathroom or if somebody else came and made you go get a cup of coffee. Usually it was JJ or Derek that convinced you to get up, despite Hotch telling you countless times it was okay to go home. You truly just were so happy to have him back you didn’t want to leave him again.

You both had walked to your car so you could drive him home. Jessica was keeping Jack for one more night that way Hotch could settle down at home and make sure that he was okay and you were going to stay with him tonight, because there was no way you were going to let him be alone.

“You know we have to talk about everything, right?” you said the minute you both got into the car.

“Yeah honey, I know.” He reached over and grabbed your hand and squeezed it hard.

“Why did you do this? I know you’re hurting. I would do anything to make you happy and feel loved and appreciated, that’s my goal when i’m with you. I’d do anything for you.”

“That’s the point, I just don’t want you to have to take care of me. I want to be there for you.” He started looking out of the window, like that was going to make his hurt get up and fly away.

“ Now you know a relationship is 50/50, and sometimes on bad days it’s 20/80. We give what we can, my love, and if you’re having a bad day I am more than willing to pick up the slack.” It was your turn to squeeze his hand, to bring him back to reality and remember that you were here, and that you were not going anywhere.

“I am embarrassed.” You looked over at him to see him, start to cry, genuine tears falling from his eyes, the look of defeat and hurt and embarrassment falling over his face. it was the saddest you had ever seen someone look and it absolutely shattered your heart to see him like that.

“Absolutely not,” You pulled over and stopped the car, “you have NO reason to be embarrassed about having a hard time Aaron Hotchner. You have been through more in the past few years than I could ever imagine. I don’t think I would be up walking around if I had gone through what you had been through. I would not be as good of a man as good of a dad as good of a person if I had been through what you had to go through. you give it your all every single day, whether it be as a father or as the leader of a team that saves peoples lives and every single day. you deserve somebody that not only wants to be with you at your best but somebody that will be there for you at your worst and I will be there for you. Always.” You took his face in your hands and turned him to look at you. He was still crying so you wiped his tears with your thumbs, and looked him in the eyes. You leaned in and gave him a big kiss. A kiss to cement everything you just said. So he knew, you were completely serious.

“Okay. I am sorry for what I've done, but for you, I am willing to try. I am willing to accept my downfalls, and lean on you when I need you. And you will never be my last call again, you will always be my first.”

“I better be.”

That got a smile out of him, and a small chuckle. You kissed him again and started the car back up, put it in drive, and took you both home.

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