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magicdustsworld · 3 months ago

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𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀(4)

Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: A guide on how to properly date your tattooed, big, bad boyfriend.

𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐒: Established relationship, slice of life

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Profanity, illness, fluff, mentions of blood, no curse AU, no mentions of y/n.

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟒: 𝐍𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐇

A/N: ik i haven't posted in a while (in my defence, school is taking up too much of my time to focus on anything else) but I got an off day and this was a quick write up (actually not) jhjhjhs wc - 3.7k. Hope you enjoy <3

Divider credits - @cafekitsune

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟑

It's not usual for Sukuna to fall ill.

However, when he does it’s like all the pathogens known to mankind have taken it upon themselves to infect him.

This time, it isn't so different after all.

Since the break of dawn Sukuna's been awake. Body twisted in an uncomfortable manner under the duvets, the dim flicker of the night lamp proves to be a companion in the otherwise solitary room.

"Fucking hell," He curses under his breath, shifting his position to ease the persistent ache that ripples through his body; his joints, for some reason, seems to have tightened itself to his bones. Slight movement proving to be difficult. While the air conditioner functions properly, a sheen of perspiration aglows his forehead—he swabs the moisture only to meet with another thin layer marring his skin, seconds later. He forces open an eye, trying to contemplate why your figure beside him does seems so fuzzy. No sooner, he can clear the mystery does a wave of shiver runs down his spine. "What the hell is this?"

The question leaves his lips, followed by strange churn of his stomach and on instinct he smacks his hand over his mouth.

The next minutes are blurred. Literally blurred for the brief time as if his body is set on auto-pilot, beckoning him to rise from the bed and walk to the bathroom.

As the expunging liquids leaves his throat and down the toilet does his distinct vision returns. Lips apart, he breaths in copious amount of air while the room seems to spin in a whirl. Once his senses have returned, he reached to flush down the contents only to halt.

Is that... blood?

"Temperature 101.6 °F and he threw up in the morning."

Sukuna would rather be anywhere but here.

Sitting in a doctor's cabin with you while the former wouldn't stop with his ridiculous questions. Inadvertently, he rests his scalp against the wall, a searing pain ripping from his chest every once in a while, causing him to jolt as if he's being electrocuted.

"Any other discomfort? Body ache or...?" Shinzo trails off, continuing with the physical examination of his patient.

In response, Sukuna shakes his head negatively. However, you take it upon yourself to be honest, "He does and he coughed through the whole drive."

"Not the whole—"

"Keep your mouth shut." Harshly you rebuke, shooting a scornful glare his way.

His lips curl down, on the verge to retaliate before the notion of it seems indolent. He's already been through a series of blood test and chest X rays since the last thirty minutes, exhausting him beyond relief; no need to add more to the list. Therefore, his mouth forms a thin line.

Shinzo hums, finishing with the check up as he returns to his seat across you. Scribbling down on the prescription, a knock sounds from the door and soon his assistant strides in with a number of reports. While the doctor reads through the files of his current patient, your hypertension manifests itself upon your being when your eyes find your boyfriend.

Awfully muted, his throat must have chipped while he threw up—reason to the unusual bleeding. Shoulders raised in a manner, tints of red stains his skin and the groans that escalates from him whenever he attempts to move just causes you to wince. You chew on your bottom lip, fiddling with the fabric of your jacket as the momentary silence in the room stretches. For too long that this might be the loudest silence, you’ve been in.

"Does he need to be hospitalized?"

"No—"

"I am not talking to you."

Sukuna clicks his tongue, just taking a mental note to give you an earful once all of this shit is over. It's so fucking funny. Oh, for heavens... he is perfectly fine. Well yeah, maybe some coughing fit but he can work through that for the day. No way did you call Kenjaku and call in sick for him. And he allowed that? Allowed you to drag you here as well? Alright, maybe he is sick.

Shinzo sets the files down, "Stage I Pneumonia," He concludes, straightening his posture and continues with the prescription. "No need for hospitalization but I am prescribing an antiviral— Tamiflu. Thirty minutes after breakfast, lunch and dinner for three days. Ibuprofen remains whenever he gets high fever and for the cough..." He pinches the bridge of his nose, ripping the sheet before passing it to you. "There's the Honiitus syrup, he can have 10 ml now. Rest, you know."

You nod, scanning the sheet in your grasp, irises halting on the specific medications. Craning your neck upto him, you ask, "Thank you and anything else?"

"Adequate rest and homemade food and he's good to go."

"Don't be difficult now, drink it."

"No."

Sukuna scowls at you and you scowl back. His eyes shifts to the tin medicine cup-cap in your hand filled with the amber coloured liquid which is supposed to heal his sore throat.

Currently, confined inside the four walls of his room, this place is 100 times better than that doctor's cabin and any hospital bed. He is sure just a whole day of sleep will make him back on his feet but you just have to be so... persistent.

"I am not asking, drink it." You extend your hand, bringing the liquid to his lips, only for him to turn his face away.

"And I said no," He spits back, eye twitching as he disregards your terse call. "Get that shit out of my face."

"This is for your own good, Sukuna. Stop acting like a child."

Sukuna only huffs in response, muttering a string of curses under his breath. No way is he letting you win this plus that thing in your hand smells disgusting.

“Absolutely not.”

You heave out loudly, "I don't want to force you."

That draws an almost amused chuckle out of him, he tilts his head—eyes shutting down and mouth clamping with a sound as another wave of nausea overrides him. Once composed, he reopens his eyes, challenge swirling in the crimson hues, "You think you can force me?"

“I don’t think so,” A mirthless smile curves into your own mien, you regard his dare with one of your own. "I know so."

"Sure."

"So are you going to be a good boy and drink it or do I need to make you?"

He scoffs, "Go on and try."

You pause for a second, bringing the cup down, gaze settled on him and for reasons unknown, Sukuna senses trouble. "Remember, you asked for it."

He shuts his eyes, rolling the irises behind the lids. You are just so funny sometimes. To think you can force him? Really? Even in this state, he can easily overpower you without even trying. Pick you up and throw you on the bed without any effort. But just for the jokes and laughs, he will let you get a head start.

In the reverie, he is when your warm palm grazes his jaw.

Here it comes.

Until it doesn't.

There's no hint of strength, no force, nothing as you let your palm trail over his skin. He opens his eyes and good lord's... You are close. Too close for his liking. Not that he is complaining. Of course. You can be closer if you want but wait– he is infected, right?

So you shouldn't be near him.

But it's like some hypnotism that's in play as he gazes into your eyes. With the added bonus of your soothing touch on his jaw, the pad of your thumb running on his lower lip—you pull down the flesh. He can see you more clearly than ever, from the slight furrow of your brows to the twitch of your lips and the light reflecting on your eyes.

It's clear.

So, so clear.

A heat spreads through his cheeks, mingling with the blood flowing in his veins and in seconds, his heart rate amplifies. Was it one of the side effects of Pneumonia? Shinzo obviously didn’t mention this but- fuck! You are here and the proximity only hitches the breath in his throat. Your rhythmic exhalation of air fans his skin and he swallows a lump.

Fuck!

He is truly sick.

You draw him in, "Open your mouth."

Before he can make sense of the situation, his body complies. Lips parting and soon you are pouring the medicine down his throat. He gulps, eyes still trained on you and yours on his.

You sit back on the bed and Sukuna blinks.

Wait– what just happened?

"That wasn't too hard now, was it?" You chuckle, pouring some water on the cup and swirl it.

"You– you tricked me."

"Oh? Did I?" Feigning innocence, you laugh again. "And what if I did? ...Oh, and don't make that face now, it doesn't taste that bad.”

“Taste it yourself then speak.”

“I am not the one who’s sick, you are” You muse, cleaning the cap and fastening the lid. He mutters an incoherent curse under his breath and you stand up. Straightening the duvet, you beckon him to lay down.

Something he does without any protest. However, his eyes flickers to the door for a brief second and now only, he is met with the yellowish eyes of a feline.

He raises an eyebrow, “What do you want?”

Kuro passes him a languid stare, his whiskers tremor once almost like its scowling. Only serving for the former’s vexation, the man waves him off without a thought. A low squeal is erupted from him and he is on the verge of pouncing of him when step in.

Picking up the cat, you bring it up to your face, “See Kuro, your papa is sick. So no trespassing here for a week.”

He blinks and answers you as though he understands what you mean.

You’re pretty sure he will try to barge in the second you leave but hey! What’s the problem to hold a little hope? Setting the cat down, you usher him out. Turning towards your boyfriend, you shoot him a heads up. One which he returns with a dismissive gesture.

“Get some rest in the meantime. I will be in the living room, just call if you need something.”

The lights dim out, curtain pulled over – creating the perfect atmosphere for an hour or more nap. Chirping of birds and the revving engines of cars from outside fades into background as comfort envelopes Sukuna amidst the sheets.

Despite it all, hollowness unfurls into his being.

The notion of silence returning again while he the room cloaks itself in darkness strikes an anonymous melancholy though his chest. A garter wraps around his neck, tightening with each passing second. And just like that the calm veneer crumbles into dust.

He pries an eye open and although the blackened room vanishes everything, its difficult to amiss your retreating figure. The haze increases, mouth sealed shut – he can’t speak. So, he extends an arm.

Wait-

The door closes shut.

He is walking through a mirage.

Surely, he has strolled through this area before. Once. Twice. Thrice. This is the fourth instance he is met with the same beige tinted cottages with scarlet thatched roofs.

He walks through the secluded lane across them.

Where is he going? He doesn’t know that. Just he is walking all alone. On his own. Just cause he has to.

Sky obscured with thick clouds, every once in a while does the thunder cracks. Lightening over the whole region. Sound so prominent, so daunting that it shakes the whole neighbourhood. For reasons, Sukuna finds an undulating spark tightening over his frame as every step forward becomes a struggle on its own. Down pouring heavily, the droplets causes his clothes to stick to his skin. Dripping down his ink stained countenance, clouding his vision. Breaths filled with raggedness, he wipes the moisture off- it isn’t removed.

He tries again and again and again.

Doesn’t work.

Nothing works.

How can anything ever work when-

Only a singular step he has taken and its like he is pushed off from a building.

Falling down, he doesn’t know what awaits him.

However, when he returns to his feet, the whole scenery has changed.

Instead of the murky countryside stretching with grasslands till the horizon, he is met with the picturesque view of a beach. Sparkling waves rises with all its glory, flaunting its sheer power before crashing on the sandy soil. Seagulls fly over the water bodies, their voice being a distinct reminder of this serenity. Murmurs of human life accompanied by distant tune from seaside eateries greet him. The gentle wisp of the sea breeze ruffles his hair, wafting sand into his eyes and nostrils; he doesn’t flinch.

When he looks around, everyone vanishes.

From the footprints on the soil to the sea castles to all the tourists. No one’s here.

The seclusion stalls on him only a second later. That’s when he realizes, everything’s truly gone.

The scorching sun blazes in fury, momentarily blinding him. Humidity persists in the air, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. The waves crash again and he walks towards it. For some unknown reason-this feels right.

What’s the point of continuing anymore?

The sand prickles under his feet as he staggers towards the water. Sky high waves flicker and dance, crashing onto him and even though the musky salt should cause him to recoil, the intensity should strike some agony – he feels nothing.

Paving his way through the water until the very liquid surrounds him. All of this, just seems so empty.

“Sukuna,”

As if broken out from a trance by the mere call of his name, he turns.

Once again the vast expanse of the world does everything shift.

“You’re holding yourself well,” Jin remarks, wiping some specks of soap water from a plate. “Better than I expected you to.”

Sukuna’s eyes drift to take in the surroundings; standing across the kitchen counter of his apartment. His brother indulges in cleaning some utensils, a forlorn lilt of his lips prompts the former to raise an eyebrow. The room remains quiet only broken by the usual cling of the cutlery. From his periphery, he could see his nephew crouched down before Kuro, the boy ruffles the feline’s hair and now the cat should retaliate. Until it doesn’t.

“Taking care of Kuro as well,” Jin stares down at the duo. “Give yourself some credit y’know.”

Wait- since when did his brother know about the cat? And since when did Yuji turn to silent?

Gazing out the window- his eyes widen.

When did his neighbourhood change so much?

Without any explanation, Sukuna marches out of the apartment.

Greeted by a hoard of stones situated all over the grassland. Each of different shapes, sizes and perhaps… something just might be written on it. He doesn’t wait to read. Why should he doesn’t have his reading glasses with him?

Feet squashing the lifeless grasses, the leaves don’t crunch under his boots. His steps are steady, turning round a corner or more whenever he so pleases. Maybe this is the way out of the labyrinth of stones.

However, he halts before a particular stone.

For reasons unknown, Sukuna feels life slipping out of his fingers.

Sukuna wakes up with a jolt.

Eyes wide open, he breaths in through his mouth. Fingers trembling with the surge of adrenaline as his shoulders rise and fall in a cadence. Think coat of sweat mars his whole body, vest clinging to him like a second skin and the duvets covering his form renders him panting fit.

What was that? The beach? His brother? Those stones?

What- what was happening?

The eerie maze where he walked? Ran?

Wait- what occurred?

The ceiling lights blinds him with all the intensity, he shuts his eyelids, grunting out like a wounded animal. Some external voice rings out, too loud, too disturbing that he’s forced to press his palm over his ears. Touches guide his skin from his cheek to shoulders and a burst of repulsion compels him to push the person away.

Who the hell was it to hold him like that?

He’s got a girlfriend for fuck’s sake. Get the hell away from him.

However, instead of leaving him alone they are inching closer. He is met with the same touch again but the noise starts to clear as well.

“…Just a dream, you’re fine...”

Albeit begrudgingly, Sukuna removes his hand from his ears.

“…You’re home, calm down…”

It’s a gamble but he manages to reopen his eyes.

“Are you ok? What happened?”

Sukuna blinks, stupefied for the second.

There you are, standing before him while cupping his face in your little palms. Thumb running circles over the tattoos on his face, irises pooling with sheer concern, your eyes are solely focused on a subject. That subject being him.

He looks around.

Notably, nothing has changed. He is still in his bedroom, sitting on the bed with the comforter pooled around his hips. From the traces of light pouring from the ajar window, he can make out how the light fades to dark as twilight tints the skies in hues of violet and blue.

“Hey,” You tap his cheek, urging him to face you, “Why aren’t you speaking?”

He only responds with long stare.

“Sore throat? Should I bring honiitus again?”

“Don’t even think about it, woman.” He barks, lips curling down in utter disgust as the very prominent taste of the damn syrup lingers in the back of his mouth.

Without making a fuss about his sudden outburst, you place your backhand over his forehead. “Mhm… you don’t seem to have fever.” You nod, “No ibuprofen, then.”

“Fucking finally.”

“Don’t celebrate too early,” You snort, a mirthful smile creeping onto you, “Tamiflu after lunch, remember?”

“Well genius, I didn’t have lunch.”

You snap your fingers, “I know, and there it is,” You point to a tray stacked with a lidded container resting on top of the nightstand.

He stares at it for a second too long, “What’s that?”

“Boiled vegetables and… no–” You flick your index finger in the air, a clear negative sign. “No more tantrums, you’ll shut up and eat.”

“As if,” He scoffs, twisting his body away from the utensil, he faces the wall as if the blank canvas seems more interesting than the food you cooked.

You sigh, sitting down on the limited space provided for you on the bed across him, “Just because I call you baby doesn’t mean you have to act like one.”

“I am not enacting– no, just– fuck,” He curses under his breath, fumbling with the words too many times before he reaches a conclusion. “I am not acting like a god damn child.”

“Sure.” His eyes narrows down while he regards you. You stretch your arms, the joints cracking under the evident tension, “I added a few pieces of meat for taste, just so you know.”

He raises an eyebrow, retorts accumulating in his mouth. Just a second away from being unleashed before his gaze lands on a bowl and a pack of damp towels. “What happened with that?”

“What?”

“That.”

You glance at the way he points, taking a moment to contemplate before you answer, “I called Dr. Shinzo again, he said applying cold water towels will help with the fever so…”

Sukuna doesn’t know why, but he stills. “You were doing that all this time?”

“Yeah?”

“Why?”

You tilt your head, “Maybe cause you need it?” He blinks and you find your patience wearing thin. Dismissing the confusion clouding his visage, you reach for the tray and pick it up. The clattering of the utensils due to your unstable balance rings through the whole room. “See, this won’t be that bad. Besides, it’s only for a few days, you can manage, right?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Aw c’mon, now,” You unfasten the lid, dipping the spoon. “I will feed you as compensation. How does that sound?”

He still doesn’t answer but with the way he doesn’t protest your offer, he hopes to let you know his affirmation.

Sukuna refuses to let you know that the boiled vegetable soup isn’t as bad as he thought.

Two days later

Credits to his above average immunity or whatsever but Sukuna is almost back to complete health in just a span of few days.

Finally.

Done he is with all the ibuprofen and every other shit he has to endure.

Never again.

As a ritual, only does the lunchtime ends with the empty hot pot of boiled vegetables being lidded back does Sukuna notice the uncharacteristic clattering of the utensils as you try to hold them in place.

“Give me that.”

Before you can reply, the tray is already being grabbed by your boyfriend as he sets it down on the nightstand.

“That needs to be in the kitchen.”

Instead of gracing you with a proper answer, you are met with his crimson hues filled with something you can’t quite put a finger on. He urges you to sit with him and you comply. Feeling the need to for some reason.

“What?” You ask. His eyes darts down, following his gaze, confusion clouds your head for he is looking at your hands. “Huh?”

No sooner does the word leave your mouth than he grasps both of your hands on his own. You gasp yet don’t try to pull away.

Sukuna traces his thumb over the ridge of your knuckles to the tips of your nails. Turning them around, he draws every single contour lines on your palm as if he’s etching them onto his memory. It’s not the first time, he is holding your hand but it’s the first time he is noticing all the details. Like how a tiny callous has formed beside the edge of your thumb or how the tiny scar runs down the side of your ring finger.

His grasp tightens over yours, nothing to make it hurt. He would never.

He brings them up, pressing his lips over each and every, societally deemed, imperfection. At last, he turns to your backhand. This time, keeping his gaze stilled on you, he kisses your knuckles.

Perhaps, he’d have kissed you too but he doesn’t want the infection to pass.

Perhaps, you’ll know someday that… he is grateful.

Taglist: @comeonatmebruh @sweetpo1son @malazloje @tadabzzzbee @o-ikawaii

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moonstruckme · 5 months ago

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can i request a doctor!remus fic where maybe reader comes into the er and is very panicked by doctors and hospitals and they call remus in to help because he’s like known for putting people at ease….this may or may not be based on when i freaked out over a needle and they had to bring in a special doctor :l please and thank you and i’m obsessed with your fics <3

Thank you sweetness <3

cw: hospital, needle

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Your heart is in your throat. It’s pounding so hard you can feel its beating in your teeth, and no matter how you try you cannot get tears to stop leaking from your eyes.

“Wait,” you say again, the word a wobbly, tight-voiced mantra. You keep thinking that if you can just calm yourself enough to seem credible, you can reason with these people. Convince them that you’re actually fine, so there’s no need to touch you, or poke you, or try to move your already agonizing shoulder.

There are already three people in your tiny curtained-off room with you, so when the curtain pulls back and a fourth enters, you angle your hurt shoulder away from him unconsciously.

“Hello,” the new doctor says. His voice is low and velveteen smooth, cutting through the thrumming panic in your brain like a warm knife through butter. The other doctor and the nurses who have been trying to pacify you fall quiet, seemingly relieved this other man is here. He glances quickly at a clipboard. “Y/n? I’m Remus.”

“Hi.” You feel pathetic and a bit wild, tears still trudging down your face as you try to keep an eye on everyone in the room, especially the nurse with the needle. They’ve promised you several times now that they’re not going to do anything until you agree, and it’s not that you don’t trust that but you’re wary of anything happening without your notice.

Remus walks over to you as though this scene is completely normal for him. He takes a seat on the edge of your bed and sets the clipboard down.

“Are you alright?” he asks, looking as though he’d really like to know. His expression is kind and concerned.

You give a little laugh, using your good hand to wipe under your eyes. It comes out sounding pitchy and stilted. “I’ve been better,” you admit. Remus’ lips curve in a small, sad smile. “I just, I’d really rather not be here.”

“That’s understandable,” he replies patiently. He seems the least urgent of anyone you’ve interacted with since you’ve been here, and there’s a tranquility about him that’s contagious. You feel your tears slowing. “This isn’t really somewhere people end up when their day is going according to plan. What is it that’s making you nervous, sweetheart?”

All of it, you want to say. The doctors and the nurses and the machines and the hair-raising sound of a baby crying a few rooms over. You hate hospitals and you always have. The idea of needing to be in more pain to relieve the one you’re already experiencing makes you feel like you’re trying to breathe through a straw.

“I don’t like needles,” you say. Understatement of the year.

Remus nods, seeming to mull this over. “Well, you have a dislocated shoulder,” he says, mouth pinching sympathetically. “The only way to fix that is to put the joint back into its proper place. It’s not the sort of thing that takes care of itself.” As he talks, his hand moves to rest on top of yours, forefinger stroking a slow back-and-forth across the back of your hand. “It can be fairly painful,” he tells you, “and if you move you could make things a lot harder for yourself. So, we’re going to give you medicine to help you calm down and alleviate the pain.”

In his steady, dulcet voice, the thing that’s been explained to you twice over already sounds a lot more sensible. His thumb works over your hand, light brown eyes gently coaxing.

“The good thing about this procedure is, both parts are done with fairly quickly. And if you’d like me to, I can hold you while Dr. Michaels works, if that’ll help you at all.”

The other three people in the room are moving again, somewhat slowly, but Remus doesn’t seem to notice. He holds your gaze.

“Yes, please,” you say tightly. You know it’s an acquiescence. Even as you say it more tears are blurring your vision.

“Alright, it’s alright.” Remus wastes no time in moving to your side, his hip pressed to yours while he wraps one arm around your middle and uses the other to turn your face into his shoulder. “You’re fine, sweetheart.”

You feel childish and embarrassed, wetting his scrubs with your tears, but he only sweeps his thumb over your ribs, shushing you compassionately.

“We’re going to give you the medicine now, try to stay relaxed.”

You tense when you feel the cold wipe, and a quiet whimper slips past your lips at the bite of the needle.

Remus’ hand tightens on your head. “You’re okay,” he murmurs. The needle slips out.

“Breathe,” Remus instructs. You hadn’t realized you’d stopped. You let out a tremulous exhale, and he brushes some hairs away from your face, your forehead still resting on his shoulder. “That was good,” he assures you. “You’re halfway done now.”

“Thank you,” you say, more than a little humiliated as you swipe the wetness from your cheeks, sniffling.

Remus offers a small smile. It’s absurd how much it relaxes you. “Don’t mention it.” He looks to the other doctor. “How do you want her for this next part?”

“Lying down, please.”

He turns back to you. “Okay? You want help?”

Your good hand has gone back to holding your shoulder, so he uses a hand on your back to help ease you horizontal on the bed. Once you’re settled he coaxes your hand away, taking it in his own. His skin is warm and scarred in some places, cruel lines that feel like a violation to touch. He doesn’t seem to mind.

Remus gets you talking, about the fall that landed you in here, your day before that, your life in general. His responses are understanding and amused at times, seemingly genuinely invested in what you have to say. As you speak his thumb is moving over the side of your hand, down to your wrist and back again, slow and hypnotic. A few minutes later, your eyelids and limbs are heavy, the movement of Remus’ thumb the center of your focus as he tells you about one of the many scrapes his ostensibly reckless friends have gotten into over the years.

“Seems like it’s working,” he says with a little smile. You blink, not having realized he’d finished his story. “How do you feel, love?”

“Sleepy.” Your voice sounds stretched and lazy. “My arm still sorta hurts, though.”

Remus makes a sympathetic tsking sound. “Unfortunately, we can’t make all the pain go away, but it will be a lot easier than it would have otherwise.” He trades hands, taking your hand in his other one and using the first to make sure your face is angled towards him. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right here with you.”

Somehow, that makes everything seem a lot more manageable.

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theambitiouswoman · 1 year ago

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Supplements & Vitamins

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B vitamins: Help convert food into energy, support brain function, and maintain healthy hair, skin, and nails.

Vitamin C: Boosts immune function, acts as an antioxidant, supports collagen production, and aids in iron absorption.

Zinc: Essential for immune function, wound healing, and cell division. It also supports normal growth and development during pregnancy, childhood, and adolescence.

Iron: Required for red blood cell production and oxygen transport. Iron deficiency can lead to anemia and fatigue, but it's essential to get iron levels checked before supplementing.

Calcium: Crucial for bone health and muscle function. It's often combined with vitamin D for better absorption.

Coenzyme Q10 (CoQ10): Plays a vital role in energy production within cells and acts as an antioxidant. It may benefit heart health and cellular energy metabolism.

Curcumin (Turmeric extract): Possesses anti-inflammatory and antioxidant properties, potentially supporting joint health and cognitive function.

Ashwagandha: An adaptogenic herb that may help reduce stress, promote relaxation, and support cognitive function.

Green Tea Extract: Contains antioxidants and may support cardiovascular health, weight management, and cognitive function.

Glucosamine: Commonly used for joint health and may help alleviate symptoms of osteoarthritis.

Chondroitin: Often taken alongside glucosamine, it may help reduce joint pain and improve joint mobility.

Probiotics for Gut Health: Certain strains of probiotics can help restore and maintain a healthy balance of gut bacteria, supporting digestion and immune function.

Melatonin: A hormone that regulates sleep-wake cycles, melatonin supplements can help with insomnia or jet lag.

Vitamin E: An antioxidant that supports immune function and may help protect against cellular damage.

Ginseng: An adaptogenic herb that may help increase energy, reduce stress, and support cognitive function.

Prebiotics: These are non-digestible fibers that promote the growth of beneficial gut bacteria, supporting gut health and digestion.

Magnesium: In addition to its previous benefits, magnesium may help reduce muscle cramps, improve mood, and promote relaxation.

Probiotics for Vaginal Health: Certain strains of probiotics can help maintain a healthy balance of vaginal flora, reducing the risk of infections.

Cranberry Extract: Often used for urinary tract health, cranberry extract may help prevent urinary tract infections.

Resveratrol: Found in grapes and berries, resveratrol has antioxidant properties and may support heart health and longevity.

L-theanine: An amino acid commonly found in green tea, L-theanine may promote relaxation, improve focus, and reduce anxiety.

#vitamins #supplements #health tips #healthy diet #health is wealth #healthy living #health and wellness #healthy lifestyle #health #clean girl #glow up tips #level up journey #wellness

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01zfan · 7 months ago

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beanbag | l. sh & l. at

bestfriend!sohee + anton x reader | 6.1k words

after hearing yall wanted this i took a crack at my second threesome fic everrrrr hope you like :3

contains: smoking, high sex, threesomes

sohee and anton were never popular. they were quiet children and decided from a very young age that they would never try to become cool. they ended up finding humor in the times they were picked last for sports, bonding over they were ostracized by their peers.

they met you the same way. a little girl playing by herself on the playground, her toys being her only friends. making friends was hard for anton and sohee, but it came naturally when they talked to you. before they knew it you guys were a trio, okay with being unpopular as long as you guys had eachother.

things didn’t start changing until junior high. you still weren’t sure how to describe it. all you knew was that you started the summer as an outcast but came back to school as someone everyone wanted to know. you made it into the good graces of the popular kids and teachers, becoming a class favorite. it wasn’t long until you were invited to outings every weekend, spending time with people outside of your small circle.

anton and sohee changed too. anton hit a growth spurt that had him towering above his peers and sohee ended up joining clubs and focusing on academics. the three of you were no longer inseparable like you were as kids, but you remained by eachothers side. more times than not you found yourself hanging out with them over your new friends.

your popularity didn’t stop, even when you graduated. it was the summer now, everyone was trying to have as much fun as they could before leaving town to go to college. you had spent a majority of the summer at shitty pool parties and driving around aimlessly, trying to find out where the next shitty pool party would be. when you got a text from anton in your three-person groupchat that he wanted to hang out as a trio again you were over the moon. you were over at anton’s house in less than an hour, walking through his empty house down to the basement to your usual hangout.

sohee and anton were already there when you arrived. they were talking about something unimportant, the topic dropped the moment they heard you coming down the stairs. they got up and pulled you into a group hug, talking about how it’s been too long. you pulled away from them and took it in. already they had changed, looking like adults getting ready to go to college.

“congratulations on graduating,” you realized you haven’t seen them since the ceremony. “we actually did it.”

anton and sohee both cheered, happy to have the years of school behind them. none of you knew what college would be like, and none of you knew what the next chapters of your lives would look like. all you three knew was that you would be experiencing it alone. for the first times in your lives you three wouldn’t be going to school together. it was daunting, and you truthfully wished it didn’t have to be that way. but now was the time to grow up and leave your childhood behind you.

sohee and anton knew it too, that’s why they didn’t try to bring up the future too much. the past might've been to painful too. that's why they reached into their bags to pull out stashes of weed, talking about how they had to smoke it down before going off to college.

when the two revealed the entertainment for the night would be pre-rolled joints you were pleasantly surprised. you didn’t take anton or sohee as the type to partake in drugs, but the smile on their faces told you different. sohee brought paraphernalia of his own, hidden in the depths of his backpack. he expertly rolled another joint as anton lit his.

when anton lit up in his basement you couldn’t control your expression. you were wide eyed and in shock, thinking about the kind of reaction anton’s parents would have if they came downstairs and smelled the weed. in a basement nonetheless, the smell would be trapped down there for days. even sohee looked surprised, thinking they would go out to the secluded garden to smoke.

anton took in both of your faces before taking a quick hit. he stood up and you and sohee followed behind him, making your way towards the small window in the basement. sohee opened the egress window for anton and he blew out the smoke before handing the joint to sohee.

“i have all week to get the smell out of here, so don’t stress it.” anton said with a smile on his face.

that was all you and sohee needed. it wasn’t long before smoke clouds were loosely being pointed out the window, subsequently filling the basement with a haze.

lighting two joints at once was an interesting choice, the three of you constantly passing two of them back and forth. the rotation was confusing, making all three of you giggle from the novelty of it all. there would be moments where someone would have both of the joints, taking a drag from both at the same time. you three stopped trying to blow the smoke out the window. your legs had gotten tired from standing, all three of you falling into the basement furniture and nodding to the music.

when the joints were done, your friends eyes had started to get low and bleary but you felt like you could keep going. the three of you all looked to eachother, trying to silently gauge how high everyone else was. sohee reached for his backpack. when sohee pulled out his bong it was like you guys were kids again. memories of coming over to anton’s house to play with a new toy filled your mind. the way you guys settled into the furniture was the same, all of you assuming your old positions. anton was nestled into the beanbag, sohee chose the beat up chair and you settled on the couch. not much had changed—the only difference was that you guys were gawking over sohee’s new glass bong instead of the nerdy things from your childhood.

“how much?” anton asked quietly.

he was too afraid to hold it, only staring at it from afar. sohee had moved from his chair to sit close to anton, letting him have a better look. you moved down the couch, getting closer to the show and tell.

“i did mark’s work for the whole semester to get this.” sohee said.

he was proud of it, placing the bong in the light to show it refracting through the glass. the dark blue and clean blown glass splayed on the carpet in front of you guys. all of you were mesmerized, anton even taking a picture of the carpet for safe keeping. you three were like kids again, asking questions and holding it up to the light to see through it.

“should we use it?” sohee asked, eyebrows high looking at you and anton.

you and anton looked at eachother, and then you and sohee looked at anton. the looks were mischievous, waiting for someone to finally fold and say lets do it. you were the one that nodded your head first, reaching for anton’s weed so he’d get the hint as the designated bowl packer to get to work. anton was quick even though he was gentle with the bong, scared that he would break it. while anton did that sohee went upstairs, bringing down water and snacks for later.

when sohee returned the three of you settled into your huddle, getting ready to pass the bong around. sohee lit it for you first, the two of them watching with hooded eyes as you took it all in. you pulled out the bowl and passed it to sohee quickly, letting him breathe in the remainder of the smoke that was still in the neck of the bong. you lit it for anton after nearly coughing a lung out.

by the time the weed in the bowl became ash, you were more than high. everything was moving slowly, and the lulling beat of the music made you feel like you were moving. anton and sohee were effected the same, setting the bong aside once they were done.

anton was settled into the beanbag while you laid on your side on the carpet, nodding your head to the music. the three of you were silent, letting the weed take over to let your bodies fully relax. anton stretched his leg. out, playfully hitting your shoulder with his foot. you tilted your head to look at him, eyes low with a smile on his face.

“thanks for coming over.” anton said.

you nodded your head, playfully slapping his foot away.

“i wouldn’t miss this. besides i never see you guys anymore.” you say, sighing dramatically.

when you hear sohee scoff you look to him laying on the couch. you hit his knee, trying to get him to talk.

“got something you wanna say?” you ask.

sohee rubs his knee, before sinking more into the couch.

“you’re the one that’s too busy now to hang out with us.” sohee says.

you look to anton and he nods in agreement. he picks at his nails for a second before looking to you again.

“always hanging out with the popular kids.” anton says.

“even those annoying jocks” sohee agrees.

that’s when you get up and look at your two friends in surprise. they always seemed stuck to eachother like glue, where one went to other followed. hearing that they don’t hang out as much as they used to confused you. sohee leaned his head against the back of the couch and laughed.

“only because i’m trying to have fun before i go off to college.” you look back to the ceiling.

“what type of fun?” sohee asks.

you hit his knee again, and you can hear anton behind you hold back a laugh.

”wouldn’t you like to know, you little pervert.” you joke.

“we heard about you and that guy on the basketball team.” sohee tells you.

“and what did you hear?” you ask.

when sohee is goes silent you look to anton. he tries so hard not to say anything, but when you move towards anton he caves immediately.

”we heard that you guys ya know,” anton looks to sohee and then to you. “did it.” anton says finally.

you just shake your head, trying not to show how embarrassed you are. you were so close to sealing the deal with eunseok, someone you found yourself pining after for the better half of the school year. but nothing came from it, putting you in the position of being someone with the bare minimum of experiences on your way to college.

“we didn’t do anything.” your hand starts mindlessly picking at the fabric of the couch. “cool that rumor spread though.” you say.

sohee comes down from the couch, a hand going to your shoulder to try and make you feel better. a smile is on his face as he shakes you gently, getting you to face him.

“it’s okay dude.” sohee points towards anton on the beanbag. “anton is still a virgin.” sohee says.

you laugh when you hear anton move from the beanbag to try and hit sohee. you end up leaning back to give anton the space but he misses sohee, only hitting a part of his shoulder.

while the two still argue, you go back to pickign at the carpet. you think about all the things you haven’t gotten to experience yet before leaving, some of the fun you’ve been missing out on. you look at sohee and anton, two of your bestest friends and your two confidants. you can stop yourself from clearing your throat and looking at the two of them.

“are you actually, anton?” you ask quietly.

anton and sohee pull away from their tussle to look at you.

“am i what?” anton asks.

“a virgin?” you answer.

instantly, you can see the blush on anton’s face. it starts on his neck and goes to his face in splotches, ending at his ears. you can even see sohee get a little red, the tips of his ears becoming rosy.

“not totally. there was that time after prom.” anton says.

he sounds far away, his hand scratching the back of his neck shyly. he ends his sentence with an awkard laugh when you nod your head sympathetically.

“i haven’t done that much either.” you say.

“me neither.” sohee says.

even though sohee and anton’s eyes go wide, it’s true. none of you had done anything besides heavy petting and making out with someone until your jaw started locking. none of you were nearly as well versed as your peers. you thought about going to college, how everyone there would be lightyears ahead of you in terms of intimacy. you look to your two bewildered friends. maybe if one of you guys made a move it that could change.

you shift from your spot on the carpet. anton and sohee instantly perk up, watching your every move. they see how you stand on your knees and clear your throat, suddenly so dry from nervousness and the weed. you put a slow hand on sohee’s knee, he follows your hand all the way up to your face. you look to sohee and then to anton. sohee looks to anton and then you.

“do you think we can?” you ask outloud.

sohee nods while anton remains still on the beanbag. sohee doesn’t waste anytime looking at his friend before going behind you. sohee out of your line of sight makes all your attention go to anton. his face only gets redder as you slowly make your way over to him, guiding by sohee behind you.

you experimentally crawled over to anton on the beanbag, cautiously reaching out your hand. you let it rest on his thigh lightly, gliding your hand repeatedly over the small space. anton was still confused, his previously hooded eyes were stretched wide as he tried to figure out what was happening. sohee had gone behind you at some point, using gentle fingers to stretch the collar of your shirt to touch your neck and shoulder.

sohee’s touches only egged you on, until your hands had gotten more desperate. you moved your other hand to anton’s thigh to move your hand lightly. when he looked at you and squirmed underneath your touch, you halted your movements.

“is this okay, anton?” sohee asked from behind you.

sohee was only half paying attention, asking the question between kisses on your neck and shoulder. but his question pulled you from your trance. you took your hands away, afraid that you had gone to far. but anton placed his hands over yours before nodding quickly. he brought them further up until they rested over his front pockets. the sudden movement brought you forward, causing sohee to press his body closer to yours.

you were face to face with anton now, breath fanning his face. you looked down at your hands only for a second—they were so close to touching his dick. the music that played on the basement speakers was long forgotten. the blood rushing through your ears and the sound of sohee’s lips against your skin was the only music you needed.

“if you won’t, switch places with me.” sohee said to anton.

that was all anton needed before bringing you closer to him. your noses touched first, pressing together until he timidly kissed you.

it was slow and the pacing was uneven, suddenly both of you were painfully aware that anton didn’t know what he was doing and you were out of practice.

you brought a hand to anton’s chin to hold him in place while you silently guide him through kissing. you took your time, letting each kiss linger on his lips as you progressively deepened it. anton was a fast learner but shy; his grip of your triceps told you he wanted to take charge but was too nervous to do it. your mind quickly ran through the small list of girls that anton had talked about over the years. you don’t think any of his crushes led to anything more than hopeless pining. you know it’s true when anton starts whimpering into your mouth, so overwhelmed and sensitive just from you slowly kissing him. when he sticks his tongue in your mouth you suck on it, and his grip on your arm almost becomes bruising. sohee stops kissing your neck but you can feel his hand go down your back.

you don’t know if it’s the weed that makes you sloppy, but when you pull away from anton the lower part of his face is glossy from spit. you wipe your own face with the back of your hand when he reaches out a tongue to swipe over his already wet lips.

“sorry.” you say sheepishly.

”don’t apologize.” anton says.

anton is breathless, and when you look down you feel your own words leave you. he is straining in his jean shorts, the outline of his hard didck visible through the denim. sohee sees it too, laughing before kissing your neck again.

“he likes it.” sohee says from behind you.

you give anton another kiss on the lips and pull away fast. you revel in his eyes that are still closed when you pull away and how he brings his lips forward in efforts to follow you.

anton’s eyes are still closed when you turn your body to face sohee. his lips are already wet, his hair pushed away from his face as he looks at you. sohee is bolder than anton, guiding your body onto the beanbag to sit in between anton’s legs. sohee doesn’t hesitate until your back is pressed against anton’s chest. you have to pull him in the same way you did anton, but your gentle hand starts shaking from the anticipation building all over you.

seeing you nervous makes the playing field even. you keep a hand on sohee’s shoulder as he makes out with you, and you have a hand on anton’s thigh as he breathes heavily behind you. both of their hands are all over your body, sneaking underneath your shirt and grasping your chest. you feel their hands on your thighs, pushing and pulling you like tug-of-war. you can feel anton’s arm snake around your waist to keep you close.

sohee’s lips distract you and the weed makes you all three move in a daze. the sound of kissing and moving on the beanbag fills the air as your three clumsily make-out. there’s a moment where sohee tilts his head to the same side where anton kisses your neck. their forehead touch, and the two of them look at eachother simultaneously. while sohee is distracted, anton brings his hand that cups your chest over your shirt to tilt your head towards him.

anton brings you in for another kiss, instantly putting his tongue in your mouth. sohee takes it in stride, going to suck on the parts anton couldn’t reach. sohee’s hands started knead your chest while anton starts feeling your sides. his hand that was holding your chin started covering the expanse of your neck. something inside of you almost wants him to squeeze, but there will be chances for that in the future. feeling anton’s large hand gently on your neck is more than enough.

both of their hands are rushed and both were testing out various kinds of pressure. you were experimenting yourself, purposefully moving your hips back to press your ass against anton’s dick while guiding sohee’s hands underneath your shirt.

sohee took the extra step to pull your shirt over your head, forcing you to pull apart from anton. anton’s eyes lingered on your lips for a second before flickering down to stare at your bra. parts of your chest peaked over the top and spilled from the bottom from the movement. both sohee and anton’s eyes were only staring, not daring to reach a hand out to grasp you. you felt yourself melting underneath their gaze, letting your head fall back until it rested on anton’s shoulder.

“both of you touch me.” you spread your legs on the beanbag to allow sohee to come closer. “please.” you begged.

for the first time ever, anton made the first move. his hand that was pawing at your sides confidently grabbed a handful of your chest, squeezing your skin roughly. sohee followed suit, mirroring what his bestfriend was doing on the other side. you closed your eyes and leaned even further into anton’s broad chest, already overwhelmed by the feeling. you could feel anton’s strong and broad chest against your back and his twitching dick against your ass.

“you’re perfect.” anton whispered underneath his breath.

you moaned to let anton know you heard him, and you moan again when sohee pulls your bra down by the straps to free your chest. he tweaks your nipple until you grasp his arm from the pain. anton presses soft kisses to your cheek while sohee pulls your bra down your body slowly. your breasts are free, and sohee hesitates only for a moment before latching his mouth to your nipple.

your back arches instantly into sohee’s mouth, and sohee places a hand on your back to support you. now sohee and anton are actively pulling your body in two different directions, making you bring your head up from anton’s shoulder.

“are you guys fighting over me right now?” you ask.

the weed makes all three of you giggle. the situation is insane, completely unlike all of your personalities to do this. your question serves as a buffer, forcing the three of you to really comprehend what is happening. your shirt is off and your bra is pulled down to your stomach, sohee’s lips are kissed swollen and anton is painfully hard in his jeans.

you settle into the beanbag, placing hands on anton’s thighs as you steady yourself. you look at sohee, and then crane your head to look at anton. the two never took their hands off of you, touching you affectionately while you get comfortable.

“what do you want us to do?” anton asked.

sohee and anton’s hands found their way to your legs. they both press into your thigh and calves. when sohee tugs at the end of your pants you lift your hips.

“take my pants off.” you say.

sohee continues to pull at the end of your pants while anton makes work of the button on the top of your jeans. he’s quick, too quick that it causes him to fumble. you look back again to see anton staring at you, eyes sleepy and clown out. you try to mirror his look while your hands go over his wrists, forcing him to slow down.

when your pants are off and you are left in just your panties, the two go back to feeling every part of your body. now you have the exposed skin of your thighs, soft and supple underneath their sluggish hands. the weed from the bond must’ve hit, making all of you more relaxed. you let out a shaky breath before going back to anton’s lips. anton is preoccupied, too busy pressing his fingers into your clothed heat. anton and sohee take turns, switching between smacking your waistband against your skin and spreading your legs further. when you feel your panties getting pushed to the side, you let out a hiss. you pull away from anton and look down at sohee between your legs.

“can i finger you?” sohee asks.

the straightforwardness has you feeling bashful. you nod your head, not being able to use words before anton brings you back to his lips.

anton sticks his otngue into your mouth the same time sohee puts a finger inside of you. you can only take what anton gives you, sloppy kisses that leave your face wet. all of your attention is put towards sohee’s pretty fingers that disappear into your cunt. the wet sounds of kissing and fingering fills the space of anton’s stuffy basement. you’re whining into anton’s mouth when sohee puts another finger in. anton pulls away from your lips, looking down at what sohee is doing to you.

“can i try?” anton asks.

he’s still sheepish, his hand doesn’t slink down your body until you nod your head. sohee kisses your stomach as he settles further down your body, not taking out his fingers. instead sohee only guides anton’s finger in with his when he pulls his digits out. you can’t stop yourself from clamping around the three fingers, all of you gasping at the feeling.

“so tight.” anton whispers.

“look.” sohee says.

neither of you are sure who he is talking to, but you both look down anyway. sohee puts his hand on anton’s wrist, stopping him from pumping his finger back in. the three of you look down at your cunt, closing in on nothing as it pulses like a heartbeat. anton’s dick twitches against your ass again as the three of you continue to watch. you get impatient, pinching their fingers together before wiggling your hips. the two get the hint, pumping their fingers back into your heat again. when they are still slow, you start guiding their fingers in and out of you at a faster pace.

“faster.” you whimper.

the beanbag caused you to slip further down anton’s body. your head is just above his heart now, hearing it thud in his chest as he picks up the pace. when you dig your fingers into sohee’s bicep he hisses in pain, and you dig your other hand into anton’s thigh. neither of them stop, driven by the way your body shudders. they both have tunnelvision on the way you react to them, that they are caught by surprised when you wrap your legs around sohee. your legs bring him in close, and your arm reaches up to grab onto anton’s shoulder for stability. you are a moaning mess, pulling down on anton with so much force he hunches over your forehead. anton and sohee are too speechless to talk, only grunting and whimpering as they focus on fucking their fingers into you at the same pace. the wet sound and you whining overtakes the song that changed on the speakers.

“i’m cumming.” you whine.

sohee and anton only go faster. sohee looks up at your breasts, how your hardened nipples bounce from the momentum. even though you bite your lip the sound comes through. you open your eyes briefly when you feel anton’s hair brush your face. your heads are pressed side by side and anton’s hand pressing into your stomach keeps you in place. you can hear anton’s quiet moans, how he’s getting more and more pent up seeing, hearing, and feeling your release. you hear sohee same something and anton places a gentle kiss to your cheek, pulling his finger out of your heat to let sohee fuck you through your orgasm.

sohee takes charge, using his other hand to press down on your clit. it’s a different sensation, almost painful from the stimulation you’re already receiving. anton uses his free hand to grab your breasts, being the roughest you’ve ever seen him.

when you are spent, you legs wrapped around sohee loosens and your hand falls from anton’s shoulder. you are a huffing mess, gasping for air when sohee pulls his fingers out of you. the weed and post orgasm pulls at your eyelids, but you keep them open to look at sohee in front of you. he’s worried, kissing your cheeks and massaging your twitching legs. your body is almost out of energy, but when you see sohee’s dick jump in his shorts you open your mouth.

“are there condoms?” you ask.

you have to swallow spit and lick your mouth to try and wet it. you only think for a second how ridiculous you three must look. mussed hair and flushed faces, all panting looking to one another as you try to figure out who was a condom. you can practically see the lightbulb go off over sohee’s head when he remembers he is always prepared.

“in my backpack.” sohee points to his back behind anton and anton reaches for it instantly. “i think.” sohee says.

while anton rummages through all the things in sohee’s bag sohee stands up, pulling his layered long-sleeve and short-sleeve shirt over his head in one go. you look up to watch him, the setting sun casts perfectly on his face. the ray of sun that comes through the tiny window lights up the space. you can see the dander floating around in the room, moving harshly in the wind as sohee kicks off his pants and socks. sohee’s gaze pierces through the sun, staring at you as he’s finished getting undressed. sohee is left in his underwear when he comes back down to his knees in front of you. anton dumps out the contents of sohee’s bag on the floor in a haste, moving things around not being able to find a condom.

sohee’s bag is thrown somewhere, and anton reluctantly lets go of you so he can get undressed himself. he stands up from the beanbag and you move forward, standing on your knees the same way sohee does. his hand comes to your hips and yours goes to his face, swiping a finger on his moles like they might disappear. he pulls you in for a kiss, and you can hear anton’s clothes hitting the ground behind you. you can hear the beanbag move too as anton comes behind you. he presses lips to your clammy shoulders and neck in the same places sohee kissed. anton’s hands go to your thighs, spreading them out slightly so he can come closer to you. one of sohee’s hands goes to your chin, tilting your head upwards so he can get a better angle. you can feel yourself becoming overwhelmed again, almost knocking you off your feet when you feel anton’s dick press against your ass. he gasps behind you, so sensitive from your bare skin touching his sensitive bare dick.

sohee pulls away from your lips, looking at anton behind you with the same look.

“you’re too impatient.” sohee says.

any attempt at a scolding goes right over anton’s head. you can feel anton smile against the back of your head when he ruts against your ass.

“if you won’t, i will.” anton remarks.

both you and sohee laugh at anton using sohee’s words against him.

“look at you being snippy.” you try to sound light and playful but your voice comes out sickly sweet.

“almost thought you were older than me for a second.” sohee says.

anton only hums against your head, moving his hips languidly against the swell of your ass. your hand goes behind your head to fist anton’s hair, sighing out in between the space of you and sohee. sohee looks to all of his things spread out on the floor, looking slightly annoyed. you go to kiss sohee’s neck while he scans the pile, not seeing what he needs.

“i don’t have any condoms.” sohee says regretfully.

you hum against sohee’s neck, placing an open mouthed kiss before pulling away. anton still rubs against your ass, his fingers digging roughly into your hip bones.

“we can still have fun.” you say.

youlet your hand go underneath the waistband of sohee’s boxers. you touch his tip first, feeling the precum that wets the thin fabric of his underwear. you rub it around, teasing sohee enough until he pulls his boxers down to his knees. you grab sohee’s shaft and squeeze the same way he squeezed your chest, looking down at him slightly as he closes his eyes in bliss. sohee is more pliant now, even bringing a hand to your shoulder to find stability. when you start pumping his length sohee puts a hand over antons then above it when he realizes the spot is taken. you have to pair of hands with a death grip on you, and you are being pulled backwards towards anton as he becomes more wound up. you take your time with sohee, trying to coax out the whimpers he was hiding from you earlier.

“you’re gonna miss me, right guys?” you ask.

you look at sohee while you ask the question, but both of the boys whine affirmatives.

“so much.” anton whimpers.

“so so so much.” sohee agrees.

you smile before placing a quick kiss to sohee’s lips. you look down at hard dick in your hand, glistening in the setting sun. it’s close enough to the bong that your hand is painted by the sun coming through the stained glass. the sight is so pretty, almost as pretty as your two friends you’re sandwiched between.

“i’ll miss you guys too.” you whine.

your hand around sohee picks up the pace, and he walks forward on his knees until his tip presses against your stomach. he’s needy, fucking your hand with such vigor his tip pokes your bellybutton. this sohee is so different from the one that was teasing anton earlier. any attempt the three of you guys have tried to become the dominant one fails terribly. it’s reminiscent of the relationship you guys have had over the years, how none of you guys have a “leader”. that’s what set you apart from every other friend group, and that’s what is driving the three of you guys over the edge together. you are helping the other feel good, driven solely by weed and the tightening coil in the pits of your stomachs.

sohee grabs anton’s hand on your waist and pulls it down to your heat. you’re still sensitive everywhere, shaking above their hands when they start gliding their fingers up and down your folds. sohee focuses on your clit and spreading your folds open while anton fingers your from behind. he’s fast and hits deep, mimicking the thrusts he takes against your ass.

“i’m gonna cum.” anton whispers.

his voice is still gentle and sweet, almost pitiful as he confesses he’s going to finish first. his words are interrupted with gasps and whimpers when he finds a new way to stimulate himself against your body.

“fuck. me too.” sohee follows after him.

their fingers inside of you are hurried, trying to get you to join them as fast as possible. it’s pitiful, the three of you so close together as you all try to desperately make the others feel good. you are all lost in the feeling, only coming back to reality when sohee bends forward to press his teeth into your shoulder.

“oh my god.” you moan.

when you moan loudly, it gives sohee and anton the indication to do the same. anton no longer moans quietly into your shoulder or beside your ear. he means past your shoulder into sohee’s space while he uses his free hand to press his dick against your ass cheek. he’s fucking his with such force is pushes you forward, forcing your free hand to hold onto sohee for stability. sohee continues to fuck your hand and kiss the bite mark he left, moaning into your ear repeating how close he is. his fingers on your clit lose their steady pace, now just trying to overstimulate you.

the three of you are moaning in unison when you finally begin to feel release. you can feel anton slow his thrusts as hot cum spurts onto your side and dribbles onto your ass and thighs. you can feel him slow down behind you, pressing the top of his sweaty head to your back as he looks down at what he’s done. he is still moaning from the aftershocks, almost overstimulated himself when he uses his dick to move the cum around on your ass.

sohee moves a hand from your shoulder to wrap around your hand. he makes you squeeze harder and move your hand faster. he is silent, letting the tension build over him for a second until he can’t bear it anymore. sohee pants your stomach as you both look down and moan. you follow after your two bestfriends solely from the sight and hearing them finish on either side of you. it’s overstimulating, causing your thighs to shake as you lean to sohee for support. anton’s hands hold onto you to help you steady as you feel yourself coming undone again. your eyes are screwed shut, and you curse while saying their names.

you’re still shaking when sohee and anton guide you down to the rug underneath your knees. you three are all trying to regain composure, breathing through your noses.

all three of you are side by side on your backs staring at the ceiling of the basement. you focus on the music, letting the heavy bass that shakes the floor bring you back down to earth. you sneak quick glances at your two friends on either side of you. their chests still heave as they stare at the ceiling too, blissed out looks on their faces. you’re sure you look the same, despite your shaking legs and sudden shudders. anton’s eyes are closed and his hands clench at his sides. sohee smiles and opens his eyes first, hands resting on his stomach.

“we should do this next summer too.” sohee laughs.

#01zfan: sohee #01zfan: anton #sohee smut #anton smut #riize smut

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emberfrostlovesloki · 5 months ago

Text

Kintsugi 金繕い [Spencer x Reader]

Photo credits Left (@mon-petit-coeur-noir) Center (@whoisspence) Right (@shakespearesdaughters)

Prompt: When the reader gets kidnapped for being friends with Spencer, she is mentally tormented to get back at Reid, and the reader and team, especially Spencer, have to find a way to communicate before it’s too late for her to make it out alive.

Pairing: Spencer x BAU-Fem!reader, Nerdy!reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns

Category: angst/hurt/comfort [happy ending]

Word Count: 15K

Content Warnings: Mention of death and sexual assault, mention of blood, mental torment [threat of assault, being unclothed, forced partial blindness - eyes glued open, forced partial deafness - loud music is played, degrading comments (reader)], physical harm [being cut with a knife, being put in a feezing unit, being beaten (reader)], distress, mentions of hospitals. If I missed any please let me know.

A/N: Hi all! I hope you are all doing very well! If you are a student on Summer break I hope you are having fun and relaxing! As always, I return with a novel of a Spencer story. This story was requested by an Anon, thank you so much, and I hope you like it! I do throw in a few Star Trek and literary references in this fic, but I try and explain them well. My requests are open, so feel free to request a fic from me if you like anytime! I do want to encourage you to read the tags as this is a bit dark for me (though it has a happy ending). If you like this concept and would like to see part two of the reader’s healing process with Spencer, let me know. Please be kind to yourselves this week and do something you love, you are so special. If you enjoy this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Love Levi - ❤️

List with all stories

y/n = your name

y/c/h = your color hair

y/l/n = your last name

t/c/s = tea/coffee/soda

y/n’s head was pounding. It was throbbing with pain and the hard floor and air itself seemed frigid. y/n clutched her sides and rubbed. She was grateful that their clothes were still on. Given the unsub the team was dealing with, it wasn’t what y/n had expected. But then again, the man the BAU had been trying to find in the last week had been full of surprises. He didn’t fit the early profile the team had created, and now y/n was alone and scared, but she pulled together her strength and courage and opened her eyes. This was her job and she’d been doing it for a year. She’d seen team members taken, and harmed, and sometimes almost died, but if there was one thing y/n knew about the BAU, it was that they cared for each other. Everyone on the team would be looking for her. They wouldn’t leave a stone unturned until they found her. That was what had drawn y/n to the Unit in the first place.

The BAU had done a joint operation with y/n’s Counterterrorism team where they were the unofficial data specialist and literary nerd. As soon as Derek had seen y/n and Reid together, he looked at Emily and said, “Well, this is going to be trouble,” to which both agents looked up and said in unison, “What?” It was during that case that Spencer had been in danger, and y/n was a bit too. Spencer had put himself in harm's way to ensure she was okay. Just seeing how the BAU responded with more than just professionalism, but also with care had sealed y/n into wanting a transfer. It wasn’t for another two years before that became a possibility. There was some issue with the documents that she had mailed to the Quanitco office, eventually, she sent fresh ones and drove them down herself.

It was that knowledge, that the team was looking, at that filled y/n with warmth and shared determination. She opened her eyes and realized why she was so cold. From the looks of things, the white cement floor, the fluorescent lighting, and the crusted blood on the ground, y/n was in a meat packing plant. She sniffled and rubbed her shivering torso as she opened her eyes and sat up. There were conveyor belts on the far side of the wall, along with sharp meat hooks hanging from the ceiling. This setting would make sense given that the bodies of the three victims that had the team come down in the first place had seemed very fresh, even though they had passed a few weeks ago. The thought of the women and what the unsub had done to them and their bodies made y/n want to vomit.

They had been killed excruciatingly. Not only had they been tortured, but they’d been assaulted as well. With this in mind, and possibly in her future, y/n moved away from the dried blood on the floor, not sure who or what it was from. y/n wondered how long the man kept his victims alive. The team had hypothesized that he was a sadist and loved long drawn out kills, to watch the victims suffer. The unsub had a type, and y/n fell into it. There was a sound at the far side of the room, and y/n moved to the center of the space. There was no point in cowering in the corner. She decided to face the unsub head-on. Show no fear, even if she was filled with it to the brim. The man’s outline filled the door making it unable for her to see him, but y/n knew that would change soon enough.

As y/n waited to test wits with the man in front of her, the rest of the BAU, many miles away had set up a tent at the Kansas State Fair. Their team tent looked much less adorned than those of the food and game vendors with their bright colors and light. The satellite pop-up of the BAU and police presence were needed to gather information and vet the people leaving the fair since y/n had been taken. Their tent was on the far side of the fair. It would be unassuming if there weren’t loads of cops, police cars, state troopers cars, and a SWAT team all moving in and out of the space. Aaron and Rossi were heading up the operation and working through the bureaucratic tape and interdepartmental things that would otherwise slow the team down. There was a tension in the air that permeated each member of the BAU. It was palpable with all of them, but with Spencer, it was coming off him wave after wave. The lithe agent was with Emily and Derek, walking through the empty mirror house where y/n had been abducted. As Reid, Em, and Morgan move through each cranny and trick door for guests and employees. He caught his reflection in mirror after mirror and it all felt like a sick joke. Reid was absorbed in his own reflection for a moment before he heard Derek’s voice cut through his brain fog. Spencer snapped up and moved toward his friend's voice. Emily and Morgan were kneeling down next to an employee entrance. Reid was upset and angry, and the sight of a blood stain on the bright floor along with a few strands of y/n’s y/c/h should have made him feel good, but the blood only meant that y/n was already hurt, and probably being hurt more at this point made his stomach churn.

Emily looked at Spencer’s serious face and re-asked “Can we get a blood sample vial, Spence?” The question finally registered with Reid and he replied sharply, “I’ll do it. Can you just step aside a bit?” Derek’s brow furrowed. He knew that Spencer had a thing for y/n. Everyone on the team did except, infuriatingly, the pining agents themselves. But that didn’t give Spencer a reason to be hot at them. Morgan replied, “Easy Spence. We’re doing everything we can.” Spencer couldn’t stop himself from saying, “Well not enough to keep her safe when she was with you both.” At that statement, both Prentiss and Derek stood and looked at Spencer disappointingly, like a child who had said a naughty word they had been told not to say. They both moved back and their physical reactions made Spencer drop his head in shame. He took a deep breath, rubbed his eyes, and said to the floor, “I’m sorry.” He was trying to hold back all the emotions. Emotions he often didn’t let himself feel. He looked up at his friends and continued, “I’m sorry. I… I don’t think I know how to deal with this. I know it’s not your fault. You couldn’t have done anything, and you both care about y/n as much as I do. I let my emotions get away from me.”

Morgan and Emily looked at each other as Reid said that they both liked y/n as much as he did, knowing it wasn’t true. Yes, they both loved y/n, but not like Spencer, and that realization justified Reid's words for them. They both moved forward. Derek gave Spencer’s shoulder a firm squeeze, and said, “It’s okay, kid. Now, have you got that vial Em needs?” Reid released a relieved breath, pulled a sample kit out of his shoulder bag, and handed it over to Emily who was back on her knees near the evidence. As she began taking the sample, Morgan and Spencer moved down the narrow trap door to see where it led and to see if there were more clues about the unsub or y/n’s location.

As the duo moved down the narrow hallway, it became apparent that y/n must have been unconscious or tightly bound as she was being taken away by the unsub. There would have been more of a struggle on y/n’s part if she’d been awake or free, but none of the boxes or supplies for the House of Mirrors seemed to be broken or messed up. Derek didn’t know if this was a good or a bad thing, and Reid’s mind was moving too fast, even he couldn’t keep up with it. He knew the team needed to find all of the physical evidence first, to vet the guests and vendors that were leaving for information, but that could be a slow process and all Spener wanted to do was use his full brain power to think about the victimology, update the profile, make a map pinpointing the locations of the victims, but this process had to be done first. The team was a member short, and they all knew the police weren’t helpful in situations like this, so Reid sucked it up and kept moving beside Morgan, trying desperately to still his brain for once.

Back in the freezer, y/n looked as the mountain of a man came into view. He looked disheveled and red-faced. He wore jeans and a button-down T-shirt. y/n looked at him. She wanted him to make the first move, to understand him better -- his ticks, any weaknesses he had. Anything she could use against him. Force wasn’t an option right now, but she had her mind, and that was worth a lot. The unsub grinned and said, “This will be fun. You’re prettier than I expected. That look of fear on your face, he’s going to love that.” y/n swallowed and replied, “‘He?’ Don’t you mean you. You’re the one taking and killing the woman. And thanks for the compliment.” The man chuckled and said, “You have a mouth on you alright, just like I expected. Of course, he’d like you the little bitch. And who he is doesn’t matter. For now at least. But it will be fun. Not for you of course, but for me it will be. I’ll get so, so very much pleasure from you. I just didn’t expect you to be so cute. It’s a shame, really.”

y/n frowned. She couldn’t tell if this was dissociation or multiple personalities, but the constant mention of her looks and another person was odd. There hadn’t been any signs of a second unsub, nor was there any other DNA evidence on the victims. As the man made a fast step toward y/n, she moved away from him. This only had the unsub smile and laugh as he moved toward y/n again and said, “You can’t run away from me little bird. You’re only going to make it worse on yourself.” y/n stopped at that. y/n stopped immediately. She swallowed thickly. If she was someone else, like Hotch, Morgan, or Spencer who had the presence and size to act brave in a physical altercation she would bluster and make herself big and threatening. But y/n wasn’t them and didn’t take risks like they did. Firstly, because even y/n assumed Morgan would be physically intimidated by the man’s size and bulk, secondly, y/n was still new to the BAU. Not that she hadn’t picked things up quickly or was good at the job, but it was still more difficult for her to pick up small tells or things like Reid or Emily could. Plus, it wouldn’t help her in signaling the team in some way if the first thing that happened to her was to be fully incapacitated.

The unsub noticed her submissive posture and liked it saying, “That’s it little bird, now I need you to get out of your things.” y/n looked up at him, biting her lip asking, “Why? What happened to the bird when it gets defeathered, defrocked?” y/n knew what to expect next, assault was part of this man’s MO and if she could postpone that, she sure as hell would. The man laughed again, harsh and cruel, like he was in on a joke that she wasn’t. The man replied, “I’m not going to break you like the others. I could, and I will if you give me too much bratty attitude, but that’s not the plan. All of that other shit with the women and how I treated them, that was to get your attention. Their attention. And I don't think physically breaking you would hurt him either, but don’t test me. However, for now, just take off your clothes and I won’t touch you, that way.”

y/n didn’t look forward to being undressed in front of anyone. It was uncomfortable for her to be vulnerable with their body like that, even with close friends like Penelope and JJ. In fact, a memory of Emily trying to get her to buy a more revealing swimsuit for the summer popped into her mind and the coaxing it took for y/n to finally buy and wear the skimpy swimwear. Of course, Spencer’s attempt to not look over her body with rapt attention had made the discomfort worth it. When the unsub grabbed at her shirt, y/n began undoing the button of her shirt. It took longer than she expected as her hands shook with cold and fear. y/n expected the man to ask her to move faster, but he didn’t. Again, he seemed to have a sick enjoyment of watching her cower. y/n took this opportunity to think and think fast. The man had said he was trying to get the team's attention. Not only the team’s attention but ‘his’ attention. So that narrowed it down to four people. That was something to go off of. Second, this unsub was someone y/n would have remembered if she’d dealt with him before, but she didn’t, so he was someone from before her time. This was some kind of lesson. There was only a small glimmer of hope that y/n had for her health, both physical and mental because if the unsub wanted to break a member of the team through her, it was going to take more than just taking them captive and keeping them in a poorly regulated freezing unit.

At this point, y/n was down to her undergarments, and she wondered how pushing the man would be. How quickly he would react, and with how much force? There was only one way of finding out, and she intended to know this early on. This way she could better gauge her actions and submissiveness. If that turned out to be a thing he liked, then she could use it as a small way of gaining control later. So y/n stopped when she stepped out of her pants, and the man quickly changed his demeanor saying, “Don’t stop now. I may not be interested in you, but I know he is, and it’s no good if we’re keeping this at a PG-13, scary movie rating. I need this to be the unrated version birdie, so get out of those panties and bra.” y/n now knew that the man’s emotions were volatile and could change on a dime. That was all she needed to know to get out of her last things. The cold chilled y/n further now that she was nude.

y/n couldn’t stop herself as she moved her hands to cover her nudity. The unsub bent down not even noticing her discomfort as he picked up her undergarments and examined them to an odd degree muttering, “Do you think he knows you match your bra to your panties? Because he will soon enough.” y/n stepped back, slowly onto one of the patches of dried blood which made y/n cringe. The serious ‘he’ was back and the expression of rage on the man’s face was so intense that y/n wanted to run to the door to try and escape. Whatever this man who had supposedly wronged the unsub, there was a vitriolic rage for him simmering underneath the surface. Before y/n even had the chance to fully think through making a run for it, the man stood up and whipped his hand over y/n’s face so hard that the blow threw her back and into one of the metal supports of the conveyor belts.

The pain in the side of y/n’s face shocked her into stillness as her jaw clicked oddly and she grunted in pain. Again, before y/n could react, the unsub was on her again. He kicked her torso, legs, and face with the steel tips of his boots breaking the skin every time another blow landed on her prone body. Along with the damage to her front, every time the man’s foot met y/n’s bare flesh, her back was pushed back and harder into the sharp corner of the convey belt. y/n quickly figured out that the unsub was being fast and efficient. When she looked up at his face, he seemed bored as he landed each kick. There was a callous disinterest in what he was doing. He seemed to not be affected at all by what was happening to his victim. Due to this y/n began planning accordingly. Shifting her position slightly so the blows landed on a more padded part of her body, and along with giving her lower back a break by shifting the hits to her lower shoulders, this meant her breasts getting hit, which was not pleasant in the least, but it was somewhere new, and somewhere padded by a bit more.

y/n felt jostled to the core and rattled to the bone. The pain she was experiencing was blinding and she couldn’t think about much more than trying to protect her face and groin, both of which got hit anyway. What felt like an eternity’s worth of blows ended as soon as it began, and all y/n could do was lie on the ground and grit her teeth against the pain. Her attempt to stay strong physically and mentally was already being tested, but she refused to lick her wounds in front of her captor. If this was about being broken, then she wasn’t yet. The unsub knelt with a grunt and jerked y/n’s face up and into the light, looking at the bruising on her face examining her like a piece of meat for consumption. Something about her battered appearance didn’t suit his liking and he said like a painter finishing a masterpiece, “Just a bit more, right there.” His large stubby pointer finger gesticulated at her lower face and he gripped her hair more tightly and rammed her head onto the floor splitting her lip and jarring her jaw again.

With that, the man dropped y/n’s face, stood, and walked straight out of the room. Just for the fun of it, he kept the door open for three minutes as he watched y/n turn onto her side to find any place that was comfortable enough to breathe. y/n looked at the open door and the look of delight on the man’s face as he stood by the entrance, and y/n realized that this was going to be her form of torment, an option in view but not accessible. When the large metal door finally swung shut and was locked from the outside, y/n closed her eyes and tried to use her brain. There would be time to assess her physical damage later, for now, she could use one thing that she had. She made mental notes: that the unsub walked with a limp, that he had a New York accent, that he wasn’t over fifty years old. He also had a large size footprint to match his large stature. He also had a mermaid tattoo on his left ankle. Next, she thought about his mental patterns. He was volatile and not afraid to cause harm, but he took no pleasure in doing so to her. It was about a certain result. He had also said that he had only killed those other women, and eviscerated them, to get a man on the team's attention. y/n could work with that. Try and use that to her advantage. If only she could find out who the man was. As the pain took y/n over, and her brain shut down to the basic feeling of hurt and cold, y/n’s mind turned to Spencer. How I must have looked at the moment. Stressed, tired, on edge. It wasn’t a pleasant sight, even if it was for her. She wished she could pull him into a hug and say “It’s alright Spence. I’m holding on. I promise.” The last sentence would stay silent, but he’d know. Because he always knew her. And with that thought, y/n closed her eyes, curled in on herself, and attempted to rest.

The night was not pleasant for anyone but the unsub. But even Moore Eiarty, the unsub, was worried that his plan wouldn’t succeed, That he couldn’t break the genius of Spencer Reid. But all the pieces were finally in place, and now it was time to play. As the team finally got through vetting the people in the park, they got back to work. The main thing they had to go off of was that one of the performers, the Giant Man, was missing. He’d been added last minute to the tour and there had barely been time to get his paperwork in order before the Kansas Fair began. And it wasn’t until that evening that they discovered that the man, Mr. M. Earity, had very well-forged documents. Not just one, but all of them. That gave Penelope a lot to work on while the team took the angle of victimology and reworked the profile. The BAU had moved back to the police precinct except for Derek and Rossi. Spencer knew that Morgan was taking this especially hard because y/n had been taken while she was with him, but Spence’s head was too full of ideas and concerns to worry about how the others felt right now.

Aaron watched the team do what the team did. Perhaps they were working a bit more hectically than normal, but this was one of their own on the line and Hotch would rather die before he stopped working to get y/n back. As he looked at Spencer, writing on over seven whiteboards with three coffees on the table, he considered that Reid might also die if they didn’t find y/n soon. That thought sat with the Unit Chief, and he tucked it in the back of his mind for later. This felt especially pertinent to this case, though he didn’t know why yet. Nothing much came in terms of developments for a few hours. JJ released a statement for the press, Derek and Rossi returned to the team, and the Fair was shut down for legal safety. The tip line ran nonstop and everyone felt the weight of time. It wasn’t until 3:00 AM that the first real forward momentum was given to the team, and target to Spencer specifically.

It came in the form of an email from an unlisted account. It was labeled Urgent Dr. Reid - Re:y/n, y/l/n. Spencer looked at the email and decided to open it. He was tired, and his brain was beginning to numb at all the stimuli that were assaulting his mind. What he saw once he opened that email made him drop his coffee and whip his hand over his mouth in horror. Aaron and Emily were in the room with Spencer, and they both noticed their colleague’s distress. Prentiss moved to Reid’s side and looked at the laptop as well. Her mouth went slack and she whispered, “Oh my God. H-hotch…” It didn’t take Aaron more than four strides to see what had both of these friends looking like they were going to be sick. As soon as he saw the first picture of y/n, naked, heavily bruised and bloody, and head down he knew why Reid and Em had reacted as they had. y/n’s hands were forced above her head with zip ties and strung to a hook hanging from the ceiling. The position she was in had her knees barely brushing the floor which meant that all of her weight was in her wrists, elbows, and shoulders.

y/n wore a pained expression, and Hotch’s eyes darted up for a second out of proprietary. He didn’t want to have to see y/n undressed. To be forced into such a humiliating position and know others, people she trusted, would see it made Aaron pause. It hurt. He composed himself and said as professionally as he could, “We need this on the big screen. Em, can you get on that? Reid, is there any text in the body?” Prentiss and Spencer came back to themselves, though it took Spence a moment longer, and they registered their Leader’s questions. Emily nodded and moved to pull down the projector in the room and pushed some of the whiteboards Reid had been using aside; meanwhile, Reid scrolled past the 25 attached photos to where there was some text. He read it in a millisecond and said, “Yes there is. I’ll get Gacia on Zoom while you get the rest of the team in here.” Hotch nodded and took one more second to look at Spencer to see if he was okay. This was targeted at him, which was both a good and a bad thing, but right now, the smartest member of the team looked determined to get to the bottom of this, so Hotch moved to the door to get everyone else into the conference room.

After the team looked at all of the photos and the attached email, they split into smaller sub-groups to work more efficiently. Aaron and Emily agreed to look at all of the images with a more critical eye. They would break down every angle and shot and bruise on y/n’s body. The one positive thing that the pictures did show was that y/n was alive. Or at least she had been, and given the unsub’s propensity to draw out his kills, there was a good chance that y/n was still alive. The time stamp on the email had been from only a half hour ago and didn’t appear altered. Hotch assigned Spencer and JJ to look at the body of the email. He gave this task to Spencer so he could do something he excelled at. He was the best linguist and forensic document analyst in the FBI after all. JJ was also excellent at identifying patterns in writing and could help Spencer. It also gave Reid an out for not having to look at y/n’s prone and exposed body.

Aaron as the leader took that burden of looking at y/n with Emily because Prentiss was also very good at compartmentalizing her emotions related to her friendships and the job. Derek was working with Garcia, who was on overdrive to find the source of the email and pin down a location along with about ten thousand other things. She’d gone as far as calling in Janet, another Technical analyst at Quantico to come and help her because two computer processors and brains were always better than one. Lastly, Rossi coordinated with the police on-the-ground operation of searching for y/n. Even though a lot of moving pieces were happening at the same time, the BAU did what it always did -- work with excellence and as a team. Aaron looked at his team for a moment, proud of them. He was worried about Spencer, who was more on edge than normal. Hotch turned his eyes back to the screen, he’d check in on the genius in a few hours, for now, he had a difficult job to do.

After a few hours that slipped by like grains of sand in an open palm, the team had discovered a few things. The first thing that Spencer and JJ broke down was the email which read:

I have waited for a long time to get this opportunity. While I have watched you all, the most famous and infamous team in the FBI, I have been looking at one of you in particular. I wonder if you know who you are yet? Let me give you a hint. Last I saw you, you were just a child not even weaned on crimes or violence. Do you know now? Estranged from your friend, I wonder if you’re floundering like I have been before because of you. Sorry if this is all a bit obtuse, but this is fun, and I’m going to draw it out for you. Try not to get too excited yet, the best is yet to come. Rest assured that your friend will face the consequences of knowing you so well. Only when I see you so ruined as I have been ruined will I be happy. Yesterday you were so determined to catch me, do you feel that way now, or are you feeling the fear in your veins? You can find me eventually, but not before I find you. Other things may happen too. Under my control, I may make y/n do anything I want. Don’t worry though, I don’t have plans like I had for the others, this is different. Ready now. Ready now. Enough of waiting for you, and this moment. I’d start praying for y/n, and you, my friend. Dare we should meet in person and you’ll see what I’ve done to her and you’ll finally taste my revenge.

It didn’t take Spencer more than a minute to read the ‘secret message of’ I will destroy you, Dr. Reid, in the unsubs email. He almost laughed at the grandiose nature of the writing. JJ then pointed out that y/n wasn’t even mentioned until the end of the rambling message. This told the team that this kidnapping was all about Spencer, as it was clear from the email, and had little to do with y/n. That y/n was being used as a tool to get at Reid. Of course, the pictures of y/n who was bruised heavily all over her body, showed that the unsub was still willing to inflict serious bodily harm on her. But this fact made Emily and JJ feel slightly better.

Spencer had come up with at least seventeen facts, grammatical patterns, and hints at a personality based on egomania. After Reid had said about five of them in the span of a few minutes, Derek gave him a look and Spencer stopped talking. Aaron and Emily then broke down the patterns of bruising and how the depth of the day-old bruising was likely from one sustained moment in time. That there didn’t seem to be layer upon layer of bruising on y/n’s body. Also, from the look of it, there didn’t seem to be any sign of sexual assault. Hotch had caught onto the dark red-rimmed circles under y/n’s eyes, indicating that she hadn’t slept much if at all since she had been taken nearly twenty-four hours ago. It was also pretty easy for Aaron to tell that y/n was being kept in some kind of industrial freezing unit. This was concerning as staying anytime long-term in such a cold space could lead to frostbite and long-term nerve damage.

After the team had gone through the information and made a start at a new profile that focused mostly on the unsubs' hatred for Spencer, this put even more pressure on Spence. The rest of the team took a small break to just breathe or step outside or get a drink of the bad coffee from the office breakroom, Reid stayed behind and furiously wrote in his notepad and looked at the photos of y/n while biting the inside of his cheek so hard that he broke the soft pink skin. Spencer turned off the bright light to let his eyes and at least his occipital cortex have a break. The rest of his body was working pell mill. Derek moved back to the room ten minutes later and Spencer was leaning, his hands forward, and head bowed toward the wooden table. He looked like he might collapse. Morgan could see his friend’s outline backlit against the brightness of the screen. He looked frailer than normal, skinnier than his usual tall body. Derek knew this was hard for Spencer because it was y/n who had been taken, and it was because of him. Even if Spencer hadn’t realized he had feelings for y/n yet, he still felt the weight of what was happening to her because of him. Morgan entered the room with a cup of coffee and said gently, “Spencer, I brought you some coffee.” Reid hummed softly like he hadn’t really heard Morgan and Derek said, “Reid,” a bit louder. Spencer’s head shot up and toward Derek and his hands gripped the side of the table harder, knuckles turning white. Spencer snapped a “What?” at Morgan before taking a breath and relaxing his shoulders. Morgan didn’t mind Spence’s tone now. It made sense.

Derek moved into the room and said, “I brought you some coffee. Maybe we could step outside for a minute? Get some fresh air?” Reid dropped his head again and he said mournfully, “I can’t rest right now. I have to figure out who has y/n. I don’t know who the unsub is, but they know me and I don’t want y/n to have to pay the price for that.” Derek sighed and replied, “Spence, y/n would never blame you for being her friend, for being someone special to her.” Reid sniffled and replied, “She won’t thank me if she’s dead and neither will I.” Spencer’s voice broke off halfway through his last sentence. Morgan stepped forward and placed his hand on Reid’s shoulder. He gave is a gentle squeeze and replied, “Well thinking like that isn’t going to save her. And you need that super processor of a brain of yours to cool off before it shuts down on it’s own. And y/n is a tough cookie, she’s going to make it Reid. If there’s anyone who can find her, it’s you. And if you start letting this guy get to your head, then he’s already won. And we don’t let fuckers like that win. I know y/n sure as shit won’t thank you for that. Now let's go outside.” Spence allowed himself to be led out of the dark room, and Morgan closed the door behind them.

y/n was beyond tired, she dozed off on and off as she lay in the corner of the room. She was too sore to move around. She did take a look at her surroundings every time she woke abruptly from an unknown sound. She’d look for the man who called himself Mr. M., or to shift from side to side to try and increase her circulation and shift the pain to a new place if that was possible. Much to Mr. M.’s credit, he didn’t seem to enjoy stringing y/n up to the ceiling and he’d taken her down as soon he’d finished taking what seemed like an endless stream of photos. He’d positioned her more like a clay statue looking at angles and composition than as if she was a human in pain. This gave y/n an indication that he might be a sociopath given that he seemed immune to her pained sounds as he adjusted her body again and again. He’d muttered “He’s going to love these. To see what I’ve made of you so far.” y/n opted to stay silent. To see if she could get any more information from the man, but he didn’t do much more than complain about the lighting and make comments about the ‘he’ in question. y/n highly considered that the male member of the team could be Rossi or Aaron, whom Mr. M was muttering on about. M seemed to address this person with such dignified authority that would fit those two people on the team. But that didn’t make sense, as y/n didn’t think Hotch or Rossi held her in any higher standard than the rest of the BAU. Yes, she respected Aaron as a leader and he respected her back. And surely he was beating himself up for not looking out for her, but it didn’t seem to fit with the rage that M felt toward this person.

It seemed even more outlandish for the ‘he’ to be Rossi. Rossi was like a father figure to y/n. He had helped her really learn the ropes of the team and cases. Especially the paperwork after a case was finished, but if Mr. M wanted to hurt Rossi, he’d surely know to find one of his Ex-wives or someone closer to Dave. It was the odd reverence that the unsub continued using that threw y/n off of the real person he was targeting. The next interaction that y/n had with the man would clear things up for her significantly, and give her an option to use her brain to help the team find her.

Mr. M came back sooner than y/n had wished. Her exhaustion and numbness made not only her body weak but her brain slow. When she saw that he was holding her underwear and a knife, she sat up and crawled back against the wall clumsily, not liking that combination of objects together. The man snorted and said, “Trying to fly away bird, I’m going to clip your wings if you do that too much. Then you won’t be able to run, ever.” y/n slowed her movements, not willing to test the huge man in front of her. y/n swallowed thickly and looked from Mr. M.’s passive face to his hands holding the mismatched objects. The intimate and the violent. The man watched her eyes, tracked their movements, and when he saw where they landed he genuinely laughed and said, “I told you before, I didn’t like doing those things to those girls. It was to make a point. Touching people intimately is my least favorite idea of a ‘good time.’ I just plan on making him think I’ve had you that way. Send him a little surprise gift and watch as he tries to process his loss of that part of you.” Somehow this response baffled y/n’s sleepless brain even more. Who the hell on the team wouldn’t be upset if she got assaulted in that way? If fact y/n could imagine each member of the team taking Mr. M out in rather lurid ways. It was stupid, but it gave y/n comfort and she even smiled softly at the thought of Derek beating the man up, or Spencer setting some kind of trap of wits for him. M. saw her happy look, and struck her face with the back of his fist, now only a foot from her body. He sneered and said, “‘he’ won’t be as happy as you are right now when he gets our present.” M grabbed her left arm, placed the tip of the knife on her forearm, and pressed it into her skin. The man drew a line down her wrist.

The red liquid bubbled up and out of the wound like a stream. The cold of the freezer numbed the pain a bit. In fact, the feeling of the hot blood dripping down y/n’s arm was warming and she would have spread it over her arm if she was just a bit more tired. However, she didn’t have the chance as M grabbed her arm in a vice grip, and with his other hand, grabbed her panties. He ran the crotch of her undergarments over her fresh cut, spreading blood over the inside seam. He then dropped them to the ground and turned her arm over. He pinched at the wound, causing the bleeding to increase and easing large red droplets onto her already-soiled underwear.

y/n felt disgusted at being used this way and said to fill in the oppressive silence, “I don’t think Derek will find this appalling, mainly he’d going to think it’s gross as fuck.” y/n hadn’t really meant Morgan, she’d just said the first name that popped into her head. As tough as Derek was, he wasn’t great with blood, just like Gracia. The slip was the best thing y/n could do as M dropped her arm and looked at her like she’d grown a second head. He shook his head and said, “Lord, and I thought ‘he’ liked you for your brain. It seems you may not have one up there. Dr. Reid is who I am referring to bird. Not agent Morgan. Derek couldn’t figure this out if you put all the pieces in front of him on a board.”

y/n was astonished for a moment. Not only at the apparent racism of Mr M. but his other statement as well: Spencer! This was about Spencer! How the hell this guy knew and had been wronged by her best friend on the team was beyond her. Certainly, Reid would have told her about him if they’d had run-ins in the past. They spent so much time together that they basically knew everything about each other. The weariness and pain were starting to get to y/n and she muttered as she closed her eyes, “Why would Spence care about this, he’s seen me on my period before. He’s gotten my sanitary products before, hell I bitch at him when I get cramps, and he takes it.” M stopped looking at the work of art which was y/n’s blood-soaked underwear and said, “You really are hopeless. And I don’t see the appeal to the good Doctor. He’s in love with you and you can’t even see it. Hopeless bird, I’ll take care of that though. You won’t have to think for much longer.” The vitality that y/n had been lacking came back in a rush of heat as M said that Spencer was in love with her. y/n sat up and took her injured arm and cradled it to her chest. The pain finally registered in her synapses. She let out a prolonged breath and said. “You think Spencer is in love with me? That’s a bit of a stretch.” y/n knew in the back of her mind that this might get her hurt more, or killed, but she was finally getting answers and perhaps if she had more answers she could do something with that. Actually use her brain, which the unsub had insulted she didn’t.

M sighed and replied as if this was a normal conversation, “Bird, the data adds up. Dr. Reid puts himself in forty-three percent more danger when you are in a dangerous postion on a case. He puts himself in the line of fire for you over and over. At least five times by the records I’ve seen. Not only that, the chronically lonely young man who shuns women’s attention chooses to spend time with you above his other friends, even the likes of Morgan or Penelope. If that’s not the start of a crush, then I don’t know what is.” y/n looked up at the man with awe. Not so much at his intellectual prowess that he seemed to think he had, but at how stupid he sounded. Perhaps, maybe, maybe, there were some more feelings between y/n and Spencrs than friendship, but the other things he said were just crap. His use of statistics, and characterizing Reid as a lonely hermit was laughable. However, y/n was more aware than ever now, and this time she kept their mouth shut. She knew that saying those things out loud might likely get her knifed to death, and although the current situation was far from comfortable, she didn’t fancy dying. M hadn’t broken her yet, and now she was more determined than ever to live through this moment.

The unsub noted that y/n had calmed down slightly and said, “I’ll be back shortly. I can’t let you or him rest too often now. I need to pick up the pace, but I need to send this little gift his way. Any loving words you want to tell him with my little letter? Perhaps it will give the Doctor some comfort.” The man said it sardonically, but y/n pulled herself together and tried to do her best acting and used a sorrowful tone as she said, “Tell him I’m sad it was my first time like this. I’d wished that we’d done it in Tanagra when we had the chance, but he knew I wasn’t ready. I won’t be ready.” y/n let the words slip off her tongue like she’d said them with a longing sadness and it put M at unease to see the odd shift in emotions; however, he shrugged his shoulders and replied cooly, “I’ll be sure to relay your sentiments.”

Once the man had left the room with the knife, y/n lay back exhausted. The unsub had said he’d be back shortly, but maybe he was playing a game and he’d just leave her there to rot or starve. Either way, y/n needed to use this renewed time to think, and not just about the fact that she was trying to come to terms with the fact that she might love Spencer more than she’d allowed herself to do before. She needed to leverage this situation and not let those feelings overwhelm her. She’d already hopefully set one clue and one trap, she’d just need a bit more information to let the trap work. She pondered these things as she rubbed her skin which was slowly losing sensation as the minutes ticked by.

When the package arrived at the precinct, the team was more prepared for it this time. The police stopped the carrier to ask him a plethora of questions while the team opened the box with some apprehension. Emily took on the role of the person who opened the box. Given the nasty surprise of the pictures of y/n in a state of complete undress in the first contact with the unsub, nobody wanted Spencer to get that kind of a shock again, even if the box was addressed to him alone. Inside the well-packaged cardboard parcel was a letter which Prentiss handed over to Morgan and then she pulled aside a good deal more pink tissue paper than was needed for the pair of underwear in the box. It took Emily and the team a moment to realize what they were given the blood had caked and dried, wrinkling the thin fabric into a distorted blob shape. The team looked at the item not so much with disdain as confusion. Some members of the BAU, JJ, Emily, and Penelope, had seen y/n in her underthings when they shared rooms in a busy hotel, but none of them, especially not Spencer, could immediately identify that they were y/n’s panties until M stated that directly, and implied that he’d done to y/n what he’d done to all his other victims before slowly killing them.

This information did seem to shock and horrify the team until Derek read this part of the letter aloud with a hint of awkwardness, “And the little bird has a song for the doctor ‘I’m sorry that this was my first time, and that she wishes you had both done it in Tanagra.’ How unfortunate for both of you that that wasn’t the case…” Spencer cut Derek off before he could go into more grotesque details from the letter about what the unsub had done to y/n by saying, “Wait, wait, say that again.” Morgan paused and the team looked at Reid with questioning expressions. Derek repeated the last sentence, and Reid let out a soft breath in relief as he confidently said, “He didn’t touch her,” then under his breath, “thank God.” The BAU was more baffled than ever, and JJ looked over at the soiled underwear now back in the box getting ready for processing by the forensics lab. With hesitation, JJ replied, “Spencer, y/n’s underwear is telling a different story, as does the bruising on her body”

The team was at a loss for what to think. y/n had been a reserved person far before she joined the team, and the reference that she might have had sex with Spencer, or wanted to have sex with Reid was not totally a shock, given that the BAU knew the two agents were in love, even if they didn’t. But for her to state it like that either showed signs of mental duress or something of that nature. It was just incredibly out of character for her to say anything like that to anyone, even the women on the team. Reid’s response was even more shocking as he said, “y/n’s had plenty of sex. She’s been in a lot of relationships before, so why would she say this was her ‘first time.’ That doesn’t make any sense. Also, I think she would have singled out something more extreme if she had been hurt in that way. It’s all too faux intellectual.” The team stood in stunned silence for a moment before Derek said, “And you and y/n talk about your sex lives often?”

Spencer flushed at the intrusive question, realizing that he was putting a lot out there about his and y/n’s friendship. Things they may not have shared with other members of the team and kept between themselves. But this was a case where revealing some private details could save y/n’s life, and Spencer would rather die than lose y/n, so he replied steadily, “Yes. Sometimes. When we hang out we talk about our relationships. Why they worked or didn’t? How we’re, different.” Spence omitted the line, “How we can be hard to love.” He meant it more for himself than y/n, even though she echoed that sentiment whenever he brought it up. Spence never really got that. When they’d lay sprawled out under a blanket arguing about the symbolism in Dr. Who, or what the best adaptation of Jane Austen was, he felt like loving y/n would be the easiest thing in the world. Of course, he’d never said that to her either. The team was still silent when Reid came back from his internal journey and Hotch, who most of the time came forward and realized patterns and trends asked, “And Tanagra? Is it a small island or something? I’ve never heard of it before.” Spencer’s eyes moved up and he said, “It’s a reference to an episode of Star Trek we both like called ‘Darmok.’” The team looked at Reid for further clarification because, unlike Spencer and y/n, they didn’t go on overnight watches of Star Trek the Next Generation.

Again, Reid reddened but patiently explained, “In the episode Captain Picard gets sent to a planet without any weapons. There’s another alien there as well. The Enterprise crew thinks it is some sort of setup, as does Captain Picard. But as it turns out, Picard and the alien, Dathon, need to come together to fight a common enemy. They end up beating the enemy, but Dathon dies. The moral is that they had to find understanding to become united, not only as fighters but as a species.” After Reid quickly gave his recap highlighting the plot and moral of the episode, the team, with the new information seemed to be revitalized, and put at ease. It was just a sliver of hope because y/n had managed to gain some way of communicating with them. Aaron cleared his throat and said, “Alright, Reid, and you Morgan take the letter. If y/n is sending any other covert messages then you should be able to find them.” Hotch felt the weight of pressure from this case on his shoulders and raised a hand to his forehead closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. Rossi saw his friend's distress and continued the conversation, “Aaron and I will go and check some of the places Garcia flagged as potential locations that y/n could be kept. JJ, you and Emily accompany the forensics team and get us the information once they have some, stat. Is that really y/n’s blood, are there any toxins present, all that? Okay?” Everyone nodded. Now that they all had a direction to go and a specific task to do, it felt more manageable.

Despite the bright light and thanks to sheer exhaustion, y/n had managed to get a few hours of sleep at some point after being cut by M. She woke with the sound of the door opening. y/n had lost all track of time at this point. There were no windows to tell if it was night or day, and her circadian rhythms were off. Logically y/n knew that it couldn’t have been more than a few days, but at this point, it felt like a week at least. The constant stress, hunger thirst, and cold had drained her so much that she struggled to get up to a seated position to see what her captor was doing this time. M seemed uninterested in y/n, but he did glance at her, the door, and then at her again, as if taunting, “Try me.” The man had brought in a bigger load of items this time. Thanks to his size and strength, he could hold multiple trash bags and a backpack which he could handle all in one trip.

y/n watched M with apprehension and fear as he pulled out a multitude of lights and stands. M set up the lights like a makeup influencer might. M set what looked like extra bright lights in a square formation only a few feet off the ground. y/n bit her lip. If the man was planning on filming something, mainly her, she would be so close to the ground that it would be uncomfortable for him to have to lean down like that. The setup seemed to make no sense, and y/n didn’t like that. In interrogation training, she, along with new FBI agents, were instructed to mentally prepare for what was going to happen to them to better not spill state secrets. However, in this scenario, she couldn’t guess what would happen and it really wasn’t about her. It was about what her deteriorating mental and physical state would do to Spencer. She was important to the extent that she was important to Spencer.

The unsubs plan became clear as he pulled out a makeshift stand that looked like a prop from a horror film where someone’s eyes get removed. The stand, which M set down and then slotted the wooden frame into was so heavy that even he grunted as he set it down with a loud clanking sound on the floor. y/n closed her eyes and began trying to move away and toward the exit. But y/n wasn’t fast enough. She felt like she was running in knee-deep water as she moved and was quickly grabbed by the hair and pulled to the center of the room. y/n muttered, “Please no, please…” Her cries fell on deaf ears as M bound her hands to the rough wooden post with zip ties so tight that they felt like the plastic was cutting into her wrists. y/n dipped her head down but it was jerked up again as M set her chin on a portion of wood with a cut out for her chin. Just close enough to the skin of her neck was a sharp piece of metal that would slice at her jaw and chin if she tried to move her head; effectively keeping it in place as the unsub lowered a heavy plate for her head and secured it with screws on either side of her face like a vice. When the lights were turned on they were so bright that y/n tried to pull her head back but was stopped by her constraints. Even with her eyes closed the light was searing hot into her retinas and there was no espacing it. Even though the light was bright, y/n took this time to try and pry more information from the unsub as he moved close by her.

y/n asked with false confidence, “Why do you hate him so much. He certainly doesn’t talk about you.” y/n appealed to his sense of ego which worked. She could hear his heavy footsteps fall silent. There was a long pause and M finally said, “I’d hurt you for that, but I’m planning on that already. If you think this is bad now just wait.”

The words were meant to intimidate y/n, but she knew there was nothing she could do right now but get info and try and relay it to the team. So she stayed firm and didn’t show how scared she felt. Again the silence seemed like a gulf between them but M liked the sound of his own voice and he continued, “And I don’t like the doctor because he bested me. And you did too funnily enough even though I don’t care about you. I applied to the FBI Academy twice. As a Vet with an interrogation specialization, I thought I was the perfect fit, but what happened? Jason Gideon picks some lousy, scrawny kid, and appoints him to the BAU straight out of college, and he didn’t even go to the academy when I DID. Then they hire some woman who ends up leaving under dubious circumstances anyway and then you you -- whore. I don’t know who you had to suck off to get onto that team but both you and the good doctor took a spot that I deserved. I got stuck working at a local college teaching government classes, but I was planning this too. I didn’t want it, but by God am I going to make the FBI regret picking either of you above me, because neither of you will be fit to serve when I’m finished? And I’m far far from finished with you. After M said this, he opened y/n’s right eyelid and instantly she was blinded further. It was with the full intensity of the lights on her that y/n did feel like she might be broken. She didn’t know if she could handle this. But the team stayed in her mind and she grit her teeth. She’d signed up for this, and y/n did her best to remain strong for as long as possible and not lose herself. Not yet, not when there was hope. And if that hope took the form of Spencer Reid, so let it be, it could hardly be a secret to her anymore anyway. Not after this.

By the time the team got their next message from Mr. M. a few things had happened. The first was that Hotch and Rossi had crossed out a few sectors and limited the range of where y/n was likely being held. The second was that Penelope had caught a red eye and came down from the Quanitco field office to be closer to the action. Lastly, Spencer and Derek had made a solid guess from the tone of both letters that the unsub was likely in the military or the police force and had changed career paths to something like office work or business. This would explain his blunt prose yet stilted attempt at sounding academic or over-intelligent. The team was unprepared for when loud music blasted in their ears when Penelope opened the unlisted video link on her computer. Everyone covered their ears, and Garcia quickly turned down the volume. The team watched in horror, and Pen almost felt like she was going to be ill as the unsub circled y/n with a handheld camera. He zoomed in on y/n’s eyes which seemed glued open and directly facing a very bright light.

y/n was panting like she couldn’t breathe and she hardly looked alive anymore. Not that she wasn’t alive, just that her face was either so pained or slack with the torment that she was being put through that she couldn’t take anymore. All eyes were glued to the gruesome sight and it took a moment for anyone to notice that the music had cut out and the unsub was speaking. Garcia let out a sharp breath, skipped the video back ten seconds, and then raised the volume again. Once the music was cut, and in a calm voice M stated, “Smile little bird, you’re on camera. Have anything to say to the doctor?” y/n’s mouth moved for a moment before she let out a small breath and screamed in a worn and hoarse voice, “Oedipus and his lover, Mr. Dimmesdale was great at his job.” y/n cut herself off with a lot of coughing at the effort of even speaking. Even trying to say something. M pulled the camera back to get a better wide angle of y/n as the unsub said, “Isn’t she great? She sings such a pretty song. I hope you’re enjoying it doctor because I don’t know if she’ll be singing much longer.”

While most of the team paid attention to what the unsub was saying as a coping mechanism of not having to fully process the mental agony that y/n was going through, Emily paid closer attention. Suddenly Prentiss said loudly, “Roll it back Pen. y/n is mouthing something while the unsub is talking. I’ve almost made it out. I just need to see it once more.” The team, who was looking at Spencer to interpret what y/n had just signaled, and some of whom feared that y/n’s mind was already cracking beyond repair, looked back at the screen as Garcia went back once more. Penelope muted Mr. M, and everyone’s attention went back to y/n, who was clearly mouthing something. Prentiss said softly, and then more loudly, “There are four lights?” Hearing this Spencer couldn’t stop the tears that came to his eyes with relief, and he sagged with those words. Derek and Rossi helped support Spencer, and the team huddled around him as he brushed the tears aside and said, “She’s okay. She’s saying she’s okay with the ‘four lights’ line. He hasn’t ‘broken’ her yet. At least not her will….” Reid couldn’t stop himself from saying, like it was an inside thing between just y/n and him, “It’s another Star Trek thing.”

Another thrill rang through the team at this news. They knew y/n was strong, but she was also a good actress as she had played up her first statement. It became less and less of a surprise that y/n and Reid had spent so much time together. That they knew each other so well. This interaction was just solidifying what they had already assumed. But the picture of y/n’s eyes glued open and looking at the bright light also stayed with the team. Reid had his hands in his hair in frustration now trying to parse out the clues that y/n had left him, but he couldn’t fully match those pieces of information with any one person he knew. Dr. Reid did have some enemies, he did work for the FBI after all, but he didn’t think about them like that often. He didn’t just have people hating him enough to go and kidnap and torture the person he cared about the most. His brain didn’t process things like that even though he had calculated the risk every member of the team took with each case. And he did make sure y/n’s score was lowered thanks to him. But it wasn’t clicking because his brain was doing too much. Reid had jotted down a list of people that might come after him for various reasons and he’d given it to everyone in the BAU to see if they had any ideas. Of course, Penelope had made a whole spreadsheet and also found all the information about each person on the list as well. Spencer had gone over those fifteen names thousands of times now and was doing it again, trying to expand it to make something fit.

Emily finally broke his train of thought and asked, “Spence, what about the other things y/n said? Is that more Star Trek stuff? It honestly sounded like a foreign language to me.” Only after Prentiss said this did Spencer realize that the rest of the BAU didn’t get all the references or implications in y/n’s words. Reid took a steadying breath while he composed himself. Aaron and Rossi simultaneously pulled out legal pads and pens to try and keep up with Reid’s speaking speed. Spencer started with the first part of y/n’s shouted sentence, saying, “Well. It’s kind of Star Trek. You actually just made me think of that Emily.” The parts and y/n’s wit began to click better and Spence continued, “We have to go back to the thing y/n said in her first letter about Tangra.” The team nodded and Hotch was already writing furiously, his hand gripping white on the pen in his grasp. “So Pircard can’t understand Dathon because their species speak only in metaphors, so I think y/n is giving us, me, a metaphor about who the unsub is.” This is where Hotch jumped in and said, “Then it’s not directly related to Trek. Just a way of signaling something. The first part of her metaphor was a reference to Oedipus Rex.” Everyone’s eyes moved to Aaron and they seemed surprised, but he brushed off their apparent shock at his classical literature knowledge and continued for those who didn’t get the reference, “Oedipus Rex is a tragedy about a prophecy that the son of a king will end of killing his father and marrying his mother. The king is horrified and has his newborn son, Oedipus, arranged to be killed. The man meant to kill him takes pity on the baby and spares him, thus many years later the prophecy comes true.”

Spencer nodded along, and Garcia couldn’t stop herself from saying, “Wow, that’s really messed up.” Before Aaron could remind the technical analyst that it was a thousand-year-old work of fiction, Reid replied, “Yes, Oedipus does end up fulfilling the prophecy, but he didn’t want to. He doesn’t even know about it until later and he leaves his town to try and not fulfill his destiny, but he ends up doing that anyway. That’s why is a tragedy.” The team took in the information and Rossi offered, “So the unsub wanted to do the right thing but ended up doing the worst possible option?” Spence nodded along and then said, “And the second part about Mr. Dimmesdale being good at his job, I assume that’s a reference to The Scarlet Letter. Arthur Dimmessdale is the pastor who gets the protagonist pregnant and ends up being shunned from the Puritan society.” Emily asked, “So are we looking for someone who was thrown away for no reason? Or for doing something that appears bad?” Spencer nodded no, and thought through his list again, expanding it to the new parameters saying, “No. y/n specifically mentioned Dimmesdale, so I think we’re looking for a man. Clearly, Mr. Dimmesdale didn’t love his job because he did something that he shouldn’t have done either. He ends up having a breakdown because he can’t keep his secret. He ends up getting publicly humiliated.”

The team thought for a moment and Penelope asked, “So is there someone you ended up humiliating enough to do something this horrible? I mean, not intentionally, but like when you were in grad school or at the Bureau? Anything?” Reid shook his head unknowingly. He couldn’t place someone he had specifically wronged except for those he’d put in prison, and thankfully many of those men and women were already dead or sentenced to life, but a picture started forming in Hotch’s head. The Unit Chief stated, “I don’t think you’d know him. Or have even met him, yet? Oedipus didn’t know his father when he killed him. He only figured that out later. So this is more about what you did to him than anything else.” Dave looked at Aaron and asked, “Do you have an idea of who he is?” Hotch nodded and said, “Yes. This was while Jason was still here and you were ‘retired.’ You know Gideon hand-picked Spencer for the BAU much to the chagrin of the director. But it wasn’t only them, there were other members of the academy who wanted Reid’s spot. There were a few NATS that were more than flustered. Jason and I fielded quite a few complaints. There was one man in particular, an ex-Marine who threatened Gideon and me. That instantly excluded him from our recruiting, and once Gideon invited Reid, we started getting real threats. That man dropped off the map, but he continued sending threats through alternative accounts, and many were targets to you, Spencer. Garcia took care of them actually, took care of blocking them so you didn’t ever see them.”

Spencer looked up at Hotch shocked and said, “Why didn’t you ever tell me this.” Hotch dropped his head and said, “You were so young Spencer. So much was happening in your life at that time and Jason and I thought it was for the best. I apologize. That was a mistake.” Reid let out a breath, knowing now wasn’t the time to be upset with Aaron. Instead, he asked, “Do you still have his contact information? Do you have anything at all on him?” Before Aaron could even reply, Penelope said, “I do. I keep everything, and this time it’s legal. Any threats that are filed against an agent or a former agent are kept in a database that I helped update.” Morgan said with a happiness he hadn’t felt since arriving in Kansas, “God bless you, woman. Now is the time to show us those computer skills of yours” Penelope smiled and turned back toward her screen, cracking her knuckles, “Glady my friends. Watch me do my thing.”

y/n slumped onto the ground limp. When M finally released her from the contraption that had held her in place, y/n was too overwhelmed to do anything else but lie. Once the light in front of her had been turned off, she felt like she was in an abyss of black. Even though the man had unglued her eyelids after what felt like an eternity. Just being in front of the light with her eyes shut was still like looking at the sun without shades. Again time was a reality that had left y/n out of place, out of being. It could have been months or years since she’d been bound since she’d been put in this place. Because of the loud noise from the speakers M had brought in, y/n couldn’t hear him moving around. Her ears were constantly ringing even though the sound had ceased. Besides that, y/n didn’t have the energy to try and figure out what was happening around her; she knew whatever it was wasn’t good. At this point, y/n didn’t even feel she was in her own body anymore. She was somewhere else entirely.

y/n didn’t register anything much apart from pain until the unsub, who had set up the room as a trap, started a livestream that he sent to Spencer, and kicked her in the side. The sharp pain radiated up y/n’s ribcage and she let out a moan though her voice was gone from screaming. Even M had to shout and shake y/n to get her to hear him say, “I’m letting you go. All you have to do is get to the door. You’re useless to me now. I don’t see your doctor coming to save you, so you might as well get out. I guess you’re not as important to him as I thought you were.” Deep down, y/n knew that the man wouldn’t let her go. She’d not leave this place alive. She also knew she was special to Spencer. That he would do anything for her, and that he and the team were still looking for her, but she was so tired and mentally broken that she began to believe it. It felt like for no reason other than to just move instead of being killed not trying, that y/n began to move on the floor. She was too weak to even get on her hands and knees.

Instead, she just moved on her stomach in a direction even though she couldn’t see anything except bright spots covering most of her vision. The rest was so blurry that it only added to the migraine she already had. y/n hardly noticed that there was glass on the ground until the warmth of the blood from her stomach made her realize in horror that she was crawling on a sea of broken glass. y/n stopped and M began berating her for not being strong enough. Not having the willpower to want to get away. That he had won. It took the last of y/n’s strength to speak her mind. To tell the man the truth. She knew it would get her killed, faster, but she would have a clear mind.

“You’re an idiot.” Y/n couldn’t hear her own voice, but she assumed M was listening and she didn’t let anything he did distract her from continuing, “You are the dumbest person I’ve met. You got Spencer all wrong. You don’t understand him at all. He might like me, and I like him too, but Spence isn’t some weirdo who doesn’t have any friends. He doesn’t stay up at night plotting revenge on people or thinking of zany puzzles because he’s so bored and doesn’t have friends. Spencer is a smart guy, but that intelligence doesn’t push him away from people or relationships. He’s just a smart guy who works for the FBI. It’s clear to me that you’re the weirdo with no friends, and you’re just going to have to accept that you couldn’t cut it in the FBI, forever. It sucks to suck.” Mr. M moved to grab a knife he had brought in the room to finish the job. He couldn’t handle y/n insulting him, and he was going to finish her off, slowly. He had very little restraint when he was scorned. Before he could get to y/n, he was knocked back by a load of gunfire as the BAU along with a SWAT team swarmed into the room. y/n was so far gone that she couldn’t even tell as Reid knelt next to her and wept.

The next few days stretched into apparent eternity for many of the team. y/n was taken immediately to the hospital, accompanied by Spencer and Emily, while Derek and Aaron took the unsub into custody for interrogation and criminal proceedings. Rossi, JJ, and Penelope stayed behind to handle the police presence, forensics teams, and clean-up process. In part, the BAU was relieved to find y/n still alive, it was a weight lifted, but the reports from y/n’s team of doctors at the hospitals painted such a picture of pain and mental suffering that y/n must have endured that it broke their hearts. How they could ever forgive themselves for what had happened, to y/n? They didn’t know. But they had to keep moving because that was what the job required. That was the nature of the work, and they all prayed that y/n would get better, and also understand what they had to do.

Spencer felt shielded from most of the work side of things, as he stayed mostly at the hospital and heard the doctors and nurses' multifaceted and comprehensive care plan for y/n with the majority of it working on how to deal with y/n’s partial loss of vision, mental health, PTSD, and the chronic pain that would likely come in the months ahead. Spencer took in this information and researched and planned and found medical trials and anything that he thought might help. He mostly did this to fill the time. y/n had been put in a medical coma to help facilitate her physical healing. Spencer knew in the end that no amount of research he did it would but y/n It would be up to her to want to keep living after this. And given all that she’d been through, he wouldn’t blame her if she decided to just be whatever was left of herself because of him. Reid was trying to take in the very real possibility that she might never want to see him again given that being his friend had made this fate happen to her. Spence was only out of the hospital when another member of the team tagged him out for a day or a few hours. Even then, Spencer didn’t rest. He just tossed and turned.

When y/n was taken out of her coma four days later, it was Penelope who was there when her fingers twitched on the sheets and felt the crisp material. y/n’s eyes opened, seeing only the blurred brightness of the room which she quickly closed them again. Garcia leaned forward in her chair and said softly, “I’m here y/n. You just rest for now.” Penelope stayed with y/n for the next few hours as the doctors and nurse checked on y/n’s vitals and her sight and she lay exhausted in every way, just let these things happen to her. Her mind was somewhere else. It wasn’t in the hospital room, part of it was still on the team, like an outsider looking in, and part of it was at her apartment watering the one plant she’d kept alive since college, and another was in the park where they sold a t/c/s that she loved to drink and people watch with, but the majority of her brain was still in that freezer, waiting for death, waiting for the worst to happen. And even though part of her mind knew she was alive and being helped, it couldn’t register beyond what had happened to her. y/n stayed in this state of being in and out of herself and her body for another day. The next time y/n came back to herself, it was still Penelope sitting by her.

Garcia came back into the waiting room where Spencer was, as always, sitting and waiting for news, waiting for anything. Penelope walked over to him and leaned over his seated form. Reid looked up at her, his brown eyes lit up slightly. He asked something quietly back and Penelope nodded her head. Spencer got up and shook out his legs. They’d gotten stiff with all his awkward sitting positions. He followed Garica and a nurse to y/n’s room and took the place where the blonde and spunky Technical analyst had been for the last two hours. The nurse gave Reid a few words before leaving the room. The mood shifted a bit. Penelope just lit up a room where as Spencer brought a more calm mood to the room. He looked around the space which he’d seen while y/n was unconscious. It was still light, a sad beige color, and lots of pretty soft flowers from the team and friends. It seemed that Reid could look everywhere but y/n. The nurse and Penelope had both warned him that y/n still hadn’t said a word since she had woken up apart from his name. Reid didn’t expect y/n to just become whole because he was near her, but the fact that y/n had called for him had given him hope. But as his eyes finally landed on her face which was healing from the heavy bruising she’d received, her eyes remained mostly closed, but every now and then they opened, took in whatever they could, and then closed again. One time she turned her head slightly toward Spencer, and he wondered if she could even see him, or if she knew he was there.

It wasn’t until the next day that y/n said in a very soft and hoarse voice, “Spence?” that Reid looked up from his lap and shifted forward in his chair. He didn’t want to be imagining things, but y/n’s voice had been so faint that he could have just made his name up. Anyhow, he softly replied, “Yes, y/n. I’m here.” y/n swallowed and turned her face toward him. She couldn’t see him, but she’d left like he was there. It didn’t seem like Penelope anymore but given how she’d felt, and the things that weren’t real that she’d seen before being saved had messed up her sense of reality. Hearing Spencer’s response helped, and she held back a sob as she asked, “How do I know you’re real? How do I know if any of this is real?”

Spencer desperately wanted to take her hand and reassure her that everything was going to be fine, but he didn’t want to promise things he couldn’t guarantee. He also knew touching y/n might make her nervous and panicked. Spencer looked over y/n and replied, “It’s real because you know it is. Because you’re strong enough to wake up and talk. Because maybe life isn’t so cruel to let this be a dream for either of us.” y/n turned her head toward him again and tried to make out his face. She’d have liked to see what he looked like right now. Was he sad, relieved, or feeling as empty as she was? She wanted to know because she didn’t know how to feel or act or do. For now, there wasn’t more than resting and waiting to see if this was all a charade. To see if she’d suddenly jerk awake to see death in the face again. To be back with M. again. For now, she let out a sigh and tried to feel anything in her body. Her pain receptors were either shot from what she’d been through or she was on so much pain medication that it was intentional. Either way seemed preferable, and yet the pain had grounded her in her time in captivity and now that it was gone there was a strange void where it had pulsed all over her body. y/n rested her head in a more comfortable position and let the sleepiness come back to drag her back under.

The rest of the BAU shuffled through sitting with y/n as Spencer got his mandated rest and time off ordered by Aaron. The presence of the others and the changes in the atmosphere with each of them helped y/n pull herself back together. The next time Spencer came back she was slightly more herself. She was sitting up on a few pillows and she sensed when Reid stepped into the room. They sat together for a few minutes in silence before y/n said, “The last time you were here you said I was strong. But I don’t feel strong Spencer. I feel broken. I mean I am broken. I can’t see anything and my hearing’s shot too.” Reid bit his lower lip and thought for a bit before responding. He could tell her that she was very likely to get her hearing back and that her vision would improve in time. That with time and care she could resume a pretty normal life.

But a pretty normal life didn’t feel fair. None of this felt fair, and Spencer knew that. He also knew that the team in charge of y/n’s care would have told her that as well. They would have been doing everything that would attempt to boost her spirits. As it was like Spencer to do, he chose to go with a more metaphorical take on things. It was one of the things that had drawn y/n to him in the first place, and he hoped it would bring her comfort now. He focused on her hands which were gripping the sheets tightly as he said, “No one chooses to be broken y/n. That’s not their fault, but that doesn’t mean that the thing isn’t beautiful, it’s just changed.” y/n let out a breath and said, “I’m not Fitzgerald or Beethoven. I don’t think the tortured broken artist thing will work for me. I’m just a profiler. Was just a profiler.” Spencer could see the disappointment and pain on her face, and he replied, “Not that exactly, but your knowledge about art and literature did make it possible for us to find you. I was useless on this case, and I’m so, so sorry for that. You saved yourself on this one, and given what you’ve been through, you deserve a good life after this, a peaceful life if you want it.”

y/n wanted to believe Spencer, but his speech so far was giving, “A broken clock is correct twice a day,” and that wasn’t the most uplifting thing she’d heard so far. She didn’t know what she wanted after this. Didn’t know how to want anything after she’d thought she would die over and over again. However, y/n knew that Spence wasn’t done yet. It was a tell in his cadence, and just as y/n expected, he continued, “Have you ever heard of kintsugi?” y/n nodded her head no, and Reid explained, “It’s a form of Japanese pottery. When a plate or vase or anything that’s been fired breaks; the potter puts the pieces back together with gold.” y/n let out a breath, it sounded like a beautiful thing, and it was a nice metaphor, but her pessimistic side said, “So I’m just a broken thing and painted pretty so I’m not a profit-loss?” Spencer sighed and said, “No. What I’m trying to say is that. What I’m trying to say is that things that are broken still have value and beauty. They still deserve to be cared for and looked after. They’re different, but it’s still a precious thing. It is to me at least.”

y/n couldn’t hold back the tears that were now overspilling from the corners of her eyes, and she moved her hand out, palm open. An invitation to let Spencer take it, which he did. Spencer bowed his head over their joined hands and y/n felt his soft hair on her skin. It was the first time she’d felt grounded since waking up. It was the first time she felt real again. y/n sniffled and said, “I don’t know what to do Spence. I don’t know who I am anymore.” Reid nodded and said while gently squeezing her hand said, “I know. And you don’t have to know that right now. Every part of you is still there, but it’s going to be a hard time to dig those things back out of yourself. Maybe some of them you’ll want to leave behind. But I want to be with you as you try to become this new version of you. If you’ll let me. I was such an idiot y/n. I’m so sorry,” y/n nodded and said, “Don’t be. I don’t regret it, Spencer. It’s worth it to know you. I want you here, please.”

Spencer nodded, and y/n felt tears that weren’t her own on her hand and arm now as Spence ever so lightly brushed his lips over her knuckles. Neither of them said it, but the love in the room was so much more than what it had been before. Perhaps it wasn’t the fluffy teenage love they could have had if none of this had happened, but it was clearer now than ever, and that was worth it. There was a future in that, whatever it looked like. After a few moments y/n asked, “Can you read to me? I knew you had a book in your lap before I said anything and the quiet is slowly driving me insane.” Spencer sat up and said, “Well it’s just a collection of Ginsberg poems and I know you don’t like Ginsberg.” y/n scoffed lightly and retorted, “What do you mean, I love Ginsberg.” Reid shook his head and said, “Liar.” y/n pouted like a child at being read so easily and said, “Fine, but maybe I love Ginsberg when you’re reading him to me. Please?” Spencer chuckled and said, “Anything for you, y/n. Anything.” As Spencer began reading, and y/n listened, neither of them thought about the future or the past, they were just there, and for now, that was as meaningful as gold holding something broken yet precious together.

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redfoxwritesstuff · 3 months ago

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A Misdemeanor Of The Heart, Chapter 11 (Alastor x Married!Reader)

Chapter Trigger Warnings: Domestic violence

AN: I reward you for surviving the trauma with fluff.

Masterlist AO3 KoFi

The floor in front of your closet was cold and hard under you, but you didn’t mind it. It felt soothing to your aching muscles. In your lap, you held a hatbox, covered in a generous layer of grainy dust.

Bright morning sunlight washed over your back from the bedroom window, warming you in stark contrast. It would be a few hours, if that, until the house was once again warmed by the furnace and spring’s pleasant weather.

After brushing the dust off, you opened the box to the nicest hat you owned, making sure it was just as you remembered it being when you had last stored it away. It wasn’t something you wore often. Laurence wanted it kept nice for special occasions.

Nodding to yourself, you replaced the lid and cleaned the dust from the box better with a damp rag. It wasn’t likely that Laurence would notice it had been cleaned. He wasn’t one to get into your closet, but the risk was there.

You tucked it into your bag along with the bright orange shawl you hated. It was too big, too bright and drew attention. It had to be clean to keep the dust off the shawl. Risks had to be taken.

That’s why you brought it. You didn’t draw attention. You didn’t like to be noticed. That was your disguise. No one would realize it was you, bright and drawing attention to yourself as you walked down the street. They would convince themselves it was someone else.

You felt like a mischievous child as you crept down the stairs. The house was empty, but you still crept for fear Laurence may have snuck back in. It was silly; you knew you would have heard his car, but the fear was there just the same. The floorboards creaked under your weight every few steps as you crossed the living room and opened the door.

Bright sunlight washed the street and birds sung. It was a perfectly normal day outside of your home while you were preparing to do something so very not perfectly normal.

You took a deep breath as you closed and locked the door. Laurence had left exactly an hour ago, and you had spent most of that time covering the fading bruise on your face with makeup. Joints and muscles still ached, screaming at times in pain, but that was nothing compared to how your ribs felt when you moved wrong.

“I’m not doing anything wrong.”

You whispered it again and again, trying to convince yourself as you locked the door. The words were a silent prayer as you walked down the sidewalk, words accented by the soft click clacking of your heels.

You’d duck into the first alleyway and add the hat and flashy shawl. you told yourself. It helped to replay the plan you had concocted. Then you’d walk to where you would meet Alastor and get into his car, alone.

Alone with a man who wasn’t your husband.

You would go help him pick curtains. That was fine. There was nothing wrong with that. It was innocent.

So why did it feel like the start of an affair?

It surprised Alastor that he was actually looking forward to spending a few hours of the day in your company. Turning the idea over in his head, he couldn’t pull apart why he was looking forward to it. Finally, he settled on that it would do him good to have someone other than Mimzy to pass some time with.

He couldn’t kill Laurence, Alastor knew that, but taking his wife right out from under his nose would feel like death to the clearly possessive man. It was clear as day, Laurence cared about the potential of losing his wife, feared it even. He’ll gamble her, barter her, give her away, but he feared actually losing her.

Learning this bit of information came at a terrible cost, but Alastor was determined to make that up to you. Killing your husband to grant you your freedom wasn’t an option. Doing so would be sloppy, but Alastor could convince you to run away with him.

He could hide you in his home for a few weeks or months. It’s not like Mimzy couldn’t help hook you up with some new identification. Sure, in the end he would break her heart, but she wouldn’t spend your nights getting beaten anymore.

That was how he could save you.

Maybe if he brought Mimzy in on the plan, she’d get off his ass about not having a partner for a while. He could even let her believe the game, too.

Alastor leaned against the hood of his car, tucked deep in the dark alley with a simple white daisy twirling between his fingers. The flower spun this way and that as he ran his fingers back and forth. A white blur danced to the left. Then a white blur danced to the right. Then it went back again.

It had caught his eye as he got into the car, off in his yard, growing all alone but standing proud in the patch of grass. Alastor remembered how tears gathered in your eyes when you admitted Laurence replaced the flowers he picked for her with the large over priced florist display.

It had touched him that you preferred the flowers he had picked for you. The display your husband had brought was nothing less than impressive, yet you were left wanting the simplicity of a home picked arrangement.

Absentmindedly, he spun the flower between his fingers as he waited until you turned the corner. He couldn’t help but laugh as he got sight of you, shawl high around your neck and shoulders, draped over you like you were trying to fight off a chill. You walked slunched, shoulders pulled high.

“You look like you’re 80,” Alastor chuckled as you peeked up at him from under the most out-of-place bowl hat he had seen.

“Good, no one will tell Laurence.” You gave him a tense smile as you slipped the shawl from your shoulders and stuffed it into your bag.

Alastor reached out and plucked the hat from your head and held it out to you. “The current hat trends are ridiculous.”

“They are,” you agreed and marveled at the fact that you didn’t feel like you had to. “Thankfully, I don’t have to wear them often.”

“This is for you,” Alastor held out the single white flower for you. “Since my last floral offering was lost, this is easier to hide. A token of thanks for allowing me to patch you up.”

You hesitated, hand longing to reach out for the flower for a moment. Alastor had worded it as if you had just misplaced the flowers, let them on a bench and forgotten to pick them up again. You knew he knew what had happened to them. You had told him yourself, tears running down your face as he wrapped bandages around your ribs.

“I thought this outing was in exchange for that?” You gathered the courage to take the pretty little flower from him just the same.

Alastor walked around the front of his car, making his way to the passenger side before looking at the building next to him. “I’ll get the door for you, but you’ll have to come around to this side to get in. The fit is a bit tight.”

You made your way past him, trying to ignore the way his hand grazed your lower back, acting as a barrier between you and the dirty wall though you had plenty of room. You held your breath as he opened the door for you, arm reaching out and boxing you in.

There was nowhere to go but into the seat, Alastor was behind you and the door in front of you. It was the car or the wall and his arm stretched to the door, long fingers wrapped around the steel.

“Where are we going?” You look over at him, lingering in the car’s door instead of getting in.

“Next town over. About an hour to get there, but I’ll get you back home well before the clock strikes midnight, and the carriage turns into a pumpkin.”

You lingered for a moment longer, eyes scanning over the surrounding darkness. Dim sunlight filtered in between the buildings and people passed by on the sidewalks. Going with Alastor was a dangerous decision, but you had already put yourself in a dangerous situation.

One last deep breath and you decided to trust Alastor.

It was very much a decision you made as you slipped into the car. It wasn’t lost on you the danger you were placing yourself in as he closed the door behind you. Each choice you were making was putting you in more and more danger, but as you looked back at his kind smile and warm eyes, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel the amount of fear you should.

He could hurt you. He could rape you. He could kill you. He could be the butcher killer, responsible for all the partial bodies found in the bayou and in the alleyways. He could tell the world that he got you alone and disparage your honor.

He could end your life in so many different senses of the word.

But you trusted him, though you had little reason to.

The car came to life with a roar after he settled into the driver’s seat, and he slowly pulled out of the alley. It was safer to keep your head down as he navigated his way out of the city, but you struggled to do that. Instead, you looked at him, stealing glances more often than you should.

The sun was out and lit up his skin. It looked like he was glowing, bathed in the warm light. His hair looked like melted chocolate or perhaps a warm cup of coffee. You couldn’t decide. There were no words you could find to describe the way his eyes shone in the sun.

Feeling your eyes on him, Alastor looked over and your breath locked in your chest. It felt like your heart was beating hard enough to re-break your ribs and, as his smile flashed just a bit wider; you didn’t think your heart could pound harder.

You tore your eyes away from his, cursing the way you felt your blood rush through your body. Instead, you focused on his hands. They were large, clean but littered with little scars here and there, telling a story of manual labor at some point. Was it work prior to his career? When he was a boy? Or marks left from a hobby?

What did he do with his free time? Did he still do whatever had left those scars? Or were they from less relaxed employments in the past? You wanted to know more about this man. Rather than bravely asking, you swallowed every question on the tip of your tongue.

Soft music filled the car as he switched on the radio, fingers moving confidently while with no need to take his eyes off the road. You admired how long his fingers were as he wrapped them around the steering wheel, grip shifting and tightening as he drove.

“We’re just about out of the city,” Alastor said softly, breaking you out of your trance. How long had you been watching his hands work? Did he know you had been watching?

As foot traffic grew lighter and houses fewer, you relaxed back into your seat. There was no reason to keep your head down or look at Alastor, so you looked at the world speeding past. You told yourself that you had just had been limited to where you could put your eyes and how you could face in the city, but you feared it wasn’t true.

This wasn’t the first time you had left the city, but it had been a long time since you had last done so. You were fairly sure that you hadn’t left the city since your honeymoon. Had it really been years?

“Does…” your eyes flicked to him as Alastor trailed off for a moment before choosing his word, “he work a lot typically?”

“He?”

“Your husband.” The growl that crawled into Alastor’s voice at the word made you raise your eyebrows, but you did not point it out or question it. It wasn’t a woman’s place to question such things.

“Fairly,” you shrugged, “He works hard to provide for us.”

“Not hard enough, evidently.” Alastor’s rich laugh filled your ears. His words should have offended you on behalf of your husband. You struggled to feel offense when the man who spoke the words was the same man who had cared for you in the aftermath of one of the worst beatings of your life. It felt like he had earned the right to say such things, purchased it with his kindness.

“What do you mean?” You tried to laugh it off. It shocked you that it didn’t feel as forced as it should have been.

“He needed a loan, didn’t he?” Alastor glanced your way again. “What’s he even do?”

“You don’t know? I thought you were business associates?” You turned to look at him more fully, taking your eyes off the passing world outside.

“Not really.” Alastor shrugged, “A friend asked me to help her associate out with a loan, said he was in a pinch. I entertained the offer and found his charming wife to be an entertaining hostess.”

“Marketing,” you said, eyebrows furrowed as you tried to understand what he was saying. “His family has owned a marketing firm for generations. He inherited it when his father passed.”

“Comes from money?” Alastor’s hand twitched tighter around the steering wheel before it relaxed. “I could smell it on him.”

“Is that a problem?” you asked, but Alastor simply waves the question away with a flick of his long hand.

“He is away from the house much?”

“Why do you want to know?” You leaned away from him, pulling your lip between your teeth as he glanced at you, eyebrow raised.

“Because, my dear, I’d like to know when I can call on you. Clearly, he isn’t seeing to the care and keeping of his lovely wife. Someone has to make sure you’re not left hobbled with a dislocated finger, or worse. I don’t exactly get the impression you’ve got other friends calling on you to check after your wellbeing. Men like that rarely take kindly to women who might gossip in the shops fluttering around.”

You hated the fact that he was right.

Alastor looked back to the road after watching the way you flinched at his words. He hadn’t been sure of it, not totally, but now he was. You were alone, trapped with a brute, with no one to confide in or help you out. It was amazing what light was left in your eyes hadn’t already been snuffed out.

“Does he watch you?” Alastor asked softly.

“I don’t understand?”

“We’re almost there,” Alastor said first, before clarifying. “Does he keep an eye on what you do? How you pass your days?”

“To a degree,” you didn’t want to admit how you feared the eyes of strangers and acquaintances alike. “But doesn’t every husband?”

“No.” Alastor answered flatly.

“Oh? And how would you know that? Are you someone’s husband?”

Alastor laughed, “I don’t have to be to know that a marriage should be rooted in safety, trust, and love.

The conversation stalled as Alastor parked the car; the engine dying with a swift turn of the key. Alastor glanced at her, an ever present calm smile twitching a bit wider as he opened the door. You sat for a moment as his door closed, puzzled.

He had a lovely smile. It was one that dazzled in his eyes when he let it grow. He was always smiling, and it seemed to grow just a little when he looked at you. With a shake of your head, you forced the thought out of your head. It was just the silly thoughts of a silly woman who needed to get her head out of the clouds.

Regardless of what your heart tried to whisper, this was nothing more than a slightly scandalous budding friendship. He was a friend, and he was only asking questions because he wanted to grow the friendship. That was all it was. Nothing more in the slightest.

Alastor opened the passenger door, derailing your train of thought. Had you been sitting there in the car thinking for so long that he had enough time to make it around? You must have been, but it didn’t feel like you had. He was so tall and quick, surely he just covered the distance faster than you expected.

“Shall we?” Alastor held his hand out to you, bent slightly at his waist as he peered inside the car.

After a moment of thought, you nodded and slipped your hand into his. He steadied you as you stepped out of the car, body sore still from the beating and stiff from the drive. It felt good to lean on his strength, to have someone offer you support as he tucked your hand to rest on his arm.

His arm was strong and steady, offering you both as your steps occasionally faltered. With your hand tucked in the crook of his arm, you walked into the store together, almost smoothly.

It felt good to have a friend; you told yourself, even if that’s all he could ever be. It felt good to have someone other than Laurence and your family’s letters in your life. It felt good to have Alastor’s time and attention, even if just for a little while.

You felt good with Alastor, safe with him. You allowed yourself to enjoy that feeling, forced yourself to relax with the one man who had never raised his hand to you.

Alastor sat, legs stretched out along the thick branch of the apple tree he had perched himself in. Crickets sang in the night air as he watched, large knife in hand and stars glittering overhead. He wasn’t sure why he was there, but it was where he ended up after stuffing the body in the trunk of his car.

Running his tongue over his lips, he marveled at the coppery taste of the blood splatter drying on his lips. It paired nicely with the cigarette held between his fingers, its ember glowing softly in the darkness.

Did you know how easy this tree was to climb? He doubted it. You didn’t seem to give such things much thought.

Did you know that someone sitting in this tree could see into your bedroom easily? He doubted that even more. You had been so hurt and yet you were so trusting still.

Not that peeping in women’s windows was his typical way to spend the post kill come down.

With the window closed and the distance, he couldn’t hear what was being said, but it was clear Laurence wasn’t happy with you. Alastor’s jaw clenched as he watched the man’s hand sail through the air, sending you to the floor.

It wasn’t right, in his opinion, to strike out at the fairer sex, but society didn’t agree. It was dreadfully normal. What wasn’t normal was the way Laurence dragged you up from the ground by your hair, screaming in your face.

Alastor thought the man’s head looked strangely like a tomato. If he stepped on the man’s head and ground his heel in hard enough, perhaps Alastor could burst it like a tomato too. That would be oh so satisfying.

With a sigh, Alastor resumed cleaning the blood from the large hunting knife in his hand, running the black cloth over the antler hilt, carefully cleaning the blood from every dip in the textured surface.

As Alastor watched Laurence throw you to the ground and pull his leg back to kick at you, Alastor imagined how satisfying it would feel to plunge his knife into Laurence’s soft side.

Would Laurence look at him with the same fear Alastor caught a flash in your eyes countless times when he moved too quickly, or his hand settled on you before you relaxed again? Oh, how delicious fear would look in his eyes.

With a sigh, Alastor put the thought away. As fun as that would be, he couldn’t fit a second body in the back of his car. If Laurence went missing, his associates would be looked into. Alastor couldn’t afford the potential attention of being close to a victim either. The fewer eyes on him, the better.

Don’t hunt those you can be tied to. That was one of his rules. It didn’t matter how disgusting they were; they were safe to protect himself.

His head thumped back against the tree as he tore his eyes from the sight of you pulling yourself up with the foot of the bed while your husband stormed out of the room.

As Alastor slipped his favored knife into the well-worn leather sheath, he couldn’t help but think of what Mimzy had said. He didn’t have to be alone. If a man like Laurence could have a companion as meek and easy to control as you, was there really a reason Alastor couldn’t?

It wasn’t that he wanted a wife. Far from it, really. But having one would put an end to performing the courting of the occasional dame. She could provide a cover, simple and easy.

It’s not like he needed genuine love. He doubted that was a thing he would ever find for himself, anyway. Alastor didn’t know why he was the way he was, but he knew some part of him was broken.

He was sure at this point that he couldn’t love someone beyond the bonds of family, of which he had none left. It simply wasn’t possible for him, or he would have found it by now. Someone would have surely caught his eye, but none had.

And that was alright. It wasn’t in the cards for his way of life. Love could be a liability. The last thing Alastor needed was more liabilities.

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